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andersonlore · 3 days

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high sex with dina…. high sex with dina……

kiss of heaven | dina

tags: eighteen+, sexual content, cannabis sex, oral (dina!r), face sitting, , dub-con (both reader and dina are high).

an. here's my first fic of dina! it's not perfect by any means by i kinda like it?? i hope you enjoy it as well.

there’s something special about it. firsts always are. the adrenaline pumping through your veins, the serotonin getting sent through your head when someone new kisses you for the first time, the very beginnings of an orgasm never been given by them, the shivers traveling up your spine with a promise of something more. it’s all so inviting your doe-eyed heart welcomes it with open arms.

but this isn’t the case.

dina sitting on your lap the entire night, taking hit after hit, the both of you lost in the feeling of what could’ve been all night. now, the both of you are too far lost in the lust of weed, all you can think about is fucking her. she’s been grinding back into you all night, as if it’s not torturing you to no end. you’re sure you’ve soaked yourself through and it would be embarrassing. possibly. desperately, you crave her more than anyone, you just need to be satiated. or sedated if she turns you down.

you’ve both been here before, years ago, but it feels just as it’s always been. somehow, you knew this would be your fate tonight. tongue tied with the woman you’ve never been able to get over. she comes into your life like nothing has changed. you let her, it makes you feel like a love struck idiot all over again.

well, tonight. you’re more high strung than anything. the both of you are.

the white of your eyes populated by red little lines, hooded as you have her pinned to the wooden door of a vacant room. all you have is a simple bra concealing your from her, delicate panties accentuating her divine hips. soft skin to the touch as you rub her hip bone with the pad of your thumb, drawing goosebumps in your wake.

you can’t help but look at her perfectly sculpted breast, soft stomach, the collarbones you crave to sink your teeth into. it’s what you dreamed of. even if inebriation took over you both, if you got to have her? it didn’t really matter at all. not really.

locking the door, you’re pulling her towards the bed as you take a seat in the middle as she stands there for you. “take them off.” you command, gesturing with a tilt of your head. she slips them off, not so gracefully, tripping as she does so. she warns you with her warm eyes to not utter a fucking word.

but you can’t help the small giggle you try to stifle. it’s impossible to conceal.

“you sure you want to test me?” she pushes, raising her bold eyebrows at you. intentionally, you snap your bra off before saying “no ma’am. wouldn’t dream of disappointing you.” instantly, the power becomes hers. as if it was ever anything different. a silent hope, wanting to have it for once, but with her? you crumble.

her beautifully dark hair is a mess, from your endless pulling. “can you, um—” she raises her expressive brows indicating for you to give in and tell her. you try your best, but you’re so distracted by her beauty, the cannabis taking over as you’re impossibly wet, drooling over having your dream girl back. even if it’s for a short time, she’s here.

“i want you to sit on my face, tonight. please?” she stalks you like her prey, climbing up your body before resting at your hips, before leaning down and whispering in your ear, “hm, finally seems like someone learned their manners.” the soft chuckle cured you of the last time before she wastes no more time. not a fucking second.

it’s all so quick. happening in a flash of your eyes, maybe it’s the weed and maybe it’s just her. the instant sigh released from her lips makes your thighs clench. you’re thankful she is facing you or else she’d make you split them apart. you know she would.

it’s been too long since you’ve had her. your tongue licking a bold strip from her clit, sliding down her labia until lightly dipping into her hold before traveling back up her pearl of pleasure. you’re missing the way her head is being thrown back with your eyes shut as you suckle on your favorite meal. being deprived of the sweet taste of her cunt for so long, you eat it up as if you’ve been starved.

“s’good baby, fuck. forgot how good your mo—” you spit dramatically on her cunt, smothering your spit on her pussy with your thumb, applying light pressure on her clit. “yeah , you should have never forgotten, baby. i always take care of you, don’t i?” slapping her supple ass with your free hand.

dina sinks down the extra weight she’d been holding, suffocating you with her slick. you open your eyes for a moment to take her in, only to find she’s looking right back. “hi angel” she whispers, making you giggle softly.

desperately, you’re trying to recall the last time she’s been this light hearted but you can’t. is it possible she’s changed? fuck, the possibility of new beginning is sent throughout your cunt. the idea only latches onto your brain for a moment before dina’s moaning again, rolling her hips deliciously, fucking your face and looking gorgeous doing it.

“is this what you want, huh? fuck…need to cum so fucking badly.” she moves her hips quickly, lost in the way you’re fucking the shit of her. skilled tongue giving her your best, hoping she’ll paint yours in return. she knows she never would’ve succumbed so easily if it wasn’t for the cannabis. dina, always one to savor. not go through the motions so quickly, but now she doesn’t really give a shit. all she craves is the high she knows you can offer.

fully focusing on her clit, you suck the pearl into your mouth, flicking your tongue over, over, and over. dina’s delicious thighs began to shake. irrevocably so. it’s her tell. right before she cums, each and every time, they shake. high pitched moans escape as she tries to regain composure but it’s useless. she’s far gone and you’re more than happy to send her tumbling over the edge.

“jus’ let go baby, yeah? just me ‘nd you. cum for me mommy? please?” you pause before saying what you know will send her over the edge. “c’mon, making a fucking mess all over my face. i can’t take it, babygirl. promise.”

#guys....i dont think i can write cute little blurbs anymore #actually crying about it #dina nolastname #dina woodward #dina x reader #dina x female reader #dina smut #dina nolastname x reader #dina woodward x reader #dina woodward smut #tlou x reader #dina x masc reader

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the-s1lly-corner · 2 days

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Hi!! this is my first time requesting anything but i was wondering if you could do creepypasta boys were you kiss / compliment there scars!

Kissing their scars (various crp)

Bro I scratched my skin right next to this burn last week and it HURTS so bad

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack

Notes: Reader is GN, fluff, these boys need help

CWs: talks of violence in.. well all of them, mentioned of self harm in Jeff's part

Jeff

You decide to kiss the gashes in his cheeks, the ones that he carved.. he never really viewed them as anything very negative; sure it reminds him of the night he killed his entire gamily.. a fact he has a very wishy washy feeling of guilt over depending on the day

At first he thinks you're trying to kiss his cheeks but you make it very clear what you're trying to do when you begin to compliment them- they've healed so well since theyve been put there

Between the three he tries to play it off the most, of course it looks nice- they make him beautiful, and he always will be beautiful! What are you talking about reader?

Hes not at all willing to be vulnerable around you, it doesnt matter how long you two know each other or how close you get he never.. really let's himself just be in his feelings around others

But just know that hes going to be sitting in bed tonight looking up at the ceiling replaying what you've said and going back over the events that lead him here- rare moment of self reflection essentially

But to your face.. hes just the same as hes always been, even teasing you for having such a huuuge crush on him- bonus if the two of you are already dating

Eyeless Jack

You rarely ever get to see him without the mask, but when you do.. it's best not to do something like this the first time you see his eye sockets- hes very cagey about his face in the first place and hes not quiet ready to handle more attention drawn to it. The first few times it's off it's best to meet it with indifference

But when more time passes, you're more than welcome to test the waters. You already knew Jack had a fair collection of scars, but there was a different feel to the burned and gashed holes where his eyes would have been

He wont let you kiss him, mostly because hes unsure of what exactly the goo was made of, as well as naturally not liking the idea of someone putting their mouth where his eyes just to be- but you're allowed to trace your fingers along the scar tissue

Hes never going to tell you what happened unless theres a reason to, hes very firm when setting this boundary. It's just something that makes him feel.. gross..

He already doesn't talk much but he becomes silent as you trace your fingers and talk to him

He might go back to wearing his mask all the time again for a while but it's not exactly your fault, it was just a huge step- it's okay to back up a bit to process things

Ticci Toby

Due to his CIPA he has a bit of a disconnect between him and his injuries, scars included. He didnt really feel them when they were being made, sure he may have felt some pressure depending on what caused it but other than that, nothing really.. for a lot of them he doesnt have much thoughts- neither good nor bad

The only ones that really make him feel something are the ones he sustained from the crash- they're scattered across his body...

If you kissed or complimented any other scar he would tease you for being a little "weird", even making it a game to guess where he got the current scar from- with outlandish answers of course

But the second you reach one of /those/ scars the fun is immediately cut, you can tell theres something off

Similar to Jack, its something that has to be eased into due to the weight associated with the injuries. It's not the fact that it hurt when he got them but they serve as a reminder of what he lost

The only one who really tries to change the subject, perhaps by asking if you have any scars or markings on your body or simply changing the subject all together

Probably the only one who wouldn't want to be complimented due to the nature of some of his scars

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta imagine #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer imagine #jeff the killer x you #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack imagine #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x you #ticci toby imagine

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tj-dragonblade · 3 days

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I SEE YOU HAVE A TAKE ON MER HOB MAY I HEAR ABOUT MER HOB

YOU ABSOLUTELY MAY, even if it took me longer to respond than intended, oops. But! Mer-Hob is slowly turning into a different fic than originally imagined last year. Which is fine, and good, because what I'd originally imagined just wasn't working. I think I can confidently place him back on the wip list now with a better idea of the shape he'll have moving forward. And for you, thank you for your patience, here is their freshly-drafted first kiss scene:

"Dream?"

Dream glances to where Hob sits beside him, tail fin drifting idly in the water near Dream's bare feet. Dream had brought chocolate, again; the delight Hob had displayed the first two times was something he wanted to see again, and again, and again. He wanted to find every way possible to bring joy to Hob, to make that warm smile light up, to bring his laughter bubbling forth.

The chocolate has been finished, though, and Hob sounds…tentative; Dream's brow creases. "Yes?"

"I've got a question for you. Or. Well. Not so much a question, as something I'd like to tell you." He's tilted his head slightly, is toying with the lowest spine of his ear-fin. "It's. It's—I've been trying to tell you, like I would another mer, but I don't think you get it. And why would you, culturally, you've got no way to know if I don't explain it first right? So I thought, maybe I should just. Try it the human way?"

Dream is perplexed, not sure he entirely follows what Hob is trying to say, but then Hob is leaning closer, leaning in, as if he means to—

His lips touch Dream's, and Dream's heart stops as his brain catches up. Hob. Is kissing him—

Except it's not exactly a kiss, has none of the common elements aside from two pairs of lips in contact; Hob is very still, holding that touch for another instant, and then he pulls back.

Dream's heart thuds in his chest, tripping faster; he can feel how wide his eyes are and how his mouth has fallen slightly open, but all he can see is the hopeful uncertainty in the warm depthless brown of Hob's eyes.

"I'm sorry if I didn't do it right. But a kiss is how you say you like someone, right?"

"I. Yes." Dream is drowning in the instant-replay inside his own brain. Hob. Had kissed him. Hob had kissed him. Hob had kissed him—

"Well. I like you. And I think maybe…maybe you might um. Like me too?"

Dream manages a nod. "Mmhm." His heart is racing.

"Well!" Hob looks delighted if still nervous, and his tail flicks up in the water with a splash. "That's good, then! Brilliant! Okay!" He smiles, all warmth and happy energy. "Okay."

"Merfolk do not kiss, then?" Dream is slowly processing, still catching up, still circling helplessly around the bright spot of Hob kissed me, Hob LIKES me.

"Not many, nope. And I've never. But I've seen enough humans and human stuff to get the idea. Did I do it right?"

"Right enough. However." Boldness surges up in Dream, riding the bubbling tide of joy curling higher within his chest. "Can I. May I show you, what observation alone does not perhaps convey?"

"Of course," Hob says, curiosity in the tilt of his eyebrows, and Dream leans in.

It's soft, sweet; he fits his lips gently to Hob's and presses, brushes them together and apart and together again, aching with the fulfillment of this long-held wish. He is kissing. Hob. And Hob is kissing back, tentatively matching the movement of Dream's mouth on his, and Dream is dizzy with it. His hands yearn to hold, to touch; he brings one up and lets his fingertips flutter lightly to rest on Hob's cheek, away from the delicate spread of his ear-fin, away from the curve of his neck where his gills are tightly sealed. And when Hob reaches carefully to touch him in kind, Dream's heart soars.

A long moment passes before he ends the kiss at last; he draws back just enough to see, to watch Hob's eyes blink slowly open.

"Oh," Hob breathes, voice full of softness and wonder, and his beautiful eyes shine warm with the same.

~ Mer-Hob wip tag for the other recent chunk and some older little bits that may just wind up orphaned

#askmemes #TJs Writing #Sandman #Dreamling #wip: merhob #merfolk

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cheoliehansolie · 1 day

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Green Mangoes

Summary: When Chan catches you eating green mangoes, he can't help but spiral.

Word Count: ~ 2.3k

Pairing: Lee Chan x fem reader

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy

an: This was something that I mainly wrote for myself because I found it funny in my head so if it's not funny or entertaining, that's why. As always, if you liked reading this, please reblog or leave a comment. If you have any suggestions or you just want to talk, send me an ask and we can be friends 💕

To read more, check out my masterlist.

---

You had been up for a few hours enjoying the little alone time you get since you moved in with your boyfriend. You and Chan recently moved in together and while you love spending time with him, sometimes you miss living on your own which is why you find comfort in the silent mornings.

Chan got home pretty late last night from practice which is why he was in bed at 10:30 in the morning. It was a win-win situation, you got your morning alone and Chan got to make up for the sleep he missed out on.

You had spent your morning making breakfast and reading once you finished eating, and now you were sitting on your couch nursing a cup of tea and watching an Indian comedy show. Normally when you and Chan watch TV together, you steer clear of those types of shows since Chan won’t be able to understand them.

But now with Chan sound asleep in your bedroom, you’re giggling quietly to yourself as you watch the different skits unfold on screen. To your surprise, less than five minutes later, you hear the door of your shared bedroom open and out walks your sleepy boyfriend, hair adorably messy.

“Good morning, babe.” you say from your seat on the couch.

“Morning.” he says tiredly as he makes his way to the couch to join you.

“I didn’t wake you, right?” you ask, concern lacing your voice as you card your fingers through his disheveled hair.

Chan melts into your touch and responds, “No, I didn’t feel like staying in bed any longer. I also wanted to cuddle with you but you weren’t there any more.” he whines.

“Aww, well I’m here now so we can cuddle. Let me just get situated” you say.

You put your empty tea mug on the coffee table in front of you and lift the blanket on your lap gesturing for him to join you. Chan wastes no time getting comfy under the blanket and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Do you want me to change the channel?” you ask, drawing attention to the comedy show playing on the TV.

“No, it’s fine. I’m not really paying attention to it anyways.” he says and you feel him drawing small shapes on your body.

“Suit yourself.” you say as you bring your attention back to the show.

A few minutes later, you’re still snuggled into Chan’s arms and you find yourself letting out a soft scandalized gasp at the conversation unfolding on screen.

“What happened?” Chan asks, instantly curious as he peers up at your face through his lashes.

“Basically, those two people on stage are husband and wife and they’re talking about an argument they had. See that guy standing to the side?” you ask, pointing to the screen.

“Yeah, what about him?”

“He said something along the lines of ‘stop giving her reasons to argue with you and instead give her a reason to eat green mangoes’ to the husband.”

“What does that mean?” Chan asks, enjoying listening to you explain things to him.

“Apparently women crave sour foods when they’re pregnant so the other guy is basically telling the husband to get his wife pregnant.”

Your boyfriend chuckles slightly and he doesn’t think much of the conversation as he continues snuggling into your side. But a few days later, he’s instantly reminded of that moment as he stands in the entryway of your shared living room.

Chan had spent the entire day in the studio working with Sonnyoung and the other Performance Team members to think of choreography for their upcoming comeback, but they had hit a wall. Soonyoung decided to let the guys go sooner than expected because everyone was getting frustrated.

Chan was excited that he’s able to leave earlier so he can spend more time with you. He didn’t tell you he was coming home sooner so he could surprise you but when he comes in, he sees you scrolling on your phone, mid snack.

Normally he would be happy that you were remembering to take breaks to rest and eat, but standing there in the door frame of your living room, he feels like he can’t breathe. There you are sitting peacefully on the couch with a small glass bowl next to you, phone in one hand, fork in the other. Skewered on the fork is none other than a piece of green mango.

As you bring the fork to your mouth, you realize that your boyfriend is silently standing a few feet away from you.

“Oh my god, babe! Why are you just standing there? You scared me!” you complain.

Shocked by your sudden outburst, Chan’s broken out of his spiraling thoughts and brought back to the present moment.

“Sorry, I was zoning out.” Chan feebly explains as he makes his way to the couch.

“Why’re you home so early? I thought practice wasn’t supposed to end until later?”

“It was supposed to end later, but we hit a wall and nothing was getting done so Hoshi hyung let us leave early.”

“Ahh, I see. I still have a little work left to do, so I’m gonna go finish that. I should be done soon and we can spend time together after.”

“Okay, I’ll be here. Don’t overwork yourself, it’s not good for you.” Chan says with a small smile on his face as you get up and make your way to your desk.

Once you leave, Chan can’t help but wonder why you didn’t say anything about being pregnant. Were you not planning on telling him yet? He did come home earlier than anticipated today. Maybe you were eating the mango because you thought he wouldn’t be here to see you.

Chan spends the next two hours obsessively googling about how to support your partner through pregnancy. After reading a bunch of different articles, Chan decides that he won’t bring up the pregnancy unless you do. You have the right to tell him whenever you feel comfortable, and he figures that maybe you’re still trying to come to terms with it yourself and he doesn’t want to add more pressure to that.

A few minutes later, you return to the living room ready to spend time with your boyfriend after a long day.

“Hey babe.” Chan says when he sees you. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine. I just finished work so now we can make dinner together.”

“You want to make dinner? Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Chan asks, immediately worried that you could be overworking yourself.

“Okay I know I’m not as good at cooking as Mingyu, but my food isn’t that bad!” you whine, softly hitting Chan’s shoulder.

“Babe, that’s not what I meant.” Chan whines. “I just thought you’ve been working a lot lately and you should take a break. I’ll make dinner for us tonight, you should rest.”

“Ooookay.” you say, feeling suspicious as to what Chan’s doing.

“What do you want for dinner? Are you craving anything?” Chan asks.

“Hmm, not really. Why don’t you surprise me?”

“Okay, one surprise coming right up!” Chan exclaims dramatically as he saunters off into the kitchen, enticing a few giggles from you.

You couldn’t help but feel a little weird that Chan was being a bit too nice, but you decide to overlook it and enjoy your time alone on the couch. A little less than an hour later, your boyfriend returns to the living room announcing that dinner is ready.

Before you can get up to go to the kitchen to grab your plate, Chan places a plate of hot food in front of you.

“You made my favorite!” you exclaim as you toss your phone to the side to take the plate from Chan’s hands.

“I tried my best, but I don’t know if it tastes as good as when you make it.” he says sheepishly as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Well, it smells great and even if it does taste bad – which I doubt it does – I’ll still eat it since you made it for me.” you say with a reassuring smile on your face.

Taking a bite of the food in front of you, you can’t help it when your eyes widen at the taste.

“What? Does it not taste good?” Chan asks.

“Babe, it tastes really good. I love it.” you say with a bright smile as you continue eating.

“I’m glad.” Chan says softly. He couldn’t help but feel proud of himself.

The rest of the meal is filled with the two of you laughing at each other’s jokes and talking about your respective days. Before you know it, the plates in front of you are empty.

When you’re about to get up to do the dishes and clean the kitchen, Chan stops you.

“What’re you doing?” Chan asks you.

“I’m going to wash the dishes and clean the kitchen?” you say, confused as to why he finds this strange.

Normally when one of you cooks, the other person cleans. Since Chan cooked for the both of you today, it seemed obvious to you that you would be on clean up duty today.

“Let me clean, you sit and rest.” Chan says as he tries to take the plate from your hand.

“Rest from what, Chan? I’ve been sitting on this couch for the past 2 hours doing nothing but resting. What’s gotten into you today?” you ask as you firmly hold the plate in your hand, refusing to let him take it from you.

“I just thought you could use the extra rest, given your condition and all.” Chan says.

“‘Given my condition’? What’s that supposed to mean? I’m totally fine.” you say, slightly agitated.

Chan mentally facepalms himself. He told himself that he wouldn’t bring up the pregnancy unless you did and now here he was, bringing up the pregnancy.

“You know what, never mind.” Chan says, trying to brush it off.

You weren’t gonna let him off that easily.

“What do you mean never mind? You just insinuated that there’s something wrong with me and I need to rest, but now when I ask you about it you won’t say anything? What’s up with that?” you ask him.

“Well, I just didn’t want to pressure you into talking about it if you weren’t ready. I didn’t know if you wanted to share it with me or not.” Chan says.

“Pressure me into talking about what? Chan, you’re going to have to explain yourself a little more clearly because I’m completely lost.” you say, becoming less angry and more confused.

“The pregnancy!” Chan exclaims. “I know that you’re pregnant but I didn’t want to bring it up in case you didn’t want to talk about it yet. A bunch of articles online said not to bring it up unless you brought up the topic yourself and I didn’t want to pressure you into telling me you’re pregnant.”

There’s a few beats of silence as you try to process the words that just came out of your boyfriend’s mouth.

“Pregnant? Babe, I’m not pregnant. Who told you I’m pregnant?”

“Wait, you’re not pregnant?” Chan asks. Now it was his turn to be confused.

“No, and if I was pregnant, you would be the first person I would tell. I wouldn’t keep that from you. But why’d you think I’m pregnant?”

“I don’t wanna tell you, you’re gonna laugh at me.” Chan whines, hiding his face in his hands.

“Babe, I promise I won’t laugh at you. Can you please, please, please tell me why you thought I was pregnant? If you don't, I'm just gonna assume that you think I’ve gained weight.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just,” Chan pauses and takes a deep breath, “you were eating a green mango when I got home earlier and I remember you telling me a few days ago that women crave sour foods when they’re pregnant so I just kinda assumed. Ugh, it sounds so stupid when I say it out loud.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of your chest. You were trying so hard not to laugh at your boyfriend, but you couldn’t help it. You just found it so funny that he would jump to conclusions like that.

“Hey, you said you wouldn’t laugh at me.” Chan whines as he lifts his face from his hands.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t help it. It’s a little funny, you have to admit.” you say as you lean closer to give him a comforting hug.

“Okay, maybe it is a little funny.” Chan says as he lets out a small giggle.

“See! You can’t blame me!” you say as you burst into another fit of giggles.

Once the two of you have finally calmed down, you’re both reminded of the small mess in front of you and the bigger mess in the kitchen.

“So, since I know you’re not pregnant, do you wanna clean the kitchen for me?” Chan asks.

“What happened to ‘I’ll clean, you should rest on the couch’?” you ask, teasing him.

“Fine, I guess since I offered, I’ll follow through. I am a man of my word.” Chan says, determination heavy in his voice.

“I’m just kidding, of course I’ll clean up.” you say.

“Fine, but at least let me help.” Chan says.

“If you want to help, I’m not gonna stop you.” you say as the two of you make your way into the kitchen.

When you get to the entryway of the kitchen, you can’t help but just stand there with your eyes wide.

“Lee Jung Chan! Look at the mess you made! I can’t believe you! You dirtied every dish in this house!” you exclaim as you scold him.

Chan silently wishes that he didn’t take up the offer to help you clean. The entire time the two of you spent cleaning the kitchen was filled with you nagging him about the mess he made. But he knows he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#seventeen #svt #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #svt fluff #svt x reader #seventeen imagines #dino #seventeen dino #svt dino #dino x reader #lee chan #chan #svt lee chan #seventeen lee chan #svt lee chan x reader #seventeen lee chan x reader #chan x reader

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 9 hours

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Ficlet!!!

Prompt B, 🐉, 🫂, 🗝️

And congratulations!!!!🥂

Ficlet!!! It's always such a delight visiting these two, so thank you for the prompt.

Learning to fall

Words: 985

Rated: E

Tags: Fantasy AU; dragon Eddie; King Steve; established relationship; soul bond; nightmares; hurt/comfort; explicit sexual content; nudity, biting; monsterfucking

Notes: set in the same universe as Hic sunt dracones

Sometimes, at night, Steve's head takes him back to the dark moments.

Sometimes he's back in the dungeons, and nobody comes to save him. Eddie cannot find him, not with their torn soul bond. Robin is imprisoned somewhere else, and when the guards drag him away to the executioner’s block, he knows that they’re going to kill her before him, just to make him suffer more.

Sometimes, he’s back in the courtyard, the storm raging all around him, fire and debris raining from the skies, and the huge crossbow looms before him. He tries to reach it, but he can’t gain an inch. He screams until his voice cracks, but Eddie can’t hear him, and he has to watch again as the giant bolt pierces his dragon right through the heart and takes him out of the sky.

This time, he’s back in the tower, rushing up the spiral of a never-ending stairway while thunder roars outside and the fight rages on below him. He’s barefoot and keeps slipping on his own blood, and the wound in his side tears further with every step, but he forces himself to go faster still.

He doesn’t make it in time. He never does.

He scales the last steps and stumbles into the ruins of his old chambers just in time to see Carver swing his blade.

His dragon looks up. Their gazes lock.

The blow connects and the light in those beautiful golden eyes goes out.

And Steve screams.

The sound of it startles him into consciousness. For a moment, he flails in that weird, hazy state between waking and sleeping, and it feels like falling, feels like plummeting from the tower all over again.

“It’s alright, my love, it’s not real.”

Arms and wings and a tail wrap around him, pulling him tightly against a warm body. Hands card through his hair. His mate’s mind nudges against his own, as comforting and familiar as his touch.

“It’s not real, you’re dreaming.”

Steve sobs, and it’s equal parts terror and relief. Eddie just holds him, kisses the tears off his lashes, and waits until his shoulders stop shaking.

“I was too late,” Steve murmurs against the crook of his neck, once he trusts his voice not to hitch. “He killed you.”

“You weren't,” Eddie says, nuzzling the top of his head. “And he didn't. I’m right here. Safe and yours, alright?”

Steve laughs around the last few hiccups. They’re both here in their nest, the first rays of early morning sunlight creeping in through the windows, with their kingdom slowly waking up underneath them.

“Yeah,” he says, shaky hands reaching out to run along the curve of his dragon’s horns. “Yeah, alright.”

Eddie rumbles in pleasure, eyes gleaming gold in the light of the new day.

“Say it,” he mutters, nipping at the bite mark on Steve’s shoulder with sharp fangs. Steve’s laughter catches in his throat, but this time, it’s for entirely different reasons. “Say it, beloved, please.”

“You’re safe,” he replies teasingly, knowing full well it’s not what Eddie meant. Sure enough, he’s rewarded with an impatient growl and another bite. “Ow, alright already, you clingy dragon. You’re also mine.”

“And you are mine,” Eddie murmurs, pulling him in, and then neither of them says much for a while.

The sun is well on its way over the castle walls by the time Steve disentangles himself from his mate’s arms and the warmth of their nest. Eddie, who was dozing with his face buried in the sheets, looks up as he slips a shirt over his head, and groans in annoyance.

“Why the fuck are you dressed?”

Steve, who is squinting at the mirror and running a brush through his hair, rolls his eyes at his own reflection. “Because I have a court waiting for me, and unlike you, they prefer it when I’m not butt ass naked. Now stop whining, I should’ve been downstairs-”

The sound of a lock clicking shut makes him pause. When he turns, Eddie is propped against the door, lazily twirling the key around one finger.

“Eddie, come on,” Steve sighs. “What are you doing?”

He walks over and grabs for the key. Eddie tucks it behind his back. Steve tries to reach around him. Eddie dances out of his way, but his tail curls around Steve's waist, pulling him along. Before he knows it, they're back in the nest, half wrestling for the key, half chasing each other's lips and tongues, and Eddie is slipping the offending shirt off his shoulders again.

“Obvious, isn't it?” he answers Steve's question, albeit a bit belatedly. “I'm making sure you stay. I want to keep you all to myself.”

He kisses his way down Steve’s collarbone and chest, and the soul bond shivers with their mingled desire. Steve grumbles reluctantly, even as he melts into the touch.

“Eddie, I can't. There's things I need to do, I-”

But then Eddie pushes his head between his legs, fangs grazing the inside of his thigh, and he forgets what it is he needs to do.

“Let me take care of you, my king,” his dragon rumbles, effortlessly picking up on his train of thought. “That's the only thing you need to do right now. Everything else can wait for a few hours.”

Sometimes, Steve's head takes him back to the dark moments.

Sometimes, he forgets he doesn’t have to be tough all the time, that he can rest and show weakness and let himself fall. Sometimes he thinks it will always be like this.

That is alright, though. Eddie loves all of him. The dark parts and the weak ones, on the days where he feels like he can touch the sky, and tmon the days where it feels like he's plummeting back into the abyss.

Letting himself fall doesn't seem so scary, these days. He knows he'll always have someone to catch him.

More celebration ficlets

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #hype's 1k follower ficlets #hic sunt dracones #STMonsterMay

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seventh-fantasy · 1 day

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top 5 dihua moments

HELLO ohhh goddd if i really really really have to pick... I'LL TRY (in tears)

in chronological order of the episodes:

(1) “你这个人最大的弱点就是喜欢当英雄。一个剑客不该有弱点。” your greatest weakness is that you like being a hero. a swordsman should be without weaknesses. (ep 1)

i'm as in love with the entire donghai scene as much as the next person but this dialogue is particularly special to me. so it was the first one i pinned down for this list. no hesitation. :)

it's a cornerstone of dihua's relationship; the thesis of lxy/llh's and their joint narrative. it prompts the deconstruction of the staple wuxia ideas of 侠 xia and heroism - which is what i really love lhl for. and dfs being the one to deliver this incredibly crucial and significant line is 10/10. he knew lxy even better than lxy did. he is the bearer and catalyst of lhl's story, lxy/llh's story.

"your greatest weakness is that you like being a hero. a swordsman should be without weaknesses." so what does it even mean to be a hero. is it more important to be a hero than being human. and i will become human. i am human and always have been. and i have weaknesses - i cannot win against fate, i am dying. but what ever is even wrong with being weak? being human is to have weaknesses. so i guess it's no wonder for the narrative to come in a full circle with dfs coming in possession of a weakness and be trapped in it. no longer the killer of di fortress. he's just a human being.

and llh bringing this up again in ep 11 feels to me that he had been carrying these words with him over the past 10 years. bicha and the battle have transformed him physically. but i like to think that dfs's words had an important role to play in an even deeper level of change.

all it took was this one scene to sell to me that this would probably be the kind of narrative i love.

(2) reunion in the woods (ep 8)

it's just so fucking good like literally every dihua scene. who doesn't love a good post-divorce first meeting scene. there's just a lot to chew on. most of all, llh just had to keep reminding dfs how well he knew dfs. we know the moon has always been this bright, alright. AND they were threatening each other. very sexy of them.

(3) whatever the heck was going between them in cailianzhuang arc (ep 11)

truly nothing brings out old married couple + parents vibes better than an inquisitive boy accusing you two of being up to something secretive behind his back. both their guilty expressions. :3 also dfs being the first person huahua goes to when he doesn't want to be alone. huahua being exceptionally chatty around dfs and dfs has no problem entertaining him. :3 they're totally on the same wavelength without having to say anything to each other and this arc brings it out so well.

(4) 腊月二十七 donghai anniversary wedding night (ep 38)

this is the last one i came up for the list after fighting a whole war in my mind over which 5 of the 100000 beloved scenes to pick. hate being predictable but. you just HAVE to give it to it. how do you NOT pick this for a top 5. all the 10 million other top 5 dihua scenes just had to make space for the anniversary scene. :'(

if i had to be even more specific, i think the scene of them in bed most likely takes the cake for me. llh literally saved dfs's life and helped him to become the stronger person he has always wanted to be. and perhaps no other moment exhibits the complementary yin and yang nature of their powers/energies in a more illustrative and palpable way. undershirts in bed just hits different from being fully clothed and one person literally having to keep the other person alive by touch...and this time it's llh for dfs despite the whole time it's dfs who was dedicated to keep llh alive. they have no lack of scenes that exhibit how in sync they are intellectually, and this is peak physical intimacy and tenderness, added with a brush with death/mortality yeah...

(5) llh/lxy's farewell to dfs (ep 40)

playing cheat here by combining two different moments :) but they are essentially connected. llh/lxy had to leave. and since it really had to be that way, i'm glad dfs was on his mind until the very end. what more can one ask for. there is really nothing more dear and tender in the world to be thought of

tl;dr: /blows kisses to every dihua moment

#anon idk why u did this to me but i love you. and thank you for the ask <3 my head exploded from doing the curation exercise <3 #i also have a couple of other specific scenes i wanted to call out but there's just no more room sighs #idk my answers are leaning mostly to the earlier arcs also bc those are the ones ive been rewatching most lately.#come back in 2 months maybe lmao. repeat until every dihua scene is listed lol #莲花楼 #mysterious lotus casebook #lhl #dihua #my posts #asks #anon

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alitherandom · 2 days

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Bad Batch is almost over so I'm going to ramble. If anyone can relate, please reply or reblog. Share what this show has meant to you, share your thoughts, share theories, tag people. Let's give it a send off.

Star Wars has been a massive part of my life for years.

I loved everything about the Clone Wars, the world building, the character development for the jedi, but most of all the clones. As someone who finds it hard to read faces, it was fun getting to know each of the clones as individuals with their own personalities and I actually never had any issues telling them apart. It hits hard, I think that's what makes their stories even more tragic.

Echo and Fives are my favourite Star Wars characters so I was really happy when Echo came back in Clone Wars season 7. That was why I decided to watch the Bad Batch- it then became my favourite series.

I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to do when this show ends. I think the hardest part is not knowing what the galaxy has in store for the batch and where it could go from here. Whatever happens I’ll always be grateful for the experiences I've had as part of this community over the last few years.

I think that's what's great about being part of a fandom. Seeing all the different ideas and projects that get put out there every day as well as knowing everyone else is in just as much suspense as I am. I haven't interacted on here that much until the last few months, but I check the tags a lot and all the fanart has been immaculate. The writers and artists are crazy talented and work so hard, I admire the level of dedication and aspire to be like that. 😂

I'm also really grateful for the three seasons we got with Clone Force 99.

Seeing Echo go from a shiny in the Clone Wars to becoming who he is now. (I could talk about that for ages, but I'll save that for another post.)

Seeing Crosshair regain his trust in the batch and get to change.

Seeing Hunter step up for his brothers and Omega.

Seeing more sides to Wrecker's strength.

Seeing Omega go from that kid who'd never seen dirt before to learning from her brothers and proving how brave she is.

And lastly, seeing Tech make the choice he did back in season 2. It wasn't easy to watch, because he deserved more time and there was definitely a massive hole in season 3 without him.

I'm not ready to say goodbye to any of them.

My favourite episodes in season 1 were the last few, when Kamino fell. It was the end of an era as well as a new beginning.

My favourite episode in season 2 was episode 8. I was really proud of Echo, plus he got a hug from Omega which I have admittedly rewatched far too many times.

My favourite episodes in season 3 were episodes 13 and 14. The stakes have been so high and it's been great seeing Echo's ARC skills in action again. (Plus the dialogue with Rampart was top tier. Hate that guy, but it was hilarious.)

I'm well aware of all the theories for the finale. I'm choosing to ignore most of them, but I’d like to present my own.

I hope Echo gets to finish what Fives started and the clones can finally be free, including Tech if he's CX2. I hope the batch gets to burn Tantiss to the ground and fly off into the sunset with Omega and the kids from the vault, and then I hope they continue a lifetime of bullying Rampart. I also hope Emerie gets to whack Hemlock with a steel chair, and then the Zillo beast can eat him.

…After all, Star Wars is based on hope, right?

If anyone actually ended up reading this to the end you're a real one- have a great final Bad Batch eve, and may the force be with you.

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writing-for-life · 2 days

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Considering this is a site where so many people have aspirations to become professional authors or artists, I think it’s really astounding that many (often the same) people encourage book piracy. And by that I mean: They don’t just do it behind closed doors (whatever, do what you have to do and keep it to yourself)—they actually package it as some act of immeasurable kindness in the name of “social justice”. And I’d say: If you’re not a professional author and have no experience in or with publishing, hence don’t really understand what it means to make your living as a writer, maybe just… don’t? And if you ever want to sell your books, maybe also just… don’t?

It’s not some cool subversive thing in the name of social justice you’re doing. You’re really hurting authors with it, and it’s in no way comparable to “fighting the big bad streamers.”

Yes, Neil Gaiman will be okay, but if you’re saying it’s okay to do it to him, you’re also saying by extension it’s okay to do it to lesser known authors. And those authors make up the vast (and I mean vast!) majority of authors. But maybe you’re one of those people who think that all artists are minted and picture them in La La Land, entirely possible. If that’s the case, maybe educate yourself what the median income of authors is, be very surprised and wake up. Sometimes, it really helps to think before hitting post. And if rants are not your thing, this is the exit sign because I’m not going to mince my words…

Here are a couple of really good comments from *that* post that people should maybe inwardly digest before they prioritise being oh-so-understanding and supportive of every Tom, Dick & Harry who “can’t afford the book” via piracy (how about buying them one instead if you care so much. No? Thought so) over supporting authors, artists and, yes, libraries:

(Re the last comment: Or use online libraries—they’re also free. That was also part of above post btw. Libby, Hoopla etc exist for a reason.)

If that’s all too hard, then let’s at least stop pretending on here that we care about supporting authors and artists while vocally supporting book piracy. Because really, it’s the same in all arts, even if the symptoms are slightly different—take it from one who is both a published author and used to be a stage performer.

And to say it quite frankly: These “ideas” are probably held by the same people who were tearfully blabbering about the arts being what kept them going during the pandemic and then forgot about it all when lockdown was over. Or maybe they are the same people who think that art is a “jolly pastime”, and that everyone should just be content to “do it for the love of it and give their art away for free because awwwww, so amazing, here, buy food with my exposure bucks.” Go on then, write and consume fanfics and create fanart, problem solved. Just don’t ever ask for the pro art that inspires it again. Ah no, I forgot, it’s all made for money and soulless anyway, innit? Why oh why then do you want to consume and pirate it though?

You’re not progressive and/or supportive of artists. You just have no clue how making a living in the arts works and think your comfort (= “I have to have all the things even if I can’t afford them”) matters more than someone’s livelihood (namely that of the people who devoted their lives to creating that art for you), and it really shows.

I don’t care about anyone’s Google history and even said so several time on here when people asked (this is the latest one, and yes, I see the people who had a “reaction” to this one or the reblog above, but I bet that’s “coincidence”). Do whatever you want to do, it’s your choice, keep it to yourself. But stop pretending that piracy means “caring about the noble cause”, because repackaging entitlement as social activism is performative crap…

#book piracy #authors #publishing #support libraries #support writers #books & libraries #bookblr #books #writers #personal rant

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kybercrystals94 · 1 day

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The Last Time

Read here on Ao3!

Angstpril 2024 | Day 30 | Prompt 30: The Last Time

Rated: G | Words: 1562 | Summary: “...it was the last time…” | Character Focus: Hunter, Tech, Crosshair, Wrecker, Echo

“Are you awake?” Tech’s voice asks, right at the edge of Hunter’s bunk.

Hunter doesn’t know how anyone can sleep with the hurricane raging outside the walls. It sounds like the entire city might topple under the weight of its rampant fury. Not that Hunter’s scared. His blanket is only pulled up over his head because the flashes of lightning burn his eyes. But the thin blanket does not protect his frayed senses from the bone rattling thunder and the constant barrage of torrential rain lashing against the walls and windows.

“I’m awake,” Hunter says, voice muffled into his fabric sanctuary.

The edge of his mattress dips as Tech sits down next to him. “Excellent. Would you like to see the weather radar I have accessed?”

No, Hunter thinks, but he hears the slight tremble in his brother’s voice. With a sigh, he leaves the small comfort of his makeshift barrier and sits up. “Sure, Tech.”

It is the middle of their sleep cycle. Their barracks should be dark, but the incessant lightning keeps the room lit with a flickering, white light. Tech does not wait for further invitation before he scrambles the rest of the way into Hunter’s bunk, putting himself between Hunter and the wall. He props his data pad between them, the screen a mass of twisting colors. “We are here,” Tech says, pointing to a tiny blip amongst the chaos.

“What do the different colors mean?” Hunter asks. He already knows. Reading weather maps is a basic part of their training; however, he also knows that Tech finds comfort in over-explaining even the most rudimentary facts.

Hunter becomes so engrossed in the rambled explanation of weather patterns, that he doesn’t notice the shadow prowling across the room until it speaks almost directly into his ear. “What are you doing?”

Hunter won’t admit if his nerves also leapt bodily in surprise, but Tech startles, the small jerk of motion jarring against Hunter’s side.

Crosshair stands there, arms crossed tightly over his chest, shoulders hiked just a little towards his ears, waiting for an answer.

“Tech’s showing me his weather map,” Hunter says.

Crosshair shifts his weight, sharp eyes cutting away. “I want to see when this karking storm is gonna end,” he mumbles. Like Tech, he does not wait for an invitation to clamber into the bunk. Crosshair puts himself between Tech and the wall. Hunter shifts a little to make more room, Tech tucked snugly in the middle.

Tech starts his explanation all over again, moving the data pad to rest in his lap so that all three of them can see.

“Hey!” an indignant shout comes from across the room. There’s a loud thump, the thudding of feet running across the room. Wrecker looms over Hunter’s crowded bunk, blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cape. “No one told me we were sharing a bunk tonight. I don’t want to be alone either!”

“We aren’t sharing a bunk,” Tech corrects him, “I am showing Hunter and Crosshair the storm’s progress on my radar.”

Wrecker grins. “Then I want to see too!”

He dives into the bunk amidst shouts of protest, wedging himself into the nonexistent space between Crosshair and the wall. Hunter is nearly shoved out of his own bed, clinging to Tech’s arm to keep himself from toppling to the floor.

“We can’t all fit!” Crosshair squawks.

“Yes, we can!” Wrecker says, sounding all too pleased with himself.

“Wrecker,” Crosshair wheezes, “your elbow is digging into my ribs.”

“Oh, sorry,” Wrecker says.

Another pause.

“Wrecker, your elbow is still digging into my ribs.”

“I know, but I’m really comfortable,” Wrecker sighs.

Tech huffs. “At least one of us is.”

Hunter is halfway off the bunk. “We can make this work,” he says, “but not like this.” He drops to the floor and stands up.

“How?” Crosshair asks.

“Sideways,” Hunter says. “Now move.”

“We’re too tall to fit sideways,” Tech points out.

“Do you want to share my bunk or not?” Hunter asks.

At that, his brothers don’t argue, quickly rearranging themselves. Sitting up as they had been, their feet - with the exception of Wrecker - come just to the edge of the thin mattress. They leave space for Hunter between the head of the bed and Tech. Hunter climbs into his allocated spot, and they situate his and Wrecker’s blankets over all four of them.

“Now,” Tech says, taking out his data pad. “Shall I start again?”

They listen to Tech talk about the storm, hardly noticing the stark flashes of lightning or the grumbling of the thunder or the endless onslaught of rain, until one by one they fall asleep.

But it is the last time the four share a bunk.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

"Stop looking at my cards!” Wrecker cries, holding his splay of cards against his chest.

Crosshair scoffs, sitting back. “I would if you’d stop waving them directly in my face.”

“Maybe if you stayed on your side of the table...”

“Can we play just one game without an argument?” Hunter asks, the patience in his voice becoming transparently thin.

A brief moment of silence. Wrecker puts down a card.

“Wrecker, that is an illegal play,” Tech says.

“Is not,” Wrecker says.

Crosshair picks up the card and flicks it back at Wrecker. “Is so. Take it back.”

Wrecker grumbles, but puts the card back in his hand.

The game continues without further incident until Crosshair wins the round.

“How did you know I was bluffing?” Tech asks as Crosshair sweeps his winnings of spare bolts and screws into his pile.

Crosshair grins. “You’ve got a tell.”

“Really? What is it?” Wrecker asks eagerly, squinting at Tech.

Tech rolls his eyes, gathering the cards to shuffle. “I do not have a tell.”

“He does,” Crosshair says to Wrecker, ignoring Tech, “but I’m not going to give it away. It’s my strategy. He counts cards, and I read his tells.”

Hunter groans. “Tech…”

“That is not cheating!” Tech cries, indignant.

“With your enhancement…”

“Now wait a minute–”

“Yeah! Using enhancements is cheating!” Wrecker declares.

Tech huffs. “Then Crosshair shouldn’t be able to read my tells,” he says, then adds, glancing at Wrecker, “not that I have any.”

“How the kark am I supposed to play then? Blindfolded?” Crosshair cries.

Tech shrugs indifferently. “If necessary.”

The table erupts in a tangle of arguments, rational and irrational alike.

It is the last time they play cards before Echo joins the Batch.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

“Here we are,” Hunter says cheerfully, stepping into the clearing and removing his helmet. He takes a deep breath, enjoying the inhalation of pure air, rich with the scents of primitive wilderness. The only electromagnetic signals his senses can pick up are from the Marauder an hour’s march away, and the faint output of Tech’s data pad and their gear.

“If by here you mean the middle of nowhere, then you are correct,” Tech grumbles, shrugging out of his pack and putting it against a tree.

“It was Hunter’s turn to pick our shore leave,” Echo says diplomatically. “So middle of nowhere it is.”

“I like it!” Wrecker booms, scaring away a bird that had been watching them from a nearby branch. “We haven’t been camping in ages!”

Crosshair sighs. “What do you call what we just did on our last mission?”

“Just ‘cause we had to sleep outside doesn’t mean it was camping,” Wrecker says. “Camping means we have a campfire and don’t have to worry about getting our heads shot off by clankers.”

“Now we just have to worry about our heads being bitten off by wild animals,” Crosshair retorts.

Tech immediately cuts in. “There are no predators on this planet capable of such a feat. I made sure of it.”

“See? I feel safer already.” Echo chuckles, pulling off his helmet and grinning at Hunter. “I think I’m gonna like this shore leave. We’ll have some peace and quiet if we can get these two to quit their whining,” he says, nodding at Crosshair and Tech.

Echo receives twin expressions of indignation in response.

However, that night, around the crackling warmth of the campfire, the complaints of the early afternoon are forgotten. The soft sounds of nighttime embrace them, soothing chaotic nature for something tranquil. They watch the stars overhead as things unreachable, winking pinpricks of light against a velvety, black canopy of sky.

Hunter takes first watch, eager to enjoy the serenity they’ve found. Crosshair comes to sit next to him once their brothers have fallen asleep. He bumps his shoulder against the Sargeant’s, and Hunter nudges him back. They don’t speak for long, peaceful minutes, appreciating one another’s quiet company.

“Do you think we could live like this? After the war?” Hunter asks at last, voice hushed.

Crosshair doesn’t answer right away, leaning forward and bracing his forearms on his knees, watching the flames of the fire dance and spark. “We’re soldiers,” he says, “we don’t know anything but war.”

“We could learn,” Hunter says. “Adapt.”

Crosshair chuckles. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

It is the last time they have shore leave before their mission to Kaller.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Hunter tries to remember the last words he said to Omega.

The last meaningful words.

The last words she might remember him by.

In case this mission goes wrong.

In case it was the last time he ever saw her.

But he can’t remember.

END

That's a wrap! [[On the eve of the Bad Batch series finale too!! 🥲]] 30 angsty prompts fulfilled in 30 days! I am honored to have gotten to collaborate alongside the endlessly talented @the-little-moment and @just-here-with-my-thoughts this month!

A master list post is coming soon with links to all 30 stories/chapters completed this month! So keep an eye out for that ☺️

Happy last Bad Batch eve, my lovelies! **sob**

✨Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!✨

Tag List: @followthepurrgil @isthereanechoinhere96 @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69 @nagyanna424 @proteatook @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver @merkitty49

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chateautae · 11 months

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hi everyone 🥺

#IK IT'S BEEN SO LONG #HELLO HELLOOOOO LIFE JUST GOT SO CRAZY #it's so entirely different from when i was last on here!#BUT WHEW I;VE HAD THE SECOND CHAPTER TO 'TO TURN A BAD THING GOOD' FOR A WHILE #I JUST LOST ALL MOTIVATION AFTER LIFE GOT SO CRAZY #it legit needs another paragraph or two and it'll be done #i also have a tae pwp i wrote like two years ago and just never released stashed somewhere #i might release that too!#i wanna get back into maybe i do drabbles as well!!#sammy files

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whisperprime · 1 year

Text

Edit: Somehow a ton of paragraphs got moved around before posting this. Not sure how that happened, but they should all now be fixed now.

It rains near nonstop over the following day, but it puts little damper on Hob's good mood.

For the first time in centuries, he knows he will see Dream again. He doesn't have a precise date, but he will see him again.

And it won't be life or death or some other traumatic reason.

He hopes.

The thought buoys up his good mood and keeps it there through the morning and well into the afternoon.

Lucas, the head of his team of contractors, has been eyeing him all day. Hob is a little surprised it takes the man as long as it does to finally comment on it. "You’re in a good mood today. Meet someone new last night?"

Hob took a moment to finish sanding the area of the bar he had been working. They had just recently installed it and he'd wanted to try and knock out the staining and finish before the end of the week. Spot to his liking, he turned his attention to his nosey, friendly acquaintance. "No, no one new."

Lucas raises an eyebrow. His look is far too knowing. "Ah, one of those." He pats Hob on the shoulder, telegraphing the intent before following through when Hob doesn't move away, as he passes to get some more paint. "Old flames can be alluring, but you're just as likely to get burnt the second time."

Hob makes a noncommittal noise, both at the touch and the comment. From what he's observed, Lucas is always tactile with those around him that will let him get away with it. He thinks it his way of showing that he's come to see Hob as one of the boys.

He also thinks Lucas views him as a feral cat in need of getting used to human touch. Hob blames that on the fact that the first time the blond man had done it, the immortal had flinched so hard he'd spilled his drink. It had been the first time Hob had been touched by someone other than Dream since he'd been rescued.

Lucas had been more mortified than Hob had been, the latter brushing off the apologies. He hadn't explained why he'd flinched, but he had assured Lucas that it was fine to touch him, just warn him first. None of the rest of his crew were quite so tactile, but word had still spread amongst the group.

Since then, there was always a pause for permission before any contact.

Hob still felt the twinge of fear that Mammon had stolen the ease and love he'd had with touch, even as he reminded himself that all wounds took time to heal from.

Amy snorts from where she was tackling another wall. She's one of two women that made up Lucas' six-person crew. "You only say that because you have terrible taste in partners."

Mary, the second woman, laughs from near by Amy. "All of them might as well be incubi, for all Lucas can't stay away from them."

Lucas points a paint brush at them. "You're both just jealous I have an eye for excellent looking men."

The women made a few jeers at his exspense. Lucas might have an eye for great looking men, but he was not great at distinguishing keepers from one's that really should have remained one night stands.

Hob joins in their merriment. "It's not nearly that exciting. Just ran into an old acquaintance I thought I might not see again. Said they'd come by sometime."

Mary gives him a sympathetic hum. "Oh, but we know that look, luv. You definitely want them to be more than that."

Hob won't deny it, but he also doesn't want to prod this topic too much. His hopes are far too close to being up. "Cheeky, the lot of you. Am I paying you to build my pub or tease me?"

"Both!" Six voices ring out together. Hob contemplates flicking paint at them but doesn't care to start a paint fight when he still needs to get this bar table taken care of.

He finishes it within the next few days, which is just as well. In the weeks leading up to the start of the new term, Hob is forced to switch his focus from working on the New Inn with the builders to preparing for returning to the classroom.

Seeing the office that will soon be his home away from home feels like some integral part of himself sliding back into place. He wasn't always a teacher in the time between the Other Dream's death and when he met the Herald, but it was a preferred profession.

Add all this to teaching at a new school for the first time and Hob's feeling really good about his near future.

The afternoon of the day before the start of classes, Hob retreats out to a bench not far from the Inn. The contractors hadn't been in that day, so Hob had been taking it as an excuse to take some down time before everything went straight into the chaos that was the start of any semester.

The weather outside is a nice 21°C and Hob just takes a moment to close his eyes and bask in the sunlight. He has had ample opportunities over the summer to get some sun, and even taken many of them, but it still hasn't gotten old.

Hob's lounging spot is close enough to the park to hear the sounds of other people also taking advantage of the good weather, but far enough away so as not to be bothered by them. He is getting better with crowds, but he still finds them to be overwhelming after a while. There are too many people to keep track of and he has difficulty truly relaxing.

He absolutely could not allow himself to close his eyes and let his guard down in one. This is the other reason he had chosen this spot. Close enough to hear civilization, but far enough away that the sounds of a crowd would not drown out the noise of someone approaching while he has his eyes closed, face turned up to the sun.

It's been a fairly good system, so far.

Which is why he nearly jumps out of his own skin when he hears someone take a seat beside him.

Hob tenses. The average human shouldn't have been able to sneak up on him, so this is either the not so average human or something not human at all.

He's aware the being he's waiting for is perfectly capable of sneaking up on him, and has already done so once in this new timeline, but one doesn't spend 96 years not knowing when a demon is going to come for them without becoming more than a little hyper vigilant.

Hob slowly cracks an eye open and tilts his head to the side to get a look at his guest.

And all at once feels the tension drain out of him as he sees that it is, indeed, Dream.

"You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days, dove," he says as he relaxes back down onto the bench.

Dream nods in acknowledgement of the critique. He does not give any promises that it will not happen again.

Git.

Hob huffs as he sits up properly. “Good timing, as usual, though. If you showed up this time tomorrow, I’d be neck deep in afternoon classes.”

The Dream Lord raises an eyebrow at that. His attention focuses fully in that way that Hob has come to know that Hob has said something he finds of curious. “You are returning to school.”

“Yes, but not as a student.” The immortal grins and does a partial bow, similar to how he’d done when he’d introduced himself as a knight in 1589, but while still sitting. “Professor Gadsen, at your service.”

Something warms behind Dream’s eyes in much the same way they had when Hob had told him he’d started in the printing profession. “You’ve become a teacher.”

Hob straightens back up, his hand going to his ear in slight embarrassment. He’s forgotten how nice it felt to have his old friend look at him like that. “I did some off and on work as a professor in the other timeline. Must have taught at a dozen different schools. Didn’t always do it, but it’s probably my favorite profession, with publishing after that.”

Dream tilts his head to the side at the reminder that Hob has lived this whole other life. “What subject?”

Hob doesn’t know if he means what he’s taught in the past or if he means this time around. Decides to stick with the present, for now. “History 101, this time. Got my first two classes tomorrow.”

Dream nods. He falls silent, afterword, seriousness settling back on him like a cloak.

Hob, knowing this was unlikely to be a simple pleasure trip, waits to see what this is about.

He’s not kept waiting long.

“I have some questions about the memory.”

Ah. Of course.

Hob sighs. “I think it would be best to move this conversation indoors.” He stands up and points over his shoulder. “I know a place we can chat uninterrupted, if you’re okay with a change in scenery.”

The Endless nods his consent, before rising to his feet as well. He follows as Hob starts heading back home. “Where are we going?”

The immortal throws a smile over his shoulder and points to the building in question. “Just a little something I’ve been working on for the last five months. She’s not done yet, but she’s getting there.” He near bounds up to the door as they near it. Opens the door and holds it open for Dream to enter for. “May I present: The New Inn.”

Dream pauses in the doorway, taking in the room before him. Most of the structure is finished, along with the bar and back room. He hasn’t gotten all of the appliances for the kitchen just yet, nor has he brought in even a fraction of the table and chairs, but there is a fridge and stove back there, along with a single table and chair out on the main floor that Hob, Lucas, and his crew take breaks out.

It’s not quite how he’d hoped to first introduce it, but he’ll take his victories where he can.

When Dream finally enters, allowing Hob to follow, he slowly works his way around the bar and into the main sitting area. A single, pale hand reaches out and runs along the lacquered surface of the bar table. “The New Inn is a pub?”

Hob puts his hands into his pocket to keep them from giving away his nervousness. Is glad he did when his old friend turns to face him fully, something intense laying behind those blue eyes staring back at him inquisitively.

“Yeah.” Hob answers simply. “I built her the first time, too.”

He watches as the implications of the statement lands. Blue eyes briefly darken, before that heat is banked.

Hob clears his throat. Gestures to one of the seats, as he offers, “Would you like some tea? I think I have a brew you’d like in stock.”

He knows full well that Dream will like it. It had taken a few tries, but he and the Other Dream had found one he’d like. It hadn’t done anything for him, truly, the way tea drank in a dream would, but he’d enjoyed the taste of it. Hob had made sure to keep some on hand in the decades that followed, even if he couldn’t bear to drink any of it, just so he wouldn’t forget.

Dream nods as he takes the seat and Hob quickly escapes back into the back.

The excuse of making tea gives him the chance to settle himself. Knows that this isn’t going to be a pleasant conversation. Curses the fates, again, for the memory having somehow followed him.

Maybe dawdles a bit more than he should, because he really doesn’t want to talk about this. Hob briefly daydreams about hiding up in his flat upstairs, until he belatedly remembers that the being in the other room can hear daydreams and that really is going to give off the wrong impression.

Sure enough, when he returns to the sitting area, Dream looks like he’s mere minutes away from getting up and hunting him down. Hob chuckles softly at the look, ignoring the glare he gets in response for his amusement. “Sorry, dove. I wasn’t really going to do it.”

Dream’s glare turns to something more considering, as it sinks in that Hob was saying he wasn’t planning on following through with his daydream. He clearly wants to interrogate the immortal human over what all he knows.

Hob isn’t about to hide that from him, but he’s kind of enjoying being the mysterious one for a change and he’s not about to give up all his secrets unless asked for them.

It seems that line of questioning is for another day, because what Dream asks is: “What originally happened in 1916?”

The wave of anger, both old and new, is familiar, and Hob doesn’t try to tame of his face as it twists into a snarl. “Some half-assed magician thought he could summon Death. Planned to try and get her to bring back his son.” He wrapped his hands around his mug in a way that suggested he wished it was something else. Blue eyes ticked down to them, cataloging the response. “Wasn’t Death he got though.”

The room around them dropped several degrees, anger and affront in the downwards twist of Dream’s lips. “Did he not understand the damage he would have done to his world?”

Hob took a sip of his tea - the same flavor as Dream’s - and shrugged. “He wasn’t affected, so what did he care?” He placed the mug back down on the table. “Bastard died in 1926. To my understanding, it was his son that held your counterpart captive for the most of the time he was down there.”

He thinks of Alex Burgess, who fled Fawney Rig to run off with the man he loved. Wonders what was so different this time that he found the courage to run away rather than lock himself in a prison of his own making. Ponders if it was possibly because Paul had been else where, and as such, was a stronger lure away.

It was a thought.

Dream seems to finally remember that tea was placed in front of him. He takes a sip as he ponders this new information. Pauses to stare down at the liquid like he’s never seen tea before and Hob knows he’s scored a win with the flavor. The tea gets an almost mournful look as Dream drags his attention away from it. “Who was it that tried to summon my sister?”

Hob contemplates the pros and cons of sic’ing Dream of the Endless on Roderick Burgess. Finds himself asking, instead, “Does it matter? They didn’t succeed.”

Dream breathes out slowly, lips a thin line of unhappiness. “Perhaps you have a point. They would be long dead by now anyway.”

Hob holds his tongue and lets the misunderstanding go. He does not correct him to protect Burgess from Dream, but rather because it feels too much like he would be turning his friend into a weapon if he told the truth.

He has already done that once before. He never plans to do it again.

No. He will deal with Roderick Burgess himself when the time comes.

The immortal human finishes his tea in a single gulp, savoring the sweet peppermint taste. It isn’t one of his favorites, personally, but he can still enjoy it. Especially with how long it’s been since he’s last had any. “Mm. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get some more tea.” He tips the empty cup in Dream’s direction. “Do you want anything else while I’m back there?”

Dream shakes his head, an air of distraction to the movement.

Hob does not try to stall a second time. Really just wanted some more tea. When he returns to the sitting area, he’s almost surprised to see the Dream Lord is still there.

And frowning at him. “What?” He hadn’t even daydreamed about escaping this time!

“You are still limping.”

“Oh, yes.” The immoral human returns back to his seat. “I don’t have the networks I had the first time around, so I have to wait until I can find a new doctor who’s willing to fix it but not ask any questions.” He would have been more than happy to look someone up from the first time around, but it’s been 273 years since he lived this year. He thinks he deserves to be forgiven for not remembering anyone’s names except the important ones.

Dream studies him. Carefully, he says, “I could fix it for you.”

Hob stares at him. “What?”

Dream gives him a look that states that he heard right the first time and he’s not going to get a repeat of it.

Hob coughs and shifts in his seat. The thought of those pale hands touching his ankle doing some odds things to his higher brain functions. “Sorry, dove. I just didn’t think this would be something you’d do.”

He gets a strange look in response, although he’s not sure over what. “I have broken things far stronger than human bones before.”

Oh, Hob has little doubt about that. Still, it’s not something he was expecting to have to deal with tonight, and finds himself at war between finally dealing with the issue and wanting more time to prepare for it.

He remembers that these aren’t things you’re ever prepared for. There isn’t really a reason to put it off. If set right, the bone will be healed by morning. He'll have to come up with a cover story for the sudden disappearance of his limp though.

Taking a deep breathe, he nods. “Let me run up stairs to grab something to bite on real quick. Won’t take more than a few minutes.”

He’s halfway out of the chair, when Dream rises to his feet instead. “There is no need.” He holds out his hand, palm up and facing Hob, who suddenly finds himself flashing back to a certain encounter in 1789.

Instinctively, Hob goes completely still. “What are you doing?”

“I wish to sedate you.” Dream nods to the chair he’d just been getting out of. “You will want to sit back down first. I will wake you when it is over.”

Hob relaxes a fraction and his face splits into a smile at the consideration. “It's a kind offer, but I've dealt with worse.”

Dream has the same stubbornness to him as when Hob tried to will off sleep right after his rescue. “If you will not do it for your peace of mind, then do it for mine. I will inevitably hurt you, Hob Gadling. I do not wish for this to be one of those times.”

“Ah, dove. How can I say no to that?” Hob feels himself folding like a wet tissue paper. He’s sitting before he even makes the decision to do so. “Yes. Yes, you can send me off to your kingdom for a bit.”

That pale hand starts to rise again just as a thought crosses Hob’s mind. He holds up his hands to block his eyes, as if that would actually protect them. “Wait!”

Dream pauses, and there’s a flash of irritation as his patience appears to be wearing thin at the interruptions. He near snaps, “What?”

The idea is mad and he’s likely pushing it. But Hob never got anywhere without being willing to take risks. And this is a risk he’s always loathed never taking. “Will you join me?” At the look of confusion, he elaborates, “In the dream.”

One of those elegant dark eyebrows goes up. “Why?”

Hob’s fingers go to his ear, nervousness winning out. “I want to thank you for this. For the rescue, too.” He drops his hand and squares his shoulders. “Let me treat you to a meal, in the Dreaming.”

Dream considers him, a knowing look in his eyes. “You do not owe me anything, Hob Gadling.”

He knows, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting to spend more time with him. To take every chance he can get while he still can. “Maybe, but I still want to.”

A long silence. He’s just starting to fear he’s pushed too far, when, “Very well. I will join you for this meal.”

Hob feels his heart soar. He near leaps to his feet. “Well, if this is going to take a while, perhaps we should do this upstairs? We’ll be less likely to be interrupted if I sleep on my couch then down here.”

Dream hums in response to this. Hob gets the impression he’s said something of interest, but he’s not sure why living in the Inn would catch his interest. “You do not need to stop at the couch.” The immortal human pauses as he’s opening a back door that leads to the stairs to his flat. There’s that mischievous grin again that tells Hob he’s about to get another bombshell. “We can do this just fine in your bed.”

Hob feels his jaw drop. “Are you teasing me?”

The look he receives in return is too innocent looking to be for real. “Am I?”

Oh, one of these days, Hob is going to have his sweet, sweet revenge on this insufferable creature. He really will.

In the meantime, he’s just going to bemoan the fact that he’s totally not cleaned his bedroom recently and he had clearly not thought this through as well as he thought he had.

Part 13

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