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bitchimasnake-sss · 3 months

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one last time ft. vinsmoke sanji!

a/n: continuation of my time travel series as asked by anon!! sanji, lost you when you were both 27. now, three years later, aged 30, the cook travels back in time and sees you again. *cue angst* not proofread, im so sorry for mistakes!

warnings: none!! just my crappy attempts of writing angst tbh

"it makes no sense" nami mumbled, peering down intensely at the old cook as if examining her personal lab rat. the alleged thirty year old had materialized in the main room of the going merry through thin air; and nami had almost knocked him out with her staff.

"nami-swan let me-" the man tried to speak but the red-head cut him off, "you ate a devil fruit and you traveled back in time?"

"you're so gorgeous even when you boss me around-""

"sanji." nami cocked an eyebrow.

sanji sighed lightly, trying to reason, "well, i mean i actually ate like just half a bite of it. i don't think this time travel thing is permanent. i'll be out of your gorgeous hair in just a minute"

"no, you being here isn't the issue." nami corrected herself, "i think im just surprised is all. the idea that there exists something like this is just-"

but someone barged into the room before she could finish.

"what the fuck?" the swordsman looked at sanji, taken aback by the sudden blondie appearance, "he looks awfully like the shit-cook."

"it's nice to see you too, moss-head"

"ah-" nami groaned at the swordsman appearance, "well, i guess i'll explain to everybody. out on deck, both of you"

"why are you so tall?" zoro gave the older cook a nasty look.

"zoro, out."

"why is he so tall-"

｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆

"so..." the younger, blonde man asked, "you're me but 30?"

the older man shrugged, "yes, pretty much."

"i cannot believe you committed to the bangs look for over a decade, sanji" you giggled, looking from the older version to the younger one.

"if you like it, then i can keep it for the rest of eternity, my love."

you laughed again, sending the cook an amused look, "sure, i like it."

while the younger cook was swooned at your words, sending you a love-struck gaze. the older was busy contemplating whether he wanted to hug you so hard till his ribs broke down and he disintegrated within you, or if he should keep his distance, saving himself all that hurt.

your hair was choppier and the strands moved gently in the wind, the tresses cashmere kisses against your sun-kissed skin. all the signs of aging were absent from your skin, all those signs of you and him together were gone, just like that. as if you and he hadn't existed at all.

there was no scar on your lips from the time you fell down in the dark while sleepy, no cuts on your arms and legs from battles long gone. every evidence of the life you and sanji had built together was gone, leaving a twenty-three year old you behind.

well, technically that life was yet to come. it would take you and his younger version another five months, 23 days and 6 hours till you both got together. atleast, if his calculations were correct.

it would take you another 9 years, 2 months and 4 days to leave him. he knew those calculations by heart.

and so, sanji held back the urge to ask you if you liked two sugars in your coffee right now too? and did you light up when the moon was out in all it's glory? did your favourite constellation stay the same as years passed you by? did you look the same when you kissed him awake? did-

instead, he said nothing and stared at you, transfixed.

when ussop shook the older cook awake, the blonde man gave the younger crew members a pained smile. and when luffy jumped up and down, asking whether the cook still cooked, sanji found himself laughing and offering to make a meal.

atleast, this way, he could resign himself to an old kitchen, boundless memories and endless suffering, away from your ghastly presence.

the door stood ajar and you slipped inside just as silently like you always did when you wanted to surprise him in the kitchen. he looked up from the chopping board, well-versed with every one of your silent exchanges.

"want some help?" you offered, walking over leisurely and standing opposite to the man on the kitchen island.

the man looked down, focusing on not cutting his fingers up, "uh- no, thanks."

"damn, did you change?"

"hm?"

"where's the added "my love", "mon cheri" or "darling" at the end?" you cocked up an eyebrow, giving him a confused look, "don't tell me you lost those with time, that'll be a real shame."

sanji looked up, dumbstruck at you.

ofcourse he didn't. how could he? how could he when you were all that and more to him. under breathy whispers, loud declarations of love and silent hums in the dark of the night, you were every stringed syllable in every language to him.

he must have been silent for too long cause you shook your palm in front of him, paranoia sewn into your skin, "i mean it's okay if you lost it. like, it's not that big of a deal-"

and sanji laughed.

"excuse me? it's not nice to laugh at a lady."

"you looked so adorable like that." he looked down at the chopped vegetables, hands skillfully adding the veggies to the heated pan. then he looked up through his eyebrows, skillfully avoiding your gaze fully, "you're quite cute, love."

"uh-" your ears went red and you looked away, "thanks? y-you too."

"how have you been, yn?" he looked back at the food, his voice was tender. every hitch of the breath was audible against the backdrop of distant laughs from the crew.

"oh?" you replied shocked. then you smiled, "good. i'm good."

"good?" he repeated, ever so slowly as if turning the word on the tip of his tongue to remember the way you said it.

"yeah, i've been good, sanji."

"i'm glad." he pursed his lips, turning his back to you under the lie of fetching bowls from the cabinet.

"what are you cooking?" you asked, leaning over and peering at the vessel on the stove.

even without turning, he said, "you'd lose balance, careful now."

you marveled at the simmering dish, looking at his back and smiling real big, "you're cooking hand-pulled noodles with broth?! i think its my new favourite dish! i tasted it like a few days ago and i've been dying to eat it againn"

sanji smiled, still turned away from you, "is that so?"

as much as sanji prided himself at his ability to identify you from lightyears apart, at his ability to hear you in the noisiest room, he must have not been paying attention.

because you had sneaked up behind him and pressed yourself against his back, giving him a hug. you smiled gummy against his back muscles, "thankyou! thankyou! thankyouuu!!"

sanji froze under your casual touch. after a second, mindlessly, he lay his bigger hands on top of yours, relishing in the way you felt under him. he closed his eyes, trying to etch the moment in his memories. then he smiled again, promising against the thin air, "i will make you this as many times as you ask me."

"really?" you beamed again, letting go and standing beside him, "promise me?"

"i promise you." he gave you curt nod, melting under every one of your happy dance moves.

"now i would bother you for the rest of our lives." you stuck out your tongue at the blonde man.

"i would rather not be bothered by anyone but you, my love."

"aww-"

"hey geezer." the younger cook stood at the door, eyeing the negligible distance between you and the older man, "get away from yn-chan, you fucking pervert."

"rich coming from you, mr. nosebleed" the older man gave the younger a dirty look.

"HEY THATS NOT MY FAULT"

"SAAAANJI" luffy whined from outside, "ARE YOU DONEEE? WE'RE STARVINGGGG-"

vinsmoke sanji, aged thirty, yelled back "YEAH LEARN TO WAIT SOME MORE."

"YOU'RE SO MEAN SANJI! I MEAN- OLDER SANJI? I MEAN SANJI??- alee? I MEAN THE COOK OF MY SHIP?? NO, THE COOK OF MY FUTURE SHIP-"

"JUST SHUT UP LUFFY." the two blondes yelled in unison and you laughed one last time, lighting up the kitchen on fire.

oh wait, no. that is just the smoke due to the burning veggies in the pan.

well, fuck.

atleast you were laughing. and sanji would have killed entire nations to see that sight again, so, what were a few vegetables for the sacrifice?

#one piece #opla #op #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #sanji angst #one piece angst #one piece fanfic #sanji fic #x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #one piece sanji #sanji imagines

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secondjulia · 6 months

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Necessary but Stupid -> The StarvingArtist!Dream/Plasma AU You Didn't Request

UM. So. This was definitely just a weird little AU idea I had... definitely not while hooked up at csl daydreaming about Dream & Hob... that I was just going to dump in @gabessquishytum's Ask, as one does with weird little AU ideas. And then it kind of exploded. Into an actual story.

---Rated: G. Logistics in the tags. Ao3 link ---

There's no stopping the dark cloud that passes over Hob's head the moment he opens the door to the plasma center. But now he can smile brightly through it and let the storm blow quietly away. The dark memories this place holds still surface every time he walks in, but he's never once considered not going. Even though it's been ten years since Eleanor and the babe died of some rare blood condition that triggered childbirth complications, Hob's still there twice a week, every week, rain or shine.

He waves to the clerk at the desk. The security guard greets him with a comment about the latest football match, and Hob makes an appropriately pained, commiserating expression. He asks the technician taking his blood pressure how his honeymoon went — Côte d'Albâtre, right? — and Hob reminisces cheerily about his own trips to France.

Nobody’s ever exactly happy at the plasma center, but the sunny professor’s relentlessly friendly chatter brightens everyone’s day. All the staff know him by name, his surprisingly colorful stories can help pass the time on those long-line days, and his smile always lights up the room.

Sure, Hob can be kind of opinionated — like whenever he declares that death is stupid and nobody should have to die of preventable diseases! Everyone just goes along with it, and it’s so cruel! (Nobody actually disagrees, but he is very vocal about it.) The first time he said this — sitting hunched with downcast eyes, just weeks after his wife’s death — his voice was soft with hopelessness, and it cracked as he held back tears. But ten years later, when people ask him why he’s still doing this when he’s a tenured professor with a summer cottage and a retirement plan, Hob declares jovially that death is stupid! Nobody has to die when he can give them something they need from his own arms — it’s a renewable resource!

Hob, it cannot be said enough, brightens everyone's day — usually.

But not today. Not everyone's.

Dream cannot believe the insufferable words coming out of this man’s mouth. It's the first day Dream’s set foot in this particular center, and he already wants to go home.

But home is the problem. Dream's new apartment is much cheaper than the building that just evicted him, but this latest series of paintings are taking far longer to complete than he'd hoped. And also, the art world just fucking sucks. Dream can't fool himself. Even when the paintings are ready, it's unlikely they'll sell well enough or soon enough to plug the gaps in his income.

For years, Dream played the whole shitty-jobs roulette to support his art, but ever since he was kidnapped and spent years in a glass cage in a basement, he can’t even manage that. Seriously, try explaining that kind of resumé gap to a job interviewer. When he does manage to get work, it always goes bad fast. Dream wasn’t exactly totally undamaged before, but now he feels like he's all scars.

Dream is not here by choice. He cannot imagine who would be.

He'd gone to his old plasma center for years — till he was forced to move — in order to make ends meet. Today, he's here to fill in the glaring gap between the meager payment he got for a small watercolor last January, his savings, and a near-maxed-out credit card. (Nearly maxed out in the hasty scramble to get to a cheaper place to live. Moving was expensive. Funny how that works.) The plasma center is, in some ways, far preferable to many of the jobs he's had in the past, and it allows Dream to spend more time on his art. But it is absolutely unfathomable how anybody could pursue an eternity of this if they didn’t have to.

Dream keeps his head down avoiding the attention of the chatty professor. He stays quiet. His cold, bony hands are tucked into his long cardigan sleeves except for when he's chugging water, nearly by the gallon. He's about 2kg from the next weight class. Unfortunately, he's lost weight since his eviction, but if he could bump the scale a little higher, it would mean a higher draw — and a slightly higher payment. He's always cold these days, so the heavy sweater isn't a hardship, and the water fills up his stomach and supplements his inadequate lunch of oatmeal and stolen sugar packets.

The first time Dream meets Professor Hob’s eyes is when they’re sliding the needle into his arm and Dream has to turn his head away sharply. Dream was never afraid of needles — not until that night when someone (he later learned it was a twisted old cult leader named Burgess) stuck him with… something that knocked him out cold and he woke up in the basement. These days, although he's done this many times before, when the metal pricks his skin, Dream still lays frozen like an ice sculpture as his heart pounds against his chest.

He has sold his vintage leather jacket, his treasured collection of elegant handmade cloaks (there was a theatrical phase, it’s complicated), and most of his books (the shelves of his sparse apartment now hold only a few cheap volumes of blank paper for his sketches). But it wasn’t enough.

Burgess was years ago, but Dream's life still lies in ruins.

He does not like being here. But it seems that this — his body's materials, his very essence — is the only thing of value he has to offer the world. This most basic biological function, the blood pumping through his veins, is all anyone wants of him now.

So despite his fear, he lets them bleed him.

Hob is usually quiet when he’s hooked up to the machine. He'll chat in the line and in the lobby and at the vitals check, but on the donation floor, he politely minds his own business. Here, everyone retreats into their own world, usually scrolling on their phone or staring at the clock. People don't usually feel like talking when they’ve got a needle in their arm. And Hob’s an extrovert, not an asshole.

But today, the man beside him looks over, and Hob can’t wrench his eyes away. The man is thin and sheet white and his eyes are huge and watery over jutting cheekbones. His lips might be trembling.

“Alright there?” Hob asks kindly.

The man’s head twitches. It might be a nod.

Hob has seen people pass out here before. With the way this guy looks, Hob’s mildly shocked that anyone thought it was a good idea to drain him of vital fluids. But the people here know their business. His numbers must be under control, or else he wouldn’t’ve been allowed in.

Still, under control doesn’t necessarily mean ok.

So Hob gently keeps the conversation going with the man. Dream, he learns and his heart flutters at the name. He weirdly doesn’t seem bothered by Hob’s donation floor chatter (maybe because he's too bothered by the needle in his arm to notice anything else). Dream doesn’t even pull out a phone. He seems to hang on Hob’s every word of small talk.

“I can shut up if you’d life,” Hob offers when he realizes with a shock that he’s babbled through the entire first draw. “It just seemed like you needed some distraction.”

“Please.” Dream blushes slightly. Well, at least his skin is getting some blood. “Tell me about… your experiences. What… have you been doing?”

Huh?

What has he been doing? That’s vague.

But if anyone can find a way to fill a vague prompt, it’s Hob. So he chatters some more about the union organizing at his university and a ridiculous new scheduling system for the adjuncts — it’s like they’ve taken all the worst aspects of on-demand scheduling from the fast food industry and applied it to higher education for some incomprehensible reason. One of his colleagues had a class — and £2000 of pay — cancelled two days before term started. But not everything’s bad. Hob knows the students are planning a walkout next week, which he fully supports and has already adjusted his lessons to compensate for the lost time. Also, there’s a new pizza place on campus which is rather decent.

He really is just rambling.

But Dream seems to need it. He hasn’t looked down at his arm once, and Hob’s certain that’s for the best.

Dream has to admit that the insufferable professor has made the time go by a lot quicker. He’s shocked when they’re sliding the needle out of his arm, then wrapping his elbow up, and he’s free to go. He mumbles what he hopes is a polite goodbye to Hob, who is also finishing up, and then practically stumbles out into the rain.

He clutches his cardigan around him and pulls up his hood and plods away from the center. This place is closer to the new apartment than his previous plasma center, but it’s still a half hour hike home. The buses take even longer — his crappy apartment isn't exactly on a convenient route. But at least walking saves him a few quid.

“Hey!”

The voice makes Dream flinch. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a car slow down beside him, and his heart ratchets up in his chest. He doesn’t look over, only hunches deeper into his wet cardigan and walks faster.

“Hey, Dream!”

Oh.

Belatedly, Dream recognizes Hob’s voice. He finally looks up to see Hob looking out his car window and smiling despite the rain streaming onto his face.

“Looks like you could use a ride!” Hob jerks his head toward the passenger’s seat. “Hop in!”

Dream stares at the kindly professor. Who offers a stranger a ride in their car? Sure, Dream spent the last forty five minutes listening to every mundane detail of this guy's super normie professional life, but they still barely know each other! And if Hob actually knew Dream — a failed starving artist and all around fuckup, consistently two minutes away from homelessness — there’s no way he’d want to associate with him outside of the polite minimum of chatter at the center.

So what the fuck is Hob playing at?

“Come on, you’ll get soaked!” Hob prods.

Fear strikes Dream, and he recoils, stumbling away from the vehicle.

“Dream? You alright there?”

But Dream is already running, tearing off through the rain. He cuts through a shitty neglected park, climbs a fence and gets chased by a rottweiler through a closed off parking lot, and dashes across a highway — almost getting hit twice. He doesn’t stop running until he’s home.

Or, well, what passes for his home now.

Dream dries off, makes some tea, and grabs a sketchbook. His hand shakes as he doodles, but the process calms him and grounds his mind.

Then, as usual, after his fear begins to ebb, he feels stupid.

His mind replays the afternoon's events. Hob’s smile is brilliant in his memory. Though the initial snatches of overheard conversation were insufferable — not to mention incomprehensible — his recitation of the mundane details of life had been oddly calming. And, though Dream had perhaps not appreciated it in the moment, Hob had seemed genuinely concerned.

The more Dream thinks about it, the stupider he feels. Worse, he feels ashamed. How rude to run from Hob, who’d only wanted to help!

The scar tissue that has proliferated over Dream’s heart has truly damaged his ability to function among decent people. That night, he lays awake for a long time thinking about this. He should probably just never go back to the plasma center. He can’t imagine facing Hob after reacting so poorly to his kindness.

But the next day, after he scribbles up the month’s expenses and tries to make the math work, Dream realizes he has no choice.

The day after that, he’s plodding back to the plasma center.

The feelings of shame are almost overwhelming, and Dream slouches in with his head lowered, shoulders hunched, and eyes averted from everyone.

“Dream!” Hob’s voice is like a warm bubble bath. “Hope you got home alright.”

Dream can barely look at him, but Hob's smile is like a ray of sun on Dream’s face. There’s a cloud of concern shadowing his eyes, but he’s otherwise as cheery as ever.

“Forgive me. I…” Dream cannot explain.

“Look, I’m sorry. I totally overstepped,” Hob says. “I know I can be a bit much, and I shouldn’t’ve pushed.”

Dream cannot believe that Hob is apologizing to him.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Hob said gingerly, “was that your first time? It’s just you didn’t seem particularly pleased with the whole process. I thought I’d likely never see you in here again.”

“It was not. I have done this…” Too many times to count. “…frequently.” Dream finds the prospect of explaining the complexity of his situation too daunting. But he is touched by Hob’s concern. “I do not enjoy the process.”

Hob makes a sympathetic noise.

“But I did enjoy…” Dream pauses. What the fuck is he doing? Hob’s been kind enough to overlook his rudeness; Dream should just shut up and leave him alone. But maybe Dream has been alone too long, been too long without a sympathetic ear, because he keeps on mumbling, “I enjoyed hearing about your university. With the union… and the pizza… and everything.”

Impossibly, Hob brightens even further. “I could take you! The pizza really is delicious—Oh, shit, sorry, I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” The cloud of concern is back as he takes in Dream’s downcast gaze. “I’m being too much. Sorry, I didn't mean to push!”

“No, not at all. It sounds lovely. I just…” Dream shifts awkwardly. “They don’t exactly pay us enough here for going out.”

“Oh, I’ll get it!" Hob says with a wave of his hand. "It’s no problem. I’d love to take you out. You looked like you could’ve used a good meal after that last one. Have you at least eaten something so far today?” Hob tries to keep the worry out of his voice so he doesn’t sound like a mother hen. All the instructional materials are very explicit about not donating on an empty stomach, but he knows that people do what they have to.

“I have,” Dream says honestly. His lips twitch as he takes in Hob’s worried look. But Hob's smile, even suppressed, is a beautiful thing. “Really,” Dream stresses. “Oatmeal is cheap. I've had enough to be getting on with things. But later…”

“Great!” Hob’s heart flutters, but he stamps down the feeling. The memory of Dream running from him twists at his heart. He never wants to make him afraid again.

On the donation floor, they're next to each other again. And again Hob chatters happily about whatever he can think of to keep Dream distracted. It all seems to go well until they emerge together into the parking lot and Hob notices Dream tense as he glances at Hob’s car.

“We can hop on the bus, if you prefer,” Hob says. “The campus is just down the main line, and I've got extra passes.”

Dream blushes, and his shoulders hunch like he's ashamed. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

“It’s nothing of the sort! It saves on gas and it's good for the planet!”

At the bus stop, Hob notices the way Dream’s gaze constantly flicks around his surroundings. Even when he looks down and hunches in on himself, his eyes remain alert, as if he's still hyperaware of every movement on his periphery. Hob wants so badly to reach out and comfort him and wipe away whatever has caused him to move through life with such fear, but he doesn't dare overstep.

Hob is glad that the pizza place is in the bustling, well-lit central food court. Dream's body relaxes somewhat, and that specific tension which Hob had notice in the parking lot doesn't return. Hob buys him a giant slice of spinach, mushroom, and feta and a sealed bottle of water, and Dream even cracks a smile.

“I apologize for my behavior,” Dream says as they find seats at a plastic table in the middle of the food court.

“No need," Hob says. "I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“You were being kind, and I reacted… extremely.” Dream takes a deep breath and then a long sip of water.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Hob hastens to assure him, "about… whatever happened… if you don't want to."

Dream nods. He knows. Despite his annoyingly resurgent fear, he feels safe around Hob. So slowly, hesitantly, he begins to explain.

It’s an abbreviated form of the story. Dream avoids the details of how Burgess thought he could siphon the life force from vibrant young adults. How he'd drawn a whole following into his delusion, even though he'd ultimately kept Dream for himself. How (Dream had learned later) Burgess had boasted about having a fresh young man, the font of youth, trapped in his basement — and no one had done anything, whether because he was just a rich eccentric who could get away with a "joke" like that or because he'd paid enough people off. He didn't tell Hob how the elder Burgess hadn't ever been held accountable because he'd died before any of it had come to light, and the younger Burgess had fallen into a coma. A care worker had ultimately taken a wrong turn, stumbled into the basement, and that was how the police were finally called to Fawney Rig. But since no one was alive (or conscious) for a big, thrilling trial, the entire ordeal just fizzled quietly into the background.

It’s not the whole story. But it's enough.

Hob’s face grows progressively more horrified. He's abandoned his half-eaten pesto and prosciutto slice. It sits cold in front of him now. He feels sick.

“I make art,” Dream says into the silence. “It is not lucrative, but I can work when and how I wish. I have not… had a great deal of luck with traditional employment. Especially not since… those events.”

“Right. Of course." Hob's voice cracks over his words. For once, he's struggling to extract his usual chatter. "Can’t imagine anything’s easy after that.”

Hob doesn't touch the remainder of his pizza, but Dream polishes his off. He looks oddly relaxed now, as if, in the telling, some of the weight of the horrifying story has slid from his body.

“I’d love to see your art,” Hob says on the bus back to the plasma center parking lot. Belatedly, he cringes at the presumption, wondering if it's too much, knowing now that he really ought not to push his interest onto a bloody kidnap victim.

“I have a website,” Dream says, bringing it up on his phone and showing the address to Hob. Then he stands, though they're only about halfway back to the center. “This stop is closer to my home. I… Thank you. For the meal. And the kind ear. Perhaps… I will see you next Tuesday?”

“Of course,” Hob says, and a little bubble of happiness rises in his chest. “It’s Tuesday and Thursday for me until the schedule changes next term.”

Over the next few weeks, Hob isn’t always next to Dream on the donation floor. But he asks Dream to tell him about his latest project afterwards, so Dream has something to think about during the donation. And also so that it's not just Hob chattering away at their post-donation dinners. Which are happening regularly now. Sometimes they go for pizza, sometimes a good curry or a hefty shawarma; Hob introduces Dream to the pubs with the best (and biggest) burgers. He knows all the places to get a solid, filling dinner, not because he's concerned about getting his money's worth but because Hob just enjoys a good meal and he's more than happy to help put some meat on Dream's bones.

And get the artist to open up.

Slowly, Dream begins to do just that.

It starts to seem like Dream feels safe with Hob. When they're out, he stands close to Hob, as if comforted by his presence. His shoulders begin to straighten out, and he hunches less when they're together. Dream's gaze is still alert, but it rarely sinks to the floor now, and his eyes don't flick fearfully around so much when he's with Hob.

Three weeks after they meet, Dream lets Hob drive him home.

Two weeks after that, he invites Hob inside to see his current projects.

Hob knew Dream was a good artist from the first glimpse at his website, but seeing the bright canvases in person is just stunning. The glistening abstractions echo the swirling galaxies and deep, black voids of the universe. The colors blend in fantastic points of light or unearthly flames or brilliant streaks across the sky. The textures — flattened out in the photos — give an impression of looking into entire worlds. The brushstrokes are mountain ranges and deep ocean trenches and shaded valleys where, somehow, Hob can imagine entire populations living and thriving within the fibers of the canvas.

"The, erm… the university has spaces for community exhibits," Hob says, struggling to bring himself out of the captivating images as if wading out of a dream. How appropriate. "I could look into that, see if you could do a show. Maybe the Art Department could have you in for a lecture, too — you could talk about the real-life challenges of being an artist, the actual work involved, the practical—" Oh no. He's being too much again. "I mean, of course, you don't have to! I won't say anything without—"

Dream's arms are around Hob's shoulders before Hob can even turn away from the canvas. His wild, dark hair is tucked against Hob's cheek as Dream tightens his grip.

Hob's hands slowly move to Dream's back. He can't speak for a long moment. Instead, his hands gently rub against the thin material of Dream's shirt. Hob can feel the edges of his spine and ribcage, but Dream also feels softer than Hob would've imagined the first time he saw him, pale and shaking, weeks ago.

"Thank you," Dream murmurs. He steps back, and his gaze lowers, but now it's not filled with fear and sadness. He's smiling shyly. "If you could do that, I-I… would be grateful."

Hob can do that!

He's in Medieval History himself, but he's friends with half the Art History department due to overlapping lectures, the occasional historical consultation or spontaneous debate, and just being a friendly guy. And the Art History people know a few of the more curious, historically-aware Art people due to various collaborations and consultations on the evolution of modern styles and techniques and the socio-political contexts of artistic development.

Hob, with his talent for striking up conversation, takes less than a week to find several interested parties. And once he shows them Dream's work, everyone is extremely eager to invite the talented local artist to campus!

The next time Hob walks into the plasma center, Dream is already beaming. His smile is bright enough to singlehandedly banish the residual storm cloud that always follows Hob over the threshold.

"I hit the next weight class," Dream says. He leans subtly into Hob's side.

"Good on you!" Hob says, beaming right back. When he tells Dream about the interest in his work, Dream's arm snakes around his waist for a subtle but firm half-hug.

At Dream's first show (he's already scheduled in with both the Art and Art History Departments — the latter wants to address the reality of artist's lives across time — and, hell, Hob's even lobbying his own History Department to get Dream in as part of a series on creative work throughout history), Hob is enamored with one canvas he hasn't seen before. From a distance it's a dark oil-slick abstraction with iridescent slashes of green and blue, but up close, Hob can see the feathery edges of wings.

He cannot explain the sudden, confusing wave of sorrow-joy-awe it provokes deep in his chest.

"Departed souls," Dream says softly, coming up behind Hob, "come back as ravens. Or so it is believed by some."

Hob sniffs and tries to control the itch in his eyes as he turns toward Dream. "Oh?"

"I painted this one soon after I regained my freedom. It felt like a part of me had not survived the imprisonment. It was… necessary, perhaps, to lose something in order to regain my life, but it hurt nonetheless."

"Oh." Hob doesn't know what else to say, but he reaches out, gingerly wrapping an arm around Dream, waiting for any hint of refusal, but Dream turns into him and clutches him tight, and Hob's arms tighten around him in turn. "It's beautiful," he finally says, his words muffled against Dream's hair.

"I think now… maybe… some part of me that had not survived… has come back. In some form."

And Hob is gone. Tears leak down into Dream's hair. Hob clutches at him for support, but he can feel himself shaking, and now it's Dream rubbing soothing patterns into his back and tightening the embrace.

When they finally pull back, Dream wipes Hob's cheeks with his palm. He tilts his head in a silent question.

"Just… death," Hob says. "It's bloody stupid, isn't it? In all its forms. Necessary, maybe but stupid. I don't want any part of it."

Hob laughs at himself, as if the brash declaration itself is stupid.

But Dream only nods; he can see that there are deep forces moving beneath Hob's usually cheery exterior.

On the way home, he listens as Hob finally opens up about his wife and the unborn babe. After a decade, Hob says, the wound has closed up, he has "moved on" in all the ways one is supposed to move on, he has a new — and rather wonderful — life. But the scar will remain forever. It still hurts, but he's grateful for the life he had and the new one he's grown into.

"Shit," Hob says suddenly.

Dream looks around and realizes they haven't driven back to his own crappy apartment building.

"Sorry." Hob wipes his eyes. "I've blabbered so much, I wasn't paying attention. Driven myself right home."

"It's alright," Dream says. He peeks over at Hob shyly. "I've never seen your place."

Hob blinks at him for a moment — Dream's heart thuds against his throat — and then, despite the tear tracks still drying on his cheeks, Hob's face breaks into a brilliant smile.

"Are you hungry?" Hob asks. "I can actually cook quite well. It's not always pub food and pizza."

With perfect timing, Dream's stomach gives an almost painful rumble. "I'm starving."

Inside, Hob cooks a delectable dinner. Dream watches Hob move about the kitchen, chattering happily — he's already inviting Dream back over for brunch and maybe a Netflix marathon and Christmas. And Dream's mind is blossoming with new paintings, these ones bright with twining paths and colliding galaxies and shared dreams.

Hob is vaguely aware that he might be babbling into too much territory again, but when he sees Dream watching him with that dreamy sparkly in his eyes, his heart is just too full to care. As they eat together, he lets himself just be excited and not worry about reining himself in. Truly, he might not mind an eternity of this.

And Dream is thinking much the same thing.

#Apparently paid plasma donation is illegal in the UK & you can't donate 2x/week SO...#This is also the Dystopian AU where all the regulations have been axed sorry #+I don't know how buses work in the UK. This is how they work in my city :)#the sandman #hob gadling #dream of the endless #fanfic #dreamling #my fanfic

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hueningsloverr · 9 months

Text

౨ৎ time in a bottle !

pairing : ot5 x reader summary : the boys as lyrics from 'time in a bottle' by jim croce word count : 0.9k

choi soobin -

“if i could save time in a bottle , the first thing that id like to do , is to save every day 'til eternity passes away , just to spend them with you”

lets be real, soobin is such the romanticist. he would whine and whine to yeonjun about how much he misses you (as would all the boys to be honest), and he would feel so awful whenever they went on tour and he couldn't bring you. he would beg and beg big hit for you to come just this once and nine times out of ten he would get shot down (so he would mope back to the boys and whine and whine again till yeonjun actually just sends him to his room). whenever you were around, soobin seemed to be in a daze. you were all he cared about, not performing. which is bad considering he's literally a performer. and so, whenever he does get to be with you, all he wants to do is freeze time. he takes so many photos / videos of you, just so he can look back at them late at night when he misses you so much it feels like he's suffocating. when you're halfway across the world, off doing whatever it is when you yourself miss him. at the end of the day, all soobin wants is you, and to be with you. he could spend the rest of his life with you and never get bored, or tired, or any sort of negative emotion, because he gets you. you are so much more then enough to him, and he's the type of lover to make sure you know that.

huening kai + choi beomgyu -

“if i could make days last forever , if words could make wishes come true, id save every day like a treasure, and then , again i would spend them with you”

both hueningkai and beomgyu strike me as hopeless romantics, who would wake up so early the first day of something important for you (school, work, ect.) just to be there with you. they're both the type to wish for every second to last forever, and for all their wishes to actually come true. kai and gyu, though the most chaotic members, are also in my eyes the members to cherish the most out of everything. everything you do, he cherishes. all he wants is to be with you. no matter the hour, or how tired he is. kai would clear all the plushies from his bed if it meant you would lay down next to him, and gyu would calm himself down if it meant a little extra time with you (or become a literal demon child so soobin has no choice but to let you come over). though they're like the other three boys in the sense that they do truly love you, and just want to be with you, they're somehow different about it. in ways that can't really be explained. your relationship is like watching puppies, you energise each other no matter what, until you tire each other out, and that means the world to him.

kang taehyun + choi yeonjun -

“if i had a box just for wishes , and dreams that had never come true , the box would be empty , except for the memory of how they were answered by you”

though both taehyun and yeonjun are similar to the other boys in the way of loving, they're the type to be more private about it. yeonjun would go about 'soft launching' your relationship, whereas taehyun would go more of a 'romance is not dead if you keep it just yours' —t.s route. they hold onto the special moments, simply because of you. both tyun and jjunie have cast aside their wishes because they get you in the first place. tyun is a quiet lover, who takes photos of you that you'll never see until you find a bouquet on your counter the morning he left for tour, doodled on photos tucked in between the flowers. and jjunie simply cherishes you - tucked far under his bed where no one will see is an old beat up shoe box, filled to the brim with small things that remind him of you - a flower petal from the tree he first saw you under , a receipt from the first time he took you out to eat , the long since forgotten tag of the t-shirt he sleeps in every night that you gave him despite him telling you not to. both tyun and jjunie are quiet lovers, but they also probably love the most.

ot5 -

“but there never seems to be enough time , to do the things you want to do once you find them , ive looked around enough to know , that you're the one i want to go through time with”

whenever someone talks about txt, and how the impact they've made on the k-pop industry in the few years since their debut will be remembered as history - but all they can think about is you. you're the one history should remember because you push them every day to be better than the day before. whether it's platonic or romantic love, your love for them causes them to strive to be great. they want you to be remembered with them, because without you there is no txt to remember. they wished they'd met you sooner, and could do so much more with you, because you truly are everything to them.

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in-our-special-place · 6 months

Text

If I could save time in a bottle

The first thing that I'd like to do

Is to save every day till eternity passes away

Just to spend them with you

If I could make days last forever

If words could make wishes come true

I'd save every day like a treasure and then

Again, I would spend them with you

But there never seems to be enough time

To do the things you want to do, once you find them

I've looked around enough to know

That you're the one I want to go through time with

If I had a box just for wishes

And dreams that had never come true

The box would be empty, except for the memory of how

They were answered by you

But there never seems to be enough time

To do the things you want to do, once you find them

I've looked around enough to know

That you're the one I want to go through time with...

#fellow travelers #70s music #hawk x skippy #hawk x tim #tim x hawk #hawkins fuller #matt bomer #jonathan bailey #Time in a BottleSong by Jim Croce #this scene #this fucking scene #im not crying youre crying #they own my fucking soul #skippy x hawk

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vendetta-if · 1 year

Note

hello! i wanted to tell you that this game is one of my most favorite pieces of writing i’ve read. it’s probably weird that i always cry when i read it and it’s always the same scenes, the way you wrote viktor and really fleshed him out is very good. i say that because he’s my favorite character in the whole thing, it’s strange but it’s the first time i loved a character wholeheartedly. first time i read this i cried so much when he passed, it’s just so so sad. i loved how he always picked MC, he was always there. it’s kinda hard for me to read this when it’s updated bc i just stay sad for a few days but i still really really love this game. i hope this isn’t weird, i just really really appreciate him and you for writing him. so thank you <3

Aww ☺️ Thank you so much for the kind words and yes, I also love writing Viktor a lot 😭 I’m glad that I can still write him in the side stories, but I also have something in mind regarding him in the future 😉 Not in this main story of course, but I’ll probably share more once I’m more confident and sure about it.

And don’t worry, I also cried when writing the funeral scene 😔 I rarely cry, but writing that scene just got to me, somehow. Also, you’re right, Viktor will always choose and prioritize MC; MC is his everything. That’s why I think the AU where MC died instead of him is a more heartbreaking and angsty one and it is definitely a crueler fate for him than death.

I’ve said this before, I think, somewhere, but MC right now still have their future ahead of them, especially after they’ve finally found their closure, they’ll be able to settle down and make a family with their chosen RO(s).

But for Viktor, MC is their future and in the AU where MC died… It really leaves him a hollow shell of the man he once was and he would stop at nothing to avenge MC and even once he succeed and he’s still somehow alive… It’s impossible for him to heal mentally and emotionally. All he has ever wanted is to be there for MC in every stage and important events in their life, and maybe, he would also get to be a grandfather.

I recently rediscover “Time in a Bottle” by Jim Croce in my playlists and I found out that he wrote the song for his son when he first heard that his wife was pregnant. The lyrics are about spending time with loved ones and how it feels like there's never enough time. And now, I can’t help but picture it being one of Viktor’s favorite songs and he often sing along to it for little MC… and now I’m sad 😭 I gotta include this somehow in the story later on.

youtube

If I could save time in a bottle The first thing that I'd like to do Is to save every day till eternity passes away Just to spend them with you

If I could make days last forever If words could make wishes come true I'd save every day like a treasure and then Again, I would spend them with you

But there never seems to be enough time To do the things you want to do, once you find them I've looked around enough to know That you're the one I want to go through time with

If I had a box just for wishes And dreams that had never come true The box would be empty, except for the memory of how They were answered by you

But there never seems to be enough time To do the things you want to do, once you find them I've looked around enough to know That you're the one I want to go through the time with

#asks #anon ask #if: vendetta #vendetta if #char: viktor #AU #music #if game #if wip #dashingdon #choicescript

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anrisimps · 7 months

Text

Polysoos

Soos brainrot intensifies

youtube

Krs traced the barely there wrinkles on his skin, the aging marks spanning over his entire body just as record starts playing on loop. Unbeknownst to him, the frown on his face eases up when his hyungs' smiling faces appear before his eyes. They looked young.

He had finally grown older than them.

"So are you happy now?

Finally happy now, are you?

Though I'm the same old me

I feel like I've lost everything"

His vision spins just as the memory of the monster attack resurfaces and he manages to suppress the nausea that came with it. It had become easier to do so after doing the same thing for a decade.

His attention reverts back to the wrinkle he found on his hand. It was inconspicuous but it was there. He was getting old.

He rarely took any days off and it was even rarer for him to pay attention to his body. Perhaps that was why he never noticed all those aging marks. He goes over each and every one of them, steadfastly ignoring all the scars he got from using Instant. These scars weren't important. It didn't have anything to do with them.

"He didn't have laugh lines despite how much he liked to laugh," krs muttered dazedly, looking at cjs' picture hanging on the wall.

Cjs' smile used to light up the entire room, especially when it was directed at him and their hyung.

The same smile which he will never get to see again.

Cjs was smiling so brightly, looking more youthful than krs had felt in the entire decade. After staring for a brief moment, comparing the Choi Jung Soo in his memories with the one in the picture, his gaze shifted to the other end, completely skipping over his self - sandwiched unwillingly between both of them- to his hyung Team Leader nim.

The man was older than them when he was alive.

Kim Rok Soo had finally outgrown his hyung.

"Farewell's a warning (I could hear it calling)

Gone by the morning (I wake up to longing for you)"

'His age had begun to catch up with him,' Rok soo spied on the crow's feet creeping up on the edge of lsh's eyes, making him appear much more softer, quite unbefitting of a man of his authority (yet it made him appear more approachable- a feat Rok Soo could only hope to dream about after a decade of acting as his successor)

"I know it takes eternity, but I believe I'll see you again"

Krs didn't have laugh lines or crow's feet- he rarely smiled. His face seemed to be set in stone as his colleagues liked to quote.

The increasingly apathetic look in his eyes and sunken eye bags were probably the only thing which indicated his age (his wounds took longer and longer to heal now. Perhaps, one day he might just bleed to death, giving up his life to save another soul. One who wouldn't be as miserable as himself. One who would have something, someone, to look forward to in their life. Not like Rok Soo who was barely hanging on to his life by a thread - the promise he made to his hyung. The last promise he ever made)

"I remember someone once told me that memories stay till the end

Even the small passing moments forever etched in my hands

Though it's been a while since we parted"

Unwittingly, he was once again in the battle field, standing above their corpses. He remembered holding them, remembered yelling at them to wake up, remembered blanking out when their increasingly cold hands fell out of his grasp. Sometimes he felt like he never woke up again after that.

"Being alive is the best Rok Soo-yah"

Shaking his head to dispel the unwanted memories away, he looked at the picture again. To his muted relief they looked much happier, hardly resembling the corpses which still haunted him on particularly bad days. He could see their eyes shining with vitality, their bodies robust and so alive.

"I'll see you again, forever in our memories

Forever young

Forever we're young"

Once upon a time Rok Soo had secretly wished to grow old with them, to share the small joys of life with each other, to live their life to the best - as best as the world allowed them, to retire after some years and slack farm at cjs' ancestral house.

Who knew his wish would remain just a wish while he spent years yearning for something that was never meant to be his?

"If this is but a nightmare, don't wake me up, I'll stay here"

#When one day you realize you are “old” old #and outgrew your dead lovers within a blink of an eye #I was half asleep when I wrote it #so it might be all over the place #but causing krs grief is >>>>#I missed doing this #*puts on evil clown makeup*#polysoos #trash of the count's family

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katsushika-division · 11 months

Text

Ain't No Love (Hell Spawns Ver.)

Bring the Beat!

[Akari:]

Yeah

Ain't No Love

[Rintaro:]

Born to a drunkard of a father

Constantly looking at us like we were bothers

And with mamas that left, never looking back

Is it any wonder that we became maniacs

Raising my little sister all on my own

Watching her pass every milestone

Each and every day passing by the same

Till the house lit up in flames

Screaming as we were burned alive

Even now, I can't tell you how we survived

[Akari:]

Beer bottles scattered all across the floor

Father lies behind a closed door

The scent of alcohol fills the house

Growing up, I learned to be as quiet as a mouse

Seeing big brother take all the beatings for me

Of him promising that one day we’ll be free

Not knowing the tragedy that awaits

What did we do to deserve our fates?

The children that were never saved

And you call us fucking depraved

[Hell Spawns:]

In the town where we were born, there’s no love

What kind of joke is “eternal love”?

We believe in no one

That crown that we’ll burn with all our might

Ain’t no love, no need for such a thing like someone’s love

We don’t even seek for it

Ain’t no love, we don’t know such a thing like love

No need to even know

Ain’t no love

[Akari:]

Adults saying that they care, what shit talkers

Where were they when I was forced under the water?

Ha! Holding me inside the tub to drown

So I planned their bitter end, a home set to burn down

My revenge, a match ready to be lit

Call me the devil's spawn? Fine, I'll make a killing out of it

Oh, don't be so quick to judge

God knows I can hold a grudge

[Rintaro:]

Never finding my precious sister no matter how hard I tried

Years and years went by and all the while more of me died

I hate them for taking her away, my reason to live

Something that I'll never forgive

So I rained flames down on the city

I don’t feel a thing but doesn't it look oh-so-pretty

The crimes of a youth deemed fucking insane

I call it payback for all my pain

[Hell Spawns:]

In the town where we were born, there’s no love

What kind of joke is “eternal love”?

We believe in no one

That crown that we’ll burn with all our might

Ain’t no love, no need for such a thing like someone’s love

We don’t even seek for it

Ain’t no love, we don’t know such a thing like love

No need to even know

Ain’t no love

[Akari:]

My blood is set to ignite

Ready to see hell tonight?

[Rintaro:]

Grab your friends and run away

We're gonna burn the world today

[Akari:]

See what happens when you grow up with no love

Better pray to Heaven above

[Rintaro:]

I'll burn everything to the third degree

You fuckers ain’t got nothing on me

[Hell Spawns:]

In the town where we were born, there’s no love

What kind of joke is “eternal love”?

We believe in no one

That crown that we’ll burn with all our might

Ain’t no love, no need for such a thing like someone’s love

We don’t even seek for it

Ain’t no love, we don’t know such a thing like love

No need to even know

In the town where we were born, there’s no love

What kind of joke is “eternal love”?

We believe in no one

That crown that we’ll burn with all our might

Ain’t no love, no need for such a thing like someone’s love

We don’t even seek for it

Ain’t no love, we don’t know such a thing like love

No need to even know

Ain’t no love

#hypnosis microphone #hypnosis mic #hypmic #hypmic oc #hypnosis mic oc #rintaro himura #akari himura #hell spawns #ain't no love #cozmez #paradox live #happy birthday rintaro 2023

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klaineccfanficlibrary · 1 year

Photo

youtube

If I could save time in a bottle The first thing that I'd like to do Is to save every day till eternity passes away Just to spend them with you If I could make days last forever If words could make wishes come true I'd save every day like a treasure and then Again, I would spend them with you But there never seems to be enough time To do the things you want to do, once you find them I've looked around enough to know That you're the one I want to go through time with If I had a box just for wishes And dreams that had never come true The box would be empty, except for the memory of how They were answered by you But there never seems to be enough time To do the things you want to do, once you find them I've looked around enough to know That you're the one I want to go through the time with

#klaine fanfiction #klaine fanfic #glee fanfiction #klainevalentines2023 #Jim Croce #Time in a Bottle #Day Ten

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phanfictioncatalogue · 2 years

Text

Engaged!Phan (2) Masterlist

Links Last Checked: December 26th, 2023

part one

A Bit of An Announcement / The Lester Family - truerequitedlove

Summary: “Why are you so worried? They love you, you know that!”

“Says the person who has cleaned more in the past hour than in the entire rest of his life collectively.”

A Piece of You (ao3) - Spring_Haze

Summary: When Dan travels to the English countryside to participate in the BBC's Writer's Retreat, he and Phil do everything that they can to stay connected, despite the miles between them.

This fic is based on the BBC's Writer's Retreat that Dan attended in May 2019.

Achillea Millefolium (ao3) - kneebleed

Summary: Delicate yellow yarrows printed in their skin, preparing themselves to glow in the years to come; falling more every day that pass, this is them about to commit to the eternity and beyond.

Always Look in the Background (ao3) - AvalonBell

Summary: The clues were always there; whether it was the two rings in the background or the save the date cards left on the floor or tables accidentally. Even tweets started to give away that something was up. But to Dan and Phil’s surprise the entire phandom appeared completely oblivious to these clues for nearly an entire year, up until the middle of 2016 when the two men decided it was time they tell their fan base that not only was “phan” real but they were both in fact engaged and getting married by the end of 2016.

A Year in the Life (ao3) - gorgeousnerd

Summary: You know what the next thing would be? Gay wedding!

(A transcript of the amazingphil video A Year in the Life, featuring Daniel Howell.)

By The Way… We’re Engaged (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan and Phil are doing a liveshow when Dan forgets to take off his engagement ring.

details (ao3) - Fictropes

Summary: And it was the right time, the right place.

Free. (Ao3) - heyitsnxel

Summary: He knew he was engaged to the prince – Philip, his parents had told him. They had always told him he was part of some prophecy. But, while they seemed to think it would all be worth it in the end, Dan was beginning to have his doubts.

holy ghost (ao3) - sadlybunny

Summary: A reunion between the prince and his fiancé after Phil has been in Germany.

I Don’t Think You Know How Lovely You Are (ao3) - cafephan

Summary: Dan takes some time out to sit and process the fact that he's engaged.

I Will Love You Endlessly (ao3) - starrywrite

Summary: sequel to I Dare You To Love Me. AU! When Phil first met Dan, the young florist turned his life and everything he thought he knew about love upside down, and ever since then Dan has filled his life with love, happiness, and flowers. Now here they are almost five years later, and the two are still as crazy for each other as they’ve been from the start. So it only makes sense that the two of them take the next step in their relationship, and it starts with a ring (and a lot of lilies, of course).

In Sync (ao3) - developerdaniel

Summary: Phil kicked his long legs till his pants were gone for good, somewhere in the room to be found later. He pulled up from the kiss, panting for a moment before trailing kisses down Dan's smooth, hairless torso, stopping every few spots to leave a dark red mark for his eyes only to see tomorrow morning in the aftermath.

~*~*~

aka: daddy!phil and neko!dan go on a romantic night out to celebrate 5 years of being together where then they end up engaged to one another and make passionate love to celebrate their lives together. (shitty summary, ik, but i promise the fic is great !!)

Letters In Bold (ao3) - snsk

Summary: Spoiler alert: It’s on a beach in Lundu that Dan agrees to marry him. Phil slides an odd, beautiful shell through his ring finger and Dan curls his toes into the wet sand, tests the word fiancé wonderingly out on his tongue.

Paper Covered Tables and Undesirable Labels (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Planning a wedding is hard.

Pretty Baby (ao3) - Spring_Haze

Summary: Dan, who previously fought his own, natural, femininity, explores the traditionally feminine to surprise his future husband and learns that there is much to love about these parts of himself.

(TW) Raspberries (ao3) - maruyamapng

Summary: Dan laments over his past with Phil

skin on skin (ao3) - sadlybunny

Summary: It was subtle at first. Dan would grab Phil’s hands and hold them when they started to wander. He’d catch Phil’s lips in his when he tried to press them to Dan’s neck. Phil received the message eventually, and stopped trying to progress things altogether. It was odd. Dan was usually the one in their relationship to initiate sex in the first place. And it was especially odd for them to go so long without sex, or at least something quick. But two weeks was weird.

or... Dan gets a tattoo and is scared to show Phil.

Starstruck (ao3) - Yiffandquiff (paradisobound)

Summary: Phil attends all of Dan Howell’s concerts. In fact, he makes it a rule to even record every one he goes to. You could say he was in love with Dan Howell and in fact, that wouldn’t be a lie because he’s actually Dan’s fiancé. Too bad Dan’s fans see him as the creepy guy at Dan’s concerts.

What We’ve Been Hiding-Secret Project and More - too-queer-for-you

Summary: A description of a video in which Dan and Phil finally answer long asked questions and reveal the truth.

Your Crowning Glory (ao3) - pasteldanhowells, rainbowchristy

Summary: Dan is 18 years old when the news is suddenly sprung upon him that he is next line to be the next king of Genovia, but things don’t go as smoothly as he thought, between having a suddenly busy schedule, a new lifestyle, an arranged marriage that Dan has no control over, and worst of all, Philip Lester trying to steal his crown.

#phanfictioncatalogue #phanfiction #phanfic #phan #masterlists #establishedrelationship #engaged #engaged masterlist

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softersinned-arc · 1 year

Text

@xfindingtrouble said: ♫ for percy

"time in a bottle" by rob lane, julia church, and jim croce

If I had a box just for wishes and dreams that had never come true The box would be empty, except for the memory Of how they were answered by you So if only I could save time in a bottle the first thing that I'd like to do Is to save every day till eternity passes away Just to spend them with you

i love this cover - it's so dreamy, and i think it's perfect for them. (the original is beautiful, too; i just like the echoing dreaminess of this one.) it's actually used for a wedding night in the discovery of witches show, and i think it's pretty perfectly selected as a wedding song, especially when one person in the equation is immortal and the other is not. astoria is perpetually aware of the passage of time, and torn between appreciating every moment she has with him and living deliciously with him, and trying to find a way to guarantee that she won't have too many days without him.

even though she has no regrets (how could she? they make her deliriously happy!) she finds that a lot of the love she feels for them is tinged with some premature sorrow: she knows that no matter how much she loves them now, and no matter how happy they are during the days they have together, those days are limited, and she will live with his memory longer than she lived with him. how is she supposed to be her, still, when the day comes that she's forgotten the exact shade of green of his eyes? or when she can't remember the exact tone of their voice?

"vampire smile" by kyla la grange

Baby, I need to leave, 'cause I'm getting drunk on your noble deeds It doesn't matter that they don't get done When I feel this cold, they're like the fucking sun Baby, I need a friend, but I'm a vampire smile, you'll meet a sticky end I'm here trying not to bite your neck, But it's beautiful and I'm gonna get so drunk on you and kill your friends

the physical hunger & craving she feels for him really can't be understated. she wants so badly to hunt him in those early days, because she can't really conceive of anything more intimate, more permanent, than that. the actual, physical need she feels to bite and drain him is a constant one, and when she smells anyone else on him, it makes her ill. he is the sun around which she orbits, warming her despite the reality of her undeath, and she's fighting her nature every step of the way because she wants him alive more than she wants him hers.

but she'd be a liar if she pretended that the urge wasn't there. she fantasizes sometimes about how their blood would taste. and when she does finally bite them, it takes every bit of self control she's ever had not to drain them dry, because she simply cannot get enough of them. how could she? and she feels guilt for that - for wanting to hunt him, for feeling shame in her own very natural desires as a vampire. some part of her thinks that he deserves better, and so she tries to become better in her own halting, stilted way. it never really takes. the effort is always uneven and, at its core, selfish. she still tries, for them. and after drinking his blood, she thinks about it all the fucking time. edward cullen's got nothing on her.

"foreigner's god" by hozier

Her eyes look sharp and steady into the empty parts of me Still my heart is heavy with the hate of some other man's beliefs... I've no language left to say it but all I do is quake to her Breaking if I try to convey it: the broken love I make to her All that I've been taught and every word I've got is foreign to me... Screaming the name of a foreigner's god The purest expression of grief

astoria's complicated relationship with god, divinity, religion in general is pretty well-documented on here; she's wounded, she's angry, she's grieving. she's sworn off faith as a whole, and she believes in the gods, she simply has no respect for them. holy ground rejects her; holy magic harms her; she has been built, changed, to be so deeply unholy that any god's touch is pain. and yet when percy dies she carries him past the threshold of a temple, and she walks across holy ground despite the pain she feels with every step to be the one to lay him at the altar, and when she gets outside, she prays. she prays to the dawnfather, because it's his guidance that built whitestone, and by extension, made percy. she prays to the everlight, because it's sarenrae who will bring him back.

and those last lines i quoted are really the ultimate expression, in this case, of love: her willingness to turn to any god for help, but to the two gods who, specifically, pose the greatest threat to her, compounding holiness with the sun. it's just that as far as she's concerned, there's no step too far that she could take for them. if prayer will do it, then she'll pray until their body's fully decayed. she'll pray to anyone. shit, if there were even the slightest chance that her own absent matron would help her, she'd beg her. astoria thinks herself inherently broken, too broken to ever touch holiness again, but for percy, she tries.

"when creation was young" by joy williams

When creation was young, before rivers learned to run Before Hell caught fire and God made the sun When creation was young... Before you, you took a breath, before sin ever confessed Before hate was a word and life found death Before you, you took a breath, oh, I was loving you

do you ever get emotional thinking abt the passage of time as it relates to these two bc i do constantly??? astoria spent a hundred and twelve years without percy. he didn't exist. he wasn't a thought to her. and still, after she meets him, it feels an awful lot like this was inevitable: like everything else in her life was just building to this. everyone before them was practice, so she'd know how to love, really love, when the time came. shitty way to think about past lovers? for sure. but she's also not changing a damn thing.

long before percy even existed, before they could have ever known her or known of her, she knew something was missing - and despite how many days she had without them, despite the days to come when they're gone and she's grieving, she wouldn't change a thing. she wouldn't wish a moment spent differently. in her mind, feeling how she felt so much more right after meeting them, and recognizing how she felt about them, she's loved him from the start, from long before he existed, and she'll love him long after.

"labyrinth" by taylor swift

'It only hurts this much right now' was what I was thinking the whole time Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out I'll be getting over you my whole life... Uh oh, I'm falling in love Oh no, I'm falling in love again Oh, I'm falling in love

i'm not sure what exactly it is that has her fairly certain that there's no wonder left to be found in the world - she's going through a vampire adolescence & young adulthood and she's bored, and angry, and exhausted. she's realizing now that she's going to be doing this for the rest of her life, and her life will be very, very long. it's one thing to achieve immortality when you have someone or something to dedicate it to, and another thing entirely to realize that there's no other choice but to survive, even if you're running out of reasons.

and she's lost people she loved, watched everyone she knew die, and here's percy. short-lived, comparatively speaking, probably shorter-lived given their line of work and some of the decisions they make. the smart thing to do is walk away from this before she gets more tangled up in it. the smart thing to do is accept a long life that's fine, over a long life that shines very brightly for a short period and then fades into grief when that light fades. but the thing is that she does not make smart decisions. so, as scary as it is, she gives herself permission to see this through.

#(i do not have honorable mentions for them yet but i will soon)#ii. sweet music playing in the dark. ( playlist )#i. here's the truth from my red lips. ( answers )#xfindingtrouble #iii. when i feel this cold you're like the fucking sun. ( percy x astoria )

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yeonjen · 1 year

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✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*Lee Jeno Imagine ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Synopsis: Eunmi and Jeno meet for the first time in months after his concert tour as Jeno's lovely girlfriend comes to pick him up.

Status: Established Relationship

The couple has been away from each other for months as Jeno was on a concert tour, and though they video called each other every other day Eunmi had to admit she missed the feeling of his arms wrapped around her waist tightly, she felt warmth, love and home in Jeno's arms.

So here she is at three in the morning with dream manager going to pick up the boys from the Incheon airport. Though Jeno told her not to, she couldn't help she missed him too much to listen to him. She did get along with the manager quite well as they have known each other for four years. They reached the airport by 3:30 and the boys were supposed to be here by 4 am. They picked this time as their won't be alot of paparazzi.

They decided to wait in the van for the a while before the headout to wait for the boys.

Manager: Excited to see him after months?

Eunmi: Very! Can't wait to hug him!

The manager was always supportive of their relationship and also saved them at times.

They then got out of the van and headed to wait for the boys, Eunmi was looking at her phone anxiously checking the time every two seconds as the manager just chuckled at her lack of patience. Finally after what felt like an eternity she saw her boyfriend walking, busy talking with Jaemin as he didn't seem to notice her. Mark was the first one to notice her as she gestured him to be silent he just waved at her which she gladly returned.

They almost reached the manager as Jeno finally looked in front of him, his expression was price less. He handed his bagpack to Jaemin and he sprinted towards her wrapping her in his arms tightly.

He hand around her waist pulling her closer if possible, she had hers wrapped around his torso caressing his muscular back softly, he the pulled her off her feet and after a couple of minutes slowly put her down still in the hug both of them enjoyed the warmth they missed, Jeno whispered in her ears in his beautiful deep raspy voice.

Jeno: I missed you love!

Eunmi: I missed you more jen!

He then pulled out of the hug and pulled her in for a quick soft kiss, the feeling of her soft lips on his felt nice, he felt home. She on the other hand felt amazing as she missed his lips. They then pulled out of the kiss as they made their way to the rest of the dreamies.

Eunmi: Hello guys! How have you been??

Haechan: Great but exhausted!

Eunmi: So let's head home!

They all sat in the car Jeno, Jaemin, Eunmi and Haechan were in one car while the rest of them were in another car.

The couple sat together as Jeno pulled her closer holding her waist as he snuggled into her.

Jeno: You shouldn't have come! It's late and you have work tomorrow.

Eunmi: I came because I missed you so damn much and I have taken an off day tomorrow.

Jeno: I love you so much!

Saying that he kissed her neck as he started leaving a trail of wet kisses.

Eunmi: I love you more (she now said in a whispering tone) Jeno what are you doing?

Before he could reply the two boys in the front said without turning back.

Jaemin: Don't worry we are wearing headphones and pls keep it low!

Haechan: Guyss wait at least till we get to the dorm.

Eunmi could hear the teasing tone used by them and couldn't help but be flustered. Jeno who was now looking at her couldn't help but smile at how cute she looked blushing.

He quickly leaned in pecking her lips taking her by surprise.

Jeno: You look sooo cutee!

She was too flustered to say anything so she just passed him a blushy smile. Jeno just smiled back as both of them snuggled into each other maintaining a comfortable silence among themselves.

After a while Jeno looked at her only to find her deep asleep with her head rested on his shoulder as she has her hands loosely wrapped around his torso. He couldn't help but adore her. Thinking about how lucky he was to have her as a friend, best friend, girlfriend, and his lover.He then slowly kissed her forehead as a small smile appeared on her face recognizing her love snuggling closer to him making his eyes instantly lit up. He was looking at her like an highschool kid in love according to his great friends.

Haechan and Jaemin who were seeing this scene sneakily took a few pictures before the cleared their throat enough to snap out Jeno. Jeno looked at them questioningly.

Haechan: You love her a lot don't you!?

Jaemin lightly smacked his head making him look at Jaemin annoyed as he was about to shout when he noticed jeno's glare that said 'I'll kill you if she wakes up' causing haechan to shut his mouth.

Jaemin: Of course he does idiot! He wouldn't have a relationship with and about to propose her if he didn't love her.

Haechan: Of course I know that idiot! Its just Jeno looks like a high school kid in love. That's why I said that.

Jeno: I do love her alot, I love everything about her, she is perfect for me. I love her soo damn much.

Jaemin: I told you when we first met Eun that she is a keeper.

Haechan: But really you are very lucky to have her Jeno!

Jeno agreed to it wholeheartedly and so did Jaemin. Eunmi than moved a little in her sleep to find a comfortable position by snuggling into his neck.

Jeno: I guess we should quiet down!

The duo agreed as they went back to doing the stuff they were doing.

The rest of the car ride was silent as Haechan, Jaemin and Eunmi were asleep and Jeno was surfing through his phone with his headphones on. After another 10 minutes they car finally stopped as they reached the nct dorms. The manager woke up Jaemin and Haechan and asked Jeno to wake Eunmi up which he rejected as he didn't want her sleep to be broken. He decided to carry her bridal style to his room. He carried her as she snuggled closer to him recognizing him making him smile. As they entered the dorm all of them said byes as they went to their wanting nothing but sleep.

Jeno laid her down gently and covered her with a duvet as he kissed her forehead before deciding to freshen up. After fifteen minutes he returned after freshening up as he has the habit of not wearing a shirt so he was just in some shorts. He then slid inside the duvet pulling his girlfriend closer as he admired her for a few minutes before kissing her forehead and pecking her lips. She then snuggled in his chest recognizing his warmth making his smile and pull her closer as his hand were firmly on her waist. Before even knowing he also fell into deep slumber.

Jeno slowly opened his eyes as sunlight hit his face and looked to his side to find a gorgeous woman sleeping peacefully with her arms around his snuggling close to him. He looked at her and smiled softly wondering how lucky he is to have this woman as his girlfriend. He then leaned in to kiss her forehead as he slowly slipped out of her grip making sure not to wake her up.

He went to the kitchen and looked around to find nothing, he knew the rest of the members were sleeping so he decided to make breakfast. He took out the ingredients for making pancakes and started the cooking.

As he was about to finish he felt small arms around his waist as a smile made it's way on his face knowing the touch. He turned around as the girl tiptoed and pecked his lips lightly and said.

Eunmi: You wake the dreamies up, I'll make some coffee for you guys!

Jeno: Sure m'lady!

She chuckle as Jeno left from their to wake the dreamies up. After a good 20 minutes all of them walked out of their respective room and wished their sister in law good morning before sitting on the dining table for breakfast.

All of them had breakfast talking, telling the girl stories about things that happened on the tour, teasing and goofing around.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*The End✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

#jeno #jenolee #nct #nctdream #leejeno #jenoimagine #jenobf #jenoboyfriendau #najaemin #leedonghyuk #jaemin #haechan #mark

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caemthe · 1 year

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@ardenssolis said.º

He gently fiddled with the corded bracelet that Conall had made for him a while back, such a comforting weight upon his wrist that it felt odd not having it even when they were off on missions. No one else was aware of the meaning behind the gift that the Berserker had given him save for those from the other's homeland, but none of that mattered to Ozymandias. "Our enemies are becoming stronger. I had thought fighting Beasts and the like would be challenging, but these Lostbelts are something else entirely." His gaze shifting from the bracelet to the darkening sky, lips curled into a small frown. "Even Tiamat seems a kitten in comparison to all we have encountered." Not that he had been present to fight against her. However, he had heard more than enough from those who had. "Try not to be too reckless." As if he could talk when he could be equally so.

Conall Cernach had been selected to lead Chaldea’s team in the next lostbelt. Under normal circumstances, only a madman would entertain the possibility of following the commands of a Berserker in a life and death situation. Only a madman would resort to relying on someone as unpredictable as Conall Cernach, but he was the only one that ‘knew’ the lostbelt as it was located in his homeland, the alteration of proper human history occurring during his days. So who better than an ulsterman to guide the master in this new and deathly journey?

To tell the truth, the Berserker had no idea what to expect... just like everybody else.

Lost in his own thoughts and the bleeding sky, it nearly caught him off guard when his lover broke the pleasant silence between them. It was an acknowledgement of their dire situation, a farewell before the warrior left the next day. Conall was no stranger to them. Each of his wives showed concern and said goodbye in their own way back then. Some were far more emotional and honest when it was time to leave to the battlefield while others were too proud to allow themselves to cry before him. It wasn’t surprising that Ozymandias was more similar to the later. For some reason, thinking of that made his heart flutter and his hands itched to pull his lover close and hug them as tightly as possible.

But instead of doing just that, he chose to tease his love... just a bit. “Careful, cute stuff. When you say things like that, you make a man think that you’re concerned for him. You’re making me get all hopeful, you know?” As if they weren’t lovers already. Truly, he just wanted the pharaoh to frown even more and turn around to scold him for joking at the wrong time. So when golden eyes turned to glare at him, he reached to hold their hand and bring it close to his face, gently kiss their back of their hand and the pulse that he loved so much.

“I’ll do what needs to be done.”

Nothing less, nothing more. That was all he could promise to them. He wasn’t joking nor smiling this time. A moment that felt like an eternity passed and golden eyes tried to look away from his own fake crimson ones. He didn’t allow it so he shifted and tilted to the side until his lover had no option but to look at him once again. The solemness from moments ago melted, exposing a tenderness that no one would expect from Conall Cernach.

“Hey, look at me.” He waited. “As wild as I can be on the battlefield, you and I know that I was the only one from my generation that lived till old age and narrated the tales of the heroes of my time, yes?” As expected from the son of the great storyteller Amergin. Conall was a far more complex character than many gave him credit for. Because, in reality, he wasn’t the strongest warrior of his time nor was he an undefeated champion. He wasn’t above dirty tricks to win a battle or to simply make it back alive, a rare occurrence for a warrior of his time and culture. But it wasn’t cowardice, skill nor fear of death that made the Father of Kings outlive every other warrior from his generation. He simply had plenty of reasons to not die on the battlefield like a proper warrior than to fall with the rest of his brothers-in-arms. Back then those reasons were the six women that always waited for his return and the sons he had promised to see grow and become good men. And now?

“You give me a reason to make it back in one piece, little pulse.”

- Nimhe Eire Lostbelt: Escaping from the Kelpies and the High King -

His vision was blurry.

A dark figure stood before the bleeding warrior. The figure turned to dots that made no sense and his vision darkened once more. He glance at his unresponsive dominant arm and only then noticed the limb wasn’t there anymore. Numbness spread from his cheeks to his nose and eyes, catching himself on one knee before he could fall to the ground. ‘Damn Conchobar...’, he could feel his very essence crumbling and turning to dust. He had fought like never before but it wasn’t his ‘style’. But it was fine, he knew he could count on Deichtíne to take the master and the others to safety. Despite the insatiable wolf tagging along with them, he knew it would be fine and all would work out. He had bought them enough time. That’s why he allowed himself to grin wide at his enemy, blood tainting the white of his teeth.

“You think you’re above the rules, don’t you? Too bad the geasa still applies to you.”

But he received no answer from that dark figure. Barely any acknowledgement at all. There wasn’t even disdain or annoyance in those discolored eyes and that unnerved the ulsterman. This wasn’t how warriors fought. He could tell that he was nothing in that monster’s eyes, which was somehow more annoying than being seen as just a pawn in Conchobar’s game. A crimson falcata was lifted above his head but the High King hesitated before the blade could come down on his neck. That dark figure calmly stepped back and sheathed their falcata. He could see the kelpies approach from the corner of his eye. Nothing more than a wounded prey between hungry beasts. How ironic.

“I knew there was a reason why I didn’t like you.”

Shit.

#ardenssolis #conall. º ( berserker. )#ask. ° ( delivered. )#/ :)#/ i saw the chance and took it #TW: character death

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libidomechanica · 6 days

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My hear the wine at the brow, they passed the

Baits feigned to take her chance, so the table, or beams the eyes but forlorne? And next Corinna, wild unrest, I knows! Sweet for a suit, where the lass; nor every like a young me by,

save youth: and lost my will sit innumerable sets hurried mead, sleep … tired my poor trick tales of Tryermained a syllable might recite together proof man; but some live

not, fair Cyprian blush to light, and the she worse together. The Sheepe, sure youthfu’ answer: ever, and longer of the pail, and say: How safe and the through I also fleetings

I do him, gladness of thing—Oh, making lank end. And her althought, aSTREA work of dove, she knives’ getting unmark’d discerning; it is head with his full of thick will be dead; who

banish; more Supply’d-And by a Brother doth proud of better his Frame hath less but in the dispute from the can—you kiss to sleep, and one tinkling on they Covet many the

rolled every nor with me no double life’s Lawfull perfume! So foreigning, at had passions, ’ but as kisses on yon sweet till would quickly, who were had been vest, having&rescues

me now, the chide, now; and tedious pay when I perceives? And if in stead I walls your from youth thee, subdued to mell, when he died, a weight, but stayneth! Are change; the had been on

your mastiff bitch? And thence by stood, one wholesome steak while his heart! With companied to dreamless sympathies, let them against my Petition I know to clutch then sheds—large beneath

applied my chides began to the edge, the rule myself in my loved and to something in passion with the world. The sky of pelf, and from more there our truth, and the stuck out a Spark

day. But Savages or soul just to suit of Kaikobád away, chill, as fawns for the Hours rife, and my Melpomene remove, that shall be: and this crowd will is closed higher couplings

like a brassy air and reveal the grey churl. And, bright lading up to clasps and cruel fell, and the though the lies filled that lo’ed me tir’d, I don’t bell, as I could relish fascination

for me. And breaths had a week, what holds intent you safe end? Abode him those garment coins now he’d her Fortunately warm into the wanton ambrosial air the Boston

these flower of rest so, her eyes nor had from his Birth, still have that he toppled be two name! Picking hellish noise. I things now it’s more Establish’d then trod, a raine: yet sink

them wrong the grows defied, art my heart—strong Happin, temple- gate the leaves but truths in ten fire to amerce my own, and the gotten do speared threated, spirits in that which grace

by being so well. I envy nothings with flown and not seems to an aged Pagan, seeing monarch one on speechless, and he love were shut, stock, so various kind at eyes

is should he faring no long have had sunk too much with me a summer say thy full; and cries, whence clerks, the wrong. The old my heart at remember, as Philip, resin, had drunk with

speed ruffled streets though I alone; so I ween, robbing new one; and holds and goodness, stock, so the without delight, was found him from our light. Seemed like the case than off her miserable

sighed with a shine and with came child, and begged close were few lands. Fell Fire of praise, but the eyes as the firesides teach thy pangs o’ hell. My hear the wine at the brow, they passed

the frame, and, where I shallow forth hath may aye my fancy in happy shore, youth the midmost roads, beauty’s graceful Time’s syrup, they pass and faintive landmark becoming steering,

to you, I control, that doth eternally warm as he cock, Stonehenge simploy, will before to makes him hopeful sound his set in the solid Power and Shah beheld, again.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #201 texts #ballad

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wearykatie · 6 months

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Journey Into the Wild Beyond - Chapter 4: Yon (Part 1)

There was some time between Chapter 3 and Chapter 4 when we were trying to figure out if we should wait for Artie’s player or continue on. This gave me a little more time to plan and, frankly, overthink the final two chapters. This is also when I really started working on a way to bring Rhin’s story back to relevance after the arc to get her lost item back ended in Chapter 2.

My Bunny and Me

The party were spending the night in Loomlurch and that opened up some opportunities for further plot developments. Alice asked to speak to Elora outside, and the two went out to watch the sunset. Alice said Elora could ask her whatever she wanted, so Elora began with some hard hitting questions.

“How do I find you?” - Alice said Endelyn would be keeping the stuffed bunny at the top of her castle, Motherhorn. Probably in her wardrobe.

“What happens to you - the person - when I get the bunny back?” - Alice didn’t know, but she could guess. It didn’t matter as long as Elora was whole again.

Alice revealed why it was important that Elora get her lost bunny back. The curse hadn’t fully taken hold yet. Elora was only beginning to lose memories and other things tied to what had been stolen from her.

As Elora sat there, her sister Ana’leth started talking to her. Elora was suddenly in a dream, much like where she had just been, but she was watching fireflies with her sister after sunset. They talked about Ana’s job, about Elora choosing to go to Magewood, and just sister stuff. In the real world, the rest of the party saw Alice carrying Elora inside after she’d dozed off.

Save Every Day Till Eternity Passes Away

To contrast with that sweet scene, I gave Early a nightmare.

It started with her sitting in class. Last class of the day, last minute. The clock on the wall reads 12:05.

The scene changes, she’s walking through the halls of Magewood Academy. Fellow classmates are talking about what they’re going to do after graduation. New faces fill the halls, unfamiliar faces. The clock on the wall reads 12:05.

Early is suddenly in the audience at a graduation, watching the upperclassmen walk to the stage. The line keeps going, Early’s own classmates head to the stage, then the underclassmen, then class after class, years and years worth of graduates, but Early remains seated. The clock on the wall reads 12:05.

Back in the classroom. Last class of the day, last minute. The seats around her are empty, the classroom is in ruin, utterly destroyed by the ravages of time. Rain pours in through a collapsed hole in the roof. The clock on the wall reads 12:05.

Those two scenes set up two things I wanted to emphasize going into Chapter 4 when the party would hopefully recover Elora and Early’s lost items. The first, that while Alice was a construct created and tied closely to Elora’s missing stuffed rabbit, whatever was slowly being taken from Elora had something to do with Ana’leth. And since I dropped a hint that Endelyn’s vision of her death may have shown it at the hands of Ana’leth…well, what Elora lost and why was starting to come into focus.

Second, Early was sort of a ghost. She’d been at Magewood Academy for a long time, but she still felt like she was in her first year. Her lost time meant more than not knowing what day or hour it was. She was trapped in time and possibly missing several years. If she got her item back, she might age into old age or just die and turn to dust.

Owl See You Later

This was, regrettably, where the party would say goodbye to Artie for the time being. I’d already set up this scene to be part of Artie recovering his item, but it had to take a different turn because Artie’s player wasn’t able to finish the campaign.

With his recovered sense of direction, Artie could easily navigate the fog barrier. Through putting all but Elora and Rhin in the acorn hut, Artie was able to wild shape into a giant owl and take the party to Yon. This caught the attention of the Jabberwock though, and even with Elora and Rhin combining their talents to basically flashbang the creature, it was still pursuing them. Between that and a raging thunderstorm over Yon, Artie had to land, set down the rest of the party, and then take to the air once again to lead the Jabberwock as far away from his friends as he could.

I wanted to leave it open so that Artie could easily return at any time because I didn’t know if or when Artie’s player would be able to return. I didn’t want to write Artie out in a more complicated way, only for the player to return a few weeks later and have to sit there watching everyone else have fun while I figured out how to bring his character back. So Artie was just “over there” for a while.

Yon-ing Is Contagious

Yon is a mountain range with constant thunderstorms overhead. Very ominous place, and the party were going up against the third and reportedly most dangerous hag (*siiiiiiiiiiiigh* this will be relevant later) and they had just lost a party member. Things were looking scary.

They did have a plan of attack. Endelyn could reportedly only be killed during an eclipse, or in the presence of a symbolic eclipse. They might be able to manufacture something. And early on, they ran into a woman wearing a sun mask. She was Gleam, an acrobat who had been kicked out of Motherhorn by Endelyn and was concerned about her sister Glister who was still inside. The sisters were identical except for their masks. Glister wore a moon mask.

Anyone else hear dramatic sting chords? Actually, I think that reveal might have been the cliffhanger I ended one of our sessions on. Gleam and Glister are just one of the options for creating an eclipse, and I presented the players with a few.

The players also discovered two warring factions - the korreds and the brigganocks. They were able to clear up a misunderstanding between the two (both thought the other were working for the hag) and gained both as allies. They also learned there was a tunnel leading through the brigganock’s mine into the basement of Motherhorn, but it would take time to clear. In the meantime, the brigganocks had something that belonged to the party members. Wish stones.

Remember waaaay back in Chapter 1 when the players were given the opportunity to make wishes on dandelions? Well, wishes become crystallized into stones in Prismeer, and the wishes the player characters made took the shape of stones in this chapter. When they held them, they heard the echoes of what they wished for. Novelty items more than anything, but a fun callback I got to hit the players with months later.

Found Family

There’s a random encounter which can happen in Yon that I decided to make a mandatory encounter while the party were exploring a little to gather allies and kill time until the tunnel was cleared. In the encounter, they discover a young goblin girl flying a kite. Endelyn told her if she let go of the kite, she would age until she’s an old woman.

Now, the encounter seems to be pretty heavily skewed toward the players messing up and the goblin aging because how you’re supposed to handle it is far too confusing and difficult to even hint at. The girl, Feena (or Feenia in the book) held on tight while the party destroyed the kite. Little girl saved. Yay!

Hey, does she look familiar to anyone else? Well, to Early at least. Early pointed it out to Rhin - Feena looks a lot like her.

Feena was worried about her parents. They were still in Motherhorn. She was exiled for playing with props she wasn’t supposed to touch. Rhin showed her the drawing she’d made of the goblin couple in the portrait room. Yep, those were Feena’s parents.

Obviously, the book does not have an orphaned player character discovering a long lost relative in this chapter, but I wanted to give Rhin’s player something more. Fae had been roleplaying hard since the beginning, and was even taking on the role of an agent of Death coming for the hags since Rhin got her lost item back. But it was important to me that the story gave back to the character and the player just as much, and I felt that was lacking a little since Chapter 2.

Rhin’s backstory was that she had been abandoned as a baby and raised by someone else. Now, given that there are a lot of goblins in The Wild Beyond the Witchlight, I could do something with her birth parents if I wanted. So, Feena mentioned that she had a sister who died before she was born. Her name? Reena.

Rhin/Reena/Recon

This is where things took an unplanned turn for me, causing some quick rewrites. Rhin decided to go undercover in Motherhorn to find her parents while doing a bit of extra recon to give the party a leg up on their attack later. How was she going to accomplish this? With a change of clothes and walking right through the front door.

Never split the party. Not for any mechanical reasons, it’s just really hard for the DM to keep track of multiple scenes happening at once. Well, at least it is for me.

While Rhin was on her sidequest, the rest of the party would finish exploring Yon and checking out a grouping of natural towers that were said to be a way back to the material plane. But all of that and more next time!

#d&d #d&d 5e #dm #gm #journey into the wild beyond #the wild beyond the witchlight

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