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cuubism · 8 months

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the better to see you with, my dear | spy hob/king dream au

canon-adjacent, spy!hob, post-character death, blood & violence, king & loyal knight dynamic, slow burn, developing relationship, loyalty devotion and sacrifice, power dynamics, hob gadling - royal spy of the dreaming

Hob escapes from Death and finds himself in the Dreaming. Instead of sending him back, the King of Dreams makes him an offer: will you be my spy?

[cover image from Arthur Rackham's illustration for Little Red Riding Hood]

The... person? creature? that dragged Hob from his hiding place in the forest had six arms, and three sets of eyes.

Though that seemed to be on the more normal end of things that went on around here, so Hob wasn’t too fazed.

It caught him by luck, followed him when Hob had made the—foolish in retrospect—decision to sneak into the nearby town to try to learn something about this strange realm he’d found himself in. Curiosity had done him in. His mum had always said it would, when he’d fallen in streams chasing minnows and gotten sick from eating berries picked in the woods. Touch with your eyes, Hob, not with your hands. Hob had never been very good at that.

Up ’til then, Hob had sequestered himself in the forest, keeping to himself and scavenging for plants to eat. He hadn’t seemed to need much food, didn’t get hungry often or lose weight when he didn’t eat, which he supposed made sense considering— well. Considering. But it kept him occupied. Kept him from thinking about it too much.

And he explored the fantastical forest. Its trees broader than he could wrap his arms around, reaching up into the sky higher than he could see. Its grassy dells, with wildflowers in detail and variety he’d never seen, its bird and insect life, its towering waterfalls and quiet brooks. Hob loved the forest. There was something truly ancient about it, something wilder than he could comprehend.

It was almost enough to distract him from why he was there.

But he got too curious. He wanted to know more, he wanted to understand the rest of this world, what realm he was in— so he’d gone searching for people.

And drawn something back with him.

Inevitable, really. Hob couldn’t hide in some place he didn’t belong forever.

The six-legged thing that had caught him was now dragging him across a wide, grassy field, traveling faster than Hob would have thought possible. Its claws dug into his arm, nearly drawing blood. Hob didn’t bother fighting back. He’d tried, once along the way, and gotten what felt like a sack of bricks to the face from the creature’s fist. No use trying to take it in a fight; better to keep his wits about him and look for a chance to escape. Nor did he bother asking it any questions. He’d tried that, too, and gotten only stony silence.

In any case, he was too preoccupied with taking in the scene around him.

Hob had been aware that this place, this… realm, he supposed, had a castle. He had seen the strange silhouette of it in the distance whenever he was at the forest’s edge, had heard occasional gossip by eavesdropping on actual denizens of the realm. But despite his curiosity, he’d steered far clear; the last thing he’d needed was to attract powerful attention.

Now, they were approaching said castle, and Hob let his curiosity run free, gaping up at the towering marble spires. The seemingly endless wings, the intricate carvings, hell, the elevated bridge that crossed the river to the front gates… he had never seen nor even heard of anything approaching its like back in his world. It was like something out of a children’s story, a fairy tale.

Was that where he was? The land of faerie? That couldn’t possibly be good.

Better than death, though, had to be. Hell, Hob would join ranks with the bloody fey if it kept him alive, what did he care where his loyalty lay?

The palace gates creaked open at their approach, and the creature pulled Hob through into the chill, shadowed rooms within. They stepped into a hall so massive Hob couldn’t see the ceiling or the end of it, but he had barely a moment to take any of it in before his captor was flinging him down onto the marble floor.

Hob just barely managed to catch himself on his bound hands. He panted, trying to catch his breath from the forced uphill march to get there, hair hanging in his eyes.

"There is no need for the dramatics," said a voice. A voice that seemed to come from the sky above and the shadows beneath his body and from within his own chest, resounding like the perpetual hum of the heavens turning. “Leave him to me.”

In his peripheral vision, the creature bowed jerkily and scurried off, leaving Hob alone with the owner of that voice.

He wrenched his tired head up. He was in an immense throne room, grander than anything he could have imagined, pillars reaching up to a ceiling that faded away into starlight, massive stained-glass windows that cast triangles of red light down on Hob’s face. How there could be sunlight and a night sky up above at once, Hob didn't know, but then, he still didn’t know what this place was. What kingdom he had found himself in. He had been too preoccupied with not getting caught to risk asking.

The owner of that voice was seated at the top of a long, winding staircase, the windows at his back, sprawled on one of the top steps rather than on the throne that was presumably there for that purpose. From a distance, Hob could only really make out the shape of him – the sweeping black lines of his cloak, the sharp angles of his limbs, his dark hair, his unnaturally bright eyes.

He didn't look like a king as Hob was used to seeing them depicted, with all their gold and finery. But he felt like one, in the way Hob stood at the altar of a church and felt the presence of the Lord.

The King stood, a slow, fluid motion like the rising of the moon. He strode down the steps toward Hob, cloak dragging at his ankles.

Hob could have run for it. There was nobody else in the room, nobody holding him captive, no guards, no retinue.

It was precisely because of that that he did not. No guards meant the King was absolutely confident in his ability to restrain Hob himself if need be, and more besides.

What the hell kind of kingdom was this?

“Robert Gadling.” The King stopped before Hob, close enough that Hob had to tilt his head up to look at him from where he was still kneeling on the floor. He had a beautiful face, a regal face, imperious tilt to it and all. Eyes like moonlight on winter’s first snowfall.

“Hob, if you please,” said Hob, because he had never known when to shut the fuck up.

The King’s lips twitched, and Hob had no way of knowing but he would have sworn it was amusement. “Hob, then.” Despite the stone walls, the empty space, his voice did not echo. It was simply there. Hob felt it inside his head, inside his heart. “Would you care to explain to me what you are doing in the Dreaming?”

“The Dreaming?” Hob asked.

The King raised an eyebrow. “You stand in the Kingdom of Dreams, my kingdom. You do not know this?”

“Uh.” Hob ducked his head, abashed. “No? I kind of just... found myself here,” he hedged.

Then there was a hand in his hair, tugging his head back. His grip was strong, and Hob winced. He met the King of Dreams’s eyes again and found the impression of very sharp teeth deep within them. The moment Hob presented as even somewhat of a real threat, he would find those teeth in his throat, he was sure.

He supposed he’d have to try not to be a real threat.

“Only living souls find themselves in the Dreaming,” said the King of Dreams, voice the rumbling growl of shifting ice. “Perhaps you would like to try for a different answer.”

“Alright, alright!” Hob relented, and the King's grip on his hair eased, just a smidge. “Alright. I escaped from Death.”

“Escaped,” repeated the King of Dreams. “From Death.”

“I swear,” said Hob. He would have raised his arms in surrender if they weren’t bound. “That’s the truth.”

“One cannot escape from Death’s grasp.”

"Guess I’m just really determined?”

The King's jaw clenched. “Very well. I will call her, then, and we shall see.”

Dread pitted Hob's stomach, but then the King of Dreams paused in thought, head tilting. He looked Hob up and down, calculating, cleverness spinning in those eyes.

“It takes quite a bit of skill to hide from me in my own realm,” he observed.

Hob didn't know what answer to this would prevent him getting chucked into the void, and for once in his life, wisely remained silent.

The King released him, and Hob swayed forward in the wake of his grip, nearly falling. “Walk with me,” he said, and turned and strode away across the throne room, leaving Hob scrambling to catch up.

He followed at the King’s side, just a step behind, as they turned into a side hall that seemed to unfold from nowhere as they walked. Hob looked at the man—being?—beside him. He was smaller than he seemed, slighter than Hob and almost delicate, but still Hob didn't fancy his chances in a fight. Not here, at the seat of his power. He'd be better off trying to wrestle the sun.

He just kept following.

“I have read the book of your life, Hob Gadling,” said the King of Dreams. It was said casually, like this was a usual occurrence, but a shiver ran up Hob’s spine nonetheless. Unnerving, to think his story was just accessible like that, and so easily summarized. “I did so as soon as my subject caught you to bring you before me. Your life was cut short by violence, but before that, it involved a rather interesting occupation.”

“I… suppose you could say so, my lord,” Hob agreed. The hall they strode down was infinitely long, lined by columns that let in streams of moonlight. Again, with the time of day shifting from room to room. Maybe this really was the land of dreams.

The King hummed. “Relations between the Dreaming and several other realms have been tense, of late,” he told Hob. “I would prefer to avoid war, but to do so requires inside knowledge that I am currently lacking.” He looked at Hob out of the corner of his eye. “For any man who could get me that information, perhaps making use of certain hidden talents—I could be persuaded to make an exception to my usual rule of sending stowaway souls back where they belong.”

Wait.

So Hob wasn’t going to be killed?

“You don’t—” his head was reeling— “you don’t already... have spies?”

The King sighed. “Dreams cannot leave the Dreaming. My ravens can, but they are known across the realms as my messengers, and I would not put them at such risk, besides.”

He did not have to say, I would easily put you at such risk, for it to be heard.

“I did, you know…” Hob said, though he wasn’t sure why he was arguing with salvation, “die in my role, you’re aware. I’m not sure you want a failed spy working for you.”

The King made a dismissive noise. “Your skills were solid. Your commanders were reckless and wasteful. Sending you scurrying back and forth like a courier and wasting your better expertise. The Kingdom of Dreams is not like the kingdoms of men. I do not wage war on petty whims, and I do not waste my resources.”

Something in Hob coiled tight at the thought of being a resource, a tool of this man. Or entity. He wasn’t sure if it was nerves, or anticipation.

“Before you answer,” continued the King, “it is only fair that you know the risks. The realms that span this universe are myriad, with a variety of dangers. While you would not die, you could be hurt, captured, tortured, imprisoned. Especially if your purpose were to be found out.

“Should you be caught—” the King studied Hob’s face, “you would be utterly disavowed. You are not one of my creations, and I would risk nothing for you, nor claim you; I would deny any association between you and the Dreaming. You may find yourself trapped eternally in Hell. Or somewhere worse.”

There was somewhere worse? Hob thought.

Still, perhaps it was the reckless brigand in him, but he hadn’t yet heard anything that made him want to pick death instead. If anything, it was all sounding like a rather grand adventure.

“What say you, Hob Gadling?” asked the King of Dreams, with a tiny smirk. He clearly didn’t think Hob was going to say yes. “How far will you go to avoid death? Would you be my spy? My agent in the dark?”

Hob thought it might be worth being trapped eternally in Hell just to see the surprise on the King’s face when he said, “Oh, hell yes.”

#so much of this exists in my head but i've made so little progress on actually writing it #hoping that by sharing some it will kickstart that process #spy au #spy hob #expect slow updates on this one sorry #i say as if all my fics arent slow updates #hob gadling #dream of the endless #dreamling #my writing #my god this has been waiting in the wings for an ETERNITY #technically most of this first chapter is already floating around on tumblr from when i first posted it for a prompt #the spy au and spy hob tags contain tons of visual inspo too btw

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beartes22 · 3 months

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Constantly thinking about how WWX thinks about JC how he thinks JFM thought about YZY but mostly as how he denied and yet carelessly commented JFM thinks (disregards) about JC

It is so, so, so fucked up and one of the reasons why chengxian is so doomed by the narrative bc no matter what JC does or says, WWX already "knows" what is about. Bc JC is his shidi and WWX knows best. And still, pre masacre, pre core exchange, it could have work. It could have, because they love each other so much but JC lost his core. WWX thinks he chose his parents. He thinks Jc choose the dead bodies of his parents, a filial duty, over survival, over him. And he never forgave Jc for it.

Bc now is WWX turn to assume the consequences of his shidi actions, now it is his turn to bear the pain for him. And he does not do it with reluctance, he does not, he does it bc he loves Jc so so much, but still. Still. The hurt it caused it. The hell it send to him. The hopelessness.

And then to see his shidi thrive were he can’t no longer. To see him shine when he is but a shadow. To see him reach for the impossible time and time again as if it was not WWX who never gave up before, who rallied his shidi over his (small, imagined, greedy) woes. To see all that and know envy, envy he had denied his whole life and envy he will repress into resentment, into sth useful bc WWX is not like yzy or Jc he is not, he does not hurt the ones he lives with his jealousy and sense of inferiority. Bc how can he not envy, when one says his dad doesn’t love him but he still has a dad? When one says he is not enough for his sect when he has such a inheritance, such a clear path at life. And WWX never cared never ever ever, how could he? He loved his shidi best, in spite of all the bad things.

And somehow, Jc himself is a thing he has to be loved in spite of. And it’s heartbreaking.

#but WWX never will say any of that aloud or even think it clearly #this man has been running form negative emotion like he’s sprinting his whole life #also that would make him the bad guy and WWX has enough guilt to carry and not talk about already try #also I love Jc and it shows sorry #this is not to say he is a perfect shidi or anything the man is a mess #but all his doubts about WWX character have it reason. it’s proof #and maybe the proof was forged but it was there #he does not deal with a single emotion gracefully but he does deal with them. he lets them simmer for eternity #which is. not ignoring them.#bad but at least real. idk how to say it.#anyway it fucks me up how much agency WWX denies Jc and how much complexity he refuses to see #like. WWX would do the impossible to make Jc the person who hates him irrationally so that he is not the bad guy in the relationship #(which is more complex than good or bad guys but I digress)#I love when they reconcile but I also hate it. bc it is never acknowledged how much WWX daily shits on Jc as a person)#you can love a person you don’t like. it happens.#but the Jc in WWX head is not the real Jc and the sad thing is that WWX loves the real Jc not the inherited prejudice from jfm #but he can’t perceive him he refuses to he can’t bc then he has to deal with what he did to him.#he lied. he lied. he lied to Jc’s (and himself) so much he can’t no longer distinguish the truth of them and is so fucking sad #mxtx #chengxian #grandmaster of demonic cultivation

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lesbiancassius · 3 months

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crazy how oblivion and eternity are the only possibilities and they are both equally horrifying

#june.txt #sorry. existentialism on main #i guess eternity is less scary if the universe is truly infinite so one does not lack places to go. but infinity in an uninfinite universe?#hell.a ctual hell #and if it's oblivion then tehre is fucking oblivion just actual nothing #and what do you do with that. accept that everything that has ever been will end?#im going to send myself into a panic attack

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green-tea-lemonade · 1 year

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extremely tired and sleepy but head screaming otherwise

#art #digital art #procreate #homestuck #nepeta leijon #im gonna scream #i just wanna nap #this is why working early mornings can suck because you get into the habit of sleeping after for a little bit #then the one time you dont your body says #okay lets not sleep all the time #in fact lets stay up well past the time you usually sleep in an eternal suffer state #there has been a point ive gone 3 very miserable days without sleep #and boy howdy its a trip #sorry for the rant im very tired

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wowifinallywatched · 4 months

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Saw: The Final Chapter

Me: A room and the lighting of it won't make me emotional

The Room: *The OG saw bathroom*

Me: SOBBING IN THE CORNER BESIDE MY BABY BOY ADAMS BODY

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lady-harrowhark · 1 year

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idk if anyone's made this joke before, but as a self-professed atla fan, what's your feelings on ianthe having an interaction with some random like "your prince ianthe naberius costume is pretty good, but your bone arm's on the wrong side" "it's NOT ON THE WRONG SIDE"

my feelings would be incredibly favorable, thank you for this delightful mental image

#like now that the idea is in my head i can't believe no one's made that joke before tbh #incredible #we are eternally indebted to you #(also I'M SO SORRY to the other handful of anons that have been sitting in my inbox)#(my brain has been so fried the past few weeks and i want to give you good responses!)#anonymous #ask #ianthe naberius #tlt #tlt txt #nona the ninth spoilers

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thepiecesofcait · 2 years

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#be serious #i havent drawn these two in an eternity and it has been weighing on my heart #Enjolras #Grantaire #ExR #Enjoltaire #Yeah hes written on R's nose #in E's defense y'all cant see how ridiculously R needed to bend to occupy the desk in this cropped version #their sleeves kind of blend together but i sacrificed the energy i had to fix that into habing too much fun with hair texture #sorry not sorry #Les Miserables #Cait Makes #digital art #procreate

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suffarustuffaru · 1 year

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friendly reminder that reinhard is approximately the same age as his parents when they had him

#suffaru post #IM SORRY MAYBE THIS IS A REINHARD BLOG NOW….#i have an essay due at 11:59 pm but instead i am doing this HAH…#OK BUT THIS IS IMPORTANT RIGHT of course rezero is medieval fantasy and full of death traps so of course u got people having kids younger #but theres another layer here in that like 1. heinkel didnt become sword saint and theresia was growing older so he was basically required #to have a kid earlier than usual im sure. and of course heinkel and louanna got lucky bc they truly loved each other #and then theres like. bc louanna has sleeping beauty syndrome shes eternally stuck at 20 yrs old rn. reinhard is the same age as his #comatose mom. shes been in a coma since he was like two.#and reinhard too is expected to have kids to pass down the sword saint blessing. that shit is a family curse at this rate i swear 😭😭#reinhard van astrea #heinkel astrea #louanna astrea #ok also i know having kids at like 20 is probs like pretty good for medieval standards and all. but its still like. young. and then as we #all know shit goes sideways in the astrea family very quickly after reinhard is born and heinkel has his descent into madness arc which #recontextualized a bit with the fact that he was a young parent that suddenly lost a whole lot of things.#and there are no therapists in rezero so 😭😭😭😭#also ok yes i am assuming louanna was either 19 or 20 when she had reinhard…#meanwhile heinkel we know for sure was like 20 yrs old yeah.#re:zero

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sunmisbf · 4 months

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the haunting of sunmisbf’s room

#my room is like the haunting of hill house it’s eating away at me #i can’t believe it’s only been 5 months since my dad’s gf’s family moved in it has felt like an eternity #living in a small ass room that is also basically my kitchen n living room all at once is killing me 😭#also i deleted that long ass paragraph i wrote about my dad’s gf if u saw that sorry i was having a moment 😭#.txt

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crowsgrudge · 7 months

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"we'll be shutting all this down in about ... 6 thousand years?" "but thats nothing!" vs "how long have we been friends? 6 thousand years!" how are we feeling fellow good omens-ers

#good omens #many thoughts. none happy #i know crowley says this in very different contexts but like #as an angel he thought 6 thousand years where nothing. he had all eternity afterall. but as a demon?#its also like. we see crowleys existence as an angel as really lonely (considering hes staying really far away to make stars and whatnot)#but then his existence as a demon isnt lonely at all. he THINKS it will be (being on his own side) but then it isnt #bc theres an angel who is on his own side as well #and they have their own side for 6 thousand years #anyway crowley quantifying his relationship with aziraphale saying theyve been friends since forever #but also 6 thousand years are nothing to them so aziraphale has !! to run away with him #sorry im insane #they make me sooo ill

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lovelyfanatical · 11 months

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I Get a Sugar Rush Whenever I'm With You - Chapter 6.2

Happy Friday fellow Drukkari stans, or whatever day it is for you! I come bearing the next mini-chapter! If you missed any prior installments, you can find all of them on my new table of contents here. Previously, Druig and Makkari got to have an extra fluffy baking session, but can the sweetness last? Find out now in the next installment of Drukkari in the Great British Bake Off!

Druig was riding high into the weekend, even if he’d been dreading this particular week since he’d found out what it was. He’d never been much for dieting, as he didn’t see the point of limiting what he ate if he didn’t have to, so an entire week based around cutting out certain ingredients seemed rather daunting. Nevertheless, he’d been in a noticeably better mood ever since his afternoon with Makkari. She hadn’t stayed too long after they finished baking (and eating half the éclairs they’d just made). She’d helped him clean up a bit, packed up the rest of the éclairs, and given him a hug goodbye. He wouldn’t quite call it a date. They were just two friends baking and hanging out. In secret. Even so, he’d enjoyed it immensely, and it seemed like Makkari had as well.

They greeted each other as usual outside the hotel, and Druig couldn’t say for sure, but it felt like something in the air had changed between them. Standing with their friends, it felt like Makkari stayed closer to him than usual. That said, she always stood close enough to bump shoulders with him or reach over and punch his arm if he provoked such a response. Today, however, Makkari didn’t do either of those things. She just stood by him, occasionally chiming into the conversation, and while she didn’t turn her head, Druig thought he’d seen her glancing at him from the corner of her eye, a smile playing at her lips. It was a wonder she could keep up with the conversation at all, as he’d stopped listening almost as soon as he noticed her looking. When he finally tuned back into the group, he saw Ajak eyeing them, one eyebrow beginning to rise. Druig looked away as calmly and casually as he could.

Like he had during weeks prior, Druig held onto that happy feeling as the day progressed. The first challenge wasn’t too bad, but it definitely could’ve gone better. Now that he’d made ice cream during a technical, making it during a signature didn’t seem quite as stressful, even if it was dairy-free. That said, he’d also chosen a more basic flavor profile, making things slightly easier for himself. He’d gone with almond milk vanilla ice cream, dipped in chocolate with a hint of chili. The judges found it simple but effective, though Arishem had also added that he found it a bit underwhelming after last week’s performance. It certainly wasn’t his most glowing review, but Druig found that his wasn’t the opinion he most cared about.

The good thing about the chocolate dip was that he’d been able to save one for Makkari, much to her delight. She happily ate it, remarking, Sorry, I wish I could’ve save one of mine for you.

While Druig was quite curious about hers (Makkari had made mango ice cream topped with chili powder), he’d only replied, Guess you’ll just have to make it again for me sometime.

She gave him an amused look, but before she could respond, Kingo came trotting over, Phastos trudging along behind him.

“It’s days like this that I’m glad I don’t have to do the baking anymore,” Kingo said.

“Spoken like someone who doesn’t have a lactose intolerant child with a sweet tooth,” Phastos replied. Despite being a busy engineer, husband, and father, he’d picked up BSL quite quickly and had already started signing along where he could.

You really don’t miss competing? Makkari asked Kingo.

“I mean, I do. It was a really great experience, but sometimes, it really is more fun to just watch,” Kingo responded.

“No offense, Kingo, but the behind-the-scenes stuff seems to suit you better than being in front of the camera,” Druig added. Kingo’s mouth fell open at the remark.

“Was that an actual back-handed compliment?” he asked.

“You’re actually touched by that?” Phastos asked, visibly confused.

“I’m pretty sure that’s as close as Druig’s ever gotten to complimenting me, so I’ll take it,” Kingo explained matter-of-factly.

“Who’s handing out compliments?” Sersi called over as she and Ajak approached the table.

“Druig said I was doing a good job!” Kingo answered excitedly.

“I also said you weren’t good in front of a camera,” Druig corrected.

“Well, that makes more sense,” Sersi said as she sat down.

“At least he said something nice,” Ajak added. “It’s good to change things up sometimes. Although, I don’t think I’ll be making dairy-free ice cream again any time soon.”

A few of them groaned in agreement (including Kingo, though Makkari threw a crouton at him in retaliation, much to Druig’s amusement). Ajak hadn’t gone for anything too complicated, but her chocolate ice cream hadn’t quite set, making for quite the mess when it came time for judgment. The others had done alright, but Druig could sense that none of them were looking forward to the next two challenges.

One person who hadn’t struggled at all, however, was Sprite, whose avocado ice cream had only garnered praise. As she and Gilgamesh neared the table, completing the party, they started applauding. She paused to roll her eyes but gave them a playful bow before she took her seat and accepted the onslaught of compliments.

“Well, I did have the advantage. I’ve been vegan since I was 12,” Sprite said.

“So last month?” Gilgamesh teased, which earned him a few chuckles, but Sprite was not amused.

“I’m sure you get this all the time, but one day, you’ll be glad you look young for your age,” Ajak tried to reassure.

“You’re right, I do get that all the time,” Sprite replied wryly.

If you do well on the technical, do you think your mom will let you come to dinner with us? Makkari asked.

“Tell her we may seem like grown-ups, but we’re really just a bunch of oversized kids,” Gilgamesh added. “And we promise not to be bad influences!”

“Oh, I don’t actually need her permission. I just didn’t want to hang out with a bunch of adults twice my age and above,” Sprite replied, grinning snarkily. Several members of the group voiced their discontent at this statement, but she cut them off, saying, “I’m kidding! I already asked her, and she said I could make an appearance.”

“What about you, Phastos?” Ajak asked.

“We’ll see. Jack likes me to Facetime him before he goes to bed,” Phastos explained.

One of these days, we’ll get you to dinner, Makkari signed, a playful look in her eye.

“Assuming I make it through this week!” he lamented. No matter how well he did, Phastos always seemed to think he was one mistake away from elimination.

“Well, considering you got Arishem to enjoy peanut butter ice cream, I’d say you make it to next week,” Druig interjected.

“Again, with the almost compliments!” Kingo remarked. “Next thing you know, he’ll start being nice to people not named Makkari!”

This time, Makkari handed Druig the crouton. It hit Kingo right in the forehead, drawing plenty of laughter from most of the table, a light scolding from Ajak, and another eye-roll from Sprite as she muttered something about being more mature than most of her fellow competitors.

I may not agree with her actions, but as someone who's always looked young for their age, I can relate to Sprite 😆 Likes, comments, and re-blogs would be much appreciated!

Part 20

#lovelyfanatical shares #drukkari gbbo au #drukkari #druig x makkari #eternals #eternals fanfiction #sprite has barely been here but she's so done already #couples who throw food at people together stay together #sorry kingo

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