#but i also see many people like? just casually wishing him death?

[cuubism]

based on THIS shitpost. nsft below the cut. inexplicably 7k.

--

Dream had promised Hob, since reuniting, since agreeing to see each other more often, that he would let Hob introduce him properly to human experiences. "It'll do you good," Hob had said. Dream thinks Death would agree with this also. He is now wondering, however, if this had been folly.

"I think I've given you the general rundown now," Hob says, leaning back in his chair, swirling his bottle of beer—mostly empty—idly in one hand. "The highlights. We'll be here for ages if you want to hear all of it."

Dream is surprised to realize he is curious to hear the stories of all of Hob's lovers. But he does not feel it is quite appropriate to press, no matter how open Hob has been in speaking of it. Dream is most interested, after all, in people Hob has loved, not just those he's had carnal relations with—stories of love are of much more interest to him than stories simply of desire, and Hob has already relayed these stories to him, each a glimmering jewel on the long chain of his life.

Each sticks in Dream's mind now, glittering in his peripheral vision. He cannot tell precisely what they want of him—the corners of his being are blurred, his thoughts wavering, at points clear and ringing and at others indistinct. A consequence of allowing alcohol to affect him, at Hob's bidding. It is... pleasant. Loose. Warm. Though Dream thinks, anywhere outside of Hob's flat, it would feel disconcerting instead.

It's this folly in allowing Hob to ply him with wine, perhaps, that has him saying, "Do you wish to hear of my own?"

Hob's expression sharpens. He is, perhaps, less drunk than Dream is, despite being on his fourth beer, while Dream has only had— ah. That bottle of wine is three-quarters empty. Hmm. "You mean, you want to talk about it?"

"I believe it is customary for friendship to involve a mutual sharing of stories?"

"Sure, if you want to." Hob's gaze on him is intent, curious, but still fond, always fond. "Usually you're like this." He draws his fingers across his lips in a zipping motion. "So of course I'm curious."

"Am I so reticent?" Hob is right, though. Dream can acknowledge it. He would not usually care to speak of these things. He could blame the wine, today. But.

Hob laughs. "Took me six hundred thirty-three years to get a name. You are the king of reticence." He dips his head as if bowing to this "king." "I would be honored to hear your stories, my friend."

Dream tucks his nose into his glass. He should perhaps not drink any more, but the smell is still pleasant, rich and sharp. "They are not so happy."

"Still. If you want to tell."

Dream is not like Hob. He does not have casual dalliances. Each collision was as bright as a falling star. He doesn't know if he has the strength, now, to relay all that terrible history.

Instead, he shares with Hob the early days of burning. Each of those bright, glowing moments. And glosses over the fall.

He thinks Hob sees it, though. He considers him from under his brows as Dream speaks, understanding in his eyes. Doesn't ask him about it, perhaps sensing that Dream does not have the wherewithal for telling and asking in the same evening. "Thank you," he finally says.

"Why?"

"For sharing."

Dream looks back down at his glass. It's empty again. Perhaps that is for the best. It is not often that he... shares. Particularly about this. But Hob is generous in not prying. In wanting to listen, for the simple sake of, as far as Dream can tell, understanding Dream.

When he looks up again, Hob is tapping the mouth of his beer bottle against his lips in thought. "Can I ask you something? It'll probably be utter silliness to you, though. Being this... beyond human entity that you are."

Dream's shoulders tense where they'd gone relaxed with drink and Hob's company. "Go ahead."

"Were all of your lovers women?"

And Dream relaxes again. Ah. This is just... factual. Not... digging in to his many relational failures. "I suppose. Yes."

"Is that by design, or...?"

Dream frowns. "I do not... understand."

"Well, since we've established that I'm an indiscriminate slut—" always so crude, but something about the click of Hob's tongue makes Dream shift uncomfortably in his seat on the couch— “I was wondering whether you were the same way." Then he winces. "Not the slut part. The indiscriminate part."

"Do you mean to ask if I care about the gender or sex of my lovers?"

"Yep. Knew I should have just been straightforward with you."

Dream thinks about it. He has never made a pattern of his relationships, the way humans do. He simply... does what his foolhardy heart commands. Usually with poor results. "I suppose I do not. Care, that is. But. My lovers have been women, yes."

Hob tilts his head. There's a new gleam in his eyes, now. He goes to finish his beer, but it’s empty. Dream watches the drag of his lips over the mouth of the bottle.

"Does that surprise you, Hob Gadling?" he asks. "That my amorous pursuits have been so much narrower than yours?"

"Mmm. Little bit? It's just, even if I hadn’t—how can I put it politely—fucked my way across half of London already by the time we met, I can't imagine making it six hundred years without ever at least experimenting?" He grins. "I could be straight as a nail and curiosity alone would've got me in some bloke's bed at least once. Hmm. Maybe three times just to be sure."

"It is good that you cannot die, for I believe curiosity would have sounded your death knell twenty times over by now."

Hob raises his bottle in Dream's direction. "True, that." Then he leans forward on his knees, eyes bright with, of course, curiosity. "But weren't you ever curious?"

"I contain the collective memory," Dream reminds him. "All fantasies. And dreams. If I need to understand an experience, I can simply consult that breadth of knowledge. I do not need to 'wind up in some bloke's bed.'"

Hob's leaning so far forward now he might come toppling off his chair. "But do you wanna?"

Dream frowns. "I do not..."

"Do you want to experience it yourself, though?" Hob repeats. "Cuz I could watch porn—" Dream wrinkles his nose at this crude analogy for his relationship to his dreams, but the offense is swiftly banished as Hob continues— “but that's not the same as—” his hand lands on Dream's wrist, fingertips pressed to where he would have a pulse— "that."

Dream freezes. Under Hob's fingers, his heart jumps once, quick as a mouse.

"I've no doubt you understand it, Dream," continues Hob, and perhaps he had drunk less than Dream had thought, for he seems very lucid now, "but that's not the same as being there."

Dream fixates on where they are touching. His skin feels very hot, at that point. "And what. Is being there like?"

Hob's fingers slip a little higher, just under the sleeve of his coat. He is still wearing his coat, yes, why is that? He feels very warm. "Could find out?"

"Are you suggesting I should find some man to bed me?"

"Some man," Hob repeats, jaw working. His gaze is hovering somewhere around Dream's collar. "Some man who knows what he's doing, yeah."

"And..." an echo of a breath is frozen in Dream's lungs. Some instinct saying, be still. A pulse at his elbow, in his thigh, at his throat. Hob still has his wrist pinned. "Do you know what you are doing, Hob Gadling?"

"Never in my life," says Hob, and leans in and kisses him.

He has to get out of his chair to do it. Has to lean down over Dream, taking Dream's cheek in his hand. Has to tip Dream's head back, and sweep his tongue into his mouth from above, or perhaps Dream only tells himself that he has to rather than acknowledge that it is Dream himself baring his throat, opening his mouth to Hob's.

If he wished to know what it was like to be kissed by a man, now he knows: strong and lingering and hungry. Or perhaps that is just Hob Gadling. Hob's stubble brushes his cheeks. He can smell Hob's cologne, rich and sweet like whiskey. He wraps a hand around the back of Hob's neck so he can't pull away far.

Hob's eyes are heavy-lidded when he looks at him. Dream touches his own lips, and Hob follows the movement. "I'm not certain I understand," Dream says. "This is not enough data to make a determination."

"Definitely not," says Hob, and kisses him again, pushing him into the back of the couch. The strength of his hands sends fire racing all the way up Dream's spine, curling around his neck, burning in the tips of his ears. He bites experimentally at Hob's lower lip, and Hob groans low in his throat.

"We're not—" Hob pulls away, lips shiny and wet, "we're not doing this here. Come on."

He stands upright again, and Dream will deny to the end of the universe the dissatisfied sound he makes when Hob's warmth leaves him. Hob smiles, soft and fond now, and takes his hand. "Come on, love."

Love.

Some man, Dream thinks, as he lets Hob pull him up. Join some man in bed. As he follows Hob down the hall to his bedroom. For curiosity's sake. As Hob kneels to help pull off his boots. Just to understand. As Hob divests him of his coat.

Experimental.

"You're so buttoned up." Hob smoothes his hands over Dream's shoulders, his bare arms under his t-shirt. "Let me know if it's too much, okay?"

"Yes." Too much, yes, it is too much, to see Hob look at him like that, with care and with hunger, for Hob to touch him gently, it makes his skin prickle, his cheeks heat, his throat terribly dry. It is too much; he will not tell Hob to stop.

I want to understand, Dream thinks. I want—

Hob smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Come on, then."

Hob is already barefoot, being less guarded than Dream, and he leads Dream up onto the bed. Dream follows, chasing his hands, and Hob does not deprive him. He leans against the headboard and lets Dream settle in his lap, immediately framing his face again between his palms. For the sake of learning, Dream pushes all the dreams of this aside, so that it is just him and Hob. New. Theirs.

He looks into Hob's eyes, very close now, and he feels light, floaty, good. Perhaps the wine was a bad idea. Perhaps it was right.

"What d'you want, darling?" Hob asks. Brushes his lips to the corner of Dream's mouth. "Tell me. This is for you, after all."

Yes. For Dream. A scientific exercise, he must remember. It will help him... understand. It will help him create more vivid dreams. That is all.

He can feel Hob's growing erection pressing against him. His own jeans growing tight. "I would like. The full experience."

Hob laughs, but it's a friendly laugh, not at his expense. Dream can recognize that, now. "There's no full experience. Sex counts as sex if you say it does. But if you're trying to say penetration, we can do that."

Dream shivers at the word penetration, sitting so matter-of-factly on Hob Gadling's tongue. "Yes. I believe that is what I meant."

"Alright." Hob may be matter-of-fact, but he does not sound unaffected. His voice has gone rough, his eyes dark, a flush along his cheeks. His hands fall from Dream's face to brace his hips, thumbs sweeping under the hem of Dream's shirt to touch his skin.

But he doesn't push Dream down into the mattress. Instead he pulls Dream closer by the hips, saying, "C'mere then," and Dream goes back to his mouth. Sinks into Hob's kiss, and the searing heat of his hands on Dream's hipbones. It's different. It's already different. But he can't yet determine if it's different because Hob is a man, or because he is Hob.

Hob, who has been a friend to him even when he couldn't recognize it. Who wants him to enjoy things. Wants to share with him.

Hob pushes Dream's shirt up over his head. Dream has not been bare in front of someone since his escape, but he doesn't think he minds, when it's Hob. When it means he gets Hob's broad, strong hands on his back, pulling him close, and Hob's lips on his shoulder, the crook of his neck, kissing and leaving marks.

"You know, once upon a time I thought you were above all this," Hob murmurs. He touches Dream's belly, his chest, his neck, holding lightly. "You were so... untouchable. Couldn't imagine you lowering yourself to engage in such—” he bites at Dream's earlobe— “such base activities."

"'Untouchable,' Hob Gadling?" Dream says. Hob's hands are cradling his throat now. Hob catches his point and flexes his fingers; Dream swallows under the grip.

"Always wanted to know," Hob murmurs, "if anyone'd touched you at all."

Not in a very long time, it is true. Dream burns with it, now, everywhere Hob touches him is alight. "What would you have done with an answer?"

"Dared," says Hob. "I expect."

"Always daring," Dream says. Indulges himself and slips his own hands under Hob's shirt, feels out his stomach, his hair, his back, all the strong lines of him. Hob's shoulders are pleasing, and his hips where Dream squeezes with his thighs, and these are not things Dream has thought of much, before. He wants to see more. To feel more. "Daring to be the first man to have me."

"Don't say things like that if you want me to keep my sanity." The words are rough like Dream has reached in and touched him instead of just spoken, and Hob's chest rises and falls heavily under Dream's hands.

"Maybe I don't."

This makes Hob chuckle, and Dream feels the rumble of it through his body. He wishes there was not the barrier of their clothes to dampen it; more than seeing Hob, he wants to feel Hob, his skin is prickling with it, his mouth is tacky and dry with it.

"How do you want me?" he asks, and whatever change Hob hears in his voice has him stiffening up, going serious. Dream doesn't know how he feels about it—he enjoys Hob's ease and laughter, but the intensity is... he feels it like a touch.

"How do you want to be had?" Hob counters, and before Dream can contemplate the myriad possible answers, adds, “Do you want to be? Is that what you meant? Only I would have thought— but then again—”

Dream does not interrogate the rambling path of Hob's assumptions. He says, "I would like to know. What I have not. Personally. Experienced, yes."

Daydreams poke at Dream's awareness as the image flashes through Hob's mind. Dream doesn't touch them, but the awareness of their existence alone has him shifting where he straddles Hob's lap. Hob's cheeks darken, and he says, "Strangest way anyone's ever asked me to fuck them. Yeah, alright. Budge up, love?"

Love. Again. Dream climbs off Hob's lap, kneeling beside him as Hob strips off his own shirt, flinging it somewhere--Dream doesn't see, for he is looking only at Hob. The solidness of him, where Dream often feels made of wind; the warmth of his belly, where Dream touches him, while Dream himself often feels cold. So made of earth, Hob Gadling.

Hob lays a hand on Dream's chest as if to push him down to the bed. No strength behind the touch, but the impression of it. "Need you to tell me if it starts going wrong. I'm serious, Dream."

Despite himself, Dream bristles. “You think me incapable of conveying my displeasure?”

Hob huffs. “I think you’re just prideful enough not to. Just be direct with me. You don’t have to prove anything.”

Perhaps... Hob is not entirely wrong. “…I shall," Dream vows at length. Hob nods, and smiles at him again, that warm smile. Dream can’t help but feel pleased to have made him smile so. Hob pushes, and Dream goes, lies back against the pillows, and Hob kneels between his legs. Hands sliding again to his hips, to the waistband of his jeans. Dream watches with fixation, caught on Hob's fingertips.

Hob has apparently decided he does trust Dream to interrupt if he doesn't like something, for he doesn't ask again before unbuttoning Dream's jeans. But Dream can tell Hob is still paying close attention to his reactions, and it's heady to be attended to so.

He lifts his hips for Hob to pull off his jeans, and then gets to bask in a look he can only interpret as adoring. Hob looks upon him that way, and strokes up and down his thighs, over his hips and belly. Dream's skin jumps at the touch.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Hob says, sounding wounded by it. "Everyone who sees you must go home wishing you were going with them, I refuse to believe otherwise."

Dream smiles, despite himself. "This may be a particular bias of yours, Hob."

"Yeah, maybe. I'm right, though." He leans down, hovers over Dream, kisses him. Dream pulls him down so their bodies are pressed together. Hob's skin is so warm, his hair softer than expected, the fabric of his jeans a rough counterpoint where it scratches Dream's inner thighs, rubs against his cock lying hard in the crook of his hip. A wealth of sensation. A pleased, wanting sound escapes him, before he can stop it—but Hob catches it, looking delighted to do so, kisses it right out of Dream's mouth. "You've left broken hearts in your wake. Still can't believe this is your first time doing this."

"Revel in that victory if you must."

"No victory," says Hob. "Only privilege."

And he kisses Dream again even as he works a hand between them, takes Dream in his grip. Dream gasps at the touch, breaking the kiss. Hob's hand is warm and rough and very sure, and Dream can't help the way his whole body tenses with that simple touch.

He feels Hob's smile against his cheek. His voice drips with satisfaction. "Are you sensitive?"

Dream does not get a chance to answer. Hob strokes him again, hums as Dream bucks up involuntarily into his grasp.

"Oh, I'm going to make you feel so good," Hob muses, his voice a warm rumble in Dream's ear. "I know I can. You deserve it."

"Hob—"

Hob kisses his own name out of Dream's mouth, a deep, biting kiss, and this confidence, rather than being offensive to Dream's station, is riveting. Dream feels spelled.

"Just let me take care of it," Hob says, and moves away, and Dream groans at the loss of his body heat.

"You will take what you want now?" Dream complains, knowing full well even as he says it that it is nonsense. But having Hob's touch and then losing it is making him insensate; truly, he had not thought he could fall so far. "Is that what this is, Hob Gadling?"

Hob chuckles. "Oh, no." He kisses Dream's sternum, and down along his abdominal muscles. Mouths at Dream's belly, where Dream shifts under him, ticklish and affected, skin jumping, and then Hob noses at the base of his cock, and Dream realizes what he's gotten himself into only right before it comes to light.

"No, Dream," Hob says, lips now brushing the head of his cock, and like that he looks up and meets Dream's eyes. "I serve at your pleasure."

He takes Dream in his mouth, strangling Dream's response before it can even reach his throat. Not that Dream knows what he would have said. It's whited out instantly in the rush of pleasure that is Hob's mouth, and tongue, the generosity of his body, the vision of him between Dream's legs.

He's voiceless as Hob bobs his head, takes Dream deep, laves his tongue over his slit, applies what Dream must concede is his considerably greater experience to breaking Dream's ability to speak entirely. He grasps mindlessly at Hob's hair, it slides soft between his fingers, head tipped back against the pillows and thighs jerking restlessly, and still he knows this is but a precursor to what Hob truly intends for him. What he's... asked for. Folly. What had he been thinking?

Hob lifts his head to look at him, a line of spit dragging from Dream's cock to his lower lip. "Dream, you with me?"

Dream nods. His hand is still in Hob's hair. He pets at Hob's forehead, his temple, and Hob smiles. Like Dream is the one being indulged.

"Good?" he says, and Dream nods again. Hob takes his hand from his hair, kisses his knuckles, and Dream does not think this is how casual experiments are meant to go. He does not know what he is learning, except that Hob's kiss is soft and reverent, and the look on his face even more so.

"Is this," Dream asks quietly, hyperaware of how he's laid out on his back, Hob between his legs, "how you want me?"

Hob releases his hand. Drags a fingertip maddeningly up and down the crook of Dream's thigh as he considers. "Probably be a bit easier for you on your belly, but I don't want to make you feel vulnerable."

Dream is not certain there is a version of this that would not feel vulnerable. That it does not already. "I defer to your better judgment."

"Stay there, then." He moves away, and Dream takes the moment to gather himself. He's not certain he succeeds. He's spinning pleasantly, buzzing with the echo of Hob's touch. He wonders what might happen if he gives up on trying to right himself.

Hob comes back with lubricant, situations himself between Dream's legs again. Runs his hands up and down Dream's thighs and Dream spreads them wider on instinct. Hob swallows hard, Dream watches the harsh bob of his throat. He's still wearing his jeans, and Dream wishes he would take them off, he wants to pet at Hob's thighs in turn, he wants to see.

"You're a holy vision," Hob says, still studying him with that look, raw and strangled. Find some man to bed you, Dream thinks, feverishly. Some man.

He plucks at the fabric of Hob's jeans. "Hob—“

Hob chuckles. "Sorry, sorry. Bit unfair of me, isn't it? Got too distracted looking at you." He unzips his jeans then, pulls them off, and then is sitting there only in his underwear—something which Dream does not bother to manifest for himself because his clothing is made already of dream stuff, but perhaps he will start because Hob bare before him, his cock heavy and hard in his boxer briefs but still obscured by the fabric is—

"Dream?" Hob asks, as Dream pushes himself up on his elbows and reaches for him, mesmerized, cups his hand around Hob through the fabric, feels the warmth and heft of him, "did I break y— ah fuck."

Hob pushes into his hand, bends down over him again to kiss him as if summoned to it, and it is thrilling, sparkles along every vein, to get such a reaction. To have Hob caving to him. "Fuck, Dream."

Dream indulges himself further, slips his hand under Hob's waistband, takes him in his grasp, and Hob jerks against him. Dream's mouth waters at the weight of him, he has to swallow thickly to clear his throat, his own cock is heavy and straining, and he parts his thighs further for Hob. Vulnerable. Yes. This is vulnerable, and especially so in the waking world, and he wants, he wants Hob in him. A new feeling.

"Hob. I want—"

"I know, darling. Fuck, you're beautiful. Your hands—" He shakes himself. "Right. Right."

Hob sits up again. Strips off his underwear properly. His hair is hanging loose and messy now, eyes ever so slightly glazed with pleasure, chest rising and falling, his prick hard and ruddy at the tip. He is arresting.

He pushes Dream's legs up so his knees are bent, finds the bottle of lube where it's fallen into the sheets, pours some out into his hand. Leans in to kiss Dream’s belly, pleasant and tickling, and in the same motion drags a finger over Dream’s entrance.

Dream catches his wrist, inhuman pulse peaking in his throat, like a burst of dream stuff. “You do not need to put in such effort. This body does not have these human limitations.”

Hob tsks and taps his hand away. “You said you wanted the full experience. And the full Hob Gadling experience includes proper prep and aftercare, even if you're made of whims and fantasies. Free of charge, by the way."

"Oh, indeed?" This comes out significantly less teasing, and significantly more affected, than Dream had intended. "And what will the rest cost me?”

Hob winks at him. "Only your pleasure, darling."

This time, he leans over Dream, takes Dream’s wrist and pins it to the bed by his head. Dream lets out a choked gasp. The sudden pressure of Hob’s grip makes something stand out sharply within him, and then collapse again in relief. Hob makes a considering noise, and holds him there as he presses a finger lightly to Dream’s entrance with his other hand.

Dream shudders as Hob pushes his finger in, one knuckle, two, as he works in and out of Dream’s body, stretching him— it is an odd sensation, one he half-feels he should shy away from, but Hob’s grip on his arm is grounding, and Hob kneeling between his spread legs is tickling something in him that wants very badly.

Then Hob crooks his finger and pleasure rushes through him like a windstorm. Dream arches off the bed, grabbing at the sheets, and Hob laughs. “Thought you might like that.”

“Hob.” Dream thinks he means this to come out admonishing but it’s far more strained. Hob doesn’t give him time to recover, he drags his finger over Dream’s prostate again and Dream bites down hard on his lower lip. Hob slips his finger out, returns with two, and now it’s a stretch. Dream grinds down on him, resists the urge to whine as Hob works him over on his fingers, rubbing over his prostate on every other stroke.

“You are unbelievably gorgeous,” Hob murmurs, watching where his fingers slip in and out of Dream’s body, and then back up at Dream’s face with awe and fixation.

“Even,” Dream struggles over the words as sensation washes through him, Hob’s fingers in him, filling him, so much and yet he wants more, “spread out, like so?”

“Especially then. The way you move on my fingers,” he twists his hand to emphasize the point, and Dream shudders, "the fact that you let me. D’you know how long I’ve looked at you and wondered?” Saying this, he kisses Dream, sliding his hand up Dream’s wrist to clasp their fingers together. “Passing Stranger, your body has become not yours only nor left my body mine only. Fuck, I wanted to see you like that.”

You give me the pleasure of your eyes, Dream thinks, but doesn’t quote the poem back to him— Hob reels him away again by the touch of his hands. He pushes a third finger into Dream, and now it is tight, it is so much, but Dream pushes himself back onto Hob’s hand. Hob’s fingers move gloriously within him, touching every part of him, and he starts speaking again in his low, honey voice, that’s it, darling, good, feels so good, yeah? and Dream needs Hob inside him. Hob has pulled him by the throat from inexperienced to grasping, and he is grasping.

Hob keeps fingering him, spiking his pleasure higher, his cock hanging heavy and teasing Dream with each move he makes. Dream himself is painfully hard, and it sharpens the feeling of Hob in him from maddening to agonizing. Hob kisses him, licks into Dream’s mouth, and Dream opens to his tongue. He opens to him. Like a yawning, cavernous thing.

Wanting Hob in him has shifted to needing Hob in him has shifted to lacking Hob in him, that Hob is a fundamental part of him and without him Dream is bereft. “Hob,” he whines, mortified by the sound of it but unable to drag himself back to that place of control he had surely—surely?—started the evening with. “Please—”

Hob’s head jerks up and he looks at Dream in shock. And. Oh.

Shame rushes through Dream’s body. Who has he become, begging a human to fuck him? Is he not the Lord of all Dreaming, is he not above this? Once, Dream was a skillful and assertive lover, he could bring the full power of the Dreaming to bear for his lovers’ pleasure, he could craft every moment exactly as needed— and now—

But Hob doesn’t draw away in disgust. Or gloat over the position he’s maneuvered Dream into. He smiles down at him, a soft look that goes just a bit pained at the edges as Dream tenses. Then he presses his lips to Dream’s cheek. Even that simple touch makes Dream shiver.

“It’s alright, darling,” Hob murmurs, so gentle but the heat of it still winds through Dream’s insides. “Don’t you know I’ll give you what you need? You don’t have to beg for it.” He slips his fingers out and back in, only two now, working them as deep as they’ll go. “But you sound so pretty when you do.”

“Please,” Dream says, the words again dragged from him unbidden, unspooled by the feeling of Hob inside him, there but not enough. Hob kisses him, swallows his plea like sweet wine, works him on his fingers, grinds his cock in tantalizing lines over Dream’s thigh. And gradually something unlocks in Dream’s ribcage, each piece turning itself open in realization. Hob likes when he asks, begs even. But he isn’t going to make him.

Asking, then, feels less like a wound rent in him, showing all his torn pieces, and more like a spell that will draw Hob to him. Speak, and he will come.

“Please,” Dream says again, and this time the words don’t tear. He speaks into Hob’s mouth, and the wet warmth of Hob’s lips and tongue soothe him where asking might start to chafe. “Hob, I need—”

“Do you need my cock, love?” Hob asks, rough low and rough and burning. “Feels empty, doesn’t it?” He slips his fingers free, and Dream whines. “I know. I know. You’re just starving for it, aren’t you?”

Starving, yes, Dream would like to take Hob in his mouth, but right now he’s feverish for something else. Hob is so close, every touch of his skin already has Dream singing, but he still wants more. He tangles his hand in Hob’s hair, wraps one leg around the back of Hob’s thighs to pull him closer, and Hob laughs, breathless.

“Fuck, Dream, you’re so—” Hob sounds spun around, now, and it’s gratifying to knock him askew in the way he’s done to Dream.

“Hob Gadling,” Dream says, putting the weight of sleeping desire into his voice, “I need you. I’m waiting.”

“Fucking hell,” Hob groans. “I’ve created something terrifying.” He doesn’t sound displeased about it. In fact, he kisses Dream again, lets Dream pull him close by the hair, smiling into his mouth. “Gonna make it so good for you, I promise.”

“I can plague your sleep with eternal nightmares if not,” Dream says, with no intention of doing so.

“See, I’m so confident in my ability to fuck you” —Dream's skin prickles at the word— “that I’m not even worried about it.”

He makes Dream lift up so he can push a pillow under his hips, takes Dream’s leg and maneuvers it over his shoulder, bending his body back. Dream shivers at the vulnerability of the position, the way he’s pinned. Hob kisses the bend of his knee with a little smile, and then Dream watches down the length of their bodies as Hob takes himself in hand. He’s so hard, glistening with pre at the tip, and Dream swallows jerkily.

“Alright, love?” Hob asks, meeting his eyes. He has always had the brightest, loveliest eyes. Dream holds his gaze and nods. He is not certain that he is, in fact, all right, he feels strange and spun about and immersed in the waking dream of Hob’s bed and Hob’s touch, but he does not want Hob to stop, he wants Hob to fuck him.

Hob presses into him, slowly, pausing when just the head of his cock is sheathed. And Dream— Dream was not prepared, Hob’s fingers did not prepare him for the all around pressure of Hob’s cock, the way it would fill him. It dances on the edge of pain, but he wants more. Already, more.

“More,” he finds himself saying, and Hob chuckles, bracing a hand around the back of Dream’s neck as he complies. This time, he pushes all the way in, not stopping until he bottoms out, groaning at the feeling. Dream clutches at his shoulders, no doubt leaving indents in his skin, body clenching convulsively as he gets used to the feeling of Hob in him.

Hob is inside him. Hob is inside him.

“Dream, you alright? You’re… breathing,” Hob says, petting through his hair. He sounds awed.

Breathing. He is breathing. And he hadn't commanded it so. Hadn't even meant it. Normally Dream forgets to affect such human mannerisms, even when it might be advisable to do so. But now he is breathing. Each one is choppy, three steps up three steps down, somewhere between a breath and a sob.

“I am fine,” he says, and Hob shushes him, kissing his cheek.

“I know you are. It’s alright to get a bit overwhelmed, yeah?” Hob is still in him, Dream can still feel every centimeter of him everywhere, but he doesn’t move. Simply lets Dream settle.

Dream tries to stop the wretched breathing, it makes him feel human and mortal and out of control, but he can’t, this temporary body affixed to this plane by Hob’s weight, his touch. Hob kisses his cheek again, nuzzles at his ear, and gradually Dream finds himself subsiding, relaxing in increments. It occurs to him, through the distant knowledge of the Dreaming, that this softness would not be characteristic of a temporary, experimental experience with a stranger, should Dream have simply wanted to know what it was like. It occurs to him through his own knowledge that this vulnerability he feels, this ability to ease him, is characteristic only of Hob.

He does not yet know what to do with that, but he turns to find Hob’s lips. Hob meets him easily, smiling into the kiss. “With me?” he asks, and Dream nods.

“Yes.”

Then Hob starts to move, slow measured thrusts at first. Dream breathes through each, and perhaps breathing is not so bad, after all, for it settles him, and settling lets him take Hob in, and he wants to take Hob in. It is so good, the slide of him sends sparks all along Dream’s limbs, builds inexorable and tantalizing heat through his body, none of his many dreams conveyed to him just how good it would be, when brought from dreams to reality. From memory to the body. More, even, than this is the sense of Hob’s body over him, the heat of him, and the strength, the breadth of his shoulders, the drag of Hob’s belly over Dream’s prick, the way he moves, expertly pushing Dream higher and oh-so-much faster with each thrust, tapping against that edge of pain-and-too-much without ever letting him fall over it.

Dream is starting to think that, in addition to his general experience, Hob has become quite an expert in knowing what Dream, specifically, might like.

“Good, darling?” Hob asks against his jaw, and Dream means to respond but all that comes out is a whine. He feels Hob’s smile against his skin. “More, then?”

Dream evidently doesn’t have to respond. Hob braces himself more firmly over him, and then he’s moving much faster, and then Dream really loses his senses. Hob bears down on him, levering Dream’s leg back further and deepening the angle, and each thrust hits before Dream has recovered from the last, and Hob’s mouth is on his throat, right over his pulse, which is also hammering—

Hob hits his prostate, and Dream keens as lightning arcs through him. Hob is talking to him now as he does it again and again, saying through panting breaths something like, you’re so good, does that feel good? is’at good for you? fuck you’re gorgeous, but Dream can’t parse much detail. He feels he should be participating more actively, but the wherewithal to do so has slipped away from him, all he can do is take what Hob is giving to him.

Probably that is what Hob wants. Perhaps he has fantasized over their long acquaintance about having Dream bent in just this position. Many might wish to have the Dream Lord at their mercy. Hob’s mercy, however, is a burst of pure heat straight to the soul.

“Hob,” he’s saying when he comes back to himself enough to notice, “Hob, Hob—”

“You’re beautiful like that,” Hob says, voice rough. “Dreamed of it— ha. You make the most beautiful noises.”

They are, in fact, wholly undignified noises, but Dream can’t seem to bring himself to stop; Hob punches each sound of pleasure out of him. He floats. Holds onto Hob’s shoulders. Presses his face to Hob’s and feels the scratch of his stubble. The rough calluses of his hands. The rhythm of Hob’s body is sublime. The kiss that he presses to the corner of Dream’s eye is more so. He is… crying there. Tears spilling over and down his cheeks. Dream has crafted the heights of euphoria within the Dreaming. But. Has any of it ever been as good as this?

He has Hob close to him, around him, in him, and still he wants more. Never again will Dream be able to disdain the office of Desire, not without looking away in shame at the lie.

His release washes over him in a wave that he doesn’t even notice until it peaks, so great is the rest of his pleasure. He gasps as he comes, not even needing Hob’s hand on him, tips his head back on the pillow, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open. Chest heaving. Hob slows, cups Dream’s cheek—until Dream urges him on with an ankle hooked around the back of his thigh, do not stop do not stop do not—

“Alright.” Hob nips at his lower lip in admonishment but he does start fucking him again, clearly chasing his own release now rather than pushing for Dream’s. That edge of pleasure-pain now tips closer to pain but Dream relishes in it. Each stuttered motion of Hob in him is blessed.

“I want,” he manages, throat dry, voice scraped rough from his cries, “to feel you come. In me.”

“Oh fuck,” Hob swears. “Dream.” And that apparently is enough. Hob’s hips stutter quick and he comes, hot spurts in Dream’s body, he can feel it. When Hob's tension eases, when his breath catches up to him, he moves to pull out—but Dream drags him back in. He wants— wants to keep Hob inside him, belly spine lungs throat, bring Hob in and in and hold him there, wants that warmth with him always. He could live like that, with Hob close to him.

Hob helps him lower his leg from his shoulder, stretch out sore muscles, and then lets Dream pull him in close, hold him there, in him, even as he’s going soft. He turns them on their sides, tucks his face in against Dream’s shoulder. Breathes the same air.

“So,” Hob says, after several, very long moments where they’ve been lying quietly together, tacky with sweat, Dream’s limbs all wrapped around Hob and Hob running his hands up and down his back, “how was that?”

“Mm?” Dream is still floating. It’s very pleasant.

He can feel Hob grinning against his shoulder. “You wanted to know what it was like to sleep with a man.”

What it was like. Dream is not certain he knows. He knows that Hob’s arms around him are strong, the touch of his skin pleasant even with the combined heat of their bodies. That he smells of sex and sweat and Dream wants to mire himself in it. He knows that, as Hob does finally, carefully pull out, he can feel Hob’s come dripping sticky over his thighs and rather than being discomforting, it only reminds him how he was wanted. His own come is smeared over Hob’s belly in disorganized lines, and Hob’s hair is ravaged by his fingers. There are still tears drying on Dream’s face. He knows that Hob has had him, now, and is still holding him. That the force of his lovemaking annihilated Dream’s dignity. That Hob wants to kiss him during sex. That at his prolonged silence, Hob looks up, finds his gaze, questioning.

“I am not certain that’s what I studied,” Dream admits. “Or. Learned.”

“Oh? What’d you learn, then?” Hob touches his cheek, as if even parted for a second, he wants to be close to Dream again. “Least tell me if you enjoyed it.”

“I did.” Dream must look ruined, and still Hob must confirm he enjoyed it? “What I learned is not what it is like to be with 'a man'. But rather.” He brushes his thumb over Hob’s lower lip, and Hob’s mouth opens at the movement. “What it is like. To be loved. By a very good friend.”

Hob’s expression crinkles into the softest smile at loved. “Oh, a very good friend, hm?”

“Very good,” Dream says. Presses his hand flat to Hob’s heart. “Uniquely so. Uniquely good to me among friends.” Not that Dream has… friends, plural. Better, then, that Hob is so singular. Singular enough to have nestled somewhere within him, between one meeting, one drink, one kiss and the next, and Dream would no longer be without him. His heart is surrounded by a hazy warmth much softer than the sharp pang of desire, and Hob's bed, Hob's touch, is soothing to him, a blanket he has finally pulled over his shoulders after trying to brave the lingering cold. Like so much this evening, it feels strange, and like so much this evening, it feels too good to shy away.

Hob leans in to kiss him, a soft drag of lips over his. “Good. Can I convince my friend to go in for a shower? Tea, maybe? Can I convince him to stay the night and keep exploring that friendship?”

Hob has taken care of him this evening, has not yet lead him astray, and so Dream lets him pull him out of bed and to his feet. In the shower, under the rushing hot water, Hob kisses him, kisses him, kisses him, rough, inelegant, consumed by feeling, hands curled around Dream’s hips. Dream will not make dreams out of this night, after all, he thinks. Selfishly, he wants to keep it to himself.

Peerless among friends, Hob Gadling, he thinks, as Hob makes him tea. As Hob tugs him back over the threshold, into the bedroom, into the mess they’ve made of the sheets. Peerless among friends.

Among lovers, too, perhaps.

#tfw ur having casual sex with ur homie to learn what its like to get dicked down then oh no youre having a gay awakening oh NO youre having #a romantic awakening about your homie too. we've all been there #my writing #dreamling #dreamling fic #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream x hob #you best believe 'i serve at your pleasure' plays over and over and over and over in dream's mind for weeks after #btw the poem hob quotes is 'to a stranger' #nsft

[fictionobsession]

devotion

Pairing: Alastor x f!Reader

Summary: She would give anything for him.

Word Count: 1,997

Warnings: blood, canon typical violence, Alastor being psychotic

A/N: okay friends, first time writing for Al. this was not beta'd or really edited at all so if something seems weird just... assume I meant to fix it. also, this was written as a QPR, but there's a little feelings on reader's side if you squint. I'm not 100% on how in character this is for Alastor, but we tried and that's what matters right

---

She plopped onto the shitty couch and pulled her knees to her chest, looking around the shitty house where they'd been hiding out in the middle of this shitty swamp for the last two shitty weeks. The wallpaper was peeling and yellowed, the floors covered in mold and mildew, the running water only worked half the time, and, more importantly, the refrigerator was empty as of six nights prior. Her stomach rumbled just thinking about a nice juicy cut. She sighed, closing her eyes and allowing herself to sink into the daydream of food.

She knew when she'd gotten into this hobby with Alastor that there was a non-zero chance she would wind up on the run someday. She just wished they could have put it off a bit longer, had a bit more fun. She laid her head back against the rotting couch until she heard the creak of the floor near the front door.

Her eyes snapped open and her brows furrowed as she took in Alastor's hunting attire.

“Al, where do you think you're going?”

“Well, my dear, unless you feel like us both starving to death in this dismal abode, I thought I'd better go get some food.”

“Alastor. You know we've heard the dogs nearby. You can't possibly go out there without getting caught, at least until we've had a couple days where we haven't heard 'em.”

“Again, starving is not on my agenda, so we don't particularly have another choice.”

Another choice. Her face hardens as she realizes what another option might be. She stood up and crossed the room, grabbing Alastor's arm before he could open the door. “There is a way for us to make it out of this without you leaving. Or rather, a way for one of us to make it out of this.”

He hummed, and she could see the wheels turning as he put together what she was implying. “I'm not sacrificing myself for you to get away, you know.”

“I know. That's why I'm just asking you to get it over with quickly. You'll get more time, and I – well, I'll at least get to go out on my own terms. If I have to go, at least it'll be for you.”

His eyes widened just a bit, more reaction than she'd usually get, before he shrugged. “Okay. Painless it is. Not usually my style, but I think I can figure it out.”

She laughed, a genuine, full laugh. “I know, Al, and that's why we've worked out so well. But I think you could at least do that much for me.”

He pulled his hunting knife from where he had already slid it into his belt. “Are you ready?”

And with one nod, everything went black.

-

It seemed instantaneous, appearing in hell. She looked around, taking in the chaos around her. Literal dumpster fires, public sex, casual street murders, Hell had it all. Of course, arriving in Hell wasn't a surprise for her. You don't kill that many people and expect to get into Heaven. She wasn't even sure she had believed in the whole afterlife thing until she was experiencing it. She shrugged it off, finding the closest place with a mirror she could use for free.

Her body was... different, certainly. But intact, and honestly, she was quite happy with it. Given the various types of demons she'd seen just in her brief time there, it could've been a lot worse. She wandered, putting together a plan of action for getting herself set up in Hell. It seemed she would need income to make most things happen, which made finding a job a top priority. She also needed a place to sleep, as it seemed unsafe at best to stay on the streets.

She got a job fairly quickly at Ozzie's, though she wasn't thrilled with the outfit they made her wear for the whole thing. But it was money, and easy work, so she stuck with it. Asmodeus offered her a fairly decent rate on rent nearby, as well, so she could have done worse.

Shortly after getting settled, she started feeling pressure on her body in random locations and at seemingly random times, almost like someone was grabbing or poking her to get her attention. Occasionally she'd get hot spots, which she at first attributed to it being hot in Hell. Little scrapes and cuts would appear sometimes as well, but they always healed up quickly. It wasn't until the final time it happened that she realized what had been happening over the past few weeks.

A perfect bite imprint appeared on her forearm, accompanied by a sharp pain, and she realized it must have been an effect of Alastor in the living world. She traced her finger over the mark, which had healed into almost a scar, but not quite. It was a bit pink, but wasn't angry and fresh. She smiled a little to herself, happy that her sacrifice hadn't been in vain.

As time went on, she found herself tracing the mark when she was feeling stressed, upset, or particularly lonely. It never healed all the way, making it always a bit sensitive to touch, and served as a reminder of why she was here. The mark always made her feel closer to Al, which brought a little comfort when things got crazy.

She had managed to stay within the same few blocks that she knew were heavily policed by Asmodeus's people. However, six months into her stay in Hell, she finally had to leave her little neighborhood to buy some things for the bar. She packed her gun, a knife, and made sure she was dressed inconspicuously – the rumors about the surrounding areas were very...detailed...about what might happen to someone who ended up on the wrong side of a fight.

Unfortunately, her preparation didn't keep her from getting spotted by some Sharks outside the store as she started back toward her apartment. She tried to hurry, sliding between demons and other sinners, before slipping down an alley to attempt to lose her tail. It was too late by the time she realized it was a dead end, and the Sharks started cutting off her only entrance.

She took one step, two, keeping them in her sight until her back hit the brick wall behind her. Her hand reached for her gun, ready to pull it when the lead Shark got close enough. Their glares were paralyzing, and she could smell the smoke and alcohol on them at that distance. She felt herself start to shake, taking a deep breath to steady herself before -

“You wouldn't want people to think you're picking on those of fairer means would you?” The sound and feeling of static crackled through the air like lightning as a dark shape enveloped the opening to the alleyway. A long, thin shadow ripped through the air, straight through the lead Shark, throwing him against the side of the neighboring building.

Green sparks shone through the seemingly infinite blackness, a pair of what could only be described as antlers growing from the approaching shape. Two more tendrils, picking up the remaining Sharks and tossing them into the air like dolls. She wanted to close her eyes, but couldn't look away from the gore. Sure, she had seen a lot of violence in her time in Hell, but she hadn't seen that level of overkill in quite some time.

As the last of the Sharks fled only to get a tendril through the skull, she pressed herself as far into the corner as possible, sliding down the wall and pulling her knees to her chest. There was only the hope that the demon forgot she existed, and the knowledge that if he hadn't, she would likely be next up for second death.

The shadow approached, darkness fading as he got closer until finally it revealed a man. A tall man, with horns, but just a man, nonetheless. He was straightening out his red coat, and twirling something around in his hands as he approached. “Always good to have an excuse to let off a little steam. Always good.”

He put a hand out to help her up. As she lifted herself off the ground, he was already vaguely shaking her hand, introducing himself. “Name's Alastor, pleasure to meet you. Quite a pleasure.”

His name hit her ears about the time he caught a glimpse of her bite, and both stopped dead in the middle of introductions. She looked up, eyes widening as she realized that yes, that was a microphone, and yes, in fact, it had been quite a while since she'd seen that level of overkill, one could even say since her living days. He looked different now, sure, but as soon as she looked into his eyes, she knew that was her Al.

“Well maybe don't wait so long to come save my ass next time, eh, Al?” She smirked up at him, waiting for him to process what was happening. His nails traced the pattern of his own bite on her arm. She caught sight of his tongue tracing across his teeth, as if he was just then realizing how different they'd really become. “I bet your imprint looks a bit different now, doesn't it?” She spoke more to herself than to him as she reached to pull her sleeve down over the mark.

“Why, I should hope so, my dear. I should very much hope so. Let's see just how much it's changed then!” Without any more warning than that, he pulled her arm to his mouth and bit, hard. The new mark bled, sure, but it healed up more quickly than it probably should have, covering his old impression with his new one. His ears twitched subconsciously, his ever-present smile nearly faltering as he watched the blood drip, drip, drip down her arm. He shook himself out of whatever thoughts were distracting him rather quickly before acting like no time had passed at all since they'd been together last. “Now, I don't think I should leave you alone again. It seems to me that you still can't stay out of trouble, my dear! Come along, let me show you where I've been staying!”

“But – Hang on! Al! I've got to go to work!”

“Ah, there'll be no more need of that anymore. We'll send a notice to... whoever you're working for when you get settled.” He raised an eyebrow, practically daring her to argue. She knew, though, that she'd never gone against what he'd wanted before, and she didn't particularly want to start now. She took the elbow he'd offered her and allowed him to lead her out of the alley.

Occasionally, as they walked, she would catch sight of a shadow that seemed to be following them.

“Oh, don't mind them. They're just keeping an eye on your wellbeing. You better get used to it! Having a friend like me, why, other overlords will just be dying to get their hands on you!”

She scoffed, a look of adoration crossing her features before she tactfully replaced it with annoyance. “I'm not going to get any rest now, am I?”

“Oh contraire, ma cherie! You're going to get everything you've ever wanted and deserved. I owe you that after what you did for me up there, wouldn't you say?”

“Oh I just can't wait to show you Cannibaltown! You've got to meet Rosie, yes. You'll get along very well, very well indeed. And she makes the most delectable little treats! Maybe we'll go by tomorrow.”

As he continued rambling, she hummed approval when appropriate, watching him out of the corner of her eye with a mix of caution and longing. As he led her down streets she'd never seen before, she realized maybe this was all her afterlife had needed after all.

#alastor x reader #alastor x oc #aroace!alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #tw: blood #tw: cannibalism #hazbin hotel fic

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Being in a relationship with Kure Raian...

You’d think that Raian, although he’s the black sheep of the clan, would be as obsessed over strong people and fighting as everyone else is - Just like Karla is obsessed over Ohma not because she likes him, but because he’s strong and could produce strong offsprings and whatever - But Raian isn’t that way. 

In fact, even if people like that catch his eye, he would fight the urge to march up to them and strike up a conversation - Rather, if he does find strong people, he might just beat them up.

But there is something that would make Raian all hot and bothered - And that is getting ignored.

Yeah, that’s right.

Raian would literally spontaneously combust if he wants someone’s attention, and he’s getting blatantly ignored or brushed off.

That’s exactly what happened when his younger sister, Fusui, brought over one of her friends. At first, he didn’t care. You were just some pretty face, like many, many others he’s seen... But somehow, your aloof personality and the resting bitch face you were sporting, a complete opposite aura from Fusui, who held the most cheerful grin on her face - Okay, he was intrigued. Not only that, but from what his sister said, you were just a normal person - A cute, little rabbit in a den of lions - Yet you seemed completely at ease and unafraid.

In an instant, Raian found himself towering his large shadow over the spot on the grass where the two girls were having a picnic. He had that psycho grin of his ever present. Fusui greeted him cheerfully, though she sweatdropped, realising that he might be so bored that he wants to scare her friend away. 

Y/N simply gave him a lazy wave of her hand - Her attention was still on Fusui, and she didn’t once break the flow of their conversation. He frowned. Not even a hello? How rude!

Raian’s voice became louder, but also grittier, like the sound of nails scratching a blackboard. He was throwing the most random profanities, and telling Y/N about his latest assassination mission he had, hoping to creep her out with the gore details - Much to his surprise, the small girl casually got to her feet and looked, incredibly bored, into his eyes.

“Hey, Ryan, where did you get this shirt?” Raian blinked, his smile dropping immediately, feeling the girl gingerly pick the hem of his shirt and feeling it. “It feels like cashmere. Is it cashmere? It’s really good quality.” “My name is Raian, you bitch! Get it through that thick skull of yours!” Fusui immediately reprimanded him for insulting her friend - But the insult fell on deaf ears. “Tell me where’d you get it from, Kevin. I kinda want to get one myself.” her hands slowly traced up to his abdomen, but Raian was so flustered up and irritated by getting called such weird names, that he didn’t notice. “I SAID MY NAME IS RAIAN, ARE YOU DEAF?!” he was shouting so loudly, that Y/N could have sworn her eardrums ruptured. “It would be better if the store had an online site - I don’t really have much time to go shopping myself. Actually - Do you think I could have it delivered for Kure Miguel?” Fusui was sure her friend had a death wish, but at the same time, it was kinda hilarious seeing her brother so worked up over his name. “WHO THE FUCK IS MIGUEL?!” his screech was so powerful that he’d put a Banshee to shame. “Dunno.” Y/N shrugged and pushed Raian into the small water pond right behind him. The water barely reached his waist as he was sitting in it, a lilypad on his head. “I’ll kill you.” his voice was so ominous, low, dark, menacing - And solemn, above all else - That Fusui’s heart froze in fear for her friend’s life. “WAIT, NO, RAIAN DON’T ---” but Y/N was laughing so cutely, that Raian stopped abruptly, glaring down at her. Instead of killing her, he threw his arms around her, hearing her groan. “I~ Got~ You~ So~ Weeeeeeeet~ ♪ Babeeeeeeeeeee~♪“ Fusui has never seen her brother like this - She could just stare in complete disbelief. “Technically speaking, I made you wet, Fritz.” the girl put her palm over his face, pushing him away from her. “Now you’ve done it.” Raian grinned widely. Y/N realised his master plan, and she sighed in defeat. “You’re gonna throw me in the water, aren’t you?” he let out a ‘yup’ sound, before he threw her in the pond. If the water was any higher, he’d have jumped with her - But with how little it is, she probably would have barely gotten wet at all. He was laughing so hard, his sides were aching, but he couldn’t stop. She looked like a wet, grumpy dog - Until she, too, started laughing. “Alright, alright, you got me. Good one. Now help me up, psycho.” Raian missed the mischievous smile on her face, and as he crouched down, extending his hand for her to take - Only for her to tug on his hand and have him fall in the water again. “You’re the psycho, not me!” the two looked at each other and started sniggering like two idiots. Fusui just stared at them, perplex, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from them. Did Y/N just manage to tame the Black Sheep of the Kure Clan? Something that not even their Patriarch could do? “You owe me your shirt.” she said blankly, stopping her laughter abruptly. “Any time~♪“ Raian nonchalantly took his shirt off and let it fall on her head. “...Okay, I might have just sabotaged myself.” she sighed, getting up and out of the pond. “I was supposed to have a sleep over. I don’t have any dry clothes anymore.” she stole a glance at the man. “I suppose I can’t stay over anymore. What a pity. Time to get home, I guess.” she shrugged nonchalantly, waving at Fusui and walking towards the exit of the large garden, only to feel herself being picked up bridal style.

Raian had taken her to his room and threw at her all cashmere clothes he had, while Y/N could barely hide her amusement. Clearly, she could wear some of Fusui’s clothes, after all, they’re around the same frame and they are friends - Or she could borrow the clothes of literally any woman of the Kure - Silly boy, so easily tricked. Or maybe he wanted to be tricked? Either way, Y/N found this, by far, the most hilarious situation she ever faced.

By this time, Raian kept bugging on Y/N and Fusui for the whole day, and during the evening, at dinner, Erioh and Karla and her brother had them all eat together. Y/N looked at her friend, her eyes pleading, embarrassed at the get up she was wearing. Suddenly, the whole joke was ruined and she was the one being tricked. How can she possibly go eat dinner with their 1000 year old patriarch and the rest of the family, when she’s barely wearing Raian’s shirt, and albeit long enough to reach the middle of her thigh, it was still improper. Raian didn’t give her any time to beg Fusui for a proper change of clothes, for he grabbed her wrist and dragged her and his sister all the way to the table. He was also still shirtless, so it only made things worse.

Y/N kept her head down the whole time, hoping that her face wouldn’t betray her embarrassment. Karla, Sarla and Fusui were talking casually about their assassin work, Y/N threw some comments here and there, the old man was quiet, and Raian was... Being Raian, and wolfing down a shit ton of food. Until Karla suddenly noticed there was no more water, and the fight for who would be the loser to bring another water carafe started. It genuinely felt like all the Kure children were going to put down the chopsticks and start a brawl to the death - But Y/N broke the tension. “Ah... There’s no more water. This food is so good, but it got me so thirsty... Can you please tell me where the kitchen is, to get more water?” before the old man could blink, Raian had already returned, and was pouring water in Y/N’s cup. “Oh! Thank you, Jericho!” ... Jericho? Erio had no idea what was going on, but he was genuinely impressed by how this outsider managed to quite literally manipulate the most rebelious clan member to do whatever she wanted... And prevented a war. And he was also shocked when he saw Raian placing his small rice bowl over her face, and laughing like an idiot, to the point he was rolling on the ground like a manic.

Y/N slowly removed the bowl from her face and used a napkin to clean all the rice, and she sighed. “Alright, I suppose I deserve it.” her nonchalance was genuinely so weird for all these proactive people. “Your stomach is going to hurt if you continue rolling like that.” she warned. “Also, it’s not nice, playing with your food. What are you, a kitten, Abraham?” Raian straightened up immediately and glared at the girl, watching her continuing to eat without sparing him a single glance. “WHO THE FUCK IS ABRAHAM?! AND I’M NOT A FUCKING CAT, YOU STUPID BITCH!” he shrieked loudly into her ear, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, the hand in which she was holding her own rice bowl slowly made its way to his face. Raian’s whole face had rice all over it, and Y/N wasn’t removing the bowl. “Take this off me, bitch, or I snap your neck!” that is what he said - Or, at least, what he tried to say, for the rice kept muffling him. “It’s not nice to speak like that, especially in front of your family... Or... To me. You really made me sad...” her voice was pouty and upset - Erio couldn’t believe the power she had over him, and as far as he was concern, this was the first time they met. By the looks of it, everyone was still in shock. “Y/N....” she slowly took away the bowl from his face, and with perfect precision, used her chopsticks to take a single rice grain from his face, and taunted him by eating it.

The whole room was quiet. They were preparing for the girl’s funeral. That is, until they saw her turn her head to the side, biting her lip and her shoulders were shaking. Raian’s face also suddenly split in a wicked grin. Suddenly, a few rice grains started falling off his face, and Y/N couldn’t keep herself in check anymore, and she started laughing, and so did the psycho. Y/N took another rice with her chopsticks, and they ended up laughing even harder. “Weirdos.” Fusui smiled wryly, completely surprised that her friend was getting along with her brother better than with her. “Y/N’s going to be our new sister, Fusui! I want to take care of your babies with Raian! I bet they’re going to be so strong!” the laughter stopped, and the atmosphere changed immediately. Y/N looked down, her face red with embarrassment, whilst Raian immediately wiped his face and glared at Karla, shouting at her for being an idiot. After this, no other fun moments happened, and Y/N returned to Fusui’s room.

Surprisingly, Raian doesn’t always act like he’s fucked in the head, nor is his voice harsh and loud. Late into the night, he sneaked into the girls’ room and woke Y/N up, and with a playful smirk, he urges her to follow him outside, and he takes her back to the pond. The two didn’t speak much, and just gazed up at the stars for a while. It was a serene and comfortable silence, though there was a certain tension between them, and neither spoke. It was weird. 

Raian would take off his warm jacket and put it over her shoulders, as she was still wearing just his cashmere shirt - He knew it would be chilly outside. He knew he wanted to see her, but he had no idea what to say. Karla’s comment really threw him off his grove, and it seemed to have done the same for Y/N, who was able to purposely get a raise out of him so many times in a single day, to the point that he was so hot and bothered that he’d have claimed her on the spot. A hundred times, and more. But that vanished completely, and now he annoyingly felt like some kind of awkward teenage boy, and he hated it.

“Hey, Bruce Lee.” Y/N’s voice wasn’t challenging nor provoking, and though it irked Raian to be called by a wrong name again, the softness of her voice only made him grumble. “Do you know how to put 100 babies in a single bucket?” “Huh? What the hell are ya on?” he snapped his head at her, looking with a weird expression on his face.  Y/N turned to face him, and her smile grew, as if she was trying not to laugh at herself for the stupid joke she was about to reveal. “In a blender.” 

Raian stared stupid at her, eyes wide, unblinking - He almost looked as though he was analysing the very milimeters of her ever growing grin. Raian’s humour was shit. Dark jokes that involve carnage, or simply shock value... Maybe even a shit joke, but with a good momentum delivery... And Y/N’s joke seemed to check all the boxes.

His laugh resounded so loud through the Kure village that the two actually heard “SHUT UP” scolds right back. Y/N was trying hard to stifle her chuckles, but to no avail. “You’re actually kinda cute when you laugh.” “What’s big and smells like shit? GENOCIDE!” he was choking from laughing so much, while Y/N’s mouth twitched. Shit joke, shit delivery.  “Your joke was about as bad as your sense of humour, Jose. But it’s fine. I’ll be the funny one of us.” she looked away, shrugging nonchalantly. “If ya call me by another name ONE! MORE! TIME!!! I swear, I’ll fuckin’ kill ya, babe!” he sneered at her with a glare. “Do it, Dennis.” Y/N found herself being roughly pushed to the ground, though her head didn’t collide, as it was carefully pillowed by his palm. She did not see the starry night, but his face - Handsome, and so impossibly close to her own. He sniggered like a mischievous demon. “You’re trapped, babe~♪ What’cha gonna do now~♪?”

Y/N blinked, realising the situation she was in. Not only was she trapped in those big and warm arms of his, but his body was also almost flush against her own. They were so close, that she feared Raian felt how fast her heart was beating against her chest... And against his own also.

But Y/N’s response was unexpected - Gingerly wrapping her fingers into his cashmere shirt... Did he choose it intentionally? - She pulled herself up to plant tender kiss on his lips. For a maniac, he had very plump and kissable lips. Eventually, she pulled away and laid back on the ground, shyly looking at the completely unresponsive boy.

Kure Raian, the Demon, the Black Sheep of the Kure clan - Was blushing like a highschool boy with a crush. How is he supposed to react? What is he supposed to do? Just -- What just happened? He is so lost that he’s making Y/N uncomfortable with how he’s staring at her so intently.

“U-Uh... Wh-What do you call a baby with no arms and no legs in the middle of the ocean?” hearing her voice, albeit, shaky and unsure, unlike before, brought him back to reality. “What?” he breathed out. “...Fucked.” Y/N’s smile was so nervous and awkward. “Marry me.”

Since that night, Raian began his “Marry me” gimmick - And though it was obviously a gag, he half-meant it every time he said it.

Nobody ever believed that Raian would ever have a proper relationship, considering that everyone ostracizes him for being a merciless idiot, but the way he’s unintentionally simping SO hard for you is almost hilarious. How you learnt to tame the beast that he is, it’s a complete miracle. The Clan literally watches you, leaning at the base of a tree, reading leisurely, and you bait Raian into doing whatever you want, like - Make you a lemonade, or have him go get an ice-cream. All the weirdest things.

But if that wasn’t shocking enough, the fact that that boy can actually stay STILL for more than 5 seconds at a time, was absolutely fascinating. The patriarch would sit on the porch of the house and watch Raian sitting with his head on your lap as you absently play with his hair - And he actually stays there, and doesn’t laugh, or speak a thousand words per second, or throws profanities - He’s just laying there, a passive smile on his face, and living in the moment.

What a fascinating creature.

Raian always tells you all the most gruesome details of every mission he goes on, hoping he would creep you out - But you just nod at him dismissively and tell him to go on with his story.

Raian loves to show off when he’s training, knowing perfectly well that he’s attractive, wearing only his fighting shorts, with sweat dripping all over his flexed muscles... And then chases you around the garden to give you a hug, knowing you don’t want his disgusting sweat all over your clothes.

Fusui becomes your literal best friend, though you’re wary of Karla and her obsessive comments - She’s a good girl otherwise. Generally, you get along well with the clan, but both you and Raian agree that you need a break from them, so you crash at your own, away from all the madness the chaotic assassins dwell in.

When you’re hanging at your home, you feel more comfortable to act a bit more intimate. Don’t be fooled by his brashness, if you get together before he’s like - 20 years old, he’d probably brush off the idea of going any further - Unless you initiate it, then he’s game.

He just likes to be the best at everything he does, and while he was born into a family of fighting and killing, being intimate is something completely different, and it annoys him that he’s not a God from the very beginning - Although, he makes up with his eagerness and his absolute love of touching each and every part of your body and teasing you with a ton of kisses. He’s actually a natural, and the cute faces and sounds you make are his fuel, especially when he surprises you.

When you get intimate, he’s not afraid to experiment things and easily picks up on the things that you like and you don’t.

He also loves kissing you until you can’t breathe anymore.

Kisses with Raian are careful and soft at first, but quickly get deeper and more passionate, and he starts kissing and nipping at your bottom lip, licking and sucking on it before pulling you even closer to his body.

The problem is, he loves hugging you from behind and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck that he forgets he’s not always at home, in private, with you only, and he starts nipping at the soft skin on your neck.

The inside joke of calling him different names continues well into the years, and it confuses most people - The problem is, you often forget what names you used, and he teases you by pointing out you called him the same name twice in a week.

He wants to see you wearing his shirt at home and preferably nothing else underneath, while he stays topless and purposely flexes, to the point that he’s ridiculous.

Raian is incredibly playful, even if it goes borderline genocidal, it’s just how he is - And you always make fun of him for trying too hard.

Years after you met, he gets in the Kengan Annihilation Tournament, and of course, he refuses to go unless you’re with him - And honestly, how can anyone complain, considering you’re the only thing keeping him somehow stable? Though, you sometimes have the bad habit of letting him play around a bit too much.

You also kinda laugh when he’s threatening and playing around with Lihito in the bathroom, though you also scold him for dragging you in the men’s bathroom and unintentionally being forced to see that idiot’s... Privates.  

You’re also a bit irked by his unnecessary sadist show against Mokichi, especially as he’s called out your name, and you wanted nothing to do with him killing the only guardian of a little girl.  

When you scolded and refused to speak to him until he apologised, he got angry as all fuck and went on a rampage, and despite the Kure literally pleading to you to make him stop - You didn’t.  

Surprisingly, though, he was humbled in the second round by Tokita Ohma - And you mentally thanked the brunet for being strong enough and putting a dent into Raian’s ever-going berserk attitude.  

 Though Ohma was in a coma, Raian woke up soon after, and he found in the infirmary, alone with Mokichi and Ohma.

The room was quiet, save for the beeping of the oxygen machines, and you refused to even look at him, which angered him.

But then you explained why you were pissed with him, and also, why he lost so pathetically - And though he wanted to snap your neck for scolding him, he also knows she was right, not that he’d admit.

During the coup d’etat, he threw all of his frustrations into mass-killing, but once again, his bloodlust made him lose focus, and he got injured again.

Though you didn’t say anything, you did patch him up - He was so silent, that it made you realise he was actually reflecting on his downfall.

And you kissed him.

Over the course of almost three years after the Kengan Tournament, when Ohma comes over to the village to life and train with them, you can see Raian focusing more, and though the brutality is still there, he can actually control it.

Ohma became a trusted confidant and good friend of yours, and the two of you could comfort each other with the two Kure obsessing over you.

Raian’s gimmick with the marriage thing was amped up, though it was more or less to make fun of Karla... Not that she’d realise.

Over the years, Raian made sure to actually teach you how to fight to defend yourself, despite priding himself with being being so powerful that she’d never get herself in danger.

When you reveal Ohma to the world and go visit Koga and Ryuki at the hospital, you see Raian had climbed up the 5th floor and was mocking the young boys.

So you went up to him and pushed him off.

Everyone except for Ohma gawked, afraid for his life.

You just show him the selfie Raian sent you, while he was falling - He was pulling an overly exaggerated kissy face.

Dork.

He was a bit annoyed with how empathetic you were, comforting or cheering every fighter (except for Akoya) for their matches, so he keeps you caged in his arms, teasing you with small comments and kisses to your neck and cheeks.

To stop himself from going ape-shit from the wait leading to his own match, he snatched your hands and would absently play with them or kiss them.

Though the whole Worm thing was worrying you - You didn’t want anything bad happening to the family, or these Kengan people. They all looked like good people. 

But then Raian’s match came by and he was fighting Alan Wu, a clear enemy.

You pulled Raian into a kiss, more or less to have the time to warn him not to lose his cool and actually focus on the match, not on his bubbling emotions.

He just grins and brush off your worries, saying he’s a changed man and what not.

But then he gets threatened with a knife, sees Edward Wu in the hallway...

And he rips Alan in two in a split second, running after his arch enemy.

You stare at the mess left behind that was once a person, and you curse out loud - Raian’s lost it and he’s gonna get in trouble.

You don’t care that Alan was killed, but you fear Raian and his impulsiveness might get him in such a tight situation that he might get himself killed.

Even though Erio and the other two are there.

You and Ohma look at each other, and together, you pick Karla and rush to look for Raian, ready to potentially help him in a fight.

Only to see Kure Erio on the ground and dying.

Raian was sitting on the ground, livid with anger, feeling defeated.

They should have won with no casualties! So why the heck did the old fart use himself bait?! And why wasn’t he strong enough to kill those fuckers without the need of aid?!

He was filled with so many feelings of self-hatred and anger, that even your arms around him, or your comforting words couldn’t drown them out.

You held his hand throughout the funeral and comforted him for days on end, but Raian was still bitter.

Since then, you took a more active role in searching for the Worms - You might not have been a fighter, but you were smart enough to come up with plans and do the brain work for them.

Since the patriarch’s death, Raian visibly mellows down, at least around you, and he finally realises how fragile life can be - And if even that old man, who was the strongest man he knows, who was the first Fang of Metsudo and whatever... If even he could die... What about someone like you, who’s such a fragile little bunny? What if he’s not there to protect you? Not that his presence mattered when Erio died. And, worse - What if you’re used as bait to get to him? What if you get killed in front of him?

Being an assassin means that he’s seen and done a lot of cruel things himself, so he puts all the worst in front.

The night of the patriarch’s funeral, you hold his body close to your own, his head on your chest, and you play with his hair, allowing him to vent his anger with any profanity he might feel the need to spew.

But his silence is far worse than all his anger.

During that very night, Raian came to the realisation of a lifetime.

He pulls you into a tight embrace, and hides his face in the crook of your neck, so you wouldn’t see the single tear of sheer self-anger and regret.

 And in the most broken, vulnerable voice, you hear him voice the words that he’s been meaning to tell you for so long, but stopped himself, thinking he’d sound weak or something that didn’t matter anymore.

“I love you.”

---------------

Being in a relationship with Wakatsuki Takeshi... Being in a relationship with Yoroizuka Saw Paing... Being in a relationship with Kure Raian... Being in a relationship with Tokuno’o Tokumichi... Being in a relationship with Kano Agito... Being in a relationship with Gaolang Wongsawat... Being in a relationship with Gaoh Ryuki... Being in a relationship with Narushima Koga...

#kengan ashura imagine #kengan ashura x reader #kengan ashura #kengan omega #kengan omega x reader #kengan omega imagine #kure raian x reader #kure raian imagine #kure raian #kure karla #kure fusui #kure erio #tokita ohma #kure sarla

[shieldofiron]

Shovel Talk (Bury Me)

So many people give Billy the shovel talk, it starts to become kind of a game.

Robin is first, deadly serious but very inventive when it comes to her imagined punishments. Henderson’s is by far the most inventive, spanning centuries of his life with pain and suffering that he’s not entirely sure the little guy could mete out. Nancy’s is to the point, simple. Just a reminder that she has guns, like she hasn’t shot at him already. But when he reminds her with a laugh she goes a little pale and apologizes. Jonathan’s is kind of half assed, and he’s the only one who seems to think Harrington isn’t some porcelain doll ready to shatter at any moment. Hoppers is sort of garbled, it’s clear that he doesn’t have a great footing with these things, with emotions and stuff.

Erica and Lucas deliver theirs at the same time, and it’s possibly the only one he’s really scared of, because that little chick is a firecracker. And as Lucas said, he hasn’t missed Billy once, unlike Nancy. Gotta respect that. Max’s is quick, a barely there mention that he better not hurt Steve, but it hurts worse than the others.

And he gets it. They’ve only been together a few weeks, but soon Steve is gonna wake up and realize that if he likes guys he could like better ones. Healthier ones, who are nicer. Calmer. Steve needs someone like Steve, someone warm and loving, who knows how to treat him right. Billy just happened to be around when Steve figured it all out. Billy just happened to be lucky enough to look like he looks.

It’s the only way this thing between them makes any goddamn sense.

The thing is, he also doesn’t see a future where he can really affect Steve like people think. Sure, Steve is affectionate and stuff. He’s happy when Billy does his best, when Billy opens doors for him and calls him to hear about his day. But surely Steve is just like that with everyone he’s dating.

So Billy just shrugs. Tries to let it roll off his back and remember that he knows what this is. That he knows what he is to Steve. Just a very good looking first experiment with guys. All he can do is keep things light. Keep things relaxed and casual. Open Steve’s doors and enjoy the feeling of being held by him, without expecting more.

He doesn’t push his feelings on Steve. He doesn’t say that when he sees how far people will go for Steve it makes him want to grab a shovel and dig and dig until he knocks on the ceiling of the upside down, until his arms feel like rubber.

He doesn’t get too mushy with Steve, or call when he’s had three shovel talks in a day and it hurts so much. When he wishes his boyfriend could just be there for him.

Because he knows what he is.

“Not hurting Steve” is the slowest death ever, like being buried alive. And then Steve will smile, and reach across the seat and take Billy’s hand… and Billy always decides he can die for one more day if it means being close to Steve.

El takes Billy’s hand when she sees him, and he almost expects another shovel talk. But instead she squeezes his hand.

“He’s hurting you,” she says softly.

“N-no,” Billy can feel his chin tremble.

“Yes, he is.”

She closes her eyes and the emotions wash over Billy like a hurricane. The isolation he’s still feeling. The way he’s terrified to spend time with Steve, the way he’s terrified to be himself.

He pulls his hand away, “Too much, Jane. Too much.”

She nods, “Okay. I’ll stop.”

And then they set down and watch Saturday morning cartoons, and she pretends not to notice that he’s crying.

So imagine his surprise when later that day Steve throws open the door to his car while he’s idling at the arcade waiting for Max. Steve is still in his family video vest, looking a little out of breath.

“Tell me what I did wrong,” Steve gasps.

“Uh, hello to you too,” Billy presses his sunglasses up his nose.

“What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing? What are you talking about?”

“I got a call from El,” Steve frowns, his bangs flopping down his brow, “Like five minutes ago telling me I could find you here to fix this.”

Billy groans, “Sorry. You didn’t do anything. She’s just worrying-“

“Worrying about what?”

“Nothing,” Billy shrugs, “Its fine.”

“What’s fine?”

“Everything.”

“Listen, man,” Steve sucks in a breath. “When a teenage telepath calls telling you to fix stuff with your boyfriend, you listen. What’s wrong?”

Billy snatches his sunglasses off and rubs his eyes, “Look she’s just… I’ve… fuck.”

“Baby,” Steve glances around furtively and must decide that it’s worth it to take Billy’s hand.

“I’ve just… your friends really care about you,” He spits out at last.

“What?”

“And maybe they’re right. Maybe we’re just dragging this out, and we should just… cut our losses,” Billy shakes his head. Because that’s exactly what he doesn’t want. But he would do it, for Steve. He would do just about anything. He’s the only person who can hurt Billy in quite this way. Steve hurts him, that’s how much Billy is in love with him.

“Stop, wait. I don’t understand.”

“They don’t want me to hurt you. Which is just… like the funniest fucking thing,” Billy looks at Steve square in his eyes, even though it fucking hurts, “They don’t know how impossible that is. Like… you don’t even care enough about me to be hurt.”

Steve looks struck, “What the fuck? What?”

Billy shrugs, snorting a little to try to calm the prickling in his eyes, and the tightening in his throat.

“Why would you say that to me? Say that I don’t care… that’s not true, Billy.”

“It’s fine,” Billy shakes his head no, and hates himself. “I know what this is. They just don’t get it.”

“And what is this?”

“An experiment,” Billy shrugs, staring hard at the arcade sign and cursing Max for being late again.

“I’m an experiment to you?”

Billy feels the anger trigger hot in his chest, “No. I’m the experiment. And when you’re done with me, and you find someone who is actually worth all this trouble from your friends, it’ll be over. You know. Someone you could love back.”

Steve is quiet, and when Billy looks over, his eyes are wide.

At just that moment, when all Steve has to do is pull the trigger and leave Billy like he’s supposed to, Max raps on the window.

Steve squeezes Billy’s hand, not moving. “Meet me when I get done with work at nine? Right here, meet me right here.”

“Okay,” Billy says, though he’s not sure why Steve can’t just do it right now.

“Okay,” Steve’s brow furrows, “I’ll be waiting for you.”

Like Billy wouldn’t be counting the minutes.

And then Harrington let’s go, and flashes Billy a strange look before swapping with Max.

“What’s wrong with you?” She frowns at him.

“Oh, you know,” Billy sniffs, “Same old everything.”

“What did Steve want?”

Billy sniffs again, “I’m trying to get him to break up with me.”

“Why the hell would you want to do that?” Max curls her lip up at him.

“I don’t,” Bill reverses and peels out of the lot.

Max just stares at him, which he pretends not to notice as he starts the well worn route back to Susan’s trailer.

“Did he do something?” Max startles him with the vehemence in her voice.

“Nothing but be too good for me, right? I mean that’s what you’ve been saying,” Billy grips the wheel.

“What I’ve been saying?”

And Billy’s just so tired. He’s so tired, and he wants to go to the woods and dig until all he can think about is sweat and dirt. And then he wants to lay down and sleep for a hundred years.

But instead he drowns out whatever Max says next with the music, and when they get home, he ignores Susan’s prodding about lunch and seals himself in his room.

He tries to be late to see Steve, but, embarrassingly, he ends up being early, waiting outside the arcade and video store like some kind of creep.

Finally, Steve exits, waving goodbye to Robin who shoots a warning look over to Billy in Susan’s idling sedan.

“I’ll be out of your hair soon, Buckley.” He whispers, just as Steve gets in next to him.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Billy whispers.

“So… you love me.”

It’s like a punch to the gut. Billy’s stomach plummets through the mantle of the earth and down to the lava below.

“Fuck you,” He gasps.

“Am I wrong? You said you thought I would leave you for someone I could love back,” Steve doesn’t seem disturbed by Billy’s outburst in the slightest.

“This is by far the worst fucking way to break up with someone-“

“Well good, because I’m not breaking up with you.”

This knocks his stomach around more, though his heart, stupid thing that it was, started rising with dumb hope.

“Robin told me that you guys had a… conversation,” Steve nods, “And apparently she head from Nancy that… well. I had to do some detective work. But the point is, I’m guessing they kinda freaked you out?”

Billy frowned.

“And… I mean I can’t be totally mad at them, Billy. Because I told Robin how in love with you I was before we even dated,” Steve bit his lower lip, “I thought it would be too early to say. But since you said it first… it doesn’t feel so bad.”

“I didn’t,” Billy protests.

“You kinda did, though,” Steve takes Billy’s hand, “You love me.”

Billy tries to take a deep breath through his seized lungs. Like he had a choice. Like he hasn’t been lost for the guy from the moment he saw him across the parking lot, across a crowded party, across a court. It’s a dream now that they’re here, next to each other.

“I’m sorry that they scared you,” Steve brushes the scars on Billy’s palm, like he’s reading the lines for a moment, and then knits their fingers together. “They just know how hurt I can get when I loved someone… who didn’t love me back. No one can really hurt me, not like you can.”

Billy swallows.

“But…” Steve has the softest eyes in the universe, dark and depthless as the sea at night, “You wouldn’t. Right?”

It’s kind of a shovel talk. Billy doesn’t care. Only Steve can bury him this deep.

“No,” Billy gasps, “I wouldn’t. I mean I would try… never to do that.”

Steve leans in, face pink in the light of the arcade sign, “Will you say it? For me?”

“I love you,” Billy gasps.

“I love you too,” Steve smiles, “I love you so much, Billy.”

That night in bed, his spine still tingling, Steve throws him for a loop again.

“Will’s shovel talk was the scariest,” Steve sighs, “Don’t you agree?I mean El is scary and so is Max, don’t get me wrong-“

“Will?”

“Yeah, Will,” Steve shivers, “He told me he’s been to the upside down so he’s not afraid of prison.”

Billy shakes his head a little, “Will didn’t give me one.”

“Oh. What about Mike? His was pretty good. Not that scary but I thought it was really cute,” Steve leans up on his elbows.

“Wheeler?”

“Yeah. He said there’s only so many cool guys in town and I was not one of them,” Steve smirked, “I think he has a little crush on you.”

“First of all, ew,” Billy wrinkled his nose, “Mike didn’t give me one either.”

In the end they make a game of it. They each had a few different, but in the end it evened out.

Jonathan was way less lax when he spoke to Steve, it turned out. Max had threatened to go nuclear.

Billy had people who cared for him. That part wasn't a game, but it was very nice. And he had Steve, so he didn't need to bury himself, after all.

Also on AO3.

#harringrove #harringrove fic #shovel talk #harringrove fanfic #harringrove drabbles #steve x billy #billy x steve

[coralinnii]

Legend has it... Twisted Halloween series

Behind pumpkin spice lattes and sweet candy, there comes stories of the things that go bump in the night. Legends and myths carry with them stories of those who may or may not have lived to experience it. 

For each character for each day (except weekends) starting today, there will be a short blurb for every student character inspired by a horror trope or legend in the spirit of Halloween month. I will be writing on the spot for every story so the genres (no beta we perish like big people) will be dependent on how the stories end up so even I can’t tell how it’ll be. This is purely motivated by my love for things spooky and/or ooky. I will write warnings for each blurb if needed but I’m warning you now since I love horror stuff, it will not be the happiest of stories. I’m probably not gonna go full dark but this is a forewarning. 

This is the index, but it may change depending on how the blurb will end up. 

Day 1. Silver (ghost!Reader x exorcist!Silver) 

Silver works as a police officer during a hit-and-run trial, and he’s trying to console the victim of the incident. He’s trying his best to convince you to leave before it’s too late.

Day 2. Jack Howl (werewolf!Jack x childhood friend!Reader)

You and Jack were so close as kids but he keeps refusing to have a sleepover with you when you reached high school. Then one day, you found out the reason on your way back one night.

Day 3. Epel Felmier (dream demon!Epel x schoolmate!Reader) 

Your classmate was so confusing. So sweet and demure, but sometimes he seems to turn into someone else, someone with less than good intentions. 

Day 4. Rook Hunt (slit mouthed woman!Reader x ghost hunter!Rook)

You missed the days where your immortal life was easier, when most people run at the sight of you. But, this creepy hunter keeps chasing you!

Day 5. Leona Kingscholar (demon!Leona x demon hunter!Reader)

You get a kick out of debunking ghost stories and haunted places with your disgruntled friend, Leona. Will you ever get to see anything? 

Day 6. Idia Shroud (VC ghost!Reader x Online friend!Idia)

Idia has this unprecedented confidence behind the screen, with fans and friends at his fingers. However, one casual online chat broke his confidence as he say something he can’t take back.

Day 7. Floyd Leech (merman!Floyd x bullied!Reader)

A nobody at school, your only solace was taking in the serenity of the ocean cove away from the big city. However, a dweller has more than happy to show you a part of his world.

Day 8. Vil Schoenheit (Huli Jing!Reader x lover!Vil)

People call you the unrivaled beauties and with rumors of engagement in the air. Vil was prepared to devote himself to his beloved but his old friend Jack warned him that you were not as you seem. 

Day 9. Trey Clover (candy witch!Trey x partner!Reader)

The man from the pastry shop near you was so sweet, also offering endless sweets on your way to work. You were melting in his touch when you two started dating. This was a man who was as sweet and pure as sugar, right?

Day 10. Jade Leech (cannibal!Jade x partner!Reader)

Your husband was always experimenting with every dish he made but he smiles when you take a bite each time so you think it’s no big deal. Afterall, what’s the worst to come of it?

Day 11. Malleus Draconia (dragon god!Malleus x sacrifice!Reader)

Traditions must be upheld, even at the expense of morality as you were lead to what many said was instant death. It didn’t matter to you, you were willing to give yourself to the being of inhuman power.

Day 12. Cater Diamond (imposter!Cater x skeptic!Reader)

Everyone knows him and was just that approachable but not to you. You couldn’t explain the shiver you feel when you lock eyes with him. You only hope he doesn’t notice you.

Day 13. Platonic!Ortho Shroud (medusa!Reader x nonhuman!Ortho)

You were cursed to exist as history’s most hated woman. Your gaze leaves all living beings petrified but all you wished to feel the loving embrace of another once more

Day 13.5. Lilia Vanrouge (grim reaper!Lilia x ex!Reader)

He disappeared after breaking your heart and honestly you were thankful because moving on would be impossible if he stayed. As you almost got rid of him in your heart, you two meet again…and he looks distraught to see you.

Day 14. Ruggie Bucchi (street kid!Ruggie x ???!Reader)

Despite hardships, you and Ruggie never worried so long as you had each other. The two of you look after each other, no matter what. 

Day 15. Kalim Al Asim (bitten!Kalim x survivor!Reader)

↳ sequel

The two of you dreamed of wedding bells, laughing children and boisterous family dinners. Now, the only thing you pray for is to keep hearing his heartbeat.

Day 16. Jamil Viper (Jinn!Jamil x civilian!Reader)

He can’t be here. How can something you can’t even see or prove be here. In your house, in your room, trying to slither into your heart.  

Day 17. Azul Ashengrotto (crossroad demon!Azul x singer!Reader)

He may be greedy but he knows that good things come to those who wait. And the moment the wait is over and you decided to make the deal, it would be worth it.

Day 18. Ace Trappola (ghost bride!Reader x survivor!Ace)

Ace was not a romantic man but he could be for the one. He kept denying it but he was looking forward to your wedding, even dreaming it…even when it was impossible. 

Day 19. Deuce Spade (hitchhiker ghost!Reader x civilian!Deuce)

Deuce couldn’t just leave you alone, shivering in the dark. After all, this road was notorious for car accidents and mysterious attacks. 

Day 20. Sebek Zigvolt (soldier!Sebek x ghost!Reader)

↳ sequel

He was a devoted man through and through. He promised he would return to you and in return, you promised to be here when he does, no matter what.

Day 21. Riddle Rosehearts (Frankenstein monster!Riddle x assistant!Reader)

He was a monstrosity. A freak of nature and you wanted nothing to do with him, even if he was someone you once loved.  

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #idia shroud #idia x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #trey clover #trey x reader #cater diamond #cater x reader #ace trappola #ace x reader #deuce spade #deuce x reader #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #jack howl #jack x reader #ruggie bucchi #ruggie x reader #floyd leech #floyd x reader #jade leech #jade x reader #kalim al asim

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Spoiler for Jujutsu Kaisen

I'm sorry it's so long and looks like a vent post. I'm sorry for those of you who had great luck in avoiding Jujutsu Kaisen until now. With that, let me give some context before the assholery.

Jujutsu Kaisen has a breakout character, Gojo, he is unique, flawed, well written, well loved, overpowered, and the most misunderstood character in this series. He recently met his end in the most infuriating way possible. It was an unceremonious death, off screened, after the biggest most violent battle in the series. Before he was brutally offed with just meaningless exposition detailing how he was killed and him uncharacteristically justifying the death in an afterlife scene that's written to appease a large part of the fandom (shippers- he's gay coded, no waifu here). His death completely destroyed his legacy and the future of this manga.

Problem: This is a popular series with disproportionate numbers of haters, casual fans, fans who get their information from tiktok or fanworks instead of the manga, fans who did a surface level reading of it, opinionated fans who didn't read after a certain point but discuss every new chapter like they're experts, people who hate it because they compared it to their favorite series and Jujutsu Kaisen didn't go that way, people who harass the readers and wish bodily harm on the author for not conforming to FANON, the works.

Gojo was MIA for almost 3 years which made fanon takeover the fandom, when he came back the author was accused of mischaracterization and bad writing because he didn't match 3 years of fanon. Reiterating, I mean fanon not headcanon, the headcanons here are almost all fanon based too and you will get nasty anons if you say you dislike FANON or praise CANON but I believe in people's right to headcanon.

My relationship with this: I've been a fan since 2019, this character of Gojo resonated with me like no one did in my 20+ years in fandom, he is my specialest blorbo, his relationship with his best friend has moved me etc. I'm autistic and this is my special interest as well. Needless to say depression has hit me like a freight train.

MY problem: My friend of 7 years who's currently deeply into yuri and danmei, who shared many fandoms with me, has been through the thick and thins with me, has decided to make me an enemy. When the chapter came out he chatted with me sent his condolences. Then he in his own social medias started talking about how he knew it was going to be a bad series, how he's glad he quit after struggling through 50 chapters, made all the jokes in the world about this death, discussed every little thing he hated and mocked this with his other weeb friends who are like the people I mentioned in the Problem section, validated all their complaints based on their reading of the FANON. He has had many discussions with me about this manga and very rarely did he express any of this negativity.

My assholery: I got frustrated, it was like he wanted me to see how much he could hurt me. I messaged him saying, "Hey what are you saying here, that's not how this character is written. The chapter is bad but this criticism is baseless and in bad faith" He laughed it off, "It's not that deep, this is fiction." I argued that's a shallow thing to say, he said it should have been like FANON since that makes more sense. I said that's conventional writing I thought we wanted different things than the same old nice characters in found family and such.

Then I said something about his favorites and hypocrisy, he said he's not so into it that he couldn't take criticism. I said that was a lie he's always writing essays about those characters. I also said criticize it for the right reasons damn it. He kept denying his own love for his fave so he could keep criticizing mine, because he at least had the sense to not fall for a shounen series. I asked if he was enjoying hurting me. He said are you for real, get a grip and stop justifying your behavior for fiction, they won't giving you cookies for defending them, if you can't bear to see negativity then feel free to mute or block. I snapped and said this is why no one likes casual fans, you can't keep your mouth shut about things you don't know. Have fun with being a two faced friend to everyone. Then I blocked him everywhere.

Some of my friends said I should have muted him long ago, I said this was inevitable if he was just going to validate everyone in vicinity, he had to pick a side. Others said I was right to tell him off. I regret some of the comments I made now.

AITA for the way I handled it? He is right, I could have muted him, I could have not spent my time doomscrolling and seeing all the bad takes he agreed with. I could have waited it out and not dropped an old friend over fiction. I could have done many things.

Please don't comment about touching grass, that's the least helpful thing anyone can say on blorbo the website. It's not a real advice we all know that. Therapy is also there for the depression and it will take years for me to get over the death, you don't need to remind me.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[seriousbrat]

Hi! I'm interested in your thoughts about Sirius from the tags of your Lily post... What makes you think he didn't understand the consequences of the prank?

ty for asking! I mean mostly the fact that he never shows any real remorse for it. I'm not saying that he didn't feel guilty for hurting Remus, I think he did-- and I also think that academically, intellectually, he understood it was wrong. But in SWM we see it doesn't really change anything about his behaviour. And why would it? There weren't any real consequences for what amounts to attempted murder. He still makes a flip comment about being bored and wishing it were full moon, he's still pretty disdainful towards Remus. Even as an adult, in the confrontation between Snape and Sirius in grimmauld place he behaves extremely threateningly towards Snape, and speaks pretty negatively/unremorsefully about him unlike Remus who tries (likely out of guilt) to maintain civility.

also:

James doesn't really display any remorse in SWM either, but well first of all it wasn't his fault and he actually did the right thing in his situation, and second-- both James and Sirius are a product of their circumstances. James grew up in a loving household with at least a father who had very Gryffindor-ish ideals. That's why I think James saving Snape wasn't just about protecting Remus like many people do, I think it was simply that the moral code instilled in him from childhood wouldn't have allowed him to let Snape die even if Remus hadn't been involved. Yeah this is an inherent contradiction considering James is also willing to torment and bully Snape, but those sorts of contradictions exist in people. Furthermore, I also think in a twisted way it was his "moral code" that justified his bullying in his mind. Snape=Slytherin=Dark Arts=Bad, therefore attacking him=good. This is a very black and white form of thinking common in teenagers.

On the other hand, Sirius grew up in a house where dead house-elves were mounted and stuffed on the walls. There are several murderers in his family tree, and his parents are proud when Regulus becomes a Death Eater. I think his ideas of right and wrong are much more confused. Cruelty is what he's grown up with. I'm not saying Sirius is an inherently cruel person either, just that it's been much more normalised in his life than it has for James. We see him being pretty casually cruel to his friends in SWM, and you'd think that if he felt guilt for what he did to Snape he'd be at least a bit nicer to/about him as an adult. 'we were idiots' is kind of an understatement given Sirius nearly killed him. Unlike James, Sirius (and Remus interestingly enough) isn't above cold-blooded murder if there's motive enough, as evidenced by his attempted murder of Peter. Which is very arguably justified, but Harry's right imo that James wouldn't do it.

See also: this post about Sirius being mean, and this one on why I think SWM coming after the prank makes sense

#remus also is the one who encourages harry to be okay with killing death eaters in DH. thinking about that rn! #this is not meant to be anti sirius i love him!!! but he's definitely got a darkness that harry and james lack #which again makes sense given what he came from #sirius black #sirius #meta

[boyfridged]

sheila haywood is actually such a good character.

there’s something about how hard it is to imagine her as jason's bio mother that makes sense because she is not his mother in any other sense. she’s such an ill-fitting piece of a puzzle. she’s so far removed from him as a person she could be an alien and it would not change much. and it’s fascinating in some ways.

the glimpse that we get at her- it’s the gritty realism that i would not mind that much. she’s such a piece of shit but also for all we know she never wanted jason. she never wanted to be a mother and she has that right. and yet there’s perhaps a moment when she’s willing to at least act like she’s happy to see him and like it’s a privilege to see who he has grown into. she doesn’t love him except maybe there is a part of her that wishes she could which is also already a bit like loving him.

and as i said, she's a piece of shit and she knows it. and yet we do not know how many of her actions- or rather the consequences, were fully intentional. was she truly responsible for the death of that patient back in gotham? did she first get involved with the joker voluntarily? was that a slippery slope or was she always like that? i don’t think she’s ever been kind at her core but i think she was capable of being a bit resentful toward herself because she was aware that she was wrong. i’m just not sure how much of it was shit she got herself in because of her lack of consideration for other people and cynicism and how much of it was deliberate malice and ambition. perhaps a conflation of both.

either way, her casual cruelty is something that absurdly does not fit into jason’s world. jason’s family has not always been the best, but it has always been loving and well meaning one. this is something that he clings to when darkness of vigilantism becomes too suffocating. sheila’s pragmatism is an antithesis to his hope. she’s a character that represents the new opportunistic image of gotham’s lower and middle class; but you’re not really supposed to hate her for it.

#straight from my dms- #it’s kinda unclear of what social standing sheila is hence i’m saying lower and middle class #sheila.zip

[9800sblog]

Hi Jes! Have u done something like "what ateez like better, someone cute or someone on the sexier side?" reading?

if u haven't yet, i hope u could do one : ))

thanks in advance ❤️

-🍭

ateez tarot reading

sexy or cute partner

answers are based on tarot and energy interpretation, it's a bit confusing to interpret because they don't talk about these things openly, so don't take it too seriously and don't yell at me if you don't believe in it!

these are vibes for the 27 of september of 2023, opinions may and probably will change in the future but I looked into their birth charts as well to confirm and guide my interpretations with more precision.

most of the cards fell reversed + they're on a break after a heavy schedule, most of them spending time with family and friends, they're mostly in a cuter, more innocent vibe these days, wanting someone to bring home and that will take care of them when they're tired. I can see them wishing someone sexier when their schedules are hectic because they have less free time, sex can be quick but relaxing enough for limited alone time, you don't have to think too much (not that any of them seem interested in casual sex, I often ask when questions are related to relationships and what they prefer in a partner and they always say they don't even wanna try that).

seonghwa

temperance reversed, 7 of wands reversed, 5 of cups reversed

definitely cuter in public, with just a hint of sexy. he thinks it's pretty and interesting, but he's the jealous type so don't be provocative but don't be too conservative.

hongjoong

king of cups reversed, high priestess reversed, 7 of cups, the moon reversed

doesn't feel confident to respond, he may not have enough experience with the question and/or thinks it doesn't matter when you're really in love. but he leans towards someone who is open about their obscurities, naturally more provocative.

yunho

5 of wands reversed, page of pentacles reversed, knight of cups reversed, the sun reversed

he definitely prefers a sexier type, but he is a very jealous man, he needs someone who is considerate and has self control. someone who is considered a sex icon by many would not work with him (basically any celebrity)

yeosang

knight of wands, 9 of wands, death reversed, 4 of pentacles

he wants someone super naturally sexy, drop dead gorgeous, but he's also a super possessive man. his answer is conflicting, but I'd lean towards a sexier partner as long as the entire world knows they're his.

san

6 of wands, the chariot reversed, 3 of pentacles, page of wands reversed

definitely a cuter type but he might like someone that follows his lead, who's able to adapt and do the same things but with a totally different vibe depending on how he feels.

mingi

5 of cups, temperance, 7 of wands, 5 of pentacles reversed, 7 of swords reversed

someone with equal amounts of both. but he is (another) very jealous man, so he'd prefer someone with lots of self control, who's more cute and innocent in public in a very deceiving way, like most people couldn't imagine the things they do and think.

wooyoung

3 of pentacles reversed, 6 of wands, king of cups, the chariot

sexier, powerful, influential, someone who is not on the same level as others, that he can show off, subjected to envious eyes, maybe someone like him who works with their image, a sex icon. but also adaptable, wooyoung is a family man afted all and he needs someone that knows when it's appropriate or not (a+ for the confidence! least jealous man in ateez)

jongho

10 of cups reversed, 9 of cups reversed, wheel of fortune, the chariot

super sexier, like inappropriately sexy, NOT a family friendly person. he does want intimacy, and someone he can show off to his friends and family, so someone who knows how to adapt depending on the crowd, but yes, very very sexy

#ateez tarot #ateez #kpop tarot #celebrity tarot reading

[lnsfawwi]

Winterbaron Thunderbolts blurb

Zemo has spent a lot of time reflecting his feelings for Bucky. when he first learned about the Winter Soldier, Hydra's most formidable secret weapon, he was stuck between disgusted by what's been done to him and general apathy. brainwashed or not, Bucky used his superhuman skills to kill many many people. But after their little adventure, he realizes Bucky isn't that. he isn't one of THEM, Avengers or Nazis alike.

Zemo's grown not just sympathetic but also fond of Bucky as partners in crime. That makes him uncomfortable. He spent YEARS resenting superheroes, hunting them, killing them, killing that sense of superiority they so casually project. But here he is, working with Bucky again, and can't keep his eyes off him.

Bucky is a natural leader, he takes care of his team even tho his contempt for certain people (including himself) is palpable, a brilliant strategist and even a better fighter, he is competent and...attractive.

Zemo tries to play his little mind game but Bucky isn't at all receptive. but that's ok, hatred is a strong enough emotion that may very well carry over to his ultimate demise. bucky won't be able to forget him that easily. Zemo isnt trying to be a 'hero', sacrificing himself for this assorted bunch, he just isn't trying so hard to stay alive.

Bucky notices that, from experience perhaps. Bucky keeps an eye on him in battle. in the middle of a shootout, Bucky drags him to security and shouts at him, 'stop letting your death wish get in the way!' or something like that.

'I'm touched, James, caring the life of someone like me.'

'I don't care if you're dead.'Bucky says as he takes out a guy by calculating the ricochet trajectory on the fly. 'you are just in my way.'

that's probably true. Zemo shrugs, sitting on the ground, fully confident that Bucky can handle the situation for both of them. 'I've been thinking...'

'shoot first, think later, socrates.'

'I've been thinking.' Zemo shoots somewhere blindly and keeps talking, 'we'd make great pair.'

Bucky stares at him as if he's grown another head. or lost the only one he had.

'you see, James, no one knows you better than I do, I'm perhaps the only one who GETS why you are the way you are. And you know me, sort of. we've come to a truce, the past is in the past...'

'I don't share your kinship, Zemo. Now be useful!'

so he makes himself useful, tho he is still talking. talking, yeah, but without referring to the most painfully obvious and unsettling fact. 'what I'm suggesting is mutually beneficial. I have connections and information you need, and you have one less bad guy to worry about.'

'I don't have to worry about you if you're in prison.'

'but I'm not there, am I?'

as the mission progress, Zemo offers help, shuts John up when necessary (Bucky smirks when he does that), and stays close to Bucky. yelena isn't blind, but she thinks Zemo has external motive and gives him the shovel talk.

'that's lovely. now, do you think James would prefer a new modified gun or customed knife? I know he is partial to the SiG but I see room for improvement. you know what, I'll get both. thank you for indulging me, Yelena.'

yelena: ok gay🙄

more fighting ensued, Bucky eventually uses the knife Zemo got him. some part of Bucky just breaks, that line that's been constantly pushed by Zemo is broken at that moment in a sense that Bucky acknowledges Zemo being in his tiny circle of 'allies' is already a truth. Zemo has been his ally longer than he's willing to admit. Bucky wants to believe they are different that's why he pushes Zemo away, only then does he realize accepting Zemo doesn't mean they're the same, it's just that they are compatible in certain situations. and Zemo is not exactly unpleasant to be around, sometimes.

after the mission, yelena suggests they go for a drink, Zemo suggests they go to that fancy place none of them would otherwise be allowed in. It's classy and degenerate at the same time.

while others disappear into the dance floor, Zemo sits down next to Bucky and asks if he could buy him a drink.

'will you back off if I said no?'

'I'm hurt, James. after all this time, you should know I don't take pleasure in forcing people into things they don't want.'

Bucky kinda laughs and lets Zemo buy him a fancy whisky. 'what do you want, Zemo?'

'I already told you what I want. partnership.'

Bucky downs the alcohol in one go and glances at him. 'is that all?'

Zemo is frankly surprised by Bucky's response but who is he to pass the opportunity? 'I usually go on a date or two before moving on to other things, but I suppose I can make an exception.'

and things get a little heated from there.

#bucky barnes #baron zemo #helmut zemo #winterbaron #blurb #experimental writing #thunderbolts #bucky x zemo

[whispers-of-lilith]

Lilith, who're your top 8 One Piece loves?

Star! Hi & thank you for popping in 🥺 Honestly, I had to think about this for a hot minute bc my brain has been hard focused on JJK lol.

Buckle up, bc this is going to be a long ass ride.

Liliths Top 8 One Piece Loves

Silvers "Dark King" Rayleigh

While I do love young Rayleigh when he was in his "prime", I will always choose older Rayleigh. It's no secret that this man definitely slept around at some point in his life. Not only does he have experience, but he knows exactly how to utilize all the skills he's learned over the years.

Rayleigh has stamina for days [ie. when his ship sank & he casually swam to Amazon Lily], he knows how to please, how to edge, etc. He could fuck me for days, to where I couldn't walk, but he wouldn't even have broken a sweat.

He seems like a fun person to be around & honestly I could see myself spending nights sitting in his lap while he drinks & tells stories of all the crazy shit he's done.

Dracule Mihawk

Ah, the dark, broody man who lives alone on an island. Literally my ideal type, bc dealing with people is hard & I'd rather spend my days on a rainy island in a massive castle.

I've probably said this one too many times, but whenever it rains I always have the urge to get railed by Mihawk next to the fireplace in his library. You just know he has a plush rug in front of it & if you bother him enough while he's reading? Best be prepared because he's going to teach you a lesson & you sure as shit can't finish until he finishes the chapter he's reading.

We could just enjoy the quiet together, I'm okay with spending time with someone even if we're doing our own thing.

Shanks

Shanks is like the golden retriever to my black cat. He doesn't take life too seriously [unless the situation calls for it & fuck if he isn't sexy when he's serious]. He knows how to have fun & would probably have the easiest time relaxing me simply by just cuddling with me.

Another man who clearly sleeps around, but knows exactly what he's got & how to please. I'm easily embarrassed & Shanks loves to embarrass, it's just in his nature.

I will always be a blushing, stuttering mess when it comes to this man's charms & I wouldn't have it any other way.

Benn "Big Dick" Beckman

You can't really have Shanks without Benn, or Benn without Shanks for that matter. Where Shanks throws caution to the wind, Benn is there to keep his ass in line.

He's gruff, stoic at times, doesn't seem to talk much, but will go feral when it comes to protecting something or someone he loves. Also, if you couldn't tell by the title I gave him, I just know this man is HUGE.

I'd melt if he called me "princess", "kitten", "pet" or anything along those lines and it's always a bonus when he follows it with a smirk. I'm down for a good railing sesh whenever he gets frustrated with Shanks [which is often].

[I just need to be eifle towered by Shanks & Benn, it'd probably solve 90% of my problems]

Charlotte Katakuri

Clearly I like the quiet / strong type if this list is any indication. Let's get the obvious out of the way first, Katakuri can & will split me in half with that dick & if that's how I go– then so be it.

I love a man with tattoos & have you seen his body?? Absolute perfection. Don't mess with the people he loves unless you have a death wish, he can & will obliterate you on sight if you do.

When he's not going feral in battle, his quiet & calculating personality is precious. He seems like the type to be easily flustered & I'd love to push him a bit so I could see his little blush. Idk he's just precious & adorable & needs to be protected at all costs.

[Ps. Would climb him like a koala]

Trafalgar Law

I loved him before I even met him in the anime. Fell for the scrungly, tired, lanky man seated on a box in Saboady. I even went as far as to cosplay a fem!Law for one of my first cons.

Again, another broody, quiet, tired man to add to my list. We're literally one in the same, we hyperfixate on things & neither of us sleep. So I know he'll always be awake at 3am to listen to me ramble about all the stupid facts I know.

Also, tbh, the tattoos do something for me. I mean, watching as his death tattoos disappear inside with each stroke? Fuck. Jsjdjajsbbxjsj. He is another one that flusters easy, but if you push him too far he 100% lets his dom side out.

Sir Crocodile

Sir Crocodile, hng. Money laundering? My man would never [yes he would & we live well bc of it, so no I'm not snitching]. I could sit in his lap like a perfect little kitten, whether he's sitting in on meetings or just enjoying a cigar, just lemme me on the big mans lap.

Lo said it best earlier, the rings. THE RINGS AND MAKING YOU CLEAN THEM JAHDUSJHAJAI. To be dominated by him would be a dream, he's so smug & cocky & ugh.

I would be his little princess, my self respect would go out the window. He 100% showers you with gifts just bc he can & he loves when you wear things he's bought you.

King [Alber]

Oh, what do you know, another quiet, strong, stoic man... see a theme here? Another man who would split me in half & I'd say thank you for doing so.

Just. His hair. His wings. His face tattoo. Everything about him was perfectly sculpted from the heavens & simply looking at him makes my day better.

On days when it's cold he could wrap us both in his wings & I'd fucking melt into a puddle. He's the type of man to be cold towards others, except for the person he loves & I'm all here for it.

#whispered asks #whispered moots #lilith and star #silvers rayleigh #shanks #benn beckman #Crocodile op #mihawk #dracule mihawk #king one piece #crocodile one piece #trafalgar law #Charlotte Katakuri #whispered thirsts

[ayz0]

i posted this on twitter and then blacked out and wrote the lore in the comments so people have some context for the video lol. enjoy if u read i spose!

this is summarizing Ren & Ayzo's history and points to Ren's wishes that were granted by the Devil. each time they make these deals Ren is shackled more and more to Ayzo's will, but they also gain more power through it Ren is a comet that gained sentience, and his original form is the big fox looking thing. After landing on Earth they observed humans and other life, and after many years they became overwhelmingly lonely and sad.

Ayzo feeds on emotions, and felt this great sadness, pursuing it to the source and meeting Ren for the first time. Ayzo, being the spawn of Death, has the ability to gauge another's lifespan. It realized that this was the first other immortal it had come across, and was overjoyed, immediately wanting to stay by this creature's side and help them.

Ren's first wish was for a human form, as he had observed humanity and longed for companionship, community, to have others around him, to feel wanted. Ayzo granted the wish, creating a humanoid body for Ren. After spending years amongst humans, however, Ren misses the freedom of his old form. His second wish is to be able to shift from his new form to his old one at will, like Ayzo can. It grants this wish, too - being a shapeshifter itself, it shares this power to Ren, forming a second wrist shackle on them.

I'm still writing the next bit, but many more years later, Ren is trapped by modern humans, because of a bunch of plot reasons I won't go into, but it's a scientific facility they get stuck in. After countless experimentation and witnessing what cruelty humans will do to others, Ren develops a deep hatred for humanity. Rage brings Ayzo back to Ren eventually, and Ren makes a third wish. For the power to kill the humans in that building en masse. This grants Ren a large, powerful, corrupt version to replace their weaker original body. Unfortunately, when in this form, Ren is singleminded with blood rage and wants nothing but violence.

Ren does manage to kill many, many people in that facility (those who didn't manage to escape or hide successfully) and passes out from exertion afterward. When they wake up later on, it turns out Ayzo has finally decided Ren is now a very entertaining individual to stick around, and has Ren live with them, as there's nowhere else he could really go, and as an escaped prisoner of the facility, Ren is now being hunted by mages/bounty hunters contracted by that company (it is a scientific facility, but was military-funded)

Because of the constant proximity and spending time together, plus Ayzo's tendency to have feelings hit it like a train, it catches feelings for its old acquaintance. It treated Ren the same as any other human contract before, but now grew more sweet on him as time went on. Ayzo is reminded of Ren's immortal lifespan, and decides to let itself give into the little crush.

Over time, eventually Ayzo realizes it loves Ren, but along with this Ayzo becomes terrified of losing Ren in any way, and tightens control over him in an effort to "keep" him.

This is further complicated by the two of them having a history of casual sex and intimacy with each other. Ren is aroace, but enjoys the actual activity and everything involved, and Ayzo is just down for literally anything and anyone. So they found it pretty convenient.

Eventually, Ayzo confesses it's love for Ren, but Ren rejects this for several reasons. The biggest one being the fact that Ayzo literally owns them, and can potentially make Ren do things he doesn't want to, all at Ayzo's whims. Ren hates not being in control of his body.

Ren, seeing that he has a potential foothold for some small amount of power between them, begins to scathingly request to be let go and gives constant reminders to Ayzo that they own him, letting it know exactly how he feels on the matter, especially in regards to his autonomy.

There is more story to tell that I have got solidified (and it is juicyyy and dramatic as hell) but this is around the point where the video ends so I'll leave it here for now

#ocs #ayz0 #ren #animatic #video

[trashyswitch]

Luigi's Secret

Chapter 2: 2 Plumbers Vs The Princess

Mario tells Peach all about their morning after work, and it ends up resulting in a big tickle fight between the three. Who ends up winning? Let's find out!

CHAPTER 2 IS OUT BABY! And today's also my 15th adoption anniversary! Meaning today was the day I walked into the court room an orphan, and walked out of the court room with a forever family! So I wanna dedicate this fanfic to my parents, my brother, and my extended family and friends. It's insane how one single day can change everything. I love you all so much, and I look forward to many more years of love, fun and happiness.

After their silly morning, Luigi managed to get his phone back and read through the story. The truth was, the fanfic Mario was reading, happened to include a specific theme that Luigi was quite embarrassed about enjoying. Mario was already making fun of Luigi for reading fluffy, unrealistic stories…so if he found out about this specific theme, then…who knows how Mario would react! 

Luckily, Mario had stopped reading only a couple lines before the secret theme of the fanfic had been revealed to him. What was that theme exactly? 

Well…Tickling. Tickling was the theme. The story Luigi was reading was a tickle fanfiction. Or, tickle fanfic, as the internet usually shortened the basic concept so it was easy to say. While the story Mario read for the moment was about some Roman guy conjuring up cute puppies, the fanfic would change into a tickle fanfic later on, that involved too many puppies dog-piling Patton and tickling him to death. So the fact that Mario stopped reading before that, was a huge stroke of luck for Luigi. 

And before you ask, yes…tickle fanfics exist. Not only that, but there is a whole community of people (mostly teens and adults) who drew, wrote, and chatted about different characters being ticklish while coming up with realistic scenarios where tickling each other would be incorporated. 

This community was called the Tickle Community…because duh. 

And telling by what you saw this morning…Luigi was secretly a part of that community…and he would rather take this secret to his grave, then let his brother find out about this…as would almost everyone in this entire community. Everybody in this community had roughly the same mindset: READ MY MIND, and GIVE ME TICKLES. Because as much as everyone in this community wanted to have tickle fights, NO ONE WANTED TO BRING IT UP, OR ASK. Because judgment is the ultimate enemy. 

Like in every other community, there is slang they liked to use. Short forms of words that showed their preferences within the community. But there are 3 main slang words: Ticklee, Tickler, and switch. People in the community will often shorten two of these words. Ticklee to lee, and tickler to ler. Switch usually remains the same. 

A lee is a person who likes being tickled by others. They often enjoy different types of teases, and get highly embarrassed whenever people refer to tickling in any way. Even the word ‘tickle’ will make them burn up and cower in embarrassment…but this is just code for “Please tickle me I’ve been waiting my whole life for this”. Lees often imagine themselves being tickled by certain people they trust and love…and when tickling casually shows up in the media, lees are secretly wishing they could experience that same playfulness too…to the point where it affects them psychologically. Lees have 1 hyphenated word in common: Touch-starved. They are all touch-starved in one way or another. So if you see a lee in their natural habitat, consider getting to know them and helping them out…they may love you forever. 

A ler is a person that enjoys tickling others. They often enjoy coming up with fun teases and games to play with their lees. Lers often enjoy seeing their lees in giggly moods of embarrassment. They often find it endearing, cute, and funny all at the same time! Lers also seem to enjoy feeling like the one on top. For some reason, lers often represent themselves as a step up from lees...As if they had a leg up in the situation. Which…they kinda do? Let me explain: If you put the 3 words in a pyramid hierarchy, you will see that lers are always at the top of the pyramid. Switches are in the middle, and lees are at the bottom. However, the lees must always be treated with more respect than the lers, because of their position in the community…Because if it weren’t for lees, then the lers and the switches would be forever alone. So…thank your lees next time you see them. 

A switch is a person who switches between being the ler and being the lee. Most of the time, switches express their switching through percentages based on how often they are in lee moods, or ler moods. Example: 70% ler, 30% lee. They are in ler moods 70% of the time, and they are in lee moods the rest of the time. You often have to ask them what mood they are in, to determine what side they want to take. But lers must fear switches…because they can go from a cute little lee mood, to the ultimate ler mood in the flip of a switch. And using their experience in both leeing and lering, they can often put the most evil ler into a lee mood in a few minutes and change things up. The reality is, switches should be on the top of the pyramid, but they are not because they are too powerful to be given such responsibilities. Either way, never mess with a switch. 

Now Luigi…He would say that he is a switch. More specifically, 50% ler, 50% lee. Being the younger brother often meant he was usually the lee between the two brothers…but thanks to their height differences, Luigi has often changed roles. 

But thanks to his brother’s evil shenanigans this morning, Luigi was stuck in a never-ending lee mood…and he was NOT okay…

And to make things worse? Mario had decided to tell Princess Peach about their embarrassing morning. 

“And then- then the dude has the AUDACITY to tell me he’s ‘taller, and cooler, and therefore smarter’ than me! Like- He was just asking for it!” Mario reacted. 

“Mario…” Luigi groaned, covering his face in embarrassment. “What?! It’s true!” Mario added. 

Princess Peach giggled. “I mean…the ‘taller’ thing isn’t wrong…” Peach teased. 

Luigi raised his head up and gasped. “YES! See?! Peach gets it!” Luigi reacted, pointing to Peach. 

Mario narrowed his eyes. “Don’t even think about it, Princess.” Mario warned. 

“Why not, shorty? Think you’re strong enough to fight me?” Peach asked. 

Mario growled and rolled up his sleeves as he got closer to her. “You messed with the wrong plumber.” Mario warned again. 

Peach smirked and picked up Mario under the armpits. “Oh, I know not to mess with Luigi. That’s why I’m taking his side instead!” Peach declared as she wrapped her left arm around Mario’s middle. 

“HEY! PUT ME DO-OOOOOHOHOOO! WAHAHAHA! WAHAhahahait nohohoho!” Mario yelled, throwing his head back and cackling in her arms. 

“Awww, look at this! The other brother’s just as ticklish! Maybe even more!” Peach teased. 

Luigi chuckled and just watched the two of them for a moment. “Y-Yeah…He kinda is.” Luigi muttered. 

“But which side is more ticklish?” Peach asked as she wrapped both her arms around Mario. “This side?” She squeezed his right side. 

This earned her a squeak, followed by a fit of laughter from the boy. “STAHAhahahap! Leheheave mehehe alohohohone!” Mario reacted. 

“Or this side?” Peach squeezed his left side next. 

Mario kicked his feet and squeezed his eyes shut, trying and failing to cover up his face as giggles and laughter left his lungs. 

“Not so tough and mighty now, are you, Mario?” Peach teased. 

Luigi could quickly feel the blush just filling his own cheeks. And he himself wasn’t even the one being teased! And yet, his stupid mind was making him all blushy and embarrassed. Maybe this was his way of showing empathy for his brother? 

Or maybe this was…something else…

“LUIHIHIGI HEHEHELP MEHEHE!” Mario yelled. “DOHOHON’T JUHUST STAHAHAHAND THEHEHERE!” Mario ordered. 

Luigi widened his eyes and shook himself out of his momentary trance. Mario was right! He should not just be standing here! “Hold on, Mario! Imma coming!” Luigi declared, running over. 

Peach looked behind her out of the corner of her eye. “You, so much as touch me, and I will tickle you even more than I’m tickling Mario at this moment.” Peach warned with a smirk. 

Luigi paused and thought for a moment. Now, any other person would choose not to help at that point…Cause who wants to face the punishment?! 

But Luigi…Luigi was not that type of guy. So Luigi resumed his run back up to Peach, and started tickling her sides. “I’ve gotcha now!” Luigi declared. 

Peach yelped and jolted up, dropping Mario in the process. Then, Peach turned to look at Luigi with shock. “Did you just-” 

Luigi quickly caught his brother and placed him down. “There you go, Mario.” Luigi told him. 

Mario was breathing somewhat heavily, but managed to get out a ‘thank you’ before patting his back. Luigi then turned around to face Peach, and crossed his arms with a smirk. “And yes. I just did, Princess.” Luigi declared. 

Peach smiled in both shock, and excitement. “Ohoho, I can now understand what Mario meant.” Peach reacted, wiggling her fingers at him. “You really ARE asking for it~” Peach teased. 

Luigi’s confidence flew away from him in a single heartbeat. He gulped a slight bit at the wiggling fingers, before backing up slowly. “Ohokay, maybe I made a small-” Luigi shrieked as he tripped over something, falling onto his back. 

Mario chuckled and brought his leg back to his chest. “Payback.” Mario teased. 

Luigi widened his eyes and looked at Mario with confusion. “Wha- Mario, I saved you!” Luigi yelled, showing utter betrayal as he got up onto his feet again. 

“You took too long!” Mario argued. 

Suddenly, something grabbed at Luigi’s sides from behind him. Luigi squeaked and clamped his arms to his sides, suddenly bursting out into helpless giggles. “eEEHEHEhehehee!” Luigi giggled, covering his mouth. 

“Now I’ve got YOU~!” Peach tripped Luigi down, and literally started dragging him across the grass with both her arms under his arms. 

“EEEEP! WAIT-WAITNO-” Luigi yelled, struggling in her grip and attempting to get out. But quickly taking his position under consideration, Luigi moved his hands back behind him and squeezed her sides without even looking.

“eEEK!” Peach squealed, almost dropping him in the process. “YOU-” 

“What? You should’ve looked where you’re goi- OHNO!” Luigi reacted as he was thrown to the ground. 

“Now let’s see which brother has the most ticklish sides.” She declared as she started squeezing both of Luigi’s sides at the same time. 

Luigi threw his head back and bursted out cackling almost right away. “HAHAHAHAhahahaha! EEEEHEHEHEEK NAHAHAhahahahaha!!” Luigi laughed, kicking his legs wildly. 

“Oooooh! I think we know who the clear winner is~!” Peach teased. 

“It’ll always be Luigi. He’s more ticklish than me.” Mario added. 

Peach giggled. “I thought we established that you’re more ticklish?” Peach reminded Mario. 

“You didn’t tickle him yet. So you’ll have to be the judge of that.” Mario told her with a smirk. “MAHAHARIO SHUHUHUSSHHH!” Luigi yelled. 

“Only one way to find out:” Peach moved her fingers over to Luigi’s hips, and started digging in with her thumbs. 

Luigi let out a HUGE squeal, before spazzing out and absolutely ROARING with newfound laughter. 

“Well…I can already tell who’s more ticklish.” Peach teased, slightly shocked at Luigi’s voice flexibility. 

Luigi whined and covered up his face in pure embarrassment. He was already such a blushy mess at this point, it wasn’t even funny anymore…At least, to Luigi. To Mario and Peach? It was HILARIOUS!

“Ahahawww! He’s all embarrassed! How much cuter can you possibly get?!” Peach teased. 

Mario dropped his jaw and frowned. “HEY!” 

Luigi tried to mumble something against his hands. “Mhmhmmm mmmm MMMMm!” Luigi mumbled. 

Peach giggled at this. “I’m sorry, what was that?” Peach teased. 

Luigi uncovered his face and started hugging himself. “IHIHI’M NOHOHOHOT CUHUHUHUTE!” Luigi yelled. 

Peach laughed. “He says with his face all red.” Peach teased. 

“Shhhhuhuhush.” Luigi mumbled, shaking his head with pure embarrassment. As much as he liked the tickles, the teases were beginning to drive him up the wall. 

Peach smirked before looking at Mario. “Any suggestions for tickle spots?” She asked. 

Mario chuckled. “Oh yes. Belly button, ribs, armpits, Luigi’s basically a walking ticklish spot.” Mario told him. 

Luigi whined and shook his head again. Mario had just told the princess every single ticklish spot on his body…and if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, then I don’t know what is. 

“Oh! And if you try this…” Mario walked up and sat down beside her. He wiggled his fingers at Luigi before bringing them mere millimeters from his ribs. Luigi squealed and covered his face again, already giggling up a storm. The man wasn’t even being touched, and was already a giggly little mess. 

Peach tilted her head. He…wasn’t touching his ribs…and yet, the man was giggling and laughing as if he WAS! 

Peach stared at Luigi, before looking at Mario. “How are you doing that?” Peach asked. 

Mario chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Sometimes you don’t even have to tickle him in order to get him laughing.” Mario replied. “But when you touch down like this,” 

Mario finally placed his skittering fingers all over Luigi’s ribs, And poor Luigi uncovered his face and guffawed with surprise cackles. 

“Yohou get…the most happy little reaction out of him.” Mario replied, sounding like he genuinely loved hearing his brother’s laugh. 

“But what if he tries to get you back?” Peach asked with a smirk. 

“Oh! Then I just do this:” Mario took in a big breath and blew a large raspberry onto his brother's ribs. 

“eEEEEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!” Luigi screamed, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“That usually stops him from trying anything else.” Mario finished with a laugh.

Peach giggled and watched as Luigi slowly fell into a breathless state. He curled up into a ball, and took in breaths to try and recover from the heavy tickle attack. 

“So…having any regrets?” Peach asked, poking his side. 

Luigi giggled and attempted to push her hand away. “Quihihit ihit.” Luigi mumbled. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” Peach told him. 

As much as he loved the tickling, he knew he was gonna need a break soon. So Luigi nodded his head, and said what she wanted to hear. “Yehehehes. Ihihi regrehet ihihit.” Luigi replied. 

Peach smirked and gently squeezed his hip. “Good.” 

Luigi kicked his feet like a little ballerina, letting out a couple more giggles before going breathless again. 

Mario chuckled. “So you’ll keep fighting against me, but you’ll give up for Peach?” Mario teased. 

Luigi groaned. No matter what Luigi did, Mario always seemed to find a way to make fun of the man…and it was just not fair. 

“It’s because you’re not nearly as scary.” Peach teased. 

Mario looked at Peach with shock. “Is that so?!” Mario reacted. 

Peach bursted out laughing at Mario’s reaction alone. Luigi couldn’t help the little laugh that left his own mouth too. 

Mario only smiled and shook his head. “We’re all gonna have a long talk about this later.” Mario decided before offering his brother a hand. “Need help up?” Mario asked. 

Luigi nodded and took his hand. 

But when Mario started to pull, Luigi gave a quick little surprise tug.

“WaAH!” Mario yelped as he fell right into Luigi’s arms. “Luigi!” Mario yelled. 

Luigi started tickling his brother’s belly and ribs, while cheering excitedly. “Reveeeenge!” Luigi declared. “Reveeeenge is miiiine!” 

Mario squeaked and wiggled around in his brother’s arms, laughing helplessly while he threw his arms around and kicked his feet. “LUHUHUIGIHIHI GAHAHAhahahahaha!” Mario laughed. 

“You shoulda seen this-a coming, Mario~” Luigi teased. 

“You just don’t know when to stop…do you?” Peach asked. 

“Nope! We could do this all day.” Luigi replied. 

“MAHAHAYBE YOHOHOU COHOULD, BUHUT NOHOHOHOT MEHEHE!” Mario yelled back. 

Peach smirked and gently separated the brothers. “How about I end this once and for all?” She offered. 

Luigi looked up at Peach with confusion, before widening his eyes as he was grabbed by the collar. Peach then held Mario in one hand, and Luigi in the other. With both boys in her arms, Peach started tickling both their bellies at the same time. 

“AAAAHAHAHAHAHahahahaha! PEHEHEACH WHYHYHY?!” Luigi cackled, wiggling around slightly. 

“WAHAHAIT NOHOHOHAHahahaha! WAAAHAHAhahaha stahahahap!” Mario laughed, kicking his feet helplessly. 

“Now I’ve got TWO ticklish boys in my hands! No one can stop me now!!” Peach declared proudly. 

And so ultimately, Peach ended up winning this round against the two brothers. But it wasn’t just Peach that won…Luigi also managed to get the reward he really wanted. 2 tickle fights in one day?! That’s absolutely unheard of! What are the chances of that casually happening?!

…Very low, as it would turn out. 

#tickle fight #luigi's secret #teasing #raspberries #brotherly bonding #3 person tickle fight #ticklefic #switch!mario #switch!luigi #switch!peach #fluff

[thana-topsy]

WIP Wednesday!

Tagged by @mareenavee ! Thank you, dear. And I know you tagged many people I might also tag, so I'll try to pick new people.

Tagging @kookaburra1701 @dirty-bosmer @viss-and-pinegar @moriche @expended-sleeper and @skyhon

---

So, I started in on this wip mostly because it was just a scenario that I wanted to see playing out in my brain. Isn't that how all writing begins? I'm not sure where it will go, if it'll ever be its own story, or anything, really. But I'm borrowing muldezgron's One-Eyed Teldryn from this fic, because he and Elanwe technically, exist in the same universe. On a collaborative technicality. Elanwe is from my fic "Hollow Men". And, of course, my unintentional muse, Kordin belongs to DirtyScrolls, who has so graciously given me their blessing to do whatever I want to him lmao. Wip below the cut, plus some art at the end:

--

“We’ve crossed paths before you know,” Elanwe said without making eye contact. Her gaze remained locked on her half-empty cup of ale. “In Windhelm. The day I–or, at least, I assume that was you. Same armor.”

Teldryn ran his tongue across his teeth then huffed a humorless laugh. “Ah, the mystery of the missing Thalmor prisoner. I was there, yes.” He tilted his head in acknowledgement. “You have quite the memory, sera. My memories from that day are… hazy, at best. Intentionally obscured by my own mind, at worst.” He drummed a finger against his own cup in agitation. “Kordin was… changed after that day. It probably goes unsaid, but he was unused to having his–” The word stuck in his throat, the hand on his knee tightening into an involuntary fist. “–his possessions taken from him.

She seemed to turn pensive, then took a long drink, draining the cup. “Did you know?” she asked sharply. “What he was doing?” 

Teldryn waited for her to meet his eye, then nodded. “I believe you know well by now what his preferred type was.”

“I’m gonna need more booze for this conversation,” she said, the skin around her mouth drawn tight, stretching the scar across her lip until it turned pale and bloodless. 

“That makes two of us,” Teldryn muttered to himself. “Get me one while you’re up. Greef, though. None of that Nordic swill.”  

Elanwe returned with two large bottles of greef, twisting the cork free of one and filling Teldryn’s cup. He offered a soft Dunmeris ‘cheers’ in response before taking a sip, letting the liquid rest against his tongue. He supposed he might as well talk about it. There was no one else to listen, as it stood. No one else who even wanted to, really. 

“I was in his service for three years,” he began. “Of course, if I’d known–” Another humorless laugh. “Well, it’s complicated.”

“Hence your prior hesitance to take on a new long-term patron, I take it.” 

Teldryn just nodded with a tight smile. “And we don’t have to dance around the subject. I know the way you Altmer are. Yes, he had his way. As often as he could. And I let him.”

Elanwe’s grip around her cup tightened. The soft curve of her lips twisted into a snarl, the corners of her eyes wet. “I wish I could kill him again. I wish–” Her jaw worked around the unsaid words.

“Like I said,” Teldryn continued after a beat of silence. “It was complicated.” 

He took a long drink, breathed through his nose, wiped his mouth on his netch leather bracer. Elanwe said nothing, the snarling distaste frozen on her face like a death mask, as if she could transmit the feeling through Teldryn and into the realm of the dead. 

Or wherever Kordin was. Teldryn was relatively sure he was in Coldharbour. 

“It wasn’t all bad, believe it or not,” he said after her prolonged silence showed no signs of ending. “Unlike your friend, I was not a literal prisoner. I had a modicum of–”

“Bullshit,” Elanwe spat. “I don’t want to hear it. So don’t even start.”

Teldryn managed to keep the surprised look from his face, and instead shrugged as casually as he could manage. “I suppose you’re right. There was always a part of me that hoped he’d… come to his senses, maybe. I was always searching for those moments of empathy. Some hint of regret… Anything.” Teldryn sighed and took another drink. “A fool’s hope. Something in that boy was broken long before he found me. But he was the Dragonborn…” Hollowness settled behind Teldryn’s sternum. “And now he’s dead.” 

Another doomed world without a prophet.

--

And now they're all I can think about... WHOOPS.

#topsy writes #wip wednesday #skyrim fanfiction #skyrim fanart #topsy draws #teldryn sero #oc: elanwe #topsy's ocs

[lavenderjewels]

JJK chapter 246 thoughts below

Because the official chapter’s translations last week were disappointing in a couple of ways, I read the fan translation. Keeping all my thoughts here until the official one drops!

I loved this chapter a lot! :’)

MEGUMI.

I have been SO confident that yuuji is trying to save megumi since he was taken over that I am unbelievably satisfied, especially after seeing way too many posts that megumi is 100% dead or has no chance. I’ve been slightly bitter at seeing so many theories about Gojo coming back that don’t make sense when it would be a crime if he came back but not Megumi (or Nobara). The only question is whether or not Yuuji will actually be able to save Megumi or if either will die in the process—for my own sake, I’m believing in the power of friendship. Also, I wish there were date/time stamps for the flashbacks, since it’s hard to remember when in the time skip it is.

And LOVE that Yuuji was the one that came up with that plan. Nothing will ever be easy and there’s no way this plan can go right without more death, but that little sliver of hope is fantastic. I can always rely on Yuuji being the “humanity” of the team. Thinking back to when Hana and him off-handedly wondered if Gojo forgot about Megumi during the fight. It’s nice having two people who are invested in saving Megumi when the situation is dire.

Did Choso getting punched x2 straight through the chest and stomach worry me? Yes, but he’s not dead and Yuuji didn’t look devastated, so I’m taking this as a positive that he’s out of the fight for now. If he wasn’t a half curse and it wasn’t so casual, I’d be concerned. Sukuna does NOT like either of the siblings since he’s met both. Very sweet that Yuuji caught him the second Sukuna threw him aside.

The color page (which looks incredible) is fueling my belief that Maki is with Yuuta as help with Kenjaku. That, or the current team is the first round of fighters and they’ll need her soul sword for something last-minute sukuna related, but I just wouldn’t be surprised if the jujutsu high second years stuck together.

Higuuuuuuuurumaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa <3

I love him. “Sukuna found himself completely enthralled—“ same

No really, I’ve adored his character since chapter 159 released and I’m so happy that one of my favorite characters is getting all this. I already have other posts lined up for when the official chapter drops, but I love him.

His conversation with Yuuji was dark, but I love these quiet moments of insight. Such a good chapter for all these tiny character moments with interesting implications.

Despite my disappointment at the trial ending so soon, I like this fight and I think Sukuna does too (for Higuruma). The end pages about Higuruma’s quick learning and adaption to sorcery is exactly what I wanted to see!

(Continuing) Higuruma is essentially a tired lawyer new to sorcery and is not nearly as overpoweringly strong as Gojo, yet the manga states he rivals Gojo in raw talent and adaptability. Realistically, he doesn’t and can’t have that overpowered strength to the degree of Gojo, but I love how that doesn’t diminish the skills he does have and shows how valuable these characters can be (and it’s not JUST talent, but how their mindset around life and sorcery too). They don’t have to be overpowered to have a profound impact and be smart in their fighting.

(Continuing) I remember seeing comments after Gojo died that there was no use because there can’t be a way for the protagonists to defeat Sukuna without a deus ex machina, plot armor, etc. But I hoped the story would lean into the characters’ strengths and have them work together to find a smart way with combined effort to take down Sukuna, rather than Gojo be the magical solution to killing Sukuna and Kenjaku. So this chapter worked in a lot of ways for me.

(Continuing) It’s the same reason why Yuuji turning his role put on him (by others and himself) as a cage/tool into something significant in this fight is very compelling. At a surface level, these characters are much weaker than Sukuna, but I think they genuinely have a chance. Plus, it’s more entertaining to have a team fight in jjk and, despite still heavily incorporating the power system, I find this fight to already be more emotional and investing than the Gojo Sukuna one. Not to be overly negative on that last fight (there’s good moments in it and the fighting itself is fun), but this is what I wanted from JJK!

More people will die at some point. Better not be Choso (Yuki died for him so that had better not go to waste immediately), but could honestly be anyone. I do think there’s going to be a moment where things do end up going right for the protagonist team, but that could be a long time from now. Kusakabe being surprised at himself for his willingness to die to protect Higuruma was??? Adorable??? A duo I never considered, but I need them to survive (unlikely) and interact more now that I’m thinking of how well they’d get along.

Another long review of a jjk chapter, but had a great time with this one! At this point, I mention it weekly, but Sukuna in his original form is beautiful every time I see him and im very happy to have him in that form for this fight.

#jjk spoilers #jjk 246 #jjk leaks #long post #higuruma hiromi

[storytree-hyw]

I never would’ve thought that a man who made minecraft videos would connect to me and much as he did. Alex did you much for so many people and I’m happy he knew how much we all loved him. May the king take his final rest and may he be forever in peace, rest in immortal tranquility Alex, Technoblade.

If you’re reading the under the cut junk I honestly applaud you. This isn’t really here for any particular reason, it’s more here for me. If you’re not a big reader you’re allowed to leave, or heck—stick around, listen to my rambles about everything.

I remember when I found out, one of my friends sent the video and I remember watching it and, well I don’t want to say I didn’t take it well—honestly the most accurate description was that…I didn’t take it at all. In the moment I didn’t cry, I didn’t do anything except look at my phone and I remember just feeling shock. Some part of me wanted to believe it was a joke, a dream, that somehow it wasn’t real. I remember looking through the early stream on comments and seeing how people were reacting.

I knew it wasn’t a joke, or a dream. My brain just didn’t want to except it. I also found it odd how I wasn’t sad, or at least not crying. My eyes were dry, I wasn’t even shaking. I don’t think it really hit me yet.

Then later that night I was lying in bed and it finally hit me. It was when I was watching some compilations of Techno’s best moments and it finally hit me. It hit me like falling off a building—god it sucked. It finally clicked in my mind that this person, this man whose made so many people laugh, and smile, brought people together, lifted others up, was putting on a brave face after putting up a nearly year long fight to cancer—was gone.

He was gone. Gone forever, a whole person was gone from this earth and it took me that long to realize that. I don’t blame myself it’s a hard thing to grasp, whether old or young, an entire person just being gone from everything and not being able to continue on with their life hurts.

…

He died too young.

I was barely able to gather my thoughts through all the crying and sobbing I did that night. I was kind of a wreck today too, I just wanted to stay home. If I didn’t need groceries I would’ve stayed home haha..

After looking at others responses and all the overwhelming hope and comfort for everyone in the community I was finally able to find my anchor of comfort.

I found comfort in the fact that Alex is not hurting anymore from the physical pain and the fatigue that this most likely put him through. I found comfort in realizing that Alex is gone but he will live on forever through his impact, his memories, his friends, his family, and us; his community and fans. I found comfort in the fact that even if Alex isn’t here anymore we can still give our love to the community he built from the ground up and that this community has so much overwhelming support for one another. And lastly I found comfort in the fact that Alex had the absolutely audacity to create merch for his death, the actual craziness, hahaha man…Im gonna miss him.

The fact that he talked about it so casually too, this whole experience didn’t seem like big scary monster to him, he wasn’t scared. He was brave, and he was even joking about it, constantly—so much that he being worried made a lot of us less scared too. And I really appreciate that, he really cared for everyone he impacted.

We’re all going to miss him, so much, for so long. The grief from having someone of that emotional connection suddenly passing isn’t going to go away overnight, and that okay. We all deal with grief differently, but as long as we’re respectful of eachother and stick together we’ll be alright. Alex was an amazing individual, in the coming time that we all will be dealing with this I wish everyone in the community the best.

As long we keep these memories of him alive he’ll always be with us in some way and he will never fade away—besides I’d like to imagine he’d be pretty peeved off in heaven if any of us let that happen. We were so lucky to have him and he probably believes it was so astonishing that he had all of us. Rest well in the afterlife Alex, hope you have a nice view to watch all you’re loved ones.

Technoblade never dies

#technoblade #techno #alex technoblade #mcyt fanart #mcyt #DSMP #dsmp techno #rest in love #fuck cancer #technoblade never dies