Here's a thought for you re: Hob's daydream's affecting Dream.
Hob, it seems, is oral fixated today.
Dream's attention is divided between Hob's mundane chatter about his students, the attention he always saves to the Dreaming, and... the firm press against his lips, against his tongue, nearly reaching the back of his throat in it's vulgar audacity.
Hob's words trail at those moments, he sounds distracted and like he doesn't really notice the way his words repeat, his gaze dropping again and again, fist clenching when Dream swallows.
Dream huffs through his nose, very well, he will indulge him, if he must.
Subtly, he flicks his tongue across his lips, glancing just in time to see Hob frozen, words forgotten, staring intensely.
And there it is, the push against his lips, the persistent request to open his lips and take, take, take.
wrote it, sent it, didn't look twice, peace
nsfwish under the cut
Dream’s jaw almost drops with the immediate response that garners him, not from surprise, but because he feels as if he needs to.
Hob is hot and huge in his mouth, in his projection, stretching him open and reaching further and further. Hob helping himself to Dream like he’s allowed this– brazen, indecent. Dream swallows again, his amusement veering off course, transforming into something selfish and carnal, something Dream realizes might not work out in his favor.
But he can’t help but tease, just a little. Hoping to catch Hob off-guard and subdue him.
“Something the matter?”
Dream’s voice catches both of them by surprise. It’s low rumble sounding smothered, spoken behind closed lips, or muffled around an over-eager cock, as it were.
Hob looks Dream in the eyes, studying them, perhaps realizing that he’d fallen quiet and was staring at Dream’s lips for a fraction of a second too long, too obvious. Friends don’t look at each other’s lips, don’t stutter over their words, and certainly don’t fantasize– Christ, Dream’s knees hitting the hardwood floor and staring up at Hob, as if in worship, in supplication.
The utter audacity.
“You seem. Distracted.” Dream is proud of how his words remain steady, even as his knees begin to sting and his mouth throbs.
“Do I?” Hob laughs, a tinge of hysteria rolling off it. He finally forces himself to relax, shaking his head, clearing the illusion. Dream’s entire body slumps forward slightly, like he’d been released from a bond that tied him straight and upright.
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I imagine both drifter and bobby are somewhat desensitized of death. Bobby more so cares less of corpses and sees them more as things to loot, while drifter is somewhat numb to the ticking timer he's in (he makes off handed jokes about himself that sounds slightly concerning). Drifter still respects the dead and what theyve left behind, thinking that borrowing their weapons as some sort of relief for the dead (Quirrel's words ;u;). "Borrowing", because he knows well it will be used by others when these things outlives him, and hes ok with it. (He also believes that a tool that still serves its functions has no reason to go unused)
Bobby is a loud and proud jerk, and drifter rattled that concept simply by just being himself, unexpectant on how it would affect bobby. While he had been familiar of death, he never properly grasped the concept of losing someone he truly loved.
And he doesnt know how to deal with it.
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[General fic with undertones of Masadai, very-minutely implied past Minedai. Ryo Aoki, Daigo Dojima]
[POST-YAKUZA 4]
Daigo always knew running the Tojo Clan would never be easy, it's why he made every attempt to dodge such a responsibility. With the latest disaster only now starting to fade from Kamurocho's memory, the inadequacy he felt only exemplified: he should have never been given this position. For years, the men he was supposed to look after had discouraged his election, dubbing him too immature and naive to run the Clan. It was hard to find anyone to understand him- it was hard to find any breath of fresh air in such a suffocating ocean of discord, leaving him to wonder if there was any point to continuing down this path.
Though, once he realized the buoy of his woes took the form of his troublesome ex, perhaps he would have preferred to just drown in the murky water. Instead, he was left with the unfortunate reality that Ryo Aoki had a remarkable way with words and making him feel understood. He would struggle to remember it was never a good thing when Aoki was playing nice...
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Curious question, Tobio/Astro looks not that much like Tenma besides eye color and hair color (in most adaptations Tobio has black hair), think Tobio is supposed to resemble his mother more?
Probably! Im not that well versed in other iterations but 03 Tobio could definitely take after Hoshie more.
I have my own little au ive been working on and for me i kinda split it down the middle.
for Hoshie:
(its not shown lol) but Tobio has light brown hair, green eyes, and freckles from her! (ig her smile too haha)
Tenma:
when his hair gets longer it starts to look like Tenmas, ik Hoshie also has a bit of a nose but he would have grown into a Tenma nose if he had gotten a chance. Also, even at his young age, he picked up on alot of Tenmas mannerisms.
In the end, yeah, definitely taking after Hoshie!
the boys
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I agonized over which to pick because I just want to ask about all your fics in progress!! I narrowed it down to two and that's just going to have to be ok
the world is staged and the script is set (you cannot change the ending)
Jukeboxes and Maple Syrup
its very funny you pick those two because those like. two of the only three on that list that ISNT lord huron related lmao. those are both hatchetfield fics ive started in secret. regardless those are the main ones im working on right now SO
the world is staged and the script is set (you cannot change the ending) is a fic based on the ending of TGWDLM where like. you know how in the credits where Emma starts begging the audience for help? and like. you know how in TTO how the audience is also referred to by Bliklotep's title? soooo the fic is the ending but i throw him in the mix and ramp the already existing horror of "begging for help and being ignored a cheering crowd" by going "realizing said crowd has been treating your suffering and death as a source of amusement right before you die". only fun times in hatchetfield
"She stumbles to the edge of the stage. The stitches in her leg have come undone and there’s blood seeping through the bandage. That is real. Emma is real, and she needs to help right now."
Jukeboxes and Maple Syrup is a fic that takes place directly after the end of Yellow Jacket that focuses on Daniel and Sophia like. right after the ending. we dont really see them after the Otho fight and we still have no clue is Sophia is even ALIVE and also i miss them dearly. the fic mostly focuses on Daniel trying not to have a panic attack in Miss Retros because one friend is missing after almost dying and the other is in the hospital after also almost maybe dying and he doesn't really know what to do. Not a whole lot of plot it's mostly him trying to deal with that whole. mess. luckily he's got Miss Holloway and Duke to make things a bit easier (responsible adults? in MY hatchetfield? its honestly only these two but its better than nothing)
"He feels so stupid. Sophia is in the hospital and she might never wake up. Hannah is missing and could be kidnapped or dead or worse. And he’s just sitting here in a cozy diner with pancakes and orange juice, and Hannah’s Jacket but not Hannah and not Sophia."
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