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inkskinned · 3 months

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you have to go to work so you can pay for your doctor, who is not taking your insurance right now, and if you say i can't afford the doctor's you are told - get a better job. it is very sad that you are unwell, yes, but maybe you should have thought about that before not having a better job.

(where is the better job? who is giving out these better jobs? you are sick, you are hurting - how the hell are you supposed to be well enough for this better job?)

but you go to the doctor because you had the nerve to be hurt or sick or whatever else. and they tell you that it is because you have anxiety. you try your best. you are a self-advocate. you've done the reading (which sometimes pisses them off worse, honestly). you say it is actually adding to my anxiety, it is effecting my quality of life. so they say that you are fat. they say that all young people have this happen to them, isn't it a medical marvel! they say that you should eat more vegetables. they say that you probably just need to lose a little more weight, and that you are faking it for attention.

(what attention could this doctor possibly give? what validation? that's their fucking job, isn't it?)

there is always a hypochondriac, right. someone always tells you about a hypochondriac. or someone who is unnecessarily aggressive during the worst days of their life. or someone looking "for a quick fix". or some idiot who wasn't educated about how to properly care for themselves who just abandons their treatment. and again, the hypochondriac, the overly-cautious hysteric. these people don't deserve to be treated like humans (right), and since you might be one of these people, you also don't get treated like a human. because those people can really fuck with the system, you now have to pay for it. and besides. you're actually probably faking it.

(more often than not, you find a 2:1 ratio of these stories. for every "hypochondriac", there are 2 people who knew something was wrong, and yet nobody could fucking find it. the story often ends with pointless suffering. the story often ends with and now it's too late, and it's going to kill me.)

you are actually just making excuses. someone else got that procedure or that diagnosis and he's fine, you should be fine too. someone else said they watched a documentary about other inspirational people with your exact same condition, maybe you should be inspirational, too. you're just too morbid. your pain and your experience is probably just not statistically concerning. it is all self-reported anyway, and you're just being a baby.

(once, while sitting down in the middle of making coffee, you had the sudden, horrible thought - i could kill myself to make the pain stop. you had to call your best friend after that. had to pet your dog. had to cry about it in the shower. you won't, but that moment - god, fuck. the pain just goes on and on.)

you know someone who went in for routine surgery and said i still feel everything. they told her to just relax. it took her kicking and screaming before they figured out she wasn't lying - the anesthetic drip hadn't been working. you know someone who went in for severe migraines who was told drink water and lose weight. you know someone who was actively bleeding out and throwing up in the ER and was told you're just having a bad period.

in the ER there are always these little posters saying things like "don't wait! get checked today!" and you think about how often you do wait. how often the days spool out. you once waited a full week before seeing the doctor for what you thought was a sprained wrist. it had actually been broken - they had to rebreak it to set it.

but you go into the doctor. the problem you're having is immediate. the person behind the counter frowns and says we're not taking your insurance. you will be paying for this out-of-pocket.

they send you home with tylenol and a little health packet about weight loss or anxiety or attention deficit. on the front it has your birthday and diagnosis. you think about crying, and the words swim. it might as well say go fuck yourself. it might as well say you're a fucking idiot. it might as well say light your money on fire and lie down in it. and the entire fucking time - the problem persists.

it's okay. it's okay, it's just another thing, you think. it's just another thing i have to learn to live with.

#spilled ink #warm up #can you tell what i'm mad about today specifically #i will say that there are a LOT of things that go into this. like a lot. this is ungendered and unspecific for a reason #it isn't just sexism. it's also racism. and ableism. and honestly classism.#and before a healthcare professional reads this as a personal attack: i understand ur burnt out #we are ALSO burnt out. your situation is also dire. this is not an attack on you.#this is a commentary on the incredible amounts of bigotry that lie at the heart of capitalism #where people have to pay money out of pocket to be told to fuck off.#your job is important. so is our humanity. and if you cannot accept that people are fucking mad as hell #at the industry - you are probably not listening .#anyway at some point im gonna write a piece about sexism specifically in medical shit #but i don't want terfs clowning in it bc they can't understand nuance #> it is true that ppl w/a uterus are more likely to experience medical malpractice & dismissal globally #> it is also true that trans people experience an equally fucked up and bad time in the medical field #> great news! the medical industrial complex is an equal opportunity life ruiner :)#(if you find it necessary to go into a debate about biology while discussing medical malpractice #i want to warn you that you're misunderstanding the issue. because guess what.#cis MEN might experience this. particularly black men. particularly disabled men.#so YES having a uterus can lead to more trouble for you. but this happens a LOT.#instead of fighting those ALSO experiencing your pain.... try working WITH them.#which btw. is like. actual feminism.)

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brainrotcharacters · 7 months

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My Favorite Line In The Show

that line with that expression with that hand angle? oh you just know they did it

#and shanks tops #a pleasure dom if i dare to speak #no honestly i'm half joking #i only ship their opla versions a tad #in my defense shanks had no business saying that line LIKE THAT #what was i supposed to do? NOT think they fucked? come on #shanks x mihawk #opla mihawk #opla shanks #one piece live action #i could still take you #shanks i need a demonstration #for research purposes #look all I'm saying is #a boomer didn't write that line #whichever one of us in these hell sites are actually ppl from the writers room #I thank you #And i salute you

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skyeslittlecorner · 24 days

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It's 2nd April, so - time to meet the first lucky winner~

As I promised, today the first fanfic for your MCs and OCs. It's quite funny, because the first person in the draw turned out to be the one who entered last. Dear @de1-os, congrats! Looks like your waiting was a good strategy~

Writing was a challenge, after all, this is my first fanfic like this. But I had a great time doing it. Asher is a fascinating character, above all with a very sensible approach to these demons. I hope you will like it!

Note: If anything sounds wrong and ooc, please let me know. I'll change it. If you want, you can also change it yourself, it's entirely up to you, and you can edit these texts however you want.

Also, I apologize in advance for any mistakes, especially if I mixed up pronouns. I write in my native language, where there is no equivalent of "they". I could have translated something incorrectly and not noticed when editing. Then let me know too, of course I will correct it.

Words: ~1200

WHB MC Shuffle | Asher

Asher was the first to leave Leviathan's office. Prematurely - as the waiting Astaroth noticed - because the meeting had recently begun. The councils of Hades ended when their king released them. At least that's what he heard. In Gehenna, they ended when the king kicked them out.

The demon stared at Asher, trying to guess what happened inside. But it wasn't easy when the only thing that changed in their expression was a wrinkled nose. They could just as easily be disgusted or angry as they could be terrified.

“Didn't everything turn out the way you wanted?”

Only a quiet grunt escaped Asher's lips. What were they supposed to say? What always happened, happened today too.

“Glasyalabolas.”

A few days ago, His Majesty Leviathan summoned the descendant of Solomon to attend an extremely important meeting; what was important, only he knew, because Asher was as bored as a pug during political talks. Today's session seemed even less interesting than usual. They achieved a new record of disconnection from the surroundings. They stopped listening before the nobles even started talking. What could they do? They were surrounded by a bunch of hot men, instead of stupid politics, they could have chill out a little. For example, unbutton the shirts to let the chill breeze brush their skin…

Astaroth's snap awakened them before the train of imagination could gain momentum.

“Huh?”

“I asked what he did this time.”

Legs carried them forward, away from this office, as if Asher were afraid that the boredom would spill out and consume them again. Or, even worse, Glasyabolas's hand would land on their thigh again. Although, actually, it wouldn't be that bad. He was quite hot. Except he was an asshole. But what could they do, it only increased the possibilities… They forced themself to at least partially come to their senses. Even though, the fantasies about Glasyal were much more interesting. Yes, they were angry with him, but they still could appreciate a good body and certainly even better skills. It's not easy to shake a connoisseur out of their professionalism.

“He is being himself.” Asher grumbled under their breath. “I'm starting to get fed up with him.”

“Maybe you should take a break. I know a place you might like.”

The place in question turned out to be a cramped shop. The shelves were full of suspicious drugs, they all smelled of herbs and that unusual, sleepy fog surrounding Hades. Raven feathers, stone amulets, and reptile scales were stuffed among laurel branches and incantation ribbons. Astaroth, wrapped in snake coils, looked like one of the exhibits. Surrounded by the mysticism of this place, he seemed even sexier than usual. But why did the demon brought them here?

“Look.” The man pointed to the jar of clay standing at their feet. “These are lumps of earth collected from the place where His Majesty Lucifer fell into Hell.”

Asher bent down and picked up a small thing that looked more like a vial.

“Should it really be standing that low? Someone will kick it and everything will fall apart.”

“The thing is, these stones are extremely…”

They put the jar on a shelf among engraved beads and blue-labeled containers. Old wood groaned and splinters appeared from the bottom.

“…heavy.”

“Never mind.” Asher quickly put that quirk back where it was. It occurred to them that they might throw it at Glasyalabolas. Maybe he would finally get his shit together.

“You're wrinkling your nose again. Are you thinking the same thing as before?”

“Maybe… I'm sick of him, you know? I want to throw it in his face.”

“I think you should let your desires take over. Be corrupted. Be yourself.” Demon reached for a drug with a blue label. “But I propose a more sophisticated way.”

“What do you mean?”

“These are sleep oils with little side effect. You fall asleep faster, but you wake up much more tired.”

Without much thought, Asher grabbed a package three times its size.

“We'll take it.”

The gift they had prepared didn't look suspicious. An ordinary pillow that smelled of lavender. People lie perfectly, so explaining it was supposed to be easy. Asher had some credible stories ready. In fact, they were even a little disappointed that Glasyal didn't ask where the gift came from. All that was left to do was wait.

On the first day, there were no signs of fatigue. As they sat in council, Glasyalabolas was as great and immovable as a mountain. The next day, the mountain hunched its shoulders, but so slightly that they barely noticed it. On the third day, dark circles began to appear under his eyes. The next evening, after a meeting in which Glasyal had given up even teasing them, another thing humans are good at stirred in Asher. Delicate, barely audible remorse.

they stood outside Glasyal's room, trying to think of why they wanted their gift back. Yes, the demon was annoying, but maybe, just slightly maybe, they a little, just a little liked him. Maybe it's a souvenir from another demon? Or maybe a pillow that is always warm on both sides and was mistaken for a real gift? Before Asher could think of anything, the door opened. Weird. They didn't knock.

“Do you need anything?”

“Yes.”

“Come in, then. I know you've been standing here for quite a few minutes.”

Even though Asher entered the snake pit with a straight face, their heart was racing. First, they entered the demon's room. A handsome demon. A terrifying demon. They regretted it even before the door closed behind. Maybe they should come back after all?

All doubts were doubled when Glasyalabolas leaned forward, as if bowing, and took their hand.

“Two can play this game, you know that?”

Not only Asher's heart but also his breathing reached the pace of an asthmatic after a marathon when Glasyal placed their hand on his cheek. He rubbed their fingers under his eye, and the circles that were supposedly from lack of sleep became blurred. Everything that was speeding up, suddenly stopped. Makeup. It was makeup. And worst of all, when they looked closer, the makeup was of very low quality.

“You think I can't recognize sleeping herbs? Especially since you poured so much into this pillow? Even a corpse would be disturbed.”

Instead of letting go of their hand, Glasyal ran their fingers over his lips. They were surprisingly soft and warm. Asher couldn't help himself. They pressed harder, wondering if his tongue was as soft. Anxiety fought with desire as they stared at his tongue as it lazily licked its lips. Fuck. Before they take this pillow away from him, they can still use it in this bed.

They took a step closer and grabbed the dark horn to make sure the demon wouldn't get up. And that he won't have any stupid ideas. Glasyal just muttered under his breath, something that sounded like a cross between a groan and a laugh.

“It was a punishment to stop acting like an asshole.”

“I guess it didn't work.”

“In that case” Asher tugged the horn, forcing Glasyal to bow even lower. “Looks like I'll have to work on this more bluntly.”

The demon knelt down. However, if Asher thought for a moment that he would politely give up, their legs immediately buckled under them. Glasyal grabbed them around the waist and lifted their shirt with his teeth, licking, nipping and biting their lower abdomen.

“I want to see you try.”

That evening, neither of them needed a pillow anymore.

#i'm honestly so nervous posting this lol and idk why #first time writing something so personalized #I wonder if I managed it #whb #what in hell is bad #whbmcshuffle #whb glasyalabolas #whb astaroth #whb mc #whb oc

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redstarfish-art · 2 months

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Nico: You're just not my type. *walks off* Percy: ... Percy: ..... Percy: ...... Annabeth: Percy, are you okay? You're still my type. Percy: *turns to Annabeth very slowly* Percy: Were guys always an option? Annabeth: O_O

#Percy Jackson #and his bi-awakening #because he honestly had more chemistry with pretty much every guy he's met compared to his girlfriend #then again I thought he had more chemistry with Reyna compared to Annabeth #Annabeth also had more chemistry with Reyna #PJO #is not very good at writing interesting romances #as someone who also struggles with fluffy romantic (healthy) romances I can relate #but like damn where's the chemistry?!?!?!#don't mind me I'm back in my multipshipper hell #Annabeth Chase #Nico di Angelo #HoO

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danwhobrowses · 7 days

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So after four months, Bell's Hells are off the moon

0.5/5 Stars - Some of the locals were nice but activities were shit and needs new management.

But what's this? Aabria with a steel chair!? She's probably cackling looking at the socials right now

#critical role #critical role spoilers #cr3 spoilers #cr spoilers #cr3 #cr3e92 #bell's hells #bells hells #crown keepers #aabria iyengar #glad they got to go off on Liliana though she needed to be told what for #drop them all at the key why don't you though? Not exactly helpful #four months for us but it was like a weekend trip for them - a terrible not fun at all weekend trip #the swap was extremely unexpected yes but we did want to see Dorian #but honestly Lolth what the shit? Are all the betrayer gods scheming? Aren't we all on the same side with Predathos?#to be fair I was dreading more bitter angst so I'm glad the Hells are comforting one another #but as an Ashton fan I wanted more of how they're feeling than the usual 'Imogen Laudna and Orym are sad' stuff #they lost their best friend after all - let Taliesin use his wordsmithery #nothing against the three but they do carry a lot of the narrative because of how intertwined their emotional states are with the plot #and ofc as a shipper I wanted Fearne and Ashton to comfort one another but hopefully next episode #but Orym's sending was tragic the lil guy needs Dorian right now so we better not kill him #big drider fear vision though no thank you no más non merci instant transmission outta there #we're either killing or writing off Opal for Deni$e it feels but poor Aimee is on her lonesome up there #if you see this hi Aabria! Unlikely but still hi Aabria!

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son1c · 1 year

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bonus chapter 4 the bonus chapter :3c

falling stars fic masterpost

Shadow started to get the nagging feeling that he was forgetting something. And not in the sense that he had amnesia. This was different. It was something that he definitely should remember, something that had happened within the past 24 hours, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was.

“Yo, Stripes,” Sonic said, snapping Shadow out of his reverie. “Are you listening, man?”

Shadow frowned. “No,” he said. “I was thinking.”

“Well,” Sonic said with a frown of his own, “it’s kinda important. So try to keep up, okay?”

Shadow rubbed his eyes. He was sitting across from Sonic on the bed, his legs crossed, and trying very hard not to completely ignore Sonic and just go back to thinking. “I’m following,” was what he said. “Go again.”

“I was saying,” Sonic began, “that it might be good if we raided the kitchen. I’m starving. Aren’t you?”

“No,” was Shadow’s instant reply. But it made him pause. After thinking about it a little more, he said, “I’m not hungry. And I’m not tired either.” It was true, but it didn’t make any sense. Shouldn’t he be both of those things by now?

Sonic tried to laugh it off. “Maybe you just forgot how to be hungry? Once you get some grub, I’m sure you’ll remember what you’re missin’! Same deal with sleep. Once you get some, you’ll–”

“Blue,” Shadow interrupted, “I’m the Ultimate Lifeform.”

Contemplative, Sonic tilted his head. “I don’t know if I trust the words of a guy who shot at us with a dart gun. Besides, it sounds kinda lame. Wouldn’t you rather be the Ultimate Beat-Em-Upform?” When Shadow just frowned, Sonic offered him a shrug. “I’m just saying, even if it is true, we don’t know what it means. At least, I sure don’t. Do you?”

Shadow had to admit that he didn’t.

“So,” Sonic continued, “after we grab a bite to eat, I’ll take watch, and you take a nap. Sound good?”

Shadow suddenly remembered what he was forgetting. “There’s something strange about this place,” he said. At first, Sonic looked a little annoyed that Shadow was dodging the question, but it faded as he went on. “Earlier, when I went to look for your brace, I passed over many rooms, but they were all empty. Just like this one.”

“I can’t say an empty hospital is a bad thing,” Sonic said. “I mean, you saw it too–this place is huge. Maybe everyone here is just spread out?”

Shadow hummed thoughtfully. It was plausible… but then, so was a metal horse statue suddenly coming to life.

“I’m just saying,” Sonic added, “I don’t think there’s anything to worry about.”

But Shadow wasn’t so sure. That nagging feeling kept tugging at his brain, and he couldn’t ignore it. Still, if Sonic was starving, then that matter was a little more pressing than whatever vague instinct Shadow was currently experiencing.

And so, that was how the two of them ended up creeping through the hallways, with Sonic begrudgingly agreeing to let Shadow carry him again since even though he could technically handle the pain of limping around, the noise from the brace hitting the floor was far from sneaky. And they needed to be sneaky.

They needed to be sneaky, because…

“Oh!” Sonic whispered. “I think that’s it. Those doors right there–that’s gotta be the kitchen, right?”

The doors in question were made out of gray steel and had a set of circular windows at the top. Unfortunately, Shadow was too short to see through them even when he stood on his tiptoes. But thankfully he didn’t need to suffer that embarrassment, since the doors were labeled with a plaque on the wall. It read: SECOND FLOOR KITCHEN.

Shadow pressed his ear up against the door, but didn’t hear any noise coming from the inside. And while that was a bit strange in and of itself, he decided to take Sonic’s advice and not worry about it. Or at the very least, not worry about it until after securing some food.

Gingerly, Shadow pushed open the kitchen door with his foot. Still nothing. He slipped inside, and almost dropped Sonic from shock once the door swung closed behind him and he saw what was waiting for them inside the kitchen. Sonic, likewise, gasped, the sight before him making him temporarily forget that he was supposed to be quiet.

It was food. Dishes upon dishes of it. Plates, bowls, pots, and cups covered every table in the kitchen, and all of them were filled with the most delicious looking food Sonic had ever seen. There were meats, salads, soups, and desserts galore. Steam was still rising from the turkey, and the brownies were oozing with chocolate lava. It was almost too much for his empty stomach to take in at once. With all of these options, how was he supposed to choose where to start?

Shadow, however, wasn’t thinking about digging in at all, and it wasn’t just because he wasn’t hungry. The food certainly looked tempting, and even managed to create something of an appetite within him, but that just made Shadow more suspicious. “This isn’t right,” he said. “An empty building, but enough food to feed a village?”

Sonic squirmed in Shadow’s arms. “I’m not complaining,” Sonic said. “With this much food, they won’t notice any missing!”

Shadow held fast to Sonic, despite the hedgehog’s attempts to wriggle out of his grasp and over to the food. “We can’t eat this,” Shadow said.

That made Sonic mad. They’d already come all the way here, and now Stripes was gonna say he couldn’t have any? “You’re not making sense, dude,” Sonic said. “Food is food. And this stuff looks–”

“Too good to be true,” Shadow interrupted. The nagging feeling that had been plaguing him finally culminated into a realization: they weren’t supposed to be here anymore. Shadow had only intended to let Sonic sleep for a little while, and then they were supposed to leave. But somehow, he had forgotten, and all thoughts about leaving the building left him. Not even Sonic seemed interested in leaving anymore.

Almost like the building didn’t want them to leave.

With a strength he didn’t know he had, Shadow tore the handle off of the door behind him and threw it at the nearest banquet table. It lodged itself in a cake, revealing the inside of the dessert to be filled with a sickly green slime.

“If you eat that,” Shadow said, “you’re never getting out of here.”

At last, Sonic stopped struggling. He looked at the ectoplasm dripping from the cake with wide eyes, and finally pieced everything together for himself. “This place just keeps getting weirder and weirder,” he said. Then, he looked up at Shadow. “I should’ve listened to you earlier, Stripes. I didn’t think…”

“Don’t apologize. It was in my head, too.”

All of the sudden, the dishes on the table started to shudder. Shadow backed up, but found the kitchen doors were locked, and didn’t budge when he pressed his back up against them, something that should’ve been impossible considering one of the doors was now missing its handle and therefore, its lock.

However, it was only when the bunches of grapes started floating that Shadow thought to himself that “weird” didn’t begin to cut it. This was straight up supernatural!

In a whiz, the grapes zipped through the air and splattered on the wall. Their green guts spelled out the words: WE MADE THIS FOR YOU. WON’T YOU STAY FOR DINNER?

“I’m not hungry anymore,” Sonic said thinly.

Shadow couldn’t agree more. Whirling around, he sent a kick at the door, but it didn’t budge. His shoe just clanged off the metal uselessly before skidding to a halt on the tile floor.

More grapes joined the fray. This time, they read: IF THIS ISN’T WHAT YOU WANT, THEN WE WILL MAKE YOU SOMETHING NEW.

Shadow gritted his teeth as the walls began to rumble. He thought about the shifting architecture on the outside of the building, and said, “It was a trap from the start.”

Of course it was. The strangeness of the hospital building when compared to the rest of the town was so clear in retrospect, so out of place. And more than that: it was so convenient.

Too convenient.

The walls groaned, the wood transmuting into metal in front of Sonic and Shadow’s eyes. The kitchen was also disappearing, transforming into something else, something that Shadow wasn’t planning on sticking around to see to completion. With fire in his eyes, he turned back around, and found the doors had disappeared. It was just a wall now. That didn’t discourage him, though. If anything, it fuelled his determination, and he took a deep breath.

From Sonic’s perspective, it seemed as though the air had suddenly become electrified.

Shadow slammed a kick into the wall, and the wood-turning-metal exploded outwards in a burst of red sparks. The building screeched in protest, but Shadow was already gone, jumping through the opening and down to the grass below with no hesitation. He briefly wondered how that wall could’ve possibly led to the outside when he was sure it had been deeper inside the building, but chalked it up to being just another trick of the possessed architecture.

Speaking of which…

“Stripes! Duck!”

Shadow ducked, narrowly avoiding having his head bashed in by the hooves of one of the metal horse statues from earlier.

Damn! Those things were moving now too?!

As it was, Shadow stood in the middle of the not-hospital’s courtyard surrounded by giant steel horses, their beady purple eyes staring him down. In the background, the building itself seemed to be leaking smoke from its countless windows, and from the smoke came a ghastly figure. A large white ghost with swirling eyes and a ten gallon hat appeared and sat on the back of one of the horses, its uncannily large mouth stretching into an even bigger shark-toothed grin.

“Y'all make terrible guests,” the cowboy ghost said. “A shame considerin’ your Chaos Energy alone could’ve kept me fed for months!”

#falling stars au #do u guys mind if i go completely insane #HGFGHFHGFGH #no spoilers but every decision here was made because i thought it would be 1) cool or 2) fun #honestly i'm just writing to write at this point like i haven't written this much in. years #and i'm actually enjoying it? like what the hell.#i'd like to deliver on this cliffhanger at some point <3 #just like how this is delivering for the set up for the hospital being weird as fuck so dont get to mad ok love u bye <3

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valiantstarlights · 11 months

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[Priest Hob AU sequel] Some Months Later, December 24, Evening.

Tagging @alexxuun because they deserve credit for the AU. 😊 I can't tag the anon who requested a sequel in an ask, but here you go! I hope you like it. 🖤

"I don't...I don't understand." Hob clutches at Dream's arm when he realizes where Dream has transported them. "Why are we here?"

'Here' was the corridor they got married in, months ago by now. Nothing has changed. The fourth window left of the door was still cracked, and the tile near the first pillar was still placed unevenly. Time has passed, surely, but Hob doesn't know the time difference between Hell and Earth. For all he knows, only a few minutes have passed since he was last here with Dream.

"To pray, I suppose," Dream replies, sounding amused at his question. "Is this what being in my presence does to you, Father Robert? Have you forgotten the purpose of churches?"

Panic flared bright in his chest. "No, please, don't call me that. You know I'm not...I'm not that person anymore. I'm your husband now. Right? Dream?" His heart was suddenly beating so quickly. Dream was looking at him strangely, all traces of humor gone from his handsome face. "Why are we here? Have you...have you grown tired of me? Is this you returning me to my old life?"

No. No. Anything but that. Anything but the crushing loneliness, the prayers that ring hollow when he recites them, the misguided belief that suffering brings you closer to heaven. That it is worth being miserable your entire life, giving and giving until you have nothing left, for the sake of having a place in God's kingdom where it would be more of the same: worshipping an absent, indifferent being, the air filled with songs of zealous, nauseating praise, fake beatific smiles on the face of everyone you meet.

Hob would rather die than live that life again. He would rather starve in the streets and die a peasant's death than leave Dream's side. If his husband has fallen out of love with him--

"Hush, my love," Dream says, and then Hob is enfolded in his strong arms, Dream's dark wings also moving to shelter him. Hob immediately clings tight. If Dream wants him to let go, he's going to have to break Hob's arms first. "I am here. I will not leave you. You are mine until the end of time."

"Then why?" Hob asks against the rich fabric of Dream's robes. He still sounds panicked, short breath coming in gasps. "Why are we here? I don't want to be here."

Dream rubs Hob's back comfortingly, up and down and up again, sometimes brushing his long fingers through Hob's hair, until Hob calms down. Until he can breathe normally again. Hob doesn't know how much time has passed, but their surroundings are undisturbed and not a single person walks by them.

And then Dream asks, "Are you sure?"

What?

Dream sighs but continues his soothing gestures. "I know you miss it. I hear you hum sometimes, when your mind is focused on a task. Religious melodies. Christmas songs, of late. I don't think you notice it, but some of the staff do. Lucienne tells me you must have wanted to visit, but are too afraid to ask me." He leans away from Hob so Hob could see how sincere he looks, but all Hob reads in Dream's face is the sadness in his eyes at the thought of Hob not trusting him enough to tell him his wishes.

"I do not want you to think that you can never visit again," Dream tells him, soft and a little vulnerable. "I do not want you to think that by marrying me, you have lost your freedom." He looks around them, at the high ceilings and the tall windows. "And so here we are."

"Dream," Hob says as earnestly as he could. "It's just a habit. I hum when I feel like it's too quiet. It just so happens that the songs I pick are...well. But if you enchant a violin to play by itself and follow me around, I assure you the humming will cease, or if it persists, then it would be to the tune of Mozart or Bach or whichever composer you pick."

He places his hand against his husband's cheek and watches as Dream leans against it before turning his head to kiss his palm. Hob's heart breaks at the tender movement. How long had Dream been worried about this?

"As for my freedom," Hob says, "You did not clip my wings. You unbound them. And since you have, I have never felt happier. With you by my side, I feel like I can achieve anything. You opened my eyes and taught me better. Helped me unlearn all the false teachings I grew up believing to be true. You have made me into the best version of myself I could ever hope to be, and I would not have anyone else by my side. I'm glad I'm spending my eternity with you."

Dream's eyelashes flutter in pleasure at his words before he leans in and gives Hob a soft kiss on the lips. Hob returns it with a passion, wanting Dream to understand that Hob has already decided his fate, and that he has chosen Dream. Will always choose him. Each and every time. Hob needs him to understand that. But how..?

An idea forms in his mind, and as soon as their kiss reached its natural conclusion, he pulls Dream towards the church proper.

"Hob?"

"Come, husband," he says, still filled with a giddy kind of joy whenever he says the title. "I want to make something clear to you."

Dream follows him.

A few moments later, the two of them stand in front of the door that would open to the main hall of the church.

"Is it empty?" Hob asks.

"Yes," Dream says. "The midnight mass won't be starting until later this evening."

"The midnight mass?" Hob repeats in shock. "Is it already Christmas Eve?"

Dream nods.

"Good," Hob says firmly. "Even better." He opens the door, and indeed, there was no one inside.

Hob marches them past the rows of votive stands, past the carved wooden pedestal holding the lit advent candles nestled upon a wreath of evergreen, and right up to the altar. Then, with only a moment's worth of hesitation, Hob shoves everything on the altar crashing down on the ground: the book stand, the large Bible it's holding open, candelabras with unlit candles, and a couple of flower vases. He winces as the objects make a dreadful amount of noise, the water from the vases seeping onto the pages of the Bible, the heavy book stand crushing the flowers, the candelabras dented in a couple of places, the candles placed upon them rolling across the floor.

"Is there a point to this destruction?" Dream asks behind him, sounding adorably confused as to why his usually mild-mannered husband is acting this way.

"No," Hob says, then turns back to Dream. He wants to see his husband's face for this. "I just wanted to clear the altar for my offering."

"Your offering?"

Hob starts to strip, and Dream immediately shuts his mouth, eyes darkening as he understands what Hob is trying to do.

"I am offering myself to you," Hob says, and starts reciting Dream's many titles. "--King of Dreams and Nightmares, One of the Seven Rulers of Hell, and my beloved husband. I would have you stake your claim on me in front of all the angels and saints, right at the altar of the god I used to worship."

Dream stares at him, now fully naked and slightly shivering from the cold air, his nipples pebbling. "You do not know what you're asking for, Robert Gadling," he says, though if the echo of Nightmare's voice tainting his is any indication, then Hob knows exactly what he's trying to do. "This would be unlike our marriage. Offering yourself to me in this way..."

"Can I be any more owned by you?" Hob asks, genuinely curious. "Am I not offering you myself, body and soul, so in the future you will not do stupid things like think I would want to be away from your side? Away from our home?"

"You would be offering yourself body and soul to me, Hob, this is true," Dream says. "But you must know that in offering yourself to me the way you are planning, naked and willing upon an altar, you are also offering to bear my children."

"Your chil--" Hob gapes at him and looks down at himself, at his own body, which is still very hairy and very male. "You can get me pregnant?" He asks, only sounding slightly hysterical.

Dream nods gravely. "And now you see why offering yourself this way to me would be unwise. However, I have noted your intention, and will try not to do...foolish things in the future."

"And if I want it?" Hob asks, unwilling to leave just yet without being fucked here, in the place where he went through life like a ghost, upon the very altar he stood behind and spoke words of faith while having none in his heart. He feels his cock growing hard under Dream's eyes, the hunger in them barely restrained. "If I want to become pregnant with your child?"

Dreams eyes are turning so dark, it was like the stars in them have started to go out one by one. The end of multiple universes. "Hob."

"I am willing," Hob says. "And while I am no longer a virgin, I had been when you first--"

"You should not say these things," Dream says in Nightmare's voice, stepping forward into Hob's space. The shadows were gathering around him and slithering around Hob's feet like snakes. "Not unless you want me to fuck you pregnant in the house of your god."

Hob steps closer until his naked body is flush against his husband, precome staining Dream's dark robes, then leans upwards so he could kiss Dream's and Nightmare's fanged mouth. They nip at his lips and push him back against the altar, the stone cold and hard against his back. Hob moans and twines his arms around their neck, letting them lift him so he could sit on the altar. "Haven't you heard, my husband?" Hob murmurs against their lips. "I worship a different god now."

"More," Hob begs, an indeterminate amount time later. Dream's cum drips from his hole and onto the altar, but still Hob spreads himself open. "Again."

Dream kisses him lovingly and obeys. Half of his face is Nightmare and the other half is Dream. He only gets this way when he's feeling so much pleasure that both sides of himself come out to play. Hob loves him like this. Dream is generally a gentle lover while Nightmare prefers a hard fuck. But both of them at the same time means petal soft kisses from Dream while Nightmare chokes him with a hand around his throat as his cock jackhammers into Hob.

"Insatiable," Dream says in Nightmare's voice as he thrusts hard into Hob. It's good that the altar is made of stone or else it would have broken under their vigorous fucking. "Do you really intend for me to breed you here? Are you not going to be satisfied until my seed takes?"

Hob moans. Yes. That would, in fact, be the ideal outcome. He spreads his legs wider.

"And to think you had been a virgin when I married you," Nightmare says in Dream's voice, possessive and fond at the same time. "Your hole was so tight I had to spend hours with my tongue between your legs to loosen you up. And now your body knows my cock so well you can take me with minimal preparation."

Hob squeezes him as much as he could in retaliation, though it was a weak little thing, his hole already fucked sloppy and loose.

"What a slutty husband I have," they tell him. "Uncaring that at any point now, the deacons and the sacristans will be arriving to do last minute preparations. I doubt they'll have anything to say about the mess you made on the floor, not when they see a former priest of this church getting fucked like a whore right on top of their sacred altar."

Hob mewls at that, aroused beyond belief. He knows he probably shouldn't feel that way. How he should instead feel humiliation flooding his veins at the thought of being found in such a position by the people who used to respect him.

But oh, to be found pleasing his eternal husband, undeniably marked with his teeth and claimed by his large cock...

"Want it," he gasps. It was so hard to speak and his thoughts are a scattered mess. "Show. I'm yours."

"You want me to continue fucking you in front of them?" Nightmare asks, delighted. "You want me to laugh in their faces as they wield their wooden crosses at me when they try to banish me? Shall I bathe them in flame and watch them burn alive when they do?"

Hob doesn't care. He could barely remember them anyway.

"It is tempting," Dream admits. "I want to see the look on their faces when they realize that Father Robert didn't just disappear mysteriously, but was instead granted a better life. However," and here he grinds harder to emphasize his point. Hob keens, toes curling and legs shaking. He has lost count of how many times he came, but he could feel the pressure building in his stomach once more. He'll probably cum dry this time. Or totally lose control of his body and squirt all over Dream. It's already happened once. "I do not want anyone else to see you like this. Only I should have that privilege. Don't you agree?"

Hob nods frantically. Whatever his husband wants. Fuck, his cock feels so good. Hob wants him to fill him up more until he grows round with his cum.

"No, I think we'll just leave them a nice little Christmas present." And with that, Dream wraps his hand around Hob's cock and starts stroking him to the rhythm of his thrusts. Hob practically seizes, wailing, cumming dry, as Dream pounds him harder through his orgasm before shooting another batch of cum straight into Hob's newly formed womb.

When the first group of deacons arrive to make the final preparations for the Midnight Mass, the mess on the floor that Hob created is not the first thing they see. Nor do they notice that the altar was desecrated by a truly overflowing amount of both human and demon cum.

They would have noticed these things, but Dream kept his promise and left them his Christmas present, to help make the church look more festive at such an important time in their liturgical calendar.

He did this by covering every interior surface of the church, from ceiling to floor, and not missing a single statue, with fresh, bright red blood.

#Priest Hob AU #CW: blasphemy #i'm not joking or being cute about this #the blasphemy level in this is so high that I the author herself am warning you about it #CW: altar sex #CW: nightmare!dream #honestly just assume that things are gonna be unhinged whenever he's present #am I intentionally posting this on a Sunday? N-no #if this were a vine it would be the 'you're all going to hell 😊 goodbye 👋' one #if this were doctor who this would be the christmas episode #I'm gonna end up calling it that aren't I #2000 plus words wtf #good job my thumbs #dreamling #the sandman #my writing

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