Tumgik
#also stop getting my hopes up
poorly-drawn-mdzs · 19 days
Text
Tumblr media
Daughter of delta Yu, show them that you're no fool!
[First] Prev <–-> Next
596 notes · View notes
aroaceleovaldez · 6 months
Text
Nico and Percy's dynamic through the series is eternally funny to me, because it's just. like.
Percy's having a constant mental struggle between his fatal flaw of loyalty with a promise he made to Bianca to protect Nico, versus his Big 3 kid desire to maim other Big 3 kids / Poseidon descendant urge to totally maim Nico specifically. He hates Nico so so much. He thinks Nico's annoying and weird at best, and creepy/sketchy when he's older. The only positive thoughts Percy has towards Nico are "He's Bianca's brother and Bianca was my friend and I owe her/He's Hazel's brother and Hazel is my friend and would kill me if I was mean to him," "He's a powerful asset and useful ally (if questionable)," and "He's kinda pathetic and I feel maybe a little bad about it." Percy has multiple occasions throughout the series where he strongly considers - and on one occasionally actually goes through with - throttling Nico.
Meanwhile, Nico is following around Percy like a lost puppy. He explicitly can never bring himself to even dislike anything about Percy no matter how hard he tries. He has a whole bit in BoO where he's mentally going "UGH he's so stupid BUT IT'S ENDEARING HOW DARE HE." He's totally smitten. He's making deals with his dad for Percy. He's making convoluted plans to help Percy stand a chance against Kronos. During the entirety of BoTL it's like he's playing tsundere - "I'm helping NOT PERCY SPECIFICALLY with this quest! Me helping Percy would be SILLY because I DEFINITELY HATE HIM." Then he proceeds to show up to Percy's birthday party to basically ask him on a weird date and spend the entire next book scrambling around trying to help him or protect him or impress him. And Percy could not give less of a shit.
Just. That dynamic is so funny to me. Percy is the founder of the Nico Protection Club in that he's the one they're all protecting Nico from and meanwhile Nico is throwing himself at Percy to the point where the literal god of gay love calls him out on it.
#pjo#percy jackson#nico di angelo#Percy shows up at CJ and squints at Nico like ''hm. why do i feel like i hate you? like i just wanna punch you in the face?''#and Nico just immediately goes ''huh no idea anyways i have to go-'' and jumps into Tartarus#but not before he gives Hazel essentially a detailed explanation of ''this is Percy i cant say much but please dont let him die <3''#and Nico's whole Tartarus trip was basically a whole ''im doing this so no one else has to''#only for Percy and Annabeth to fall in like one book later and Nico proceeds to spend the next book internally screaming about it#and then Cupid calls him out on it and the next book#Nico's just like ''at this point im hoping i keel over within the next week just so i can force this dumb crush to chill the fuck out''#Nico staring pointedly at Will: ''For my own sake i need to form another crush RIGHT NOW so i can finally get over Percy.''#''this has been so bad for my health''#Nico's crush on Percy is just too funny to me. horrible pick my guy. terrible job. love that for you. he could not be less interested.#Percy LITERALLY TRIES TO KILL NICO and ditch him in the underworld and Nico is somehow STILL like ''but i love him''#Percy basically chokes him. beats up his dad. tells him ''go get smited by your dad for me.'' and ditches him.#and Nico's opinions/crush on him DO NOT CHANGE#though also Nico's reaction to Percy beating up his dad + skeletons is SO funny. his jaw is on the floor. he's flustered about it.#he just witnessed Percy be incredibly hot and proceeded to go ''yea i'll do anything for this man. collect reinforcements of 3 gods? sure''#nico you absolute DISASTER with HORRIBLE TASTE. you can do better. raise your standards.#which tbh is funnier when you factor in sun and the star. Nico just wont stop crushing on guys who dislike him and everything he stands for
945 notes · View notes
buwheal · 21 days
Note
...Unfortunately, no. I don't doubt that you hear something, but we can't hear anything on our end. What does it sound like?
Tumblr media
(If you’re going to help out, it’d great to also add something to distract him :-) )
157 notes · View notes
viperwhispered · 1 month
Text
Rest
Guess what? I've got more Jamil x reader for y'all. You can also find this on ao3. No warnings, just 866 words of kinda fluffy(?) caretaking stuff with gender-neutral reader.
At this point, you know Jamil’s schedule almost as well as he does. So, when you have the chance, you head to Scarabia’s kitchen, hoping to spend some time with Jamil while he and the other students prepare dinner. 
However, when you enter, it takes you but a moment to notice Jamil’s uncharacteristic fumbling and the tired look in his eyes. The way Jamil’s chopping the vegetables has you worried about him cutting himself with that knife he’s usually so adept with, and it seems it’s only force of habit that’s keeping him on track.
You frown, and when your eyes meet Jamil’s, you can already see him put his guard up.
So he knows what state he is in, huh? And still, here he is.
It seems Jamil is reading your thoughts, all of him telling you drop it before any words are even said.
At least he still lets you lean in and give a quick kiss to his cheek in greeting.
“Hello love. Do you still have a lot on your agenda for today?” you ask, keeping your tone low for at least some semblance of privacy in the busy kitchen.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” is the response you get.
Of course.
It takes a little more pestering before Jamil actually answers your question. Your lips purse. That list is far too long to your liking.
You take a moment to think, juggling your own plans and to-do list against the urgency of the things Jamil mentioned.
“Will Kalim be eating from that?” you ask, pointing at the food Jamil is preparing.
“Yes.”
“Alright, I won’t be touching that one, then. I’ve gotta do a few things but I’ll be back when you’re done here.”
“Don’t,” Jamil says with a glare, clearly aware of what you’re thinking.
Yet even his disapproving look doesn’t have the usual weight behind it.
“Yes. I will,” you say firmly, even as your heart curls inwards with another bout of concern.
Really, when did he get so tired?
And how did you not notice it earlier?
You leave the kitchen before Jamil can protest further, hurrying through the dorm corridors to find Kalim.
Soon you have an enthusiastic – and concerned – supporter for your plans. You have Kalim point out a few reliable Scarabia students to help with a few of the most urgent matters Jamil mentioned – cleaning up the common areas, delivering some paperwork to Crowley, preparing some dorm-wide notices – while you see to Kalim getting his school supplies in order for the following day. You even recruit a couple of third years to help Kalim with his homework.
You’ll see to the rest tomorrow – after all, you do also have a boyfriend to look after.
Your conversation over dinner can hardly be called anything else than an argument – despite Kalim’s best attempts at acting as a moderating force between you two. It is very tempting to ask Kalim to tell Jamil to take the rest of the day off – it’s not like Jamil would be willing to openly disobey a direct order. Still, you really don’t need to remind Jamil of his position on top of everything else that you’re already doing more or less against his wishes.
Eventually, however, Jamil’s had a square meal, the most urgent things on his to-do list are being taken care of, and you’ve managed to drag him to his bed.
“I really wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard,” you murmur, your arms wrapped tightly around Jamil. You’re telling yourself you really do just want to cuddle, to offer some respite to Jamil. Still, there might also be a part of you worried that if you were to let go, he’d just jump up and get back to working himself to the bone.
Yet, for all his protestations, just the fact that you’ve gotten Jamil to lay down with you speaks volumes of his current exhaustion.
“I can’t just leave my duties, albi. You know this.”
“Making yourself too indispensable, is what you’re doing,” you protest.
Oh, you know it’s not so simple. Not with his background, not with all the expectations and assumptions.
But sometimes you really wish it would be.
Jamil merely scoffs in response to your words.
Still, it is undeniable that he is slowly beginning to relax in your arms, slowly bringing his head closer to yours. His eyes are starting to flutter, too.
“I will still need to help Kalim with his homework, at the very least.”
You wonder who he is trying to convince more, you or himself.
“Amin and Khalil are helping him. They’re basically top of their classes, aren’t they? I’m sure they’ve got it.”
Still, Jamil frowns.
You sigh. He really is not letting go, is he?
“Do you want me to go supervise?” you ask.
And leave you, unsaid yet hanging there right after your words.
“Don’t,” Jamil eventually says, the word barely more than a breath.
It seems he has accepted his fate.
You softly caress Jamil’s hair, listening to his softening breathing.
And when you wake up, wholly unaware of having been lulled to sleep in the first place, it’s to the lightest of touches from Jamil’s fingers.
Tagging @diodellet @twstgo @crystallizsch @jamilvapologist @jamilsimpno69 as per request If you'd like to be tagged for any future works, let me know!
146 notes · View notes
nemurian · 11 months
Text
Tumblr media
@bigboobyhalo Your sacrifices have been accepted by the great Dapper. I'm so sorry but I don't think you'll be getting them back anytime soon. Or ever.
428 notes · View notes
hailsatanacab · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
@the-ghost-trader - ooooh, i love this! it has the potential to be so incredibly sad, too, like poor Damian just trying to carve out something normal for himself only for it blow up in his face
BUT, shockingly, i'm not about the angst today! not yet anyway 😇
---
“So, how was your day?”
Despite his answering groan, Damian likes this. This. This whole… thing he has with Danielle. With Ellie. 
And, yeah, he’s not exactly told any of the others yet, but can you blame him? For wanting to keep something, anything, to himself. Wanting to keep this small little slice of goodness he’s managed to carve out, untouched and unmarred by his family, by their other lives, by the rogues, the vigilantes, the assassins, everyone.
“That bad, huh?”
Being with Ellie is freeing. That’s the best way to describe it.
She knows. Damian surprised even himself when he told her—not about the others, mind, but he supposes it’s not hard to put two and two together and Dani has always been smarter than most—but it’s the best decision he’s ever made, and no matter what the niggling little voice in the back of his head says (the one that sounds suspiciously like Father), he can’t bring himself to regret it.
He won’t. Because having Ellie know gives him freedom.
She’s a safe place, a hand to hold, a warm, welcoming presence when things inevitably turn ugly. It’s the freedom to just be normal when everything else in his life spirals into stranger and more stressful missions.
“Richard is being insufferable again. I do not understand his incessant need to know everything about my life.”
“Oh? What’s he done now?” 
“I was subjected to an hour long interrogation about my love life, like it’s any of his business. It’s infuriating!”
“Ugh, tell me about it. I get the same thing from Jazz, constantly. It can be suffocating.” Ellie says as she curls herself tighter into his side. “But it’s just how they show they care.”
“Yes, well, sometimes I wish he wouldn’t—”
“Hey!” Ellie pushes herself up to glare at him, punctuating her shout with a soft whack to his arm for good measure. “What have I said about using that word?”
“Yes, yes,” he placates with a roll of his eyes, “‘Be careful what you wish for.’ I apologise, it won't happen again.”
“Damn straight it won't.”
She maintains eye contact with him for a second longer before tucking herself back into his side, squirming around with a long, contented hum that Damian can feel rumble through him. He smiles and doesn’t complain even when he has to shift to give her more room after a particularly strong elbow jabs him in the ribs. It means leaving the warm patch on the couch, but he’s rewarded with another long, happy moan as she settles and Damian can’t bring himself to mind.
Ellie constantly makes noises. Little mews and hums and laughs and songs known only to her. It reminds him of a cat, sometimes. He likes it. It calms him down; it means she’s happy, so he's happy.
They settle back into the cushions and Damian lets the subject drop, not wanting to spoil the moment. Outside, the wind changes direction and from where he’s laying he can watch as the snow starts to come down thick and heavy. Hopefully it’ll mean a quiet night's patrol.
“Is that why you haven’t introduced me yet?”
“What?” He can't help it, he stiffens at the thought of losing his secret, of the scrutiny he'll be inviting if he lets anyone know.
“Are you worried I’ll embarrass you?”
Damian’s eyes snap down quick to reassure her, only to see her light, teasing grin. He lets out a breath of relief. It figures she wouldn't worry about that.
“Of course not, don’t be absurd. You could never embarrass me.”
“I don’t know,” she muses, her voice taking on a dangerous lilt, “that sounds like a challenge.”
“Believe me, having been subjected to Father’s Brucie persona at every gala I’ve been to, it would take a lot to embarrass me.”
“Alright, bet. I’ll get you, just you wait.”
“You’ve already got me.”
She flicks him on the nose. “You’re such a sap.”
He hums his agreement, enjoying the tinkling sound of her laughter. And then, before he can think otherwise, he asks, “Is that why you haven’t introduced me?”
“That’s different,” she scowls. “You know how hard it is to get there, there’s no signal, and Danny only gets a break like—oh, Ancients!”
Damian gets another elbow to the ribs as she bolts upright, a manic grin on her face that has him laughing.
“What is it?”
“It’s the holidays! It’s nearly Truce Day! You know I said I had a family thing around Christmas?”
“Yes?” 
“Well, do you want to come to it? I can introduce you then! I mean, it’s going to be a bit formal and you’ll have to meet everyone, not just family. There’s going to be some banquets, you’ll have to sit through some long speeches and you have to be on your best behaviour at all times, okay? Absolutely no fighting, it’s called Truce Day for a reason!”
“What?”
“Yeah, it’ll be perfect! I think Jazz is going in a couple days earlier to help with the preparations, so I’ll get her to let Danny know—and fair warning, he will try to give you the shovel talk, but this is great! It’s Truce Day, so he can’t actually do anything about it!”
“I’m sorry, but you're going to have to explain a bit.”
“Yeah, I know, it’s a bit much—but that’s family, right? Danny can get pretty protective over me, which is why going on Truce Day is the best time to do it! He can’t even command the Fright Knight to stab you! It’s genius!”
“Ellie, what?”
“Like, yeah, sure, he’s the king, but even he has to obey the rules of Truce Day—and then once you’ve spent all day with him, he’ll see that you’re a fantastic, wonderful, kind, brilliant, smart, strong, capable person and he’ll get over himself and everything will be good!"
Damian collapses down onto the couch, the wind knocked out of him. This is… He had not expected anything like this at all. For all that Ellie talked about her family, she had never mentioned this.
“Did you… did you say your brother is a king?”
“Yeah! High King Phantom, have I…” The manic grin slips off her face as she turns round and notices Damian. “Have I not mentioned that before?”
“No. No, you have not.”
“Ah. Sorry. Probably should clarify that I’m also a princess.”
“Right. Yes, that follows.”
“And I’m not really his sister, I’m his clone.”
“What?”
Damian blinks and tries to say more, but he has no idea what he’s meant to do with… any of this information. 
Normal. He thought she was meant to be his normal. Nothing could have prepared him for this.
Not that it changed anything, of course, of that he was certain. It’s just… a lot to take in. Overwhelming. But it's okay! He takes a deep breath, and another, and a sense of calm washes over him. Ellie makes one of her little hums as she cocks her head to the side to consider him and he can't help but relax at the normalcy of the sound. It'll be okay, he's dealt with stranger and he can deal with this.
“I’ve, uh… I’ve told you that we’re half ghosts, though, right?”
“What?”
482 notes · View notes
shuploc · 6 months
Text
I will be posting a little Astarion piece later today! 🤗
133 notes · View notes
lovesickeros · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media
☆ the dove
{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings violence, blood {☆} word count 0.7k
Her hands are weapons, forged in a tragedy as much as a war of ash and blood that seeps into the earth and rots it from within. To them, however, she is salvation. Her hands are a kindness, not a threat. She sees it in their puffy, red eyes just brimming with tears, their fragile body so delicate and weak is still remains marred by wounds new and old – the gold still stains their skin, even long after it had been washed away.
She has seen it all – and she takes the injured dove beneath her wing with the sickly sweet promise that someday she shall mend its broken wings and teach it to fly again.
And in their stupor, they do not see her clip their wings.
It is for the best.
The wolves still salivate below the nest, waiting for her little dove to fall again – no, she shall not send her little bird to fly when it will just fall into their waiting maws once again.
This..this one is hers, she has decided.
Her little bird who dreams of the sky and the woman who clips their wings..what a tragic pair they must make, she thinks.
Not for her, of course. Yet not to them, either, unaware of the way she grounds them and keeps the key to their cage tightly in her fist.
"Tsaritsa?" The soft, meek lilt of the little bird draws her from her reverie, and she smiles – all teeth and little else, wolfish and predatory.
Yet the bird sees nothing but love in the sharp points of her canines.
As it was meant to be.
"Yes, little bird?"
She coos in honeyed tones, brushing her cold, cold hands against their skin, reveling in the way they shiver and shake beneath the ever present chill in her very bones. They do not fear the claws that ghost across their skin, and the smile they offer that illuminates their eyes like stars only proves her right – she wants to devour them whole. To see the stars in their eyes burn out beneath her teeth, their golden blood burn upon her tongue and down her throat.
"You promised to take me to the gardens today, remember?"
Her pearly, sharpened fangs peer out beneath her lips as she grins wider, unnerving to all but the little bird who sees not the wolf but the wool it wears, her hands finding their place upon their shoulders as she whispers into their ear.
She will guide her little bird where they cannot go, where their clipped wings cannot take them.
She will give them that bittersweet taste of freedom and then watch them try to catch the stars..
Just to drag them back down to earth where they belong.
"Of course, Creator – I am a woman of my word, am I not?"
Such sickly sweet lies come to her with ease – she lies and she lies and they do not see past the woolen cloak of the wolf until its jaw has snapped around its throat and its blood has painted the world a shimmering gold.
She will delight in that, too.
"If I may be so bold, Creator, you have been distant lately..have you grown tired of me already?"
Her words were as sharp as a blade, yet as dull as a rock, as sweet as they were dangerous. Like watching a mouse trap luring in its prey, she would snap it shut as soon as the little bird strayed too close.
"No! No, that's not..you've just been busy lately, I didn't want to intrude."
They remind her so much of a rabbit in those moments, and she so badly wants to know what would happen if she just took a small, insignificant bite..yet she restrains herself with a far too wide smile, her jaw clenched so hard she almost thinks they will hear it creak.
"Intrude? You could ever hardly intrude, Creator – what is mine is yours. Though, perhaps I shall have to lock you in my room to ensure you compensate me for depriving me of your presence."
In just a few short words, she snares the rabbit – her little bird, her Creator. They will see nothing but the sickly sweet lure of her smile, letting out a pretty laugh of their own as they press closer, like a bird wandering into the open maw of the beast lying in wait.
"As long as it has a nice view, I suppose I won't mind."
They jest, but she does not. And oh, how easy it is to ensnare an unsuspecting prey.
"Of course, Creator – just for you."
It won't be long until her little bird returns to its gilded cage, now. Permanently.
It is better that way.
277 notes · View notes
taketwoinink · 1 year
Text
Tips For Living With ADHD
Reminders are your best friend. Get a reminder app. Use it obsessively.
Put things in line of sight. For example, leave your toothbrush out on the counter if you can. See the toothbrush, remember to brush teeth.
Sometimes you will just NOT be able to focus, despite your best efforts. Don't beat yourself up over it
Reminders are your best friend
Get some people who can hold you accountable and bully you into doing things. let them know what you're going to be working on and report back when you've finished
If you need to do something in two hours (or any amount of time), set a timer
Basically you will forget to do anything and everything so the goal is to make it as easy to remember as you can
Sometimes if your brain can't focus, go find something that you can focus on. That can trick it into focus mode. Just make sure to not get too distracted and use up all your brain power particles.
To stay better hydrated, take a water bottle with you everywhere. I mean everywhere. Have it in line of sight at all times so you'll remember it when you need liquid
You might need more stimulation in order to focus. For me, listening to music (especially with lyrics) really helps. That might not work for anyone, but if you find something that works for you, use it. Use it all the time.
Have a body double. Get someone to sit with you with you work. You don't need to talk or interact, just have them there. They can be doing whatever they want. It really works.
You're going to forget if you took your medication or not. Have a paper or something that you can mark off on immediately after you take it. Leave your medication somewhere where you can see it so you won't forget it exists.
Reward yourself when you meet your goals! Celebrate little victories! Make working as fun for yourself as you can
You got this!
764 notes · View notes
lady-merian · 3 months
Text
While I remain a staunch cold weather defender, can’t we all get along and recognize that different bodies react differently to the opposite ends of the spectrum?
72 notes · View notes
imminent-danger-came · 11 months
Note
SWK being so flawed is like one of LMK's strongest bits. I feel like a different show would just have him be infallible or have him be like a twist villain or irredeemable or something. But he's neither of those, he's just incredibly flawed. It's also interesting that even though Mei and Pigsy are critical of him, they're still shown to care about him.
All in all, hes a more complicated character than people give him credit for :/
I 100% agree!
Honestly, if Sun Wukong wasn't flawed I'd find him a bit boring. You remove his flaws and you remove the meat of his character. Even all the way back in season 1 you get the feeling he's withholding information and concealing his past ("Show me the real Sun Wukong! The old you would have leveled this whole mountain range to stop me!"), and that only becomes more and more prevalent as the show goes on.
Wukong is first introduced as a hero, as the King who defended the world from DBK. Next he's introduced as a mentor, planning to make MK his successor (which I think is pretty debatable at this point, as I've said I personally think he just needed an excuse to train MK).
Slowly we learn SWK is pretty terrible at both of those things. He's not the hero or mentor anyone thought he would be—he's not even the mentor he thought he would be:
Macaque: “Haha, you saw a story about a hero who got handed everything, who didn’t have to work for anything, and you thought you were the other guy? The second the hero got real power, he couldn’t care less about his friends.” [ - ] "You know, I meant what I said—you really are a good kid. A good kid, with a really terrible teacher." (2x07 Shadow Play)
-
Pigsy: "Back from what? Your vacation? No- what could have been SO important you'd leave MK alone to face that- that thing! You're supposed to be his mentor!" (2x10 This is the End!)
-
Tumblr media
Sun Wukong: "I know I can never make it up to you. Honestly I- I never thought I'd live as long as I have let alone be someone's mentor—turns out I'm not very good at it. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry MK, for all of it." (3x14 Destiny Fulfilled)
-
(he's staring sadly at a bowl of soup, never a good sign.)
s1 of Monkie Kid, as well as the Revenge of the Spider Queen special, establish a baseline. We meet Wukong as we're meant to know him—the legendary yet cheeky hero. Now that he's retired, Monkey King is training the next generation to protect the world and be the heroes in his place.
Right?
Well, just like our perception of Wukong, our perception of the role of the hero slowly degrades as well:
Lady Bone Demon: “Heroes? Please, you’re mere agents of chaos, the very thing I aspire to eradicate in this new world. No more destruction, no more disorder, I WILL HAVE PERFECTION.” (3x12 The Corrupted King)
-
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Curse MK: "We’re just like Wukong. A fraud! A trickster! Destructive! Why would our legacy be any different? Actually, no no- the chaos and destruction we’ll bring upon the world will make Wukong’s past look like nothing." (4x07 Pitiful Creatures)
-
Tumblr media
MK: "That can't be true! Monkey King's a hero he wouldn't just—" Azure Lion: "You saw it with your own eyes! His betrayal, his brutality—he took the only friends I had from me." (4x08 The Brotherhood)
-
Heroes aren't people fighting for the side of good, or even for what they think is right—they're agents of chaos. Destructive. "All doomed to play a role in tearing this world apart." Heroes are introduced as one thing, and then slowly revealed to be another.
Heroes, just like Wukong and anyone else, are flawed. They still make wrong choices. They still hurt people. Of course Wukong isn't a twist villain or irredeemable, because ultimately he IS a hero with plenty of the positive traits that come with that. But heroes are also flawed, and this is something I think is at the core of Lego Monkie Kid.
You can love someone, and that someone can do plenty of good, but that doesn't mean they're not broken, or that they aren't capable of causing suffering. This isn't something that only applies to Wukong either—pick any character and I'm sure you could apply this to them.
Now, all this to say that Wukong's two fatal flaws are his lack of communication and his self-sacrificial tendencies. Like Azure Lion says—he has a habit of keeping people at arms length, and more often than not doing that to protect them. These tendencies lead to his downfall.
So! Let's make some lists of where we see these flaws in the show.
Wukong's lack of Communication:
"Look, I'm going to come clean—um, I've been kind of watching you."
Leaving MK and lying to him during s2 (this includes lying about both going on vacation AND that LBD had returned)
Keeping his plan to stop LBD a secret during s3
"Where I got my staff!" "Got or took, right? You took it?"
Not telling the gang about the 4th ring
Other lies I'm sure have yet to be revealed (such as the truth about MK's origins, if that's the direction the plot's going)
Him and Macaque's past
Wukong's Self-sacrificial tendencies:
Leaving during s2 to find a way to stop LBD on his own
"What!? You're not going I'm going!" "Yeah so, here's the problem, you guys have this thing called mortality, so-"
Gravely injuring himself to get the samadhi fire Map
Blocking the brunt of the samadhi fire to protect MK in 3x10
Originally planning to put the Samadhi Fire in himself
Going off to fight the Lady Bone Demon alone
Protecting MK from the curse in 4x01
(and this post here that travels into theory territory)
Now, most, if not all, of these decisions lead to something bad happening. It's very in line with MK's words in 4x08:
MK: It doesn’t matter if I want to help people or not! Everything I do just- it just makes things worse!”
Wukong, even if he has a very questionable way of going about it, is truly motivated by protecting the people he cares about. However, these choices also hurt those same people. Not to reference samadhi fire Mei another time, but this is EXACTLY what she points out:
Mei: "We trusted you! All of us! How could you lead us into the fight without a real plan? Time and time again I've watched you put MK in danger leaving him to figure out EVERYTHING on his own. Don't you realize you're hurting the people who care about you the most?" (3x10 The Samadhi Fire)
But that's the point, isn't it? Even with all these flaws and after all these mistakes, Wukong still tries (he's very much like Mei in that regard):
Sun Wukong: “Point is, mistakes happen, but so long as you leave the world in better shape than you found it, then it’s all good. Right?” (4x01 Familiar Tales)
-
Tumblr media
Sun Wukong: “We can’t change who we were yesterday or in a past life, or a hundred life times ago! We live with the choices we’ve made, for what matter is the choices we make RIGHT NOW! Only we decide who we are and what we do with the power we have.” (4x07 Pitiful Creatures)
-
This is who Wukong is. He's not a hero or a mentor, but he's someone who cares (and maybe that's what a hero is). That's the tragedy of his character, really. That's the tragedy of both him and MK. They're people doing the best with what they have, but still failing anyways.
"Nice hero speech bud, but I know better—deep in your hearts, you don't believe a word of that."
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
-
But people still love you anyways.
311 notes · View notes
bloodfreak-boyking · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
i think its cute here that dean's trying to convince himself (sam also, but mostly himself) that sam isn't capable of murder and is good and won't turn evil when in approximately nine episodes dean fully covers up a grisly murder that, to his knowledge, sam committed. no hesitation, no thoughts of 'shit sam's evil, gonna have to stop him', nothing. just fully throws away whatever moral line he's trying to set here bc its sam and there is no core belief that surpasses him
66 notes · View notes
skyward-floored · 6 months
Text
Whumptober Day 20: Found family, Blanket
*shuffles feet*
...in my defense, I almost entirely finished this yesterday, I just wasn’t about to go trying to edit and post it at like 11:30 at night (though this note probably would have been a lot more interesting if I had lol).
Anyway. Continuation to day 17! I apologize for the delay and hope the wait was worth it 😓
Day 17
Read on ao3
Warnings: same as day 17, injuries, torture mentions, a short nightmare, just bad times for Twilight
————————————————————
Getting out was a blur.
Link forced himself to stay awake as the leader of the heroes (had he even said his name? ...If he had he couldn’t remember) carried him, but focusing on much of anything was difficult. The ever-present pain weighed him down like a heavy load, old scars and new injuries adding endless layers of suffering, and even just being carried in someone’s arms was agony.
There was the leftover burn from the magic too— though the chains that had secured him were gone, the manacles were still on his wrists and the collar was still around his neck, and they ached, his whole body still shaking from the ordeal of removing the chains.
It was a struggle not to just pass out.
But the part of him that still screamed not to trust stay on alert be prepared for him to come back was stronger. It had been honed from countless jarring awakenings, pain ripping him back from already restless sleeps, and so he stayed awake, no matter how badly he wanted to rest.
The man holding him shifted his grip as he went up some stairs, and Link felt his breath hitch as some of his injuries were nudged. The man whispered an apology, and gently squeezed one of the few spots of skin that didn’t have an open wound on it.
Link flinched anyway.
The touch immediately retreated, and Link was torn between being relieved and crying at the loss of it.
Part of him still expected them to suddenly turn on him, the kind touches becoming bruising ones, gentle hands turned to claws and knives. But... he also craved it. He desperately wanted somebody to pat him on the shoulder and hug him and run their hand through his hair, but any of the touch he’d received so far had been like torture.
He truly couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt a touch that didn’t involve pain in some way. He could barely stomach it now, no matter how well-meaning, and he hated it.
Was there anything left the Shadow hadn’t taken from him?
Voices suddenly rang down the hall, and Link stiffened, straining his ears to try and figure out who— or what they were.
One of the other heroes who’d gotten him out (the one with the Master Sword, he thought. He really needed names) called out, and soon there were unfamiliar faces and words being exchanged and questions directed at him and all he could do was close his eyes, overwhelmed by the sudden amount of people surrounding him.
How many were there?
“... got Legend pretty bad, but we beat him off and he disappeared,” a polished voice spoke, and Link twitched an ear his direction. What was he talking about? A legend?
“I’m fine,” a sharper voice cut in, and Link thought it seemed younger then the other one. “You didn’t need to use that fairy, that was our last one!”
“Well what was I supposed to do?”
“Save it for the reason we came here in the first place! He’s way more injured than I was!”
“Legend,” a softer voice spoke up, sounding exasperated, “...you were pretty bad. And you know we don’t take chances with injuries caused by the Shadow.”
A sick feeling abruptly surged over Link at the name, along with an intense hatred and fear and horror and too many emotions for his mind to handle at the moment. Link’s breath stuttered against his will, and the man holding him frowned.
“You don’t think the Shadow is still here, do you?” The small hero with the colorful tunic asked, and the voices paused.
“Probably... not,” Link croaked, and they all looked at him.
He swallowed.
“Do you know where he is?” a man in a deep blue scarf asked, and Link exhaled, gathering his strength.
“No,” Link managed to get out, and the voices stayed quiet. “Probably not. But he usually... usually powered ‘self before... fights.”
“...powered himself?” a younger voice asked in an anxious tone, and Link closed his eyes again. Hadn’t they known? Or at least figured it out based on what they’d seen?
All he was was a battery.
“Thank you Link, I’m sorry we brought it up,” the leader apologized, and Link made a noncommittal noise. “We’re almost out, hold on.”
They began moving again, and Link caught several people looking at him, though most of them stopped when they realized he’d noticed. A teenager with a stripe of pink in his hair didn’t though, and Link found himself staring, curious about the look of him. He gave him an awkward little nod, and Link tried to return it, though he wasn’t sure if he succeeded.
They were all so different, were these really heroes like him?
The Shadow had mentioned other heroes once or twice, but Link usually had no clue what he was talking about, or if he did, refused to say anything.
Besides, he was usually too busy screaming to listen anyhow.
Something bright shone out of the corner of his eye, and Link turned to look at it, his heart speeding up at the sight of a large entryway. The group hurriedly went through it, and Link was almost blinded from how bright it was after they walked through.
He blinked furiously, needing to see what was going on, and finally his eyes adjusted and he looked around in shock.
Sunlight.
Faint, barely-there, dim autumn sunlight that struggled to shine through the trees, but the sight of it nearly made Link sob.
He was outside.
He could see sunlight shining through yellow and orange leaves, eventually joined by the sound of birds and other creatures as they went along, air that wasn’t stale rushing past his face and making all his injuries hurt more but he didn’t care a bit.
He was out.
He was crying he realized, and he closed his eyes, overwhelmed by it all.
It wasn’t a trick. He’d never gotten this far the few times he’d been brought out, they were really who they said they were, they must be, and they’d gotten him out of the darkness.
Someone might’ve said something to him, but the overwhelming sensation of being outside had finally pushed Link to his limit, and he gave up on his fight to stay awake.
Darkness swept him away, it’s touch more gentle then he’d felt in a long time.
(...)
The heroes didn’t stop traveling until they were plenty far away from the oppressive ruins where they’d found Link, the trip passing in almost complete silence.
Link had passed out in Time’s arms not long after they’d finally exited, tears on his face, and Time couldn’t help but be somewhat relieved.
Watching Link remain in an almost stubborn state of alertness, ears twitching towards any sound, flinching when Time adjusted him, had been agonizing to watch. His body desperately needed rest, but he’d been stubbornly refusing it until they were out.
He’s certainly one of us, no doubt about that, Time thought with a sigh.
Sky grabbed a bedroll the moment they found a safe place to stop, and Time carefully lowered Link onto it, trying to avoid any injuries. He had several on his back, but they set him down as softly as possible, and Link didn’t wake.
“That’s really him?” Wind asked in a small voice as Warriors moved over to carefully look over all of Link’s injuries, cursing under his breath more than once.
“This is him,” Time replied quietly, trying to clean some of the blood and dirt out of Link’s hair. Now that they were out of the ruins, it was even more obvious how badly Link was in need of being cleaned up and cared for, and Time focused on not being overwhelmed by the task.
What all did he go through in there?
“What happened to him?” Legend said in a voice full of quiet horror, and Wild harshly kicked a rock into a tree.
“What didn’t?” he bit out in a fragile voice, and Sky put a hand on his arm, saying something that Time didn’t catch.
Warriors accidentally brushed a hand against Link’s collarbone then, and his eyes shot open, nearly throwing himself backwards away from the touch.
“Get away!” he snarled, voice hoarse, and Warriors immediately backed up.
“Whoa, easy,” Warriors quickly reassured, putting his hands up. “I’m only checking which of your injuries need to be cleaned so we can give you a potion. We don’t want anything healing inside them.”
Link glared at him in suspicion, but when Time moved into his line of sight, he relaxed a little.
“He’s helping, Link, I promise,” he reassured, and Link slowly relaxed, though he remained awake. Time glanced around at the other heroes as Warriors finished his examination, and saw that most of them were either looking at Link, or pointedly not looking at him as they worked on setting up camp.
It seemed none of them were quite certain how to deal with seeing one of their own in such a state.
Wild came over when he noticed Time watching them all, and he looked at Link, uncertainty on his face.
“Can I help at all?” he asked, voice stronger then it had been, and Time looked over at Warriors.
“These all need to be cleaned, and it’s not going to be easy for him,” the captain reported quietly, looking over his chest. “The faster we can get it done the better.”
“Link, we need to clean you up before we can heal you,” Time said as he knelt at his side, and Link gave him a bleary look. “It won’t be pleasant, but it needs to be done.”
Link breathed out and nodded, looking up at Time with shadows under his eyes.
“Go ahead,” he whispered.
Time gave him a faint smile, and Wild knelt beside him as they got to work.
It took a long time scrubbing all of the dirt out and disinfecting the injuries Link was coated in. They focused on cleaning the actual wounds, but Time knew Link would need the rest of himself cleaned up at some point, dirt and blood and all sorts of grime coated on his skin.
But that can wait.
Link was stiff throughout the entire process, trembling when they got to certain injuries, and trying not to cry out when they used the alcohol Warriors had provided to disinfect. The worst part was his face, which Time carefully washed up, but Link was nearly in tears by the time he finished cleaning the slice that cut right through the dark lines on his forehead.
But they finally finished, and Link sagged, his breathing shaking. Hyrule came forward then, and offered to heal him, and Link gave him a curious look.
“It’s a healing spell, it’ll be more thorough than a potion,” he explained. He faintly lit up his hands to demonstration, but Link immediately recoiled from the light.
“No, no n-no magic!” Link breathed, a flicker of terror in his eyes.
Hyrule immediately backed off, and Link’s cheeks flushed as he calmed down.
“I... I’m sorry, I-I...”
“No, I understand, that’s okay,” Hyrule said kindly, and Link swallowed and looked away, cheeks still red.
“Potions will be enough,” Time said peaceably, and Hyrule took out a few, handing them to Time. Though a fairy or healing spell would be preferable. “Take it slow, Link.”
Sky helped him carefully sit Link up, and Time helped him drink the entire red potion, slowly so as not to overwhelm his stomach. He eagerly sipped at it, and the most intense of his injuries began to knit closed, angry lines and deep gouges, and places that must be barely healed-over stab wounds—
Time exhaled, and lowered Link back to the ground as he finished, anger stirring in his chest.
The Shadow will pay for this.
“Try and get some more rest, Link. You’re safe with us,” Time said gently as he set the bottle aside, and rested a careful hand on Link’s.
He flinched, but after a long moment, slowly gripped it back. His hand shook as Time brushed his thumb over the dirtied triangles on the back, but he didn’t let go, even though Time knew holding on was hard.
You’re safe.
(...)
The next few days trickled by slowly, Link struggling to adjust to life not imprisoned in a hole being used as some sort of dark power source.
His injuries were healing, albeit slowly due to the sheer amount of them, but he was struggling more with the other scars his imprisonment had left him. He still couldn’t handle much touch, or large amounts of food, and he’d rarely sleep for long periods of time, waking up sweating and shaking from memories he hadn’t told the rest of them about yet.
Four made it his personal mission to remove the collar and bands from around his neck and wrists, since all they did was serve as a reminder for all them of the torture he’d endured.
Link wanted them off more than anyone, and he patiently sat through all of Four’s attempts at removal. The smithy finally succeeded with the help of some of Legend’s items and tools, Link nearly crying with relief at them gone, but the pale scars underneath the metal were almost worse.
They couldn’t be removed.
Time tried his best to help Link adjust, but it was hard when he could only give them the bare minimum of what he’d endured, and stubbornly tried to insist he was fine and they didn’t need to fuss over him. Even after he’d wake up gasping from a nightmare, Link would try to muffle his cries in order not to wake anyone, and couldn’t stand even a grounding hand on his shoulder.
It was at times like these Time wished Malon were here. She would know exactly how to comfort the traumatized boy they’d all found themselves with, better than Time ever could.
How do we help him, Malon? he thought one night as he studied Link’s slumbering face. His scars were harder to see in the dark, but Time knew they were there, slashed across his forehead, his chest... and his heart.
How did you ever handle me?
Time didn’t find any one answer, but as time slowly went by, Link did open up, at least a little. As they all explained more about themselves, he was willing to do so a bit too, explaining some of his journey, and telling the dark marks on his forehead actually weren’t a result of his imprisonment, though not exactly explaining what they were from.
His favorite thing to talk about was his home village though, and the longing in his voice was impossible to miss.
Time would have carried him there himself if it had been at all possible, but they were a long ways away from Ordon, and Link could barely walk across the clearing they were camped in without needing a rest. Taking him home would have to wait, as much as Time disliked it.
But in the meantime, the other heroes did their best to help Link as well, Wild figuring out what was easiest for him to eat, Warriors and Hyrule dutifully checking up on his injuries. Wind liked to tell him stories whenever he was struggling not to dwell on memories, sometimes getting Four to tell a few, and Legend even laid out his weapons and offered to let Link borrow one, until they could get him a sword of his own.
Sky often just let him hold the Master Sword, Link’s hands clutching the hilt as he sat in silence.
It seemed to comfort him, often when the rest of them couldn’t, and while Time couldn’t relate, he was glad it helped.
Time could also tell it was killing Sky not to be able to comfort Link with touch, at all, but Link was still working up to anything more then his hand being held. He would just have to do it at his own pace, as hard as it was to watch him struggle.
And things didn’t change in that regard, until all of a sudden they did.
(...)
Link closed his eyes as the tip of a blade pressed against his chin. He wouldn’t panic. This happened almost every day, and he wouldn’t panic. He wouldn’t give the Shadow the satisfaction of it.
“You’re not going to beg today?” he asked almost curiously, and Link licked his lips, tasting blood. “I might even listen, you never know.”
“I’ve never begged,” he said in a cold voice.
He wouldn’t stoop to that level, he’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t. It was one of the few ways he felt like he had a choice in the matter, and he knew it made the Shadow mad when when he remained silent.
He wouldn’t give his captor the satisfaction.
The Shadow leaned in so they were eye-to-eye, and Link stared at the crimson glow of his eyes, trying not to let his breath hitch.
“Well. Let’s see if we can change that, shall we?”
And then the blade flicked down, pain ripping across his chest. At at the same time the metal around his neck lit up like the lava on death mountain, burning into him, searing down the line where the sword had struck, and Link screamed as he felt magic bore into him and sap away every bit of his strength—
He woke up.
Link jerked upright, pain still blinding him, and he might’ve screamed but he wasn’t sure. Darkness was around him, lit only by the Shadow’s glowing eyes and he knew it had all been a dream, he hadn’t been rescued after all and he was never going to get out—
Link breathed heavily, clutching at his neck, certain he could still feel the collar, magic burning into him, feel his strength ripped away as injuries were torn into his chest—
“Link,” a soft voice said, and he heaved in another breath, hands still pressed to his neck. “Link, you’re out, you’re safe.”
He managed to raise his head, and saw Time kneeling carefully beside him, a hand outstretched in a calming gesture.
He swallowed, breathing in another shaky breath, and looked around, slowly recognizing the campsite they’d been at for the past several days. The light he’d seen was the campfire, not the Shadow’s eyes, and he felt relief start to soak through the terror.
He wasn’t there. He wasn’t back.
His breath hitched, and Time moved closer to him, offering him a hand to take if he wanted it.
Link stared at it, then began to shake, feeling suddenly overwhelmed at everything again.
He was out. He wasn’t a prisoner. He was out and safe and he’d been there for so long but he was out but he wasn’t home but he was home, brothers he never knew he had saving him and their kindness made his chest ache because he’d done nothing to deserve it and despite waking them up and slowing them down and pushing away their help they kept coming back and he’d done nothing—
A sob broke out of him as the sheer scale of everything suddenly crashed down onto him, and Time’s eye widened.
Then he leaned forward, and slowly, carefully, put an arm around him.
Link’s breath hitched with another sob, stiffening as the touch settled across his back, but as Time tried to move, he clutched at his arm, silently begging him not to let go. The touch was like fire on his back, but it soothed a part of him that he hadn’t even realized had been hurting so much.
Time hesitated as Link shuddered, then he lifted his other arm, pulling him into an actual hug, tight and warm.
That destroyed any composure Link had left, and he buried his face in Time’s shoulder, crying harder than he had in a long time. The touch all around him was awful and wonderful and agonizing and pure relief, and the sensation made him shake with how overwhelming it was.
“You’re okay,” Time whispered as Link fell to pieces in his arms. He ran a hand through his hair, and Link’s breath hitched on another sob. “You’re okay. I’ve got you, Link.”
Link had no clue as to the last time he’d received a hug, but this one, as messy and awful and painful as it was, was probably the best.
(...)
After that night, Link often found himself in a pile of heroes whenever he went to bed.
Wild would curl up at his side, Sky would end up with an arm flung out on top of him, Wind and Four by his head. Sometimes all of them would end up around him, and Link would nearly cry if he woke up and realized, falling back asleep more deeply then he had in months.
It was wonderful.
He was still struggling to get back on his own two feet, building his strength, still dealing with the fact that he’d always have the scars from his imprisonment, that he still sometimes woke up screaming in the middle of the night.
But he knew he’d have the others to support him, as hard as it was to let them. He still had moments where he’d push them away, when touch hurt instead of helped, when the thought of giving up crossed his mind, and didn’t seem like too bad of an option.
But he wouldn’t give up. Dark Link may have crushed him, but he wouldn’t be kept down, even though at times it seemed nearly impossible.
He would keep going.
And as Link leaned against Sky’s shoulder one night, Time’s arm over his shoulders, Wild and Four sitting leaned up against his feet while the others sat close by, it wasn’t nearly as hard to believe that he might be... okay.
Ordon would have to wait a bit longer, until he’d regained his strength, and could properly swing a sword, but until then...
A hand ran through his hair, and Link exhaled, the feeling of safety like a warm blanket around his shoulders.
...Link could wait.
121 notes · View notes
spaceratprodigy · 22 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
💋 Cybill and Iris 💋
@grimreapersbutt — it is mandatory Looking At Them hours btw
Commission Info | Ko-Fi | My Links
50 notes · View notes
puraiuddo · 4 days
Text
Tumblr media
personally i'm excited for tf:one, but strange old mechs lying in caves distributing t-cogs is no basis for a system of government (or a reasonable explanation for why the race of transformers is able to fucking transform).
listen the movie's not out yet and i'm sure the issue's more complex than that, but all the same i'm going to make fun of that particular artistic decision.
52 notes · View notes
valeriianz · 1 year
Note
hdjfjdhfs i love your first prompt! here’s another one if you’re up for it: ❝  you’ve got me in the palm of your hands.  you could crush me and i would still thank you for touching me at all.  ❞
hope you get well soon!!
“You’ve grown old, Hob Gadling.” 
Hob tensed at the all too familiar voice. A voice he’d never forget, despite the years that had passed since he’d last heard it. The melodic, rich voice that transfixed many, Hob being no exception. He swallowed as he turned, knowing the voice could hear it, could hear his heartbeat suddenly in his ears.
“Tends to happen to mortals, you know?” Hob regarded him in the darkness. He was a shadow on the wall, peeling away and floating towards him now.
Morpheus glides until he meets Hob at the window he’s stationed at. The night is cold and bitter, snow has begun to gently fall, like ash after a bonfire. After a public execution.
“Have you come back to me, my one?” 
Hob’s breath hitches as Morpheus slips into his space, a cold hand, pale as death, presses against his chest, long fingers clawing up and around his throat. Hob swallows again, feeling his Adam’s apple bob along Morpheus’ feather soft grip. His blood races in both fear and excitement. Hob sees the way Morpheus’ eyes darken, his brows narrow, enticed.
“Your blood still behaves for me.” Morpheus leans forward and Hob forces his eyes to remain open, his body going still. “I wonder if your body would, as well.”
His voice soothes like balm on a burn, cool and soft and healing. But they’ve played this game many times, and Hob knows not to give in so easily, even if his very skin screams at him to resign himself. To crumple under Morpheus’ intense stare. To bare his neck.
“I’m here on a job, Morpheus.”
Morpheus’ head tilts curiously, like a cat. His hand remains at the base of Hob’s throat, his fingernails lightly scratching the hairs at the back, sending gooseflesh dancing up Hob’s arms.
“Oh?” A ghost of a smirk pulls his lips up. “Come to finally kill me, then?” 
“Not you.” Hob answers too quickly. Never you. Even if the gods demanded it of Hob, even if it meant his own demise, he’d never allow harm to come to this ancient, gorgeous, dangerous creature before him.
“I’ve been called to abet,” Hob presses on, finally coming back into his own skin and stepping away from his old friend. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the murders.”
Morpheus lets him turn, but his hand remains on his coat, falling onto his shoulder. Hob faces the open window once more, observing the night, watching for activity. He has weapons hidden on his person, a pocket pistol loaded with silver bullets, wooden stakes and a plowshare, holy water given to him by a priest just this morning, and a long necklace tucked under his shirt ornate with a heavy cross.
“Mm,” Morpheus hums, his fingers lightly trace down Hob’s back, he can somehow feel his touch even through the layers of fabric. “Yes. I am privy to them.”
Cold panic seizes Hob. His head swings around to meet Morpheus’ black eyes. “You’re not–”
“It’s not me, Hob.” Morpheus says, almost offended, and leans forward again, his lips at Hob’s ear. “But I know who.”
“Tell me.” Hob’s eyes study Morpheus, taking in his wild hair and sharp features. Somehow, Morpheus is even more handsome than the last time they met. Vampires never age, of course, they are no longer among the mortal realm. And their beauty is effervescent, ethereal, intoxicating. Hob had fallen for that heady tonic more than a decade ago, when he was still young and honing his craft.
Morpheus was cunning and persuasive, almost divine with it. Refusing him felt like a sin and Hob knew it wasn’t with pretty words or a hypnotizing voice that lured him that first time, or the second, or the countless, countless others he’d freely given his body to him. Morpheus was a rare breed. Dangerous and devious of course, but also distinguished and demure. Hob was smitten from their first meeting, before he knew of his true nature. 
He’d never taken Hob’s blood. Morpheus had gotten close, so close that he would shake with it, writhe and growl, testing the waters with fangs against Hob’s pulse points. On his wrist, his thighs, his throat. Hob would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the thrill of it, the danger. 
“You’ve got me in the palm of your hands,” Hob had said once. “You could crush me and I would still thank you for touching me at all.”
Hob had been a fool, of course, lying with a vampire. The consequences of which were innumerable, forcing him to flee. Run away from his mistakes, his heart, screaming and clawing in its retreat.
“No.” Morpheus spoke, flat and final. “He is dangerous. We are handling it ourselves.”
Hob blew a long, harsh breath through his nose, glaring at his friend before finally brushing his hand off him. 
“If you won’t help me then I suggest you leave.”
Morpheus’ hands are back on Hob before he can blink, forcefully turning and shoving him against the dusty windowsill. 
“I will not have you hunt him, do you understand?” He hissed, fangs long and glinting in the moonlight.
Hob’s eyes blew wide. All his years of training, of killing, never prepared him for this. Facing his own conflictions. Seeing Morpheus again brought out old, buried feelings of want and lust that Hob had tried so hard to bury, to destroy. Putting a distance between them hadn’t helped at all. If anything, with the vampire standing before him now, his hands finally, finally, back on Hob, where they belonged, he realized the separation had only stoked the flame. Made Hob want more.
“You must stay hidden, safe.” Morpheus’ grip turned painful, deathly serious. “Until I rip his throat out myself.”
Hob took a shuddering breath. The cold breeze at his back was biting, but not so much as Morpheus’ breath on his face, his body so close to his own. Tantalizing, teasing him. Everything inside Hob screamed to close the distance between them, to reacquaint their bodies, to touch and mark and bruise.
“Morpheus…” Hob spoke his name slowly, an omen to himself. “Who is he?”
Morpheus doesn’t speak for a while, the silence is thick, punctuated only by Hob’s labored breathing and certainly his heartbeat, which he’s sure Morpheus can hear.
“He was one of ours…” Morpheus starts, hesitating on every word. “A young rogue we couldn’t keep under control.”
Hob remains silent as he listens, watching Morpheus’ expressions for a hint of change, of deceit. 
“His name is Corinthian.”
“Corinthian,” Hob repeats, shelving that information away.
Morpheus’ glowers at him. He can read Hob all too well. It’s Hob’s biggest weakness, opening himself up to Morpheus, bending to his whims and desires. Or it had been… though Hob wondered what the point in leaving was, if he knew Morpheus could find him anywhere. Could sense him even in the daylight, as soon as he’d stepped off the train and walked among his territory once more.
Morpheus presses his body flush against Hob’s and Hob nearly comes undone, biting back the pleasure, the sheer ecstasy that radiates off Morpheus, threatening to penetrate him. His lips part without his command, his blood hot and running south. Morpheus dips his head, his breath hitting Hob’s lips, sinister and inviting.
“Do not. Find him.”
“Will you stop me, Morpheus?” Hob taunts, cocking an eyebrow. His breath has gone ragged, almost desperate. He tilts his chin in defiance. “I could put you away once and for all.”
Morpheus grins, deadly. He nudges his nose along Hob’s cheek, making him gasp and then groan, unbidden, as ice cold lips caress up his jaw and down his neck, settling at his jugular and biting gently. So gentle, a promise, a devotion.
“I would love to see you try.”
from this prompt list
444 notes · View notes