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cuubism · 1 year

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

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

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

"You know we talk."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It is not for human minds to comprehend."

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

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

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

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

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

"I am a cat," Dream explains.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, this is getting weird.

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

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

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

"So, not," Hob says.

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

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

"That, too."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I suppose."

Never a straight answer with him.

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

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

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

Dream is silent.

Fucking hell.

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

"You have many," Dream observes.

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

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

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

"And was there ever one?"

"No."

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

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

"Which civilization was that?"

"You would not know it," Dream says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dream inclines his head in agreement.

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

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

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

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

"Hush. I'm being a cat."

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

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

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

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

"World domination," Dream says solemnly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, it is getting fucking odd.

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

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

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

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

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

Hob groans. "You are impossible."

Dream smirks.

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

"Perhaps."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"As you judge," Dream says.

Hob finally drops his hands from his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You may."

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

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

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

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

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

"I am," Dream says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#really a toss up what's making hob lose his mind more. the eldritch vision of dreaming as a concept? or dream's tits?#listen he's a simple man #a simple and very bisexual man #dreamling #dreamling fic #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing

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rikkivoid · 1 year

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winter kiss

#bakudeku #LAST NIGHT i had a dream that bkdk went on a first date and it was so cute #it made me wanna write a fic BUT IDK HOW JFHDJHF #SO I WILL JUST TALK ABOUT IT HERE #(also i rlly wanted to draw deku in fluffy warm clothes)#ANYWAY the concept of deku asking bkg on a date and them both just indulging in a moment of normalcy that's just.. simple and tender..#MAKES ME RLLY EMOTIONAL #bc they never really get the chance to just be normal teenagers #and the world they live in has become so dangerous and so chaotic #SO BOTH OF THEM GO ON THIS DATE and they have a nice time #but it's bittersweet too because they know they might not get another moment like this #bc they never know what tomorrow will bring #SO IT'S A HAPPY MOMENT but one that is fleeting #like snow :)#ANYWAY if u read all of that thank u JFHJFHF #rikkivoid #mystuff

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hardly-an-escape · 3 months

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Stormy Weather, or: Outside, the Wind (Inside, the Light) | Dream/Hob | 1600 words | Rated T

tags: I recently spent an evening without power therefore I must put the blorbos in a Situation, love confessions, first kiss, getting together, power outages, Hob Gadling throughout history, gratuitious use of mildly accurate Middle English

The wind tears around London like a living thing, a wild animal, a predator, intent on the hunt. It chases birds into their nests and people into their homes, moans around corners and rattles shutters, sending piles of leaves whirling into miniature hurricanes and whipping branches into a frenzy, sharpening its claws on roof tiles and telephone poles.

Except in Hob Gadling’s flat.

The New Inn, and the cozy home above it, is in one of those old buildings that’s actually been loved and maintained – thanks in no small part to Hob’s own care and attention. The walls are thick and strong, the roof is solid. The shutters may rattle, but the windows are double-pane; the curtains and carpets are warm and soft, and no drafts encroach on the sanctity of his living room, where Hob and Lord Morpheus, King of Dreams, are having a movie night.

It’s part of Hob’s concerted effort to introduce the Prince of Stories to the stories he’d missed during his imprisonment. Tonight it’s Blade Runner – the final cut, of course – which isn’t necessarily one of Hob’s personal favorites, but seemed to fit the stormy, rainy vibes of the weather. They’re installed on the couch, with hot chocolate and wine and snacks, which Dream has deigned to pick at. Harrison Ford is eating noodles and wandering through wet, moodily-lit streets. The wind is howling outside, but they’re safe and warm and surrounded by soft things and life is about as good, Hob thinks, as it ever gets these days.

And then his lights flicker. Once, twice; there is the impression of a sort of electrical last gasp, and the room is plunged into darkness.

The wind whips and the shutters rattle. A volley of rain spits itself against the windows.

“Bugger,” says Hob.

Dream says nothing, merely brings his wineglass – which had already been cradled in one elegant hand – to his lips.

“Hang on,” says Hob. “I’ve got some candles around here somewhere.”

He gropes his way to the kitchen. In one drawer he unearths some beeswax tapers and several tea lights, which he arranges on a plate. He rummages in one of the deeper cabinets and makes a triumphant noise as he discovers his prize behind disused mugs and a fondue set from the 1980s: a pair of old-fashioned brass candlesticks equipped with round reflectors, highly polished to catch the light and bounce it back out into the darkness.

“You are remarkably well-prepared for an event such as this,” says Dream, as Hob lights his various prizes and returns to the living room with his hands full of flickering flames.

“Well, you know,” Hob demurs. “When it comes down to it, I’ve lived a lot more of my life without electricity than with it.” He arranges the tea lights on the coffee table and sets the brass candlesticks on a nearby bookshelf. “You never really get out of the habit of preparing for the worst. Although I will say, these beeswax ones beat the hell out of the old tallow jobbies we had when I was young. Got ‘em from a local bloke who keeps bees not half a mile away, isn’t that cool? A beekeeper in the middle of London. There, now,” he says, and having arranged the lights to his satisfaction he plops himself back down on the sofa.

Outside, the wind wails. The lack of lamps on the empty street below and the gentle candlelight within make the night seem even darker, and turn Hob’s living room into something even softer and cozier than it already is.

Dream’s face, in the flickering candles, seems even more otherworldly than usual; and Hob, for his part, truly looks as though he belongs in another century. The very shape of his face has changed, somehow, into something older; taking on a new appearance in the candlelight the way a man’s tongue might curl differently around the syllables of another language.

“I miss it, sometimes,” he says lowly. “This kind of world. Before the wires and the phones and the cars. It was… quieter.”

“You speak often of your delight in change and progress. Do you truly long for your past lives?” asks Dream.

“Yes and no,” answers Hob. “Some things are better now, no question. Antibiotics, wouldn’t want to live without those again. Vaccines and X-rays and chemotherapy and antidepressants – almost all the medical stuff. Mass transportation. Cars and planes have never been safer. Honestly, I’ve never understood the people who moan about the olden days and oh, life was simpler back then. Don’t they know how many people died? How many kids? Because they caught a cold or fell out of a tree or had a case of the runs that lasted a little too long?”

He leans forward to adjust one of the candles, which is dripping unevenly, and when he sags back into the couch there is just the hint of a frown between his strong brows.

“And yet…” he says, staring into the flames, voice quiet. “Nights like this. I do sometimes think…”

Hob trails off for a long moment.

“There was a rhythm to life, back then,” he says finally. “You counted hours by the church bells and days by the tasks that needed done. And there was so much that needed to be done… cows milked and fields planted and clothes knitted or mended. And it was all so important, so… necessary. Regimented. But in the in between time – Christ! your time wast thine.” As he speaks, his voice has slipped into an older register: his Rs grown rounder, his vowels longer, curling from his mouth to mingle with the candlesmoke hovering over his coffee table. “I remember fair hours as a lad, even into my manhood, of which I spent lyende in th’ fields, watching ants in th’ grass. And later, too, we’d hie us to bed with the sonne, the fire banked in the hearth. An’ it happen that if we awakened before dawn, ’twas a simple thing to pass the time in simple ways, be it in prayer or in pleasure…”

The innuendo in his words is clear, but Hob is not looking at Dream; his eyes are unfocused as he stares into the middle distance, revisiting the past via candlelight. Until one of the wicks lets out a small pop, and flares, and he shakes himself, coming back to the present.

“God, sorry,” he says, voice back in the 21st century. “Woolgathering. I’ll go on for an age, me. More wine?”

But Dream’s eyes have also gone unfocused, his lips parted slightly, chest rising and falling with unnecessary breaths as he stares – no, gazes – at Hob. He, too, must shake himself into the present moment at Hob’s offer of more wine. He silently holds out his glass.

“May I ask you a personal question?” Dream says.

“Anything. You know that.”

Dream pauses. Sips. Outside, the sound of the wind has not abated; has grown, if anything, even more dramatic. There is the muffled sound of branches scraping against the side of the building.

“Why,” asks Dream finally, “do you pretend to yourself that you do not want me?”

Hob chokes. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Why do you pretend thus to me?” Dream pursues. “Who has known you longer than any being on this planet or any other; who can know your innermost dreams?”

“What do you mean, other planets?” Hob demands. And then: “Have you been peeking at my dreams?”

“I need not peek, as you put it, to see the truth of the matter. It is writ plain on your face and in your every word and deed. I merely wonder why this truth has hovered before us for over six hundred years and you have yet to press your suit. Do you doubt, after all this time, my affection for you? Do you find me – unworthy?”

Dream sounds, impossibly, almost uncertain. Even vulnerable. Hob sighs heavily and leans forward, elbows on his knees and face in his hands.

“I – God. Dream,” he stammers. “Yes, Christ, I am full of doubts. You stormed away from me when I implied you might be lonely, I… I have never, once, thought I had a suit to press at all. What on earth has brought this on? Now, of all times?”

“I do not know,” Dream murmurs. “Perhaps… this darkness is working on me, as well. Perhaps I am as susceptible to candlelight and nostalgia as the next anthropomorphic personification.”

He smiles, a little quirk of the mouth that contains worlds, and Hob leans over, listing helplessly into Dream’s space as the tapers flicker.

“Fuck,” he whispers, pressing their foreheads together, turning his head to butt his cheekbone against the sharp line of Dream’s nose. “Art thou rēal? Speak you treue?”

“Aye, my Hob,” answers Dream. “Min herte is treue and bilongeth to you.”

A sob catches in the back of Hob’s throat at the words. “Fuck,” he whispers again, “Dream, I’m yours. I am. I always have been. My Dream, min sweven, my leof. Alwei, allesweis…”

Their mouths find each other, then, finally, lip against lip and breath against breath. They kiss for a long, long moment, desperate and hungry and soft all at once, as outside the wind howls coldly around the corners of the New Inn, and inside the light cast by Hob’s candles bathes their whole little world in a cozy glow.

“Take me to bed,” murmurs Dream against Hob’s mouth. “Make me your lover. Show me how you pass the time by candlelight, and in darkness.”

“Oh, darling. Dearheart,” Hob answers. “Nothing in this world or any world past could make me happier.”

And he suits his actions to his words.

#my writing #the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #a needlessly complicated title for a truly simple little fic #I've already written this basic premise so many times AND I'LL DO IT AGAIN #the archaic English Hob uses in this fic is based on the most cursory googling #just tell yourself it's all over the place because historically English is.... all over the place #my unpopular opinion is that I think Blade Runner is overrated and yes I will project my opinions onto fictional characters #as usual this started in one place and went in another direction entirely #may post on AO3 tomorrow if the spirit so moves me

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crystillyzed · 11 months

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one more // mysta rias

warning(s): overstimulation, degradation, he fucks you stupid basically, mean mysta

a/n: i was writing another wip and the horny thoughts took over. enjoy! :)

"No! Please! Stooop!~ It’s too much! AH!"

He currently has you sitting all pretty on his lap with his cock nestled deep inside, slick with your fluids from who knows how many times you've cummed just from tonight.

“Mysta--“ you gasp against his shoulder as he grinds against that spot in spite of your sensitivity. You whine pathetically and lower your head onto the crook of his neck, soon whimpering and writhing against his iron grip on your hips.

"Hm? You said you wanted to cum, so I'm letting you cum. Aren't I so nice?" He lets out a laugh so cruel that you can't help but tighten up around his length. "Oh, so you were lying, huh? Haha! What an eager little slut."

Before you could protest, he suddenly thrusts his hips upwards. Jolts of pleasure immediately shot through your body as he increases the strength just for a few pumps. It's too much. It's too much. You plant your head against his chest, whining as you grab at his back for dear life as your body's sent in overload.

However, he clicks his tongue and brings a hand to grab your chin. You gasped as you feel his cock hit that sweet spot, allowing him to stick his tongue into yours. You let out a whine while Mysta kisses you deeply as you could do nothing but take everything helplessly.

"One more," he pants against your mouth. "Be good and give me one more, hm?"

#nijisanji #nijisanji en #nijien #luxiem #mysta rias #mysta rias x reader #luxiem x reader #nijisanji x reader #mysta rias smut #luxiem smut #— a simple dream // writing

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lenreli · 10 months

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Day 11 - Fighting Kink

[AO3] Continuation of “Better safe than sorry,” aka sexy pirate captain Hob & ex-noble Dream! Also inspired a bit by these, once again.

Hob sighs, staring up at the grimy ceiling, which also leaks so. Wonderful. Handcuffed and in a place with a leaky ceiling. And he was so looking forward to impressing Morpheus, their newest crew member of the ship. Although, he could do without the other crew members making eyes and faces at him whenever they see them together. He may be captain, but he’s not one for running things like a tyrant.

The boredom is finally past when a group of men come in, and Hob smiles, trying to not look too unhinged. Locking up him has never worked well for others, and as he swiftly kicks the legs out of one, he grabs hold of another’s throat with the handcuff chains, using the momentum to to headbutt him to the third man, and there’s a crack, probably one of their skulls, and Hob finishes them off with a stomp to the first man he took down, cracking his neck.

Looking up, he’s surprised to see the door open, Morpheus gaping. “We came to,” Morpheus croaks, pointing behind them and licking his lips, “rescue you.”

“Much appreciated,” he smiles, leaning down to pat the men down for the keys to the cuffs and pocketing them, Morpheus’s gaze hot on him. “How much hell are they raising?” This deep down in the ship, he probably can’t hear the chaos being caused. Hob wonders idly if Gault’s convinced Lucienne to get away from her lips, or the constant inventorying to join it.

“A lot,” Morpheus breathes, eyes only a thin ring of dark blue, and Morpheus licks his lips again. “We should go join them,” the other man says quietly, unmoving as Hob strides forward.

“Should we?” He asks with a bright grin, arousal sparking at the obvious interest in Morpheus’s face, ocean-blue eyes dark and deep as he holds onto the other’s face, “they could wait a bit, let off some steam,” Hob whispers, stroking pale cheeks, heating up under his hands.

“If you want,” Morpheus rasps, and there’s hands on his waist as they kiss, wet and filthy, and Morpheus lets out a shaky moan as Hob’s hands go into his hair, the cuff chain pressing into a pale neck. “That was,” Morpheus says, fingers digging into Hob’s waist.

“Liked it, huh?” Hob asks, the chain digging into Morpheus’s throat, who shivers and whines, folding onto him, and he tugs black hair roughly, slightly coarser from the sea air, rather than how soft it was when the ex-noble first joined the ship. Hob makes a pleased sound as he pulls the ex-noble down so he kneels, and Morpheus’s eyes look up at him in hunger, undoing his pants swiftly to swallow his cock down, and he whines, Morpheus’s mouth hot and wet.

Morpheus whines as Hob strokes and tugs his hair, cuffs rattling lightly as Hob, already keyed up from the way Morpheus was reacting, and the leftover adrenaline making him come with a gasp, moaning as Morpheus swallows it all. “Very much,” Morpheus says, lips red and slick, voice fucked out and Hob grins, pulling him up for a rough kiss.

#dc #the sandman #dreamling #dreamling fanfic #dreamling smuly #smuly 2023 #dream x hob #hob x morpheus #hob x dream #writing #not sfw #will put on ao3 once it lets me then edit to put link in #i just think hob being dominating in cuffs hot #once again. i am a simple creature

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akindplace · 2 years

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To live a life that doesn't feel so hard, that doesn't have so much unnecessary struggle or pain. A life that doesn't constantly push me over my limits. Where there is support and comfort and coziness. And love. A life that doesn't feel like a job, like it can only be worthwhile if there are constant accomplishments and hard work. To be able to exist safely. Wishing this dream would come true. I hope it does, for me, for you, for all of us. May our hearts feel more wholesome and warm. May life be more gentle.

#original writing #healing #hope #dreams #wishing for a quiet life #wishing for a simple life #suggestion #a gentle life #about life #to be alive

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daisytwist · 2 months

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I just found a farewell to the dsmp song I wrote in my notes ages ago. Idk if I should leave it in my song graveyard or finish and post it... I think some of the lines have potential but it's very clearly a dsmp song. Thoughts?

#dsmp #dream smp #song writing #its really simple and wouldnt take me long to finish

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doodlebloo · 5 months

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Just saw Wonka movie. If you abandon all pre-concieved notions of what is Should be and just go in to see pretty colors and hear silly songs its fun. They milk a giraffe. The orphan girl's name is Noodle

#there is fatphobia in it (character played by keegan michael key just gets larger in every scene bc hes eating so much chocolate and it's #played for laughs)#but its cute. timmy is not very wonka but hes very manic pixie dream boy and it is frustratingly endearing (& thts coming from a lesbian)#u can tell its a Family movie bc some of the writing is very simple. simple jokes. but the plot has a surprising amount of meat to it for #like no reason? idk it had me laughing and it was very pretty to look at. watch it on streaming services maybe idk if it's theater worthy 👍#*uses my mcrp fanblog as a movie review blog* posting is so fun weeeeeeee #doodle.txt

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aquilathefighter · 1 year

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Fluffbruary 4: Snow

Decided to skip the obvious prompt for this pairing today ;)

All my @fluffbruary ficlets can be found on AO3 here!

Fandom: The Sandman (2022)

Relationship: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

When Hob wakes, the morning sun seems brighter. He sits up, peering out the window to see the New Inn’s garden covered in a thick blanket of snow. Glancing to his other side, he sees his husband sleeping peacefully.

Not for long, he thinks, holding in a chuckle. He gets up to prepare a pot of tea, still preferring loose-leaf tea to teabags. Hob sets up the tray, adding some slices of toast and jam for breakfast. When he returns to the bedroom, Dream is awake, bleary-eyed but still able to smile when Hob comes through the door. He sets the tray over Dream’s legs and crawls back into bed, sidling up to him and planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Good morning, my love. Eat up. I have big plans for today.”

“And what would those plans be?” “It’s a secret,” Hob says in a singsong voice. Dream huffs.

“Very well.”

The pair eat their breakfast in companionable silence. Hob hums while spreading jam on the toast and kisses Dream with a pair of very sticky lips. When they finish, Dream takes the tray back to the kitchen while Hob rummages through the closet. He pulls out every long-sleeved shirt, jumper, jacket, and coat the pair own.

Dream crosses the room to wrap his arms around Hob’s waist.

“Surely it is not time for spring cleaning?”

“Oh! Definitely not, dove. We’re gonna wear these!” He turns in Dream’s arms to find his lips, wrapping a scarf around Dream’s neck while he’s distracted.

“…Why?” Dream asks.

“Well, you’ve never played in the snow before, right?”

“Correct. However, I fail to see the purpose to it. Why should we spend our energy getting wet and cold?”

“Well,” Hob slips out of his arms. “You fail to see the purpose ‘cause you haven’t done it yet! Please? For me?” Hob pleads, using the big brown eyes Dream knows he’s weak for to his advantage.

“For you, beloved.”

“Excellent! Now come on, get dressed, get dressed!” Hob begins piling layers into Dream’s hands.

Once the two are bundled up, Hob drags Dream down the stairs and out the door. Dream bristles at the cold, nose wrinkling at the sting of the icy air against his skin. Hob nudges his shoulder.

“C’mon love, it’s not that bad once you start moving!” He grabs Dream’s mittened hand and starts walking toward the garden, snow piled high. Hob lets go of Dream’s hand and flops into the drift on his back.

“Darling? What are you doing?” Dream asks, shocked.

“I’m making a snow angel! Now get down here with me,” Hob pleads.

Dream sighs, bending down gracefully. He lays back, the cold of the snow only permeating his most outer layers. He takes in the sensations, heart squeezing as he realizes his husband is doing this for his benefit.

“What do we do now, Hob?”

“Move your arms and legs like this!” He begins pushing his arms up and down through the snow and moving his legs further apart and back together. Dream tentatively copies his movements at first, then speeds up as he watches Hob’s example. Satisfied, Hob stands up, reaching a hand to help Dream up. He brushes snow off his husband’s back, relishing the touch.

“Look, my Dream,” Hob grins, “they’re holding hands!”

“Indeed they are.” Dream reaches for Hob’s hand, cheeks reddening not from the cold but from the delight his husband brings to even the simplest activities. With his other hand, he caresses Hob’s cheek, leaning in to kiss him. Both of their lips are cold, but Dream doesn’t care. He opens his mouth, inviting Hob’s tongue deeper. Hob follows him, tasting tea and jam and Dream.

The two separate.

“Dove, let’s go inside. I don’t want you to catch cold out here. And we can get warmed up,” he smirks.

Dream just smiles back, the glint of his teeth dazzling Hob.

The two turn back toward the New Inn, still holding hands in a mirror of their angels.

#fluffbruary #my fic #retired!dream of the endless #dreamling #hob x dream #i just think dream should get to enjoy all the simple happy things in life :)#aquila writes

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lem0nademouth · 5 months

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not “coriolanus snow’s descent into tyranny and evil was inevitable and couldn’t have been prevented” and not “coriolanus snow could have been a hero if only he had made different choices” but a secret third thing

(a combination of external factors outside of coriolanus’ control and active, willful decisions by coriolanus led to his transformation into an unfeeling dictator haunted by what he could have done better)

#the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #president snow #suzanne collins #he is not a simple character!#suzanne does not write simple villains OR simple heroes!#in some ways corio was made in a lab by the capitol to become a fascist #and in some ways he had every opportunity to be a good person and chose not to take it #you are supposed to feel sympathy and maybe even empathy for him!#he was five years old witnessing effects of war most people could never dream of #that shit will fuck you up #the point is that none of his trauma excuses his behavior #plenty of capital kids managed to be compassionate and caring under very similar circumstances #the question is whether they let their hardship and trauma make them cruel or make them kind

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buildoblivionthenwewilltalk · 1 year

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fire and blood

#guess what #more Jon #but also a dany!#I’ve never tried to draw a book version of her and I’m quite happy?#went a bit Tudor with the dress #also if Jon gets cool scars so does she #probs drogon related #this is based on a very specific scene in a fic I’ll never write #something like Ned realising ‘oh shit I fostered a targ restoration in the cradle of winterfell’#backgrounds are awful btw #you wouldn’t think it’s difficult to make something simple to frame a picture #AND YET #urgh I love targ Jon #i don’t think it’ll happen #my main bet is kbtw or something for the endgame #but let me dream #also outing myself as a jonerys enjoyer #I’m not exclusive in my Jon coupling thoughts but I do think they’d have a lot to talk about #Jon snow #daenerys targaryen #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #valaryian scrolls #r+l=j #Targaryen #game of thrones #minsart #my art #fanart #snowstorm

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rat-rosemary · 1 year

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To be frank with you, I don’t think that Dream went about announcing or creating the USMP in a good way.

For starters, Dream could have shown basic respect for Quackity and waited before announcing his SMP. He couldn’t even congratulate Quackity for the QSMP without making it about himself. Dream didn’t even wait a month before announcing the USMP, which you must admit is very similar to Quackity’s idea, which has been in the making for way longer than Dream’s has, based on how Dream doesn’t even have all 60 members of his server nor, you know, an actual quality translator (at least based upon his most recent video).

Plus, what connection does Dream have to other languages? I, for one, distinctly mentioning something about how the only language he speaks is winning, and yet now he’s all for overcoming cultural bounds and uniting people from all across the world? I acknowledge that a person’s opinions can change, but then again, there’s the matter of timing that I mentioned earlier.

Overall, I don’t believe that Dream would have been condemned this way if he had announced the USMP later. However, I do believe that he is being heavily inconsiderate of Quackity and that there is a very high possibility that he is trying to ride off of Quackity’s coattails for whatever reason. That reason could be relevancy, as with the obviously faked letter that he supposedly got from Google (obviously faked because of the multiple spelling and grammar issues), or it could be that he is trying to replicate the DSMP and its popularity again.

Regardless, even without getting into the moral qualities of Dream’s character and whether the accusations about him are true, it’s obvious that he is being rude to a certain degree (the degree of which is debatable, but the rudeness definitely not) towards Quackity and what he is trying to achieve with the QSMP.

Sorry for typing out this long essay, but I feel strongly about this topic, and whenever I feel strongly about something, my brain goes into writing mode (it’s the autism—just kidding, of course). I hope I didn’t come off too mean, I just wanted to share with you my views on why the Dream might not have the best intentions for creating the USMP.

Okay so i also talk a lot but my thoughts come a lot more fractured so you might see a ton of edits to this post

So first of all, i actually do agree that the announced of the usmp was not very good. Personally i think he should maybe have waited a bit more, or idk, but i do agree that it didn't come out the best way

The thing about connection to other languages I think that Dream is doing it both because of some of his friends (Korean in specific, Tina really want to learn korean again after she lost most of what she knew, and there are a few more youtubers Dream is friends with and/or knows that know or are korean) and because he genuinely enjoyed connecting with people from other places and languages! Idk if you saw him during the squid games and more even on spreen's heaven event but he was clearly having lots of fun and really really loving talking to people

And a thing about the Dt that most people who dont watch them dont really know, is that they're all kind of shy around new people. Dream is exited but kind of scared, Sapnap is really really shy and will stick to people he knows (you can see on his first irl stream with Karl, he looked like a spooked cat) and George will be weird with people he doesn't know but he doesn't really make a connections quickly like how Quackity for example does

You can really see how these events left a really strong impact on Dream (and his community!)

(Also, some other languages might also been chosen because of his friends, Foolish, Tubbo, Tina and [Oh fuck another person but i forgot her name] were/are working really really hard on learning Spanish, but didn't really get a chance to use it. Other ones, like Japanese, might just be a "oh! I bet there are tons of cool people there" but really i dont know the streamers, so i cant say for sure)

I can talk a bit about why portuguese tho! Most big brasilian youtubers started out as minecraft youtubers, and they're actually really big! I cant really vouch for them (they're not bad, just... like annoying bad, except that one guy, but we dont talk about Monarca) some of our youtubers were on the top of all creators on the site a few years ago (i havent really looked since then)

So it's a big untapped community that does actually love interacting with people from other countries (there's a reason that "come to Brasil" is a meme, other then the fact that no band ever comes to brasil)

I cannot comment on the google thing because i genuinely dont really know what you're talking about

But about congratulating Quackity, I think multiple cc's were congratulating Quackity and saying his project was really cool (including Dream) even before it was announced, and im pretty sure he congratulated Q after the qsmp trailers came out

But yeah, again I think it was kind of weird how the announcement of the usmp came, but i dont think it was because Dream genuinely wanted to hurt Quackity or try to overshadow him

About the quality of the translation, i actually think its kinda funny? It definitely shows that Dream (and Callahan! Who is absolutely incredible) were actually trying to create this themselves and not just copying from something else.

I also think its not meant to really be perfect? I for sure think it will be better when we see it live, but I think the usmp and the version of the translator we see in it are not meant to be the best version it can be, but more an example so people can take it and alter it and transform it. Thats why i think its free to access and edit, because it was meant to be taken and changed by the community

But hey! One of my favorite tropes is language barriers, so i might he a bit biased on the "It's okay that the translator is glitchy thing"

(I also think that language is so complex that the translator will never truly be perfect, with complicated words and frases and *regional dialects and words that dont truly have translations, like "saudade" or "cafune", i think that there will always be little misunderstanding and confusion and bugs, but we can just pause and try to explain it differently, like it always is in conversations)

[*side note, im kind of doxxing myself a little, but my dialect literally replaces the word "thing" for the word "train" and we only do that in my state. You can also always tell when someone writes something in portuguese making sure that people could translate it because we talk/text completely different, you can translate você but not ce so some things get caught up]

This is actually really nice! Its nice to share views without being aggressive and going for each other's throat. I hope is discussed everything? It's 2:31 am and im sick so i might have missed something and im glad to talk more about it if you want to

But yeah, long story short, i do agree that the delivery of the usmp was weird and kind of disjointed, but i think it came from a place of genuine love and excitement with Dream, he just hyperfoxused on it and forgot to think of some stuff. And i think it will be fun to have multiple multilingual smps and that in the ends usmp and qsmp will be different in some core ways

I hope i wasnt rude as well! If i did i genuinely didn't want to come off as agressive

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cellard0ors · 5 days

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I'm at work and I don't want to be.

Anyone interested in sending me 80s Hackearney prompts? I'll do my best to answer em and make em short 😘

#hackearney #writing something simple but good #also know as hastag the dream 😅

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crystillyzed · 8 months

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at the rainbow's end // mysta rias

pairing: mysta rias x gn!reader

word count: 4.1k

genre: fluff, staff!reader, mutual pining, wingman elira

content warning(s): swearing, unedited

summary:

After nearly a year of hearing each other's voice, you finally meet him.

a/n: this was originally going to be released as my 100 follower celebration since i hit that a while back and to make up for the lack of event since i don’t have the time to host one. but with mysta’s graduation this past weekend, i didn’t want to keep this in my drafts since i’ve been working on this for like practically a year now.

this fox-dog man means so much to me, even though i can’t really catch his streams due to timezone differences, but he means So Much to me. i got back into writing because of luxiem, but he and shu were the ones who got me back into the swing of writing which is amazing bc i love writing. i just lost all the motivation to do so until i found them last year. even though he’s no longer in niji anymore or mysta anymore, i will keep writing for him. in fact, i actually have like 3 or so mysta works in the drafts lol

and speaking of writing, this is the first long fic i’ve written in 3-4 years. i’m considering crossposting this onto my ao3 as an alternative access to read longer fics bc ik how tumblr is poopy with loading long text posts. i’m a bit rusty when it comes to writing long fics, but i hope you’ll be able to enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing this 🧡

links: luxiem m.l || main m.l || ao3 ver (if tumblr dies)

You twist your head from your phone back towards your monitor, displaying the Discord window showing your current private call with your blue dragon friend.

“Mysta’s WHAT?”

“Yeah, he’s coming along on the trip,” Elira laughed. “You didn’t know?”

“Apparent-ly! What the hell!! Luca, that motherfucker, I’m gonna beat his ass when I see him!”

She howls with laughter as you ramble on and on about how Luca told you everything about their planned trip but didn’t tell you about Mysta’s planned involvement. Once you’re done, she takes many deep breaths to calm down. “You should come with us! It’s gonna be fun. And, you’ll get to see him again.~”

You can’t really see each other’s faces, considering you’re both in a voice call. But god damn, you can hear the eyebrow wiggle in her teasing tone.

“I can’t,” you groaned, “I have finals when you’re there. As much as I wanna skip it, I really need to pass.”

“Damn, you can’t even get a referral from staff to get you here for a business meeting? Unlucky.”

“Can’t even do that anyway. I already told my professor that my trip’s been canceled, so now I have to take it.”

Though you’re not a liver for the company, you are, however, a staff member for the company. Specifically one of the staff in charge of promotions. Of course, you mainly focus on promoting EN and sometimes the other two now-merged branches. In fact, that’s how you got close to some of the livers.

As one of the staff promoters, you have to speak with the associated livers about PR stream offers and their convention appearance invites. Since you’ve been interacting with the livers the most, you’ve become friends with a few of them. Some namely Elira and Mysta.

Honestly, it’s not that you play favorites with the livers. You try your best to keep your relationships professional with them. But your bond with a specific fox-like man says otherwise.

You see, Mysta has been a joy to be around with. Although you haven’t met him in person yet, you have played some multiplayer games with him. Sometimes you check out the EN Minecraft server to see if the installed mods are working properly. Weirdly enough, almost every time you visit the server, Mysta is online. In fact, that’s how your not-so-business relationship started.

When you first entered the server, after double checking if no one was streaming at the scheduled hour, he was the first person you met. You thought you would run into Selen, Pomu, or perhaps Uki during your visit, but you were pleasantly surprised at his sudden appearance. Luckily, he was kind enough to show you around the server while teaching you some mods. With, of course, the trademark Mysta Rias experience packaged with sexual innuendos and teasing about. Well, except he didn’t go completely sexual considering it was your first time meeting him. He has some decency.

After that, you’ve run into him almost every time you visit the Minecraft server. Every visit eventually turned into hangouts, just you two (and sometimes another liver) chatting and building projects in-game. Soon enough, you and Mysta started to play other games together. You both played games such as Overwatch, Clubhouse, and sometimes League if you felt like torturing yourself for some reason.

Obviously, you had to keep the professionalism on both sides somehow. Your fellow staff members, especially some livers, noticed your close bond with the detective. So they usually send you to his DMs to discuss about any promotion offers involving him. Whenever you have your cameras on for a meeting, he somehow always flusters you with sudden flirtatious marks or something of the sort mid-conversation.

“Hello? Helloooooooo? Is someone there??”

Elira’s voice yoinks you out of your thoughts. Oh god, were you spacing out this entire time? How embarassing.

You clear your throat then respond as if you weren’t thinking of someone just now, “S-sorry, did you say something?”

“Oh my god. It’s that bad,” she mindlessly mutters.

Blink blink. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” she quickly retaliates. With a slight hum, she speaks again, “Since you’re gonna be stuck in hell… Want me to get you something? Like a souvenir or a limited edition thing? I literally have your address, man.”

Oh right, she does. Sometimes you and Elira send gifts to each other like figurines or plushies at random times.

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks for the offer, man.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I’ll still probably send some pics buuut… Y’know… Just saying…”

There she goes again, doing that thing where she wiggles her eyebrows even though you can’t see her fucking face right now. Goddamn it, why did you tell her about your… thing with Mysta? You should’ve known that she’s NOT going to let it go.

You groan, “Just. Just surprise me.”

“That’s so vague! Do you know what that means?”

“Yeah? So? Surprise me.”

“Man… You have no idea how much power you just gave me.” She cackles for the next few seconds, making you start regretting your decision. “Okay, I’ll surprise you. Just don’t forget you asked me to, alright? And no complaining!”

“Okay, alright, fine! I won’t complain! Jeez… Now get to bed, nerd, you have a flight tomorrow.”

“Sheesh, what are you, my mom?” You both chuckle at her remark. “Okieee~ I’ll go pass out now, I guess. Good night!”

“Good night, Ewiwa. Have a safe trip.”

And you both leave call. Well, maybe you should get to sleep too. It’s getting super late, after all.

—

Mysta stares at Elira across the table in disbelief. “Finals? Of all times? Bruh…”

“Haha, yeah! Super uncool and lame and not something I have to worry about soon,” his penguin colleague beside him laughs with a dreadfully crazed look in her eyes. She anxiously reaches out for her soda and starts drinking rapidly.

“Wh— it’s not like I can control it or anything. Shit happens!”

“I know, it’s just…” he drawls off as his gaze lowers to the table. Admittedly, it’s difficult for him to hide his expression. So naturally, the two girls noticed his disappointment. Elira and Petra awkwardly look at each other, then to him, then back at each other.

“Hey, it’s okay, Mysta,” Petra says as she pats his back. “You can always see them next time! Like Nijifest!”

The dragon nods, “Yeah! Or you could see them the next time you take a break. Like going on another vacation or something.”

“If I have enough money for it,” he sighed. But he gives them a small smile to appreciate their attempts to soothe him.

Petra frowns. “If? Mysta, you’re literally one of the top livers in EN, like? Hello? Mr. One Million?”

“But I still don’t know when that’s gonna happen. Might as well be in a year or maybe like half a year or something.”

Elira’s eyes narrow. She quietly listens to their conversation, or bickering at this point, while taking some occasional sips of her drink.

For the past practically a year, Elira’s been one of the victims to both of your hopeless gushing.

She already knew about your friendship since you’ve talked a lot about it before. She knows the stupid hijinks and drunken confessions that you and Mysta told her about off stream. Her eyes closes as a confused thought crosses her mind, Seriously, how are you two not dating already?

Of course, she’s quite aware that the rest of Luxiem are both of your victims. Hell, when Elira’s alone with the other boys, it’s usually them talking about how astonishing that you and Mysta aren’t together. Sometimes, they make bets on who’s going to confess first. It’s obvious!

Even with the two going back and forth, practically becoming one with the background, she closes her eyes and hums in thought. Finals should be finished next week, she mused. Her visible eye opens as she takes a glance at the ashy haired male. But he’s been so busy lately that they haven’t spoken with each other…

The entire EN branch had a full schedule for the past few months. In fact, their schedule was so full that sometimes the livers couldn’t make their own streaming schedules nor stream in general. Mysta, of course, was no exception. As one of the most popular livers in EN, he’s one of the most busiest people she’s ever known. On top of that, you too have been busy recently too. You haven’t been able to hang out with him as of late despite being a staff member yourself. Life really likes to fuck anyone over, doesn’t it?

She could tell that you two haven’t been able to find the time to talk with each other. The staff picked up many projects that practically almost everyone is unavailable, and you were one of said unavailable members. The only times the livers could contact you was through Slack or by email for business inquiries. But things should be slightly slowing down, for now that is.

Although, it would be nice to have you two meet each other once at the same time, even if it’s a coincidental encounter.

Wait a minute…

A devious smirk lifts her lips, her eyes glinting with mischief in mind. She chuckles to herself as she entertains the thought. Hell, it even looks kinda creepy to the other patrons. ESPECIALLY to her coworkers who’s now staring at her with confusion and a hint of fear.

“…Elira? Are you okay?” Petra asked the dragon.

“Hm?” She blinks out of her thoughts as the penguin’s voice pulls her back into reality. Elira stares at her and Mysta, who also looks a bit dumbfounded, before grinning at them. “Oh, don’t worry about it. Just thought of something.”

Blink blink. “Like what?” Mysta asked this time.

Again, she lets out a chuckle and flicks her wrist to wave off the concern. “Like I said! Don’t worry about it! Y’all will see it eventually.”

Soon enough, the waitress arrives with their orders. Elira turns to face her and helps her with the food. On the other side of the table, the two livers tilt their heads in confusion and eventually give each other an unknowing look as the table is served.

—

You lie in bed snuggled underneath your covers, but the lights are still on as you scroll through Twitter on your phone.

It’s been about a couple weeks since your call with Elira. She’s been sending you updates, videos, and pictures of the group’s adventures in Japan. Sometimes, she’d call you before going to bed to tell you what happened during the trip in case it was a story she couldn’t explain over text. Of course, there were times when another liver like Reimu and Nina would join in the call and give you the tea. As much as you wished you wanted to be there while dying in exams, you felt warm as you saw the livers enjoying themselves on their vacation.

Then, you noticed how fast the month flew by. Eventually, it was time for the livers to fly home and say goodbye for a while. They all had different flights, obviously, but there was a specific person who didn’t leave the country yet.

You were looking on Twitter while watching the members’ story time streams on a pop-up viewer. Although, you didn’t see Mysta’s waiting room or tweet indicating his return to streaming yet.

Suddenly, you remembered why.

“He wants to stay back for a bit,” Elira answered over the sound of her packing. “Dunno why, but I don’t blame him. He was in Japan for work last time.”

That he was. Though disappointing it is that you can’t hang with him for a while longer, at least he’s having fun.

“Oh, remember the thing I asked you about?”

She asked you something? When?

“What thing?” You asked.

“Uh… The souvenir thing?”

Oh shit, you forgot about that. And apparently, she noticed your forgetfulness as indicated by her laughter.

“I got you something,” Elira continued, “but I’ll send it to you when I get back.”

“Why not now? You can just ask headquarters to send it to me.”

“It’s not something in a box though.”

You blinked in confusion, unanswering.

On the other end of the line, you heard her chuckle, “You’ll see.”

Your brief conversation did, in fact, make you scared. Although it’s Elira, your local dependable dragon, sometimes she can be as unpredictable as… well… the rest of Nijisanji. Not just EN, but Nijisanji in general. Remember that one time you watched her stream where she suddenly jumped into a hole in that Forest collab? Yeah…

Now, some time has passed since the trip and she’s been home for about almost a week. It’s something not in a box, right? So what’s taking her so long? Is it digital? Or did she fuck up somewhere with the delivery?

Currently, you’ve been juggling schoolwork, personal work, and work-work. Needless to say, it’s been a stressful time, especially around this type of year. Seriously, why is everyone so goddamn busy around this time? Idle thoughts aside, you’ve also been anxiously waiting for Elira’s souvenir. For the past week, you’d constantly check your phone and your PC for any email or DM from Slack and Discord with Elira’s name attached to it. Every time you get DM’ed or emailed, it’s always been another liver or staff member whose name doesn’t start with Elira and end with Pendora.

But hey, at least you got funny memes from Luca and Mysta in the mean time!

Honestly, at this point, you might as well just give up. Maybe she did run into issues, or she just forgot.

You let out a sigh as you refreshed your feed for the umpteenth time tonight, accompanied by the ghost’s voice eminating through your speakers. Yet suddenly, a notification banner from Discord slides down onto the screen.

Elira Pendora

SURPRISE!!!!

Oh.

Huh.

So she didn’t forget??

Confused yet astonished at the same time, you pull down your notifications bar and tap on the DM to see what she sent.

As the iconic Discord logo pops up on your screen, it eventually loads your conversation with Elira. When you look past your previous chat, a message larger than it should be fills about a third of your screen.

A plane ticket to London next week. Seat number and all. And most notably, it has your name.

…

“HUH?”

You frantically tap on the textbox and type.

You

GIRL

WHAGT THE FUCK IS THIS

Elira Pendora

your souvenir! ☺️

You

WDYM SOUVENIR THATS NOT EVEN RELATED TO JAPAN??? 😭😭😭😭

also

HOW DID YUO GET MY NUMBER??? AND MY EMAIL????? :monkas:

Elira Pendora

I had to pull a few strings with staff

just normal coworker things

You

:thonk:

“normal”

Elira Pendora

but like you should go!!!

I didn’t go through all that just for you to not see him

and you really needed a break so 😎

You

??????

but hes Still in japan?????

Elira Pendora

yeah but he’s flying back home next week

I asked him earlier and had to like try to figure out how to get you to meet him at the same time

or like

around the same time 😌

You

man idk if i should thank you or yell at you

Elira Pendora

LMAO EITHER WORKS IT’S OKAY MAN

better get ready!!!

You

wait what about the hotel

Elira Pendora

what hotel? ☺️

i’m sure he wouldn’t mind letting you stay for a few days tbh

and yes I will also pay for your return trip

You

BUT YOUR LEN FUNDS……

Elira Pendora

I KNOW 😭😭😭

but it’s worth it! go get your man bitch!!

but :thonk:

I think I’ll try to pass out now since I have something scheduled tomorrow soooo

GOOD NIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!

You

gn ewiwa :D

Well! Looks like you have a trip to prepare for.

—

The gray haired detective lounged comfortably in the AirBnB’s living room, resting on the sofa as he scrolled through Twitter. He let out a chuckle here and there, sometimes full on laughing whenever a funny meme popped up on his timeline.

“Meesta!” Elira called out to him from the kitchen island.

He turned around to look at the unusually giddy dragon. Confused, he asked, “What’s up?”

“When are you heading back?”

“Uh…” Pulling out his phone, he quickly went through his gallery to find a screenshot of his ticket. Once he found it, he examined the ticket for its boarding time and date then put it away. “In like a couple or so weeks. I thought I told you?”

“I don’t think you did,” she answered.

She motioned him to give her the device, or at least show her the screen. Of course, he complied. Though insane she is, he does have immense respect for her and Lazulight. Mysta stood up from his seat and approached her. Once in the kitchen area, he flipped his phone towards her, letting her singular visible eye take a peek.

Elira hummed as she inspected the ticket details then pulled back. “Cool. Thanks man!”

She walked away from the kitchen, carrying a glass of water upstairs leaving him even more confused.

It’s been three weeks since his unusual encounter with Elira. He sits idly at a bench by a luggage conveyor in the airport, waiting for his bags to unload from the plane. While waiting, he leans back into his seat and lets out an exhausted sigh. Luckily, no one is seated beside him, so he could just take up all the space on this uncomfortable bench. Still, he couldn’t help but reminisce onto their conversation.

Was she planning something? Was she just curious? What was she cooking?

Now, he’s back in the dreaded land of England, land of the beloathed. He pulls out his phone and immediately checks Discord. The EN server is lively as always, everyone’s practically home but the sense of energy radiates from the screen despite being digital. Like any other liver, he hops in the conversation a bit, sometimes memeing around with the others in the general channel.

Although, he noticed that your icon hasn’t appeared at least once since he landed. He was even paying attention to the top left corner of his screen for a red dot indicating your message. Normally, you’d send him a meme or something to see while he’s asleep or busy. But strangely enough, you haven’t yet. Maybe he should send you something? Or maybe call?

Mysta continues to catch up and reflect on the livers’ vacation in Japan on the server, his attention eventually caught by a familiar bag on the conveyor.

Welp. Looks like he’ll call you later.

—

Thank god Elira had the brain cells to make sure your flight isn’t after his own. Of course, she had to take in account about the flight times since you’re both literally across the globe from each other going to London. To avoid missing him right after landing, you were booked super early into the morning. But sometimes, there’s a possibility that you might be too early when he lands. And, unfortunately, that seems to be the case.

“He lands around midnight,” Elira told you on phone prior to checking in. “So you should be a biiiit early.”

Yeah, by like, 2 hours.

Man, what the hell are you supposed to do for two whole hours? Well, at least you have your phone AND your luggage. You could even people watch in the lobby. But that’s 2 hours!

What’s even more fucked up is that you can’t really use your phone unless you find the wifi. But airport wifi is kinda shitty, especially in England of all places. Talk about a British debuff.

You let out a heavy sigh and collapse into your seat. Napping is out of the question, even though you’re still kind of tired from the flight. Don’t wanna risk missing him by a smidgen, of course. So you ended up roaming around the airport for a while, getting yourself some drinks and snacks to keep you occupied while waiting for your friend. Luckily there were plenty of places to lounge while waiting, so you found a place to sit and enjoy your haul of snacks while waiting.

You did get to connect to the public wifi to look at some memes, but again, it’s the airport wifi. With how slow your phone’s been loading, you eventually disconnect yourself from the wifi after moments of mindless scrolling.

But then you realized something.

You have absolutely no idea what gate he’s in.

Panicked, you scramble to pick up your bags from your side and stand up. Shit, did Elira tell you what airline he took? God, having data in another country would be so helpful. There’s absolutely no way you’re gonna reconnect to the public wifi, it’s too damn slow! If you did have data, you’d look back to your DMs and scrub through your brief conversation from last night.

With a quick glance at your phone, the clock flashes briefly on the screen. 9:20pm, that means his flight’s arriving in less than an hour. Oh shit.

Immediately, you pace briskly throughout the terminals. As you scrounge through the crowds just to take a good look at the terminals, you ask staff for international flights from Japan along the way to help narrow down as much as possible. Throughout the search, you occasionally checked the clock on your phone. 9:40? Shit, his flight should be here now or soon.

“Mysta!” You suddenly shout, passerbys looking at you strangely as you start calling for his name. Your luggage rolls and bumps against the crevices of the floor, bags jostling as you promptly continue your search throughout the terminals. “Mysta Rias!”

Meanwhile, in the same area…

An ashy gray haired man stands in front of the carousel, waiting for the rest of his bags to drop onto the conveyor belt. He pulls out his phone from his pocket, taking a quick glance at his notifications and Discord. His mouth lowers into a frown, his brows furrowing in worry as he notices the lack of notifications from you. Did they really fall asleep?

Clink-clang!

Sunset kissed eyes shift towards the carousel at the sound. Spotting his luggage on the conveyor belt, he walks over to his revolving baggage and lifts them onto the ground. Maybe he’ll shoot you a dm later when he gets home. The handle on his large case clicks as he pulls it up, soon dragging it on its wheels behind him as he heads towards the direction of the exit.

You continue running and searching for him, frantically calling his name throughout the terminal. Your head turns left and right as you look into the surrounding late night crowd, your gaze briefly analyzing each arrival for any hint of his gray hair or his tallness. As you remain standing in the middle of the hall, looking for him, you see a tall man wearing small shades on the bridge of his nose. Gray side hairs framing his face sway into the air as he lugs his bags from the baggage claim and towards the nearest exit.

Without a second thought, your feet starts moving towards him. “Mysta—“ you call. “Mysta!”

After seconds and minutes of searching for him, calling his name and pushing through the crowd as you chase after him. Just a little more…!

“MYSTA!”

And finally… Finally, you see him.

With a clear shout of his name, the gray haired man halts.

Bewildered, he looks left and right until he turns around to see you panting. His heart stopped as he stares at you astonishly. The ambience of the crowd and muffled intercom speakers drowned out as he zoned onto you.

He looked at you.

The person standing just centimeters away from him.

The person who he thought was someone he’d never meet face to face ever.

The person who helped him find a reason to keep going even in the darkest of times.

It felt like hours just staring at each other. It didn’t even feel like there was an ocean of people swarming about and passing by. Without a second thought, Mysta slowly approaches you as if he were to scare you off. As if he didn’t want to wake up, if he is dreaming.

As he gets closer and closer, you didn’t make a move. No, you merely stared at him with wonder and excitement im your eyes.

You both stood across each other, only a few centimeters apart. He blinks several times, even pinching his wrists to disprove his thoughts. But he felt a stinging pain on each part.

An airy huff somewhat resembling a laugh escapes from him. Relief washes over him, and he whispers with a smile, “…Hi.”

You smile back.

“Hi.”

#nijisanji #nijisanji en #nijien #luxiem #nijisanji x reader #luxiem x reader #mysta rias #mysta rias x reader #luxiem x you #luxiem imagines #nijisanji en x reader #— a simple dream // writing

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