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mangoisms · 7 months

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circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter eleven: i am always running back to you | read chapter ten

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 4.7k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

━ a/n: SO SORRY.... it was the horrors (midterms). hope this chapter makes up for it because boy it is a lot of fun

The rest of the evening passes slowly.

It does nothing for your nerves, truthfully, but you keep yourself preoccupied with Wade. He crawls now and that leaves him wanting to explore every space possible. So, while Wally runs out for dinner and Linda wraps up a meeting with her editor, you watch over him and make sure he doesn’t get into anything he shouldn’t.

Dinner is deep-dish pizza—directly from Chicago. It’s all very indulgent, the way Wally can do things like that; he spoils you in that regard and you tell him as much as you wash dishes and he puts them away.

“Nah, it’s nothing,” he says, shooting you a small smile. “Besides, it’s for me, too.”

And you can tell that’s true by the four empty boxes of pizza that he ate, with two for you and Linda.

But still. When he leaves…

It’s not just that that you’re going to miss. With or without the speed, you’re going to miss him. Him, Linda, and little Wade.

Despite not saying that—because you don’t want to be a downer, because their home is in Keystone City, not here, and you don’t want to be selfish like that—he senses the shift in your mood.

“You know,” he starts, “me and Lin were thinking…”

“That’s never good.”

He nudges you gently, grinning. You shake your head, smiling, too. You pass him a freshly-washed plate and he dries it.

“Well, wait until you hear what we were thinking about.”

“What?”

“We think you should visit us every now and then.”

The thought that they want you around is warming, as usual. But…

“I mean, I would love to, Wally, but I can’t really afford that… Maybe, after I see how everything adds up during the fall, I can come for the holidays or something. But…”

He shakes his head. “Come on, kiddo. You think we’d say that and leave it up to you?”

“I don’t expect—”

“I know. But you should. We want to do whatever we can to see you. You aren’t the only one that’s going to miss something when we leave, you know. That’s why we’re doing this. Besides,” he grins at you, lightening up. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I can get you to Keystone in under a minute right now.”

Considering that Linda has told you that his speed is efficient but leaves one with a horrible bout of nausea and vertigo—at least in the beginning; she’s barely affected these days—you feel some mild apprehension.

But those things are temporary. You can withstand that, if only to see them again.

“Or,” he goes on, “we can fly you out, but that would honestly be pretty cumbersome and would also take too long.”

“It’s a plane, Wally. That is the fastest form of transportation we have in this country.”

He sniffs. “I’m the fastest form of transportation we have in this country. In the world! One of them, anyway.”

“Well, that’s how we normal human beings function. Not everyone can run faster than the speed of light.”

“Not everyone should,” he agrees. “I’d lose my appeal. That would suck.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“So, is that a yes or—?”

“Alright,” you relent, smiling. “How often are we talking?”

He smiles a tad bashfully. “Once or twice a month? You can come on the weekends… Just—you know. I know you’re gonna be busy with classes but…”

“It sounds like I should be getting a nice break every month if we do that. I mean, I can’t promise I won’t have work—”

“Just as long as you’re around, kid. That’s all we want.”

Your face warms at the earnestness in his words, embarrassed, though you know you really shouldn’t be. “Wally.”

“Hey, I’m gonna be honest with you. I’ve been in this game too long to try and dance around feelings. Hopefully your boy will learn that, too.”

“You aren’t wrong,” you mutter, shutting off the water and drying your hands, making a mental reminder to put on some lotion before they get annoyingly dry from the hot water and dish soap. “I’m just not… used to that.”

He shrugs, tossing his dish towel over his shoulder. “Like I said. In a world like ours… it’s important.”

You don’t disagree. But you can’t rail too hard on Tim. Questionable decisions regarding his feelings aside, the both of you only came to your senses after he had a close-call today. What does that say about you, that he has to nearly die for you to realize you need to see him again? Need to clear the air?

It’s human, you think. So very terribly human of you.

It’s not like you’re unappreciative of him in your life but… you know this dance and song. You only realize what you have when you lose it. Look at your parents. You’ve slipped right now but you’ll fix it. You’ll make sure he knows how much he means to you.

But more importantly, right now…

“You guys… mean a lot to me, too.” You turn, seeing Linda pause near the island, and meet her brown eyes and even though it makes your face hot and the words get stuck in your throat, you force them out, underpinned with what you hope they can tell is sincerity. “You do. So much.”

Your throat tightens and you duck your head as your eyes burn.

Hard to quantify. Hard to put a label on what they mean to you.

But you know that much. That they mean the world to you.

Warm, strong arms come around you, squeezing you tight. You sniffle when you feel Linda come up behind you, squeezing you, too.

It’s an emotional day, you decide. For all of you.

So, you take a long shower to try and pull yourself together, then head to bed, bidding Wally and Linda goodnight.

You don’t intend to fall asleep when you crawl into your bed. It’s better to stay up, to wait for Tim to get here. But the day’s events start weighing down on you as you curl up beneath the blankets.

You try valiantly to stay awake by scrolling on your phone but it’s a Sisyphean task to do so. As your eyelids grow heavier and heavier, you know it will be a task that you fail as you stop fighting and give in to sleep.

It’s only the vibration of your phone that rouses you.

Groping for it, the display is obscenely bright in the darkness of your room. But the text waiting for you is unmistakable, impossible to miss.

i’m here

Suddenly recalling what you and Tim had agreed upon, you shoot up in bed, ignoring the head rush the action gives you.

The window that leads out to the fire escape is right next to your bed, covered by curtains. You toss your phone aside, rolling out of the warm cocoon of blankets; the AC in this place works well, a little too well, you think groggily as your bare feet connect with cold wood floors.

You shove aside the curtains and though you know who is waiting for you, that it is Tim, just Tim, your best friend, the still-not-fully-awake part of you clenches up in fear, thinking it might be Batman that is moving in the shadows, only barely illuminated by the full moon. But you know better than that.

It helps that your eyes are already adjusted to the darkness, recognizing the figure crouched in your fire escape. Dressed in… oddly enough, sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a light jacket. Completed with a plain black domino mask—not the usual one he wears, more akin to Robin, save for the color—that obscures the blue eyes you know and love.

You reach for the window. Well-oiled and taken care of by the owners, it is virtually silent as it slides open.

Muggy July heat rushes in, chasing away the cold.

Without the window and with your vision quickly clearing from bleariness, you can really take him in. The tension in his body, the way a breeze ruffles through dark hair, the twitch of his hands to you before they clench into fists. Waiting.

For you.

Your throat thickens painfully when your eyes snag on the white gauze taped to the left side of his neck.

Just a graze, Steph told you. But he lost a bit of blood anyway and his neck… if it had been the right side, would he not be here right now? Maybe it doesn’t matter. It’s his neck, there are so many important arteries running through there.

If anything else had happened, if he’d moved even a little bit, he wouldn’t be here.

That realization, coupled with the overwhelming emotions at seeing him again since everything, pushes you over the edge.

Your eyes burn with tears. You reach forward, ignoring the soreness in your belly, one hand grabbing his wrist and tugging him right into the circle of your arms.

That breaks the stalemate. He goes quickly, arms sliding around you as the first of your tears start sliding down your cheeks.

“Tim…”

He holds you tighter, impossibly warm, letting out a shuddery breath and whispering your name, too, everything inside you shivering at the sound, at the warmth that wraps up the syllables of your name.

“I’m okay,” he breathes. “I’m okay, I swear.”

“You were shot.”

An exhale of a laugh. It sounds shaky with emotion.

“Technically, I was grazed.”

“Tim.”

He presses his nose to your hair, hand stroking up your back.

“I’m okay,” he whispers, lips brushing your forehead. “I wasn’t going to die before I got to see you. No way.”

You sniffle. The two of you are quiet, speaking lowly, but you’re suddenly too aware of the other window on the fire escape, the one for Linda and Wally’s room. You don’t want to wake them—or god forbid, Wade—so you reluctantly extract yourself from his arms, tugging him again.

He follows easily, sliding through the window with a grace you aren’t used to. He shuts the window silently behind him, banishing the muggy air that had leaked inside. You wipe away your tears, attempting to piece yourself together.

As he turns back to you, hesitantly now, the air conditioner clicks on, and a second later, cold air starts blowing into your room. It should help cover your voices a little bit.

For a moment, it is silent.

Tim shifts on his feet across from you. The domino mask renders him impervious. Impossible to read without seeing his eyes.

But not totally impossible. The way he bites his lip doesn’t just draw your attention to his mouth, tempting, traitorous thoughts briefly crossing your mind, but it also clues you into his nervous state.

“I’m sorry.”

He speaks first, blurting the words out, seeming almost surprised at the way they escaped him before he decides to go with it, doubling down on it.

Taking a deep breath, he looks at you, whispering your name. “I’m sorry. For lying to you. For coming to you as Red Robin instead of myself. For everything. I just… I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“I know,” you sigh. “I know.”

You were in that position, too. You didn’t fuck it up this badly but… you each had your parts to play. No one is blameless here.

“I just,” he stops, looking away, hands clenching at his sides. “I want to be friends. If anything else. I want that.”

If anything else.

You understand what he is saying here.

He isn’t here under any pretenses. Isn’t expecting you to take him in with open arms. Would be fine as friends.

Well, you don’t want that.

“Tim.”

He looks at you. You extend a hand. Waiting. Not demanding.

Slowly, he comes to you. Palm sliding against yours. Warm and a little clammy, calloused but still soft.

A few inches of space separate you when he stops.

This close, you can feel the heat of him. Smell his shampoo, soft and fragrant. Eucalyptus.

You squeeze his hand once then let go.

He and Red Robin are two sides of the same coin. There is no Tim Drake without Red Robin, you think. Not right now.

Maybe it’ll change, down the line. One part of you selfishly hopes so.

You’ll always want him. But as Red Robin, the risk of losing him triples and you are greedy enough to want to mitigate it. The same with Steph. Even with Wally, who is considerably more durable. All of them, duty-bound, honor-bound. You cannot ask that of them.

Right now, though, you think you can make that demand. At least temporarily.

You reach for him. Pausing when your hands near his face. But he doesn’t move. Just looks down at you and you wonder if he can hear your heart, with how hard, how loudly, it pounds in your chest.

You have to be certain.

So, when your fingers finally touch the smooth material of the mask, before trying to lift it, you ask, in a whisper, “Can I?”

“Yes,” he breathes, some emotion you don’t know underlying his voice, one that makes your face warm and your heart skip a beat.

Your fingers find the edge, slowly, gently peeling it up. It peels and peels and peels until finally, it detaches into your hands. Almost flimsy now but with a certain weight.

That’s not what retains your attention, though.

It’s him. It’s always him.

Tim’s eyes are closed, the tiniest of wrinkles found between his brows.

You imagine what it must be like to him. Letting you do that. Peel back the final layer of him once and for all. Letting you see him. Tim. Your Tim.

Keeping the domino mask loosely grasped in one hand, your other reaches for him, your thumb finding the wrinkle between his brows. It smooths out instantly at your touch and his eyes flutter open.

There they are.

It’s a shade of blue that haunts your dreams most nights.

Usually a lighter, softer color in the light, something like cornflowers, but right now, they’re midnight sky blue, looking at you with a heavy kind of affection, warm and unbridled.

Your hand settles on his cheek. He leans into the touch. Your thumb strokes over the sensitive skin under his eye. Where dark circles mar the skin, exhaustion finally clear in his face.

You smile sadly. “You look tired, Timmy.”

“Last couple weeks,” he swallows, “have been… rough.”

“Tell me about it.”

He smiles. It’s a small thing but no less beautiful to your eyes.

Then he sobers up, gazing at you, pained. “I am sorry.”

“I know.”

“I was an idiot.”

“I know.” You take a deep breath. “We both were.”

He opens his mouth to protest but you speak before he can.

“It’s true. You know that. We didn’t handle this like we should but it’s… it’s in the past. We can’t change it. We just have to move forward.”

A slow nod, then his eyes flicker to your hand, still between you two, still holding onto the domino mask. He takes it from you.

You aren’t sure what you expect, but it’s not for him to toss it away, landing somewhere in the darkness, a near silent sound.

“Tim—“

“It’ll never come between us again,” he whispers and your breath catches at his words; his hands find yours, pulling the one on his cheek into his own, squeezing. “I promise.”

You take a second to compose yourself, letting out a slow breath.

“I believe you,” you finally say. “And… no more lies. Please. Tell me the truth. The whole truth. I want to be there for you, for all of it.”

“It’s going to hurt.”

Not a protest. Just a statement. A warning.

“So, it’s even more important for me to be there.”

He swallows, eyes searching yours. “Are you… are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“So… we’re okay?”

“No.”

His face falls. “Whatever it is… I’ll make it up to you. I swear. Whatever you want.”

“I want you.”

“You have me,” he promises.

“Not like that.”

He stiffens up, breath catching as he understands what you mean. He looks down at you, shock clear. Understanding but not truly believing. That won’t do.

“I love you, Tim. Not just as a friend but…”

You’ve said it to them both. I love you. And this ‘I love you’ isn’t better than the one you tell Steph, than the one you told him for the first time, back when your feelings were still strictly platonic. It doesn’t mean something more, something deeper, something elevated just because it’s romantic. But it’s different. In what you want. In what you long for.

He whispers your name.

You let out a slow breath. “And if you want that, too, then…”

“Of course I do,” he breathes, letting go of your hands to cup your face, bringing you closer. “Of course I do. There’s nothing else, no one else, I want. I just… I never wanted to assume.”

“I know.”

“But if you’re on board then… then we can try it out.”

It feels more like ‘trying it out,’ though. Despite the uncertainty, the whirlwind of emotions, everything that has happened, finally talking it out, finally laying everything out on the table… you’ve found solid ground. A foundation you can build upon.

It is no mere crush. No simple infatuation.

You are in love with Tim Drake. Plain and simple.

And he is in love with you, too.

You close your eyes, fingers curling around his wrists. After a beat, he presses his forehead to yours.

“I love you, too, you know,” he whispers. “I have for a long time.”

Your face is hot, flushed with heat, your heart pounding. You feel so light, like you might fall up, untethered by gravity and floaty from the cotton candy-sweet warmth unspooling in your chest, clogging your veins and the arteries of your heart. It wouldn’t be a bad way to go.

But before you do…

“Tim.”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

He kisses you.

Gently at first, tenderly, lips warm, soft, tasting faintly of spearmint. You feel like you might melt into a puddle of goo at it, at knowing it’s Tim who is kissing you so sweetly, making your knees feel a little weak.

You shuffle closer. He inhales sharply at you pressing into his space, curling around you to close the final bits of distance. It turns the kiss a little fevered, a little hungry, a little desperate.

You’ve missed him so much. You can’t stop yourself from whispering that, pulling away to do so.

He shudders at your words, lips pressing to your cheek, then your jaw, then your neck, and you open yourself up to him, too willing, too happy to let him have you like this.

He keeps saying it. Whatever you want. But he can have whatever he wants from you, too. Anything. Everything.

“I love you,” he breathes against your neck and your breath catches at the reverence in his voice. “Can you—can you say it again?”

“I love you, Tim,” you whisper and it pulls another shiver from him, lips pressing to your fluttering pulse and your knees really feel like they might give out.

Your fingers grasp the material of his jacket, tugging, and he brings his lips back to yours, giving you a mind-numbing, synapse-slowing kiss.

You separate eventually, foreheads pressed together, trying to catch your breath.

“Will you stay?” you ask softly.

“I’ll stay,” he promises, leaning back to press a heartachingly tender kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes, holding onto him.

After a moment, he pulls away, shedding his jacket, draping it over the footboard. You close the curtains over your window, then crawl into bed. When Tim comes over, he tries to push you over. Not hard. A gentle—persistent—nudge to your shoulder, keeping in mind your injury, though you should tell him that it’s healing much better at nearly three weeks since it happened. Enough so that Steph said she could see about Crystal coming over to take the stitches out, just to avoid waiting at the hospital, and the bill, too.

“Oh, hey—”

“Let me sleep there,” he urges. “I feel better if you’re furthest from the window.”

“Hero types, I swear.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he leans down and scoops you into his arms. You yelp and he shushes you. You can’t stop your giggles as he unceremoniously drops you on the other side of the bed, the one closest to the door. He crawls in after you.

“You’re going to wake them up,” he whispers but he’s grinning, too, as he slides under the covers, laying on his side.

“Who’s fault is that?” you shoot back. “Just ‘cause you and your savior complex need to be by the window—”

He muffles his snickers into the pillow, eyes closed, lips spread in a grin. Your chest warms and you wiggle closer to him.

Tim lifts an arm so you can settle against his side. Wary of the gauze on the hollow of his throat, you settle for tucking your head underneath his chin, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

He strokes a hand down your back, a warm brand between your shoulder blades. Sleep isn’t far off your conscience, right at the edges of it, and with the warmth of his body and the reassurance of his embrace, you’re moving fast to it.

But before you do…

“Tim.”

“Hmm?”

“You’ll… you’ll be here in the morning, right?”

His arm tightens around you. You feel him press a kiss to your hair.

“I’ll be here. I promise.”

And he is.

When you rouse an indeterminate amount of time later, awakened by the sounds of activity outside your door—Wade’s high-pitched giggles, Wally’s low murmurs to him as he feeds him breakfast, the water running in the pipes as Linda uses the bathroom—Tim is still there. With you.

Deep in sleep, still, even with the slivers of light that come in from your window and the noises coming in from outside. Probably the repercussions of his ‘rough couple weeks.’ It’s quite similar with you, if you’re being honest. Besides, you hardly mind, basking in the feel of your legs tangled together underneath the blankets, the heavy but reassuring weight of his arm around you.

You manage to pull away a little bit to look at him, blinking out the bleariness in your eyes as you rest your head on the pillow, his face a couple inches from yours. Eyes shut, dark lashes casting shadows over his cheeks, breathing soft and slow. His hair is a mess, some parts of it flat from the pillow and sticking up in other areas. You spy a few creases from the pillow on his cheek, too. But even with that, he is still so beautiful to you.

You sigh, snuggling closer to him, shifting so you can run your fingers through his hair, your eyes falling shut again. You can stand to sleep a little while longer.

He lets out a soft, contented sigh as your fingers glide through his hair, gently taking out tangles as you go.

You pull away after a moment, feeling sleep lapping at your senses again.

You doze for a little while, rousing again to more noise from outside. The sound of the TV. Wally and Linda murmuring to each other. Wade giggling.

Tim shifts, groaning quietly. The sound, rough with sleep, makes something inside you clench, sparks of heat waking you up more fully so you can watch him wake up, too.

He rolls onto his back, stretching, then sagging into the mattress. You stay curled up on your side, your calf thrown over his, watching him wake up with a small smile on your lips that you know must be horribly lovesick.

Finally, he turns to look at you, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

“Hi.”

He gives you a sleepy smile. “Hi. Watching me sleep? Weirdo.”

He still has pillow creases on his face. You reach up to trace them.

“Well, you like this weirdo.”

“I love this weirdo,” he corrects. “Guess it’s fair, considering my night job.”

“Right. Watching you sleep—which I wasn’t, by the way, I was just waiting for you to wake up—”

“Sounds an awful lot like watching me sleep—”

You grin and pinch his cheek. He grunts, halfheartedly batting your hand away and taking it in his, lacing your fingers together.

“Anyway. That’s not that big of an offense compared to, oh, I don’t know, dressing up and fighting crime each night.”

“Think that’s part of the whole ‘we love each other thing,’” he teases.

You smile. “I guess so.”

“So, then…” His eyes stray from your face, to something else, nerves clear as day; too early in the morning for him to make a solid attempt at hiding them from you and well. You know him. For better and for worse.

“Mmhm?”

“I guess I should take you on a date.”

“You guess?”

He blushes, red settling high in his cheeks in a way that is… decidedly tempting. “I mean I should. If—if you want to, of course.”

“I didn’t kiss you just for kicks, you know.”

“I sure hope not,” he agrees, looking back at you, face softening. “Will you, then?”

“Of course, Timmy.”

“And maybe…” He turns, reaching for you. You go easily, your fingers still tracing the pillow creases on his cheek. A strong arm wraps around your shoulders as he turns onto his side. In the warm light of the morning, his eyes are a softer shade of blue, the one you know and love.

“Maybe…?”

“Maybe… you’ll give me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

Oh, geez.

Your face flares with heat, heart skipping a beat.

“You cornball.”

“You love it.”

Your palm finally settles on his cheek—hot to the touch, too, flush still lingering behind. You lean forward to press your lips to his forehead. He lets out a shuddery breath, arm tightening around you briefly.

“Yes, Tim,” you murmur against his skin. “I would be happy to.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, but it doesn’t like he’s thanking you for agreeing to it—at least, not just that.

Maybe for everything.

But— “You don’t have to thank me. It’s not… I love you. That’s all there is and that’s all there ever will be.”

You pull back, thumb stroking over his cheek. He leans forward, lips pressing gently to your cheek. Your fingers find their way into his hair, sighing contentedly as he kisses down to your jaw.

You get so caught up in that, the knock on your door scares the shit out of you both.

Wally calls out your name. “You up, kiddo? Lin’s makin’ eggs and rice.”

Tim pulls away quickly and you sit up, your face hot.

“I’ll, um, be out in a few.” Your voice is steady, thankfully, but you can’t say much about your pulse, your heart beating out of your chest. Tim is sitting up, too, looking around the room—presumably for the mask he discarded last night.

“Okay,” Wally says. “Will Tim be joining us?”

You both freeze.

You should’ve known better, really. Wally’s been doing this for a long time. Nothing much will slip by him. Not unless he lets it.

Tim turns an impressive shade of red. Tempting, like it always is, but mostly, you just feel like a teenager caught red-handed with her boyfriend.

…Which isn’t too incorrect of a description.

You look at him, lost.

He clears his throat, raising his voice to respond. “I—uh, yeah, if you don’t mind.”

“That’s fine,” Wally responds cheerfully. “Hope you aren’t allergic to sesame because I don’t care and I’m not going out to get something different for you.”

“Wally!”

Tim smiles, shaking his head. “I’m not allergic.”

“Too bad,” he says. “It’ll be ready in a few.”

Footsteps leave. Wally hums to himself loudly, happily.

You and Tim look at each other for a second before a giggle escapes you. Then another. He joins you in the next second, until you two are laughing loudly, listing into each other and flopping onto the bed.

In the kitchen, even from here, you can hear Wally and Linda laughing, too.

You grin breathlessly, looking at Tim’s smiling face, and decide the embarrassment of getting caught out is worth it, if you get to have this. All of them.

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unpredictable-probabilities · 4 months

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Tomorrows Over Centuries || Chapter 1: An Endless Visit

Summary:

Hob gets into a rather painful predicament after a long day of grading papers at The New Inn. But after a visit from his oldest friend, he finds that he doesn't mind so much.

Dream visits Hob Gadling for their long-overdue appointment, and learns that he is more comfortable now in acknowledging and expressing their friendship. However, he learns other things from Hob that catch him off-guard...

Word Count: 4,568

Chapters: 1/3

——

The late afternoon air was crisp and cool as Hob stepped out of The New Inn. He walked down the street and stretched his neck from side to side; grading so many papers at once did not do his muscles any favors.

He turned down a side street for a shorter route, already thinking about the cup of tea he would make and the 12-hour nap he wanted to take.

“In a hurry, mate?” asked a slurred voice as a figure walked out from behind the dumpster. “How's about you leave that bag of yours, eh?”

Hob slowed down to a stop at the glint of a switchblade from the man's hand. So far he hadn't been stabbed in this century, and he wasn't keen on breaking that streak.

“And your phone and wallet,” a gruffer voice said from behind him.

He looked over his shoulder to see two men with bloodshot eyes, both wielding a similar blade as the one in front of him. All three smelled of alcohol, but unfortunately they still seemed sober enough to cause trouble. And possibly some light stabbing.

“Now, I'm sure we can come to an arrangement,” Hob said evenly as he slowly backed sideways to the wall, keeping all three of them in his line of sight.

“Drop the bag now,” said the slurred voice as all three of them walked closer.

Hob began to unsling the messenger bag from his shoulder. Logically, he knew that the smart choice would be to hand over his things and leave unharmed.

But he also knew that he had just spent hours grading those papers, and he knew that he had a sketchpad in his bag that he very much didn't want to part with.

He wrapped the strap of the bag around his arm and swung hard at the man closest to him, hitting him in the jaw and sending him sprawling onto his behind.

The other two rushed forward, one of them grabbing the bag. Hob placed a well-aimed punch on that man’s eye, then side-stepped and turned to kick the third one.

With his bag yanked free, he turned and prepared to run—

A cold steel blade sank under his ribs. The first thug had gotten up faster than he had expected.

Dammit, Hob instinctively clutched his abdomen as he stumbled back into a crouch. Getting stabbed never got easier, no matter how many times he experienced it.

The thug grabbed his bag, but Hob held firm on the strap.

“Trust me, mate, it’s all boring stuff in there,” Hob managed through his shallow breathing, trying to remain upright on one knee.

He was unceremoniously pushed against the wall, and the thug pulled hard on the bag, ripping the zipper open.

“Eh? It’s just papers.” The man squinted as he rifled through and started taking out the essays that Hob so carefully read and graded, scattering them all over the alley.

“I told you,” Hob said as he tried to stand up, one hand pressed to his wound and the other still grasping the strap of the bag.

The second thug kicked him back against the wall and he fell with a grunt, pain shooting up his torso.

“Must be hidin’ somethin’ expensive in there,” said the gruff voice. “Or he wouldn’t get himself killed for it.”

Hob would have rolled his eyes if pain wasn’t spiking behind them. He’d gotten himself killed for things much less valuable than the contents of his bag.

“Don’t make me cut off yer wrist,” the third thug stepped forward and held his blade threateningly to Hob’s arm.

Hob wanted to point out that cutting off the strap of the bag would be much more efficient, but the blood loss was making him lightheaded, and he was focusing all his energy on staying conscious. It didn’t look like he’d be healing fast enough to get his bag back, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

They got his sketchpad and began rifling through it, grumbling about money hiding between the pages.

“No,” Hob reached for it and was promptly punched in the face for his efforts.

“A’right, what’s really in here?” the first thug put the tip of his knife to Hob’s neck, the sketchpad lying discarded on the asphalt. “Ya wouldn’t fight so much if–”

The thug’s eyes rolled back in his head, the knife fell out of his grip, and all three thugs dropped limply to the ground like puppets with their strings cut off.

Hob blinked repeatedly, wondering if he was hallucinating somehow.

Then another figure began to walk towards him, pale skin and black coat and raven hair.

Hob’s heart skipped a beat before his mind could even fully process who he was seeing. Now he really hoped he wasn’t hallucinating.

“You’re late,” he said to his stranger, a smile forming on his face despite his abdomen still steadily losing blood.

His stranger crouched beside him, eyebrows furrowed at the sight of his wound and the bruise that was starting to form on his cheekbone. “I shall bring you to a hospital.”

Hob shook his head. “No, I heal too quickly and they ask too many questions. S’okay, I’ll be right as rain in an hour or two.” He didn’t dare take his eyes off his stranger, taking in the worried crease on the otherwise smooth forehead, the blue eyes that Hob had learned to read over the course of the centuries, the hard line of his pursed lips.

He’d say that that face makes for a grand last thing to see before his death, except he couldn’t die, and he certainly had plans to keep seeing that face plenty more times.

“Very well. Where do you live?”

“Not far, just on the next block over,” Hob said as he felt the wound start to close up enough to stop the blood flowing out. “Let me see if I can walk—”

Sand swirled around them in a tornado, and Hob instinctively closed his eyes.

——

Dream placed Hob gently to lie on the couch in his living room. With the image of the flat plucked directly from Hob’s mind, it was a simple matter of getting them both here, including all of Hob’s possessions that were scattered in the street.

“Stay still,” Dream said as Hob blinked and looked around in surprise.

Dream sat cross-legged on the floor beside the couch and reached into the dream of a doctor sleeping two flats over. He pulled out a bottle of water and a soft washcloth, as well as the knowledge of how to use them in this situation.

“Ah, you don’t have to do that,” Hob said as Dream began to clean the blood off around the injury.

“You cannot die, but an infection would still hurt.” Dream trickled water into the wound and made sure there was no dirt or debris lodged in there. Fortunately, the assailant’s knife hadn’t been rusty.

“Yeah, but you know, I can do that myself.” Hob tried to sit up, but Dream put a firm hand on his chest, keeping him lying down.

“I am aware that you are capable, but friends help each other, do they not?” Dream looked right into Hob’s eyes, all the better to communicate his sincerity.

He noticed the bob in Hob’s throat as he swallowed, then a smile appeared on his friend’s face. An unexpected warmth spread within Dream at the sight, and he found himself returning the smile.

“Oh, we’re friends now, then?” Hob’s eyes twinkled playfully.

“Yes.” Dream went back to his task, washing and drying off Hob’s skin before placing a clean bandage on it. Afterwards, he disposed of all the items in the Dreaming.

Hob raised his eyebrows curiously at the way they vanished into thin air with a wave of Dream’s hand. “So… you can just do that? Summon whatever objects you want and then make them disappear again?”

“I have to find them first before I am able to summon them.” Dream stood up and picked up Hob’s bag from the floor to place it on the coffee table. “What could possibly have been in here that was worth getting stabbed for?” He crouched to take the scattered papers on the floor, and Hob hurriedly got up with a grunt to help him.

“I’d been grading my students’ papers, I can’t exactly replace them if they get stolen.” Hob’s gaze was quickly darting around on the pile.

“Are you searching for something in particular? If you can imagine its appearance vividly enough, I can look for…” Dream’s voice trailed off as his eyes landed on the open sketchpad.

He reached for it, the images pulling him close. Daydreams suffused the papers; Dream could sense them almost like a tangible presence. Each pencil stroke called to him, and he felt certain that every line was created with him in mind. A distant familiarity tugged at his memory, from a time long past when people would pray to him and create shrines to his name.

He barely heard Hob’s voice as it dawned on him just what the images were.

“Um, that’s, I…”

Dream gradually stood up, sketchpad in hand. On the paper before him was a pencil drawing of a man walking away in the rain, his back turned and his black coat billowing behind him. On the page beside that was a man dressed in the fine clothes of the 18th century with his dark hair in a ponytail, seated on a table with a teacup in front of him.

His fingers moved on their own as he turned the pages. There he was, standing by Hob’s table in 1389 with his black robe and the ruby pendant around his neck. Then a side profile of him as he spoke with Will Shaxberd, whose features were drawn in an exaggerated and almost comedic manner somehow. Another drawing was of him with his hair cut short for the 19th century, seated at a table once more with a wine glass in front of him. His eyes, they looked… kind. Did Hob always see him that way? It twisted something in his stomach when he remembered what had happened moments after that, how his eyes had surely blazed with self-righteous anger before he abandoned his friend.

He slowly looked up at Hob, who had been standing quietly beside him.

“You were gone, and…” For reasons Dream couldn’t understand, Hob looked nervous, but his voice remained steady as he spoke. “It helped. Drawing you. I knew I could never forget your face, or any of our meetings, but… it helped.”

Dream closed the sketchpad, grasping for the right words that he could say. Imprisoned in that dark basement, he had not been able to ignore the conflict within him on that day in 1989. It would have been selfish to hope that Hob was waiting for him in the pub, knowing that he would never make it to their meeting. He had known that it would be better if Hob had been angry with him about how they parted last time; he wouldn’t be waiting around for someone who would never arrive. And yet all this time, Hob had been thinking of him. Enough to recreate his image many times over.

What words would be sufficient to encompass all of that?

“I… apologize.” He met Hob’s surprised gaze and held out the sketchpad to him. “I was unkind at our last meeting when you merely spoke the truth. I have treated you poorly, and you did not deserve it.”

Hob gave a small smile, as sincere as every other smile he had ever given Dream. “Well you’re here now. A bit late, but we’ve both got a lot of time, yeah?” He stepped closer and gently took the sketchpad, looking down at it. “And I’m sorry for what I said, back then. I just meant… I understood that you were lonely because I was, too. Sometimes I still am. You’re the only one who really knows me, and I’ve realized that a century has far too many days to wait to see you again…” Hob’s eyes snapped up to Dream, as if he didn’t intend to say that last part aloud. He cleared his throat and smiled, taking a step back. “Anyway, I’ll make us some tea. Let’s take this apology to the table.”

Hob returned the sketchpad carefully into his bag and led the way to the kitchen. Dream followed in silent footsteps, standing behind Hob as he prepared a kettle.

“I would have come to you in 1989, had I been able to.” Dream wanted Hob to know that, if nothing else.

Hob froze for a moment as he brought out two cups. “Oh. Busy day at work, then? With whatever it is you do?”

Dream could feel the curiosity in Hob’s gaze and his questions, but Hob seemed to be holding back from asking him directly.

“No, I was…”

Whenever he was in the Waking, Dream was bound to the reactions of his human form, and as it were, he felt his throat closing up, and his heart raced as flashes of the glass orb flitted across his mind. The birds flying outside the window of Hob’s kitchen made too much noise, causing a memory to surface from a dark place in his mind that he kept hidden, a small raven pecking at his prison, exploding in blood and feathers following a gunshot—

He gritted his teeth and willed the images away as tears threatened to fill his eyes. He was better than this. The King of Dreams should have control over his own mind.

“Hey, hey,” Hob was standing in front of him, a worried expression on his face. “Come on, let’s sit down.” He gently pulled Dream’s arm to guide him to a chair at the small round table, where two tea cups were waiting for them. “You don’t have to talk about it, alright?”

Dream’s breathing was becoming shallow, and he clenched his fists on the table to force his hands to stop shaking.

“Hey, I’m here, I’m here,” Hob reached over and put his hands on one of Dream’s, stroking gentle circles with his thumb.

Dream released a shaky breath and opened his hands, wanting to withdraw them from the table to hide such a display of weakness, but Hob kept holding his right hand in both of his, meeting Dream’s questioning gaze with a soft smile.

“I was imprisoned,” Dream said before he could lose his voice again, the warm feeling of Hob’s hands emboldening him. “By a sorcerer who used my powers to gain wealth and youth.”

Hob’s eyes flashed with horror, anger, worry, and other emotions that went too quick for even Dream to catch. It was anger that stayed on his features as he gripped Dream’s hand more securely. “What did they do to you?” His gaze flitted over Dream as if looking for injuries. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but—”

“They didn’t hurt me,” Dream reassured his friend. He didn’t wish to cause him any more distress. “They took my tools of office and my raven companion…” Dream had to stop speaking again, forcing the images away from his mind’s eye. He took a calming breath. “But no, they did not injure me.”

“If I had known…” Hob shook his head in exasperation. “God, if I had known, I would have gotten you out of there myself. You know I would have.” The intensity in his gaze left no room for doubt in Dream’s mind. And the image of spending all that time with Hob instead of in the glass orb was so strong that Dream found himself returning Hob’s firm grip.

“Well, you’re here now. And we both have a lot of time.” The corner of his mouth lifted as he playfully repeated Hob’s words to him.

Hob seemed caught off-guard and he chuckled, his shoulders relaxing. “Yeah, we do. And nobody’s gonna take you while you’re in my house, alright? I can promise you that.”

Dream stared at Hob, searching his friend’s eyes for any false facades and found none. When was the last time someone had promised him sanctuary? Even in his own realm, he had his subjects to watch over. Safety was expected from him, never promised.

However, here at Hob's home, he did not have to be an infallible lord. Nobody expected him to know all the answers, and no judging eyes pried into him searching for the smallest flaws.

And was that not how it always felt with Hob? Even during the times he would not admit to their friendship, Hob’s presence was never something Dream felt guarded about. With Hob, he could simply… be.

“Morpheus.”

“What?” Hob's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“That is my name. Among many.”

Hob’s mouth dropped open, and the corners of his eyes crinkled when he grinned. “Right. Right, then. If I’d known that I had to get stabbed to get your name, I would've let Lady Johanna’s thugs do it.”

“I would not have let that happen.” Dream felt himself smiling as well.

Hob furrowed his eyebrows as he seemed to realize something. “Wait, ‘Morpheus’, like the god of dreams?”

“I am no god. That is simply what the Ancient Greeks preferred to believe.”

“Okay,” Hob nodded slowly. “But you do have powers over dreams?”

“That is my function. My realm provides a safe place for humans to face their fears and wants.”

“And… does that mean you know what all humans dream about?” Hob’s voice was even, but his nervousness had returned.

“If I wanted, I could choose a dream to see into and take anything from it. That is how I summoned the supplies to treat your wound earlier. However, for the most part it is all in the back of my mind. Though some dreams are louder than others and catch my attention.”

Hob’s fingers suddenly felt cold against Dream’s hand. “Have you seen any of my dreams, then?”

Dream shook his head. “I prefer that you tell me yourself about your hopes and dreams, as you have done so in our past meetings. You are quite the engaging storyteller.” The anxious energy began to ebb away from Hob at that, but Dream still didn’t understand why it was there in the first place. “Is something wrong? Are there any nightmares you would like to get rid of? I could see into your dreams the next time you sleep and—”

“No,” Hob quickly cut him off. “No, it’s fine, really. I was just curious, that’s all.”

Hob got up and took the teapot from the counter, and Dream’s hand felt colder with the absence of Hob’s hold on him. He held his own teacup with both hands instead, taking in its warmth.

“I am curious as well, about how you have been faring over the past century.” Dream asked when Hob sat back down after refilling his cup. “You’re a teacher now? No longer interested in soldiering or banditry?”

Hob smiled at his teasing tone. “You know I haven’t been interested in those things in a long time. I figured, since the world’s only getting bigger, I’d like to know more about it as much as I can, and it wouldn’t hurt to try to teach the younger ones a thing or two about what I do already know.”

“Do you teach drawing as well?” Dream asked in genuine curiosity.

Hob’s cheeks turned a shade of red as he laughed. “No. The stuff in my sketchpad, that’s just for me. I don’t really show people anything I draw. Not very good at it, anyway,” he shrugged.

“I disagree. Since the Ancient Greeks, there have not been many temples nor shrines dedicated to me, but in your drawings I felt a similar sense of…” Reverence, he wanted to say, but he had recently learned that he could sound quite arrogant, and he did not want Hob to think of him as such. “Respect. And care. Your artworks are not without heart.”

Hob grinned. “Maybe I can draw your portrait then, while you sit right there.”

Dream tilted his head slightly, considering. “I would not mind.”

Hob’s grin melted off in surprise. “No, come on, I was just joking,” he averted his eyes and cleared his throat. “Anyway, yeah, I didn’t expect myself to be in the academic world either but here I am. Going for brains instead of brawn this century.”

They slipped into the comforting familiarity of Hob telling Dream about what he had been up to in the past decades. At some point, Hob made some ham and cheese sandwiches to go with their tea. Dream did not need food, but he finished his sandwich all the same. It was good, and it only made Hob smile brighter when he told him so. Which made Dream understand a little better why friends have meetings over food.

The sun had set some time ago when Hob’s phone made a noise. He paused in the middle of talking about an upcoming book fair to take it from his pocket.

“Oh, that’s right,” he looked at the screen after silencing the alarm. “Speaking of the book fair, I need to send some emails to confirm which of my colleagues and students would be attending. I gotta prepare what I’d be wearing, too,” his eyebrows furrowed. “The dean insisted on ‘smart casual’ and he takes these events seriously.”

Dream nodded and stood up, Hob followed suit.

A hundred years, then? Dream almost said, instinctively. But it didn’t feel right, not this time. Besides, Hob did say that there were far too many days in a century. And he could certainly agree.

“If you would be interested…” Dream began, gauging Hob’s reaction. “Perhaps I can pay you a visit once more, without waiting a hundred years. If your schedule would permit—”

“Yes,” Hob’s voice was tinged with surprise and gladness. He huffed out a relieved laugh. “Yes, of course, you beautiful bastard!” He took a step forward and seemed to stop himself, averting his eyes for a moment before looking at Dream again with a calmer expression. “It was nice seeing you again. Morpheus.”

Dream felt something warm in his chest from how Hob’s voice curled around his name, as if each syllable were something precious.

“Thanks for the help earlier at the alley,” Hob nodded vaguely in the direction of the outdoors.

“I hope to see you in a much better condition when I next visit,” Dream said sincerely.

Hob chuckled, and he took a few moments before he spoke again. “I’ll be at The New Inn tomorrow morning, since I don’t have any classes until the afternoon. I’ll be there until after lunch time, maybe. So if you wanna swing by…”

Dream had not expected to be invited again so soon, but he had no complaints. He nodded. “Tomorrow morning it is.”

Hob looked like he still wanted to say something, with the way his eyes darted around and how he kept shifting his weight on his feet. There it was again, the nervous energy that Dream couldn’t fathom. Hob had never seemed uncomfortable in his presence since that brief moment in 1489 when Hob had asked if he were the devil. What changed?

With his curiosity growing, Dream hadn’t noticed that the walls he put up to separate himself from Hob’s daydreams had begun to crumble, until a vivid image entered his mind.

“Then I shall take my leave of you and prove you wrong,” Dream had told Hob then, on that night at The White Horse.

Hob had stepped closer to him, and before he could turn away and walk out the door, Hob’s arms were around his shoulders, pulling him close in a silent embrace that said so much more than what words could.

Dream blinked and put the walls back up. He did not wish to intrude upon Hob’s privacy, but he could still feel Hob’s regret in that modified memory. There was a part of Hob that blamed himself for not moving fast enough, for letting Dream go when he needed company the most. Nevermind that it would have been scandalous for two men to embrace in such a way in the 19th century.

“Hob,” Dream began, wanting to tell him that he had no fault at all in what happened back then.

“Yeah?” Hob asked, the nervous expression on his face giving way to curiosity.

Dream didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable with the knowledge that that particular daydream of his had been revealed, and he selfishly did not want Hob to stop meeting him anymore for fear of his mind being read.

So instead Dream stepped forward wordlessly, crossing the gap between them and wrapping his arms around Hob’s waist as he leaned into him.

Hob stiffened in surprise, but then he let out a breath and relaxed in the embrace, putting his arms around Dream’s neck and resting his chin on Dream’s shoulder.

“It took me more than six centuries to admit that we are friends,” Dream said softly. “I thank you for your patience with me, Hob Gadling. I do not know what I have done to deserve it.”

Hob buried his face in Dream’s neck and sighed, causing warmth to prickle on Dream’s skin and pool in his belly. “You deserve so much more, dove,” Hob muttered. “I’m just glad to give what I can.”

Before Dream knew what was happening, another image filled his mind, as bright as a sun’s glare, impossible to ignore even if one shut their eyelids against it.

Hob pulled back from their embrace and reached up to caress Dream’s face, then he leaned closer to press their foreheads together.

“I missed you so much,” Hob sighed, his breath brushing Dream’s mouth. “You can stay longer, yeah?”

The images flashed by quickly. Hob cooking breakfast, the both of them walking around a park, Dream bringing Hob to his flat late in the evening, Hob wrapping his arms around Dream’s neck and reaching up to press their lips together, Dream pulling Hob closer to him as they learned the shape of each other’s mouths—

Dream forced himself out of Hob’s daydreams, willing the walls back up. His face felt suddenly and uncharacteristically warm.

Hob tightened his embrace, and Dream found himself returning the gesture. The realization was surging up within him that not only did he not feel opposed to Hob’s daydreams, but that they were also something he wanted. Dangerously so.

Dream gently pulled away from Hob, fearing that his friend would be able to feel how fast his heart was racing.

He didn’t want to leave so soon when they had not seen each other in more than a hundred years, but what he did want with Hob now was far too important to act recklessly upon, and he was afraid he’d do reckless things indeed if he stayed longer.

“I shall see you tomorrow, Hob Gadling,” he said evenly as he took a step back.

“You better.”

Dream summoned his sand and watched Hob’s smiling face until he was transported to his realm.

He promptly made his way to the library. His knowledge was lacking when it came to courtship among humans; he had a lot of reading to do.

——

Chapter 2 ->

(Masterlist)

#hob gadling #dream of the endless #dream x hob #morpheus x hob #dreamling #dreamling fic #the sandman #the sandman netflix #the sandman hob #the sandman dream #the sandman fanfic #the sandman fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #writeblr #fanfic writing #fic writing #fic

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takami-takami · 5 months

Note

what do you think he would be like in a fight with his s/o?? i don’t see him shouting or raising his voice tbh but i think he would be mean, like throws stuff he knows you don’t like about yourself in your face kinda mean

Ohhh what do I think?

I think Keigo is very specific about arguments. I think his negotiation training serves him well, and he is very good at collecting and controlling himself. The only times he loses his cool tend to be in times of danger or around Dabi (which is again, danger and unpredictability).

Keigo can take an emotional beating when it comes to criticism, just nodding along with his head down and probably agreeing which is so fucking sad, given his job and childhood; but you should NOT do that because it's mean and he's a good boy and deserves kindness and to have his strengths uplifted even when you're mad at him.

Approach him in disagreements with tenderness and it'll warm his heart a little. He's not used to it. His parents never did that. The public doesn't do that. His job doesn't do that. He does that with others, despite that, because Keigo's character tugs at hearts and crushes them into little compact boxes like WALL-E.

When Keigo needs space, he tends to go for flights and perch on building tops. He's preferred high spaces since he was a kid to get away. I can see him going to cool off if he needs to— if him doing it without explaining first bothers you, he will be happy to correct this habit and clearly communicate that he is going and will be back.

I see a lot of "stonewalling" Keigo which is juicy to read and a great concept to explore, but I personally think because he loves honesty and speaking the unspoken, communication is important to him! Unless he has a specific reason to do so, of course, like your safety. He is very good at stonewalling, but absolutely despises doing it.

I think Keigo's penchant for communication means he's good at verbalizing exactly what bothers him— this tends to be in a snarky way at positions of authority, and surprisingly open around others at times; but in projects he cares about (you) I think he's meticulous.

Although, I'm back and forth wondering about his sarcasm being a point of issue in arguments. I also wonder how much he keeps inside. He tends to chew conflicts in his head alone.

Keigo does not want to do harm. He does enough of that at work.

I can see Keigo pressing his thumb into your emotional bruises like you said but only if it is specifically to drive you away for your own safety. And ohhhhh he digs deep enough to make sure it works.

He also will not text you first after an argument, he's busy and never checks his phone like ever, which can make arguments tend to drag. He will visit you though! He would like to get your fight fixed as quickly as possible, but sometimes duty calls. It's not a deliberate decision or anything, it's just how the cookie crumbles.

Keigo would benefit greatly from his S/O being a partner that communicates rather than him always having to "fix" things. Like, he'll do it, but he deserves better than to chase and doesn't really have the time, regardless.

If you want to communicate, god he's fucking ecstatic like yes please let's just say it. He hates lies. He doesn't like dancing around the point. He respects when you're honest with him and is bent on fixing things efficiently.

I think Keigo is complicated and this ask is making me want to read the manga and watch the show to study him like a hamster running in a wheel with my magnifying glass.

#SORRY FOR THE ESSAY ANON #💌 asks

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cognitosclowns · 1 year

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Genuinely thinking about getting tag teamed by Myc and Andre. Or Myc laying one of their tentacles on readers head, and reader just grabs it and starts playing with it, completely unaware that it’s actually an erroneous zone. They’re just messing with it and Myc is going through a very interesting time.

EEEHEHEHE >:) <3333 ok this is an old ask but the idea of getting Tag Teamed by Myc and Andre is WRACKING my brain rn. so. IM GONNA RUN W/ THAT <3333 TYSM TYSM TYSM-

NSFT!!! minors go away!! Possible tw for Drugs (Myc and his Weird Psychoactive Gunk)

GRGRKGKRKG,,,, options,,, choices,, hgrnurngunrnrugnrungung p e n i s

oh so they’re gonna corrupt you

THEY’RE GONNA CORRUPT YOU SO BAD!!!! WORSE THAN YOU EVER COULD HAVE POSSIBLY IMAGINED!!!

I feel like getting tag-teamed by them is almost inevitable if you’re getting w/ one of them. They’re sort of a package deal. Bare minimum, it’ll be suggested over coffee once or twice

it usually starts out as,, just one of them??

individually they are such GRABBY BASTARD SMDSND + they’re literally ready to fuck,, whenever.

this does mean that if one of them catches you two fucking, the other one will ABSOLUTELY JOIN IN <333 COME ON

HM LETS SEE

Handcuffs aren't necessary when one of your fuck buddies has 6 arms <3

TRULY IF YOU WANNA BE PINNED, MYC WILL HAVE NO TROUBLE.

It’s easy for most people to forget, but his tentacles are strong. Rope strong. He could keep you pinned in any manner of positions for a senselessly long time without breaking a sweat.

You need your legs up, so that Andre can get that One Specific Angle that turns your brain into jelly? ‘Don’t worry babe, I’ve got ya covered’

OR EVEN. LIKE.

Two tentacles for the arms, two for the legs, two for any assorted holes that Andre may be incapable of filling <3 or even just if,, he wants to get you extra squirmy. You can take two, right?

It’s also super efficient bc. Yeah Andre fucks kinda sloppy, and has a tendency to accidentally move y’all around with his thrusting. (mm. you’ve accidentally bumped your skull on the headboard a few times MNSDMS)

SO!! It’s nice to have Myc there to,, keep you two stuck in place <3

ALSO TANGENT BUT. Two things I feel like Myc would love is :

Stuffing one of his tentacles in there w/ his dick, along with some comment about how ‘maybe if his dick wasn’t so scrawny, I wouldn’t have to ;)’

Wrapping a tentacle or two around Andre’s hips, and fucking you for him. This is especially good when Andre starts losing energy <3 Myc can easy hold his wiry ass up, so he basically just uses him as a Very Loud, Giggling Dildo <333

ALSO THESE BOYS ARE INCAPABLE OF SHUTTING UP

Each individually is extremely vocal + chatty during sex. Both of them combined is torment (affectionate)

They’re absolutely shameless. Any comments that come to the surface will be said.

Also don’t be surprised if they pull some ''Good-Cop-Bad-Cop'' shit, with one of them degrading you and the other praising you.

Laying against Andre's body, feeling his hands dig into your thighs to keep you still, while Myc tests the limit of just how stretchy human holes are?? Your poor cock-addled brain is gonna be absolutely flooded with their rambling.

It's all very 'Je-sus, aren't you an overachiever. Three deep and you're still lookin' for more, huh?'

'aww hehe, look at how well they’re doing!

'Aw, you're always spoiling em! If they can get a fourth one in, then maybe we can start talkin' about 'good' '

etc, etc, ad nauseum, carpet diem, you get the drill. They're little bastards who like the sound of their own voices MSNDMSNDMSN

OH AND ANDRE WILL,, 1000% JUST SIT BACK AND ENJOY THE VIEW WHILE MYC HAS HIS FUN SMNSMDN

There’s something very stimulating to just,, having an outside view of the action. You and Myc being completely undone, while he’s able to be,, a Calm and Collected Outside Observer is EXTREMELY RARE FOR ANDRE SMNSMD

It’s definitely not an Always thing, just an Occasional thing.

Getting different angles?? talking back-and-forth w/ Myc, while his tentacles fuck you open like he’s drilling for oil? Absolute perfection.

He’s not always gonna be a Pair Of Needy Eyes In The Corner Of The Room, though, he does sometimes like getting closer to the action!!

LIKE I can totally see him sitting on the bed beside y’all while Myc has his fun. Just,, lazily kissing your cheek every once and a while, loosely jacking himself off. Maybe a bit of wisecracking <33

granted, you don’t remember much of it bc. After the third tentacle your brain kinda goes a little squirmy, but the thought is sweet nonetheless <3

ADDITIONAL MISC STUFF??

Myc being into bukkake + Andre being a little freak (adoring) means that you will be coated in fluids of several origins. The bath afterwards is magical tho so it's worth it

OHO getting railed (anally) by Myc feels a bit like a Very Horny Colonoscopy. If you ask, those puppies will go deep. like,, deep deep. Like 'oh my god, it feels like you're in my throat' deep.

and,, yeah usually that wouldn't be all that pleasant, but the Delightful, Stimulating Properties that his tentacle goo evokes turns the experience Transcendental.

Your entire torso feels kinda,, tingly and sensitive and full?? every time he shifts, it feels like he’s hitting alllll the spots you need at once. He says its something about the psychoactive properties, but you’re too fucked out to really care <3

he’s also super gentle - even if his tendrils are super slick and blunt, he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you. He’s a jerk, sure, but he’s not an asshole.

[and,, yeah those are definitely the times Andre takes a bit more of a back-seat role. Lots of praise n' giggling. He just lays back and runs his hands along your body, maybe even against your stomach-intestine area to enjoy the way Mycs tendrils make your stomach bulge]

Was possessed by the spirit of Tentacle Porn (tm) SMDNSMDN I COULD GO ON ABOUT THESE TWO FOR CENTURIES, BUT I'LL LEAVE THIS HERE <333 MWAH THIS WAS SO FUN, THANK YOU SO DEARLY!!!

#*gestures have this*#GOD I FORGET HOW WEIRD ANSWERING ASKS FEELS AFTER NOT DOING IT IN A WHILE SMDNS #ik I promised to be insufferable </3 but I was shy so you get my insufferability (???) now MSNDMASNDM #nsft #minors dni #myc #andre lee #magic myc #andre lee x reader #magic myc x reader #inside job #inside job x reader #NSABDSNBDNASBD #*hannibal lecter voice* hello anise #anise if u read this. haha loser get tentacled.#GOD AND YOU KNOW ANDRE WOULD MAKE SOME DUMB JOKE LIKE 'aww the baby's kicking!' when mycs tendrils bulge your stomach #downside of it would also be. ur gonna be LEAKING FLUID FOR DAYSSS SMDNSMDN. THE MESS IS SO RIDICULOUS

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rarepears · 1 year

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This is the Shen Jiu marries an Arabian prince and gets super into astronomy anon, but I just thought of like.

So, the Arabs do a lot as merchants. Which would probably put them mainly in contact with Shang Qinghua.

It makes me wonder if transmigrator!SQH ended up negotiating a contract with the besotted prince and went "I CAN GET MY POOR LITTLE MEOW MEOW OUT OF HERE AND STOP FEELING LIKE SHIT OVER HOW HIS STORY ENDED!!!!" and proceeded to immediately do everything in his power to make that marriage happen because while he has zero confidence that dropping Shen Jiu in the lap of someone who adores him unconditionally will fix him now or ever, it definitely can't make things worse, and will in fact go a very long way to preventing things getting worse.

Also makes me think of SQH eventually being like the only one Shen Jiu kept in contact with, because yes he's annoying and pitiful, but when he was pulling the "marry Shen Jiu to besotted foreign royalty" bandwagon, it wasn't because he wanted to get rid of him, it was because Shang Qinghua wanted Shen Jiu to be around people who liked and would appreciate him, rather than stuck rotting in Harem Drama Hell. Maybe initially they only kept in contact for trade agreement reasons (which was ostensibly the purpose of this marriage) but SQH always made sure to a) bring some of Shen Jiu's favorites from home, b) genuinely make sure he was okay, and c) check and make sure that his husband was still besotted. Maybe Shen Jiu discovered SQH had a "smuggle my scariest shixiong to......... Eh I'll figure it out" plan in the event of Shen Jiu being mistreated? Or one of his least favorite courtiers says something snide and before Shen Jiu can get a word out Shang Qinghua says something that makes the man cry with fear. Idk how they get to the point of "spiritually you are siblings" but I am having visions of Shang Qinghua and Shen Jiu drinking anachronistic coffee (bc this is Airplane's novel ofc it is) over tanghulu and red bean paste buns and not mentioning the peak lords even once. Just chatting about trade and SJ running the kingdom with his husband and fabric and cool knives. Possibly with a side of Shen Yuan being a prince (adoption? Magic? Who knows) and SQH being his favorite uncle.

.......I wonder if SQH warns Shen Jiu that Binghe is coming/keeps him updated on demonic happenings.

.................wasn't OG Rat Qinghua supposed to get murdered by MBJ for betraying him.

Oh no.

NOW I am going down rabbit holes of Moshang typical violent misunderstandings and lack of communication, except this time SQH is the adoptive younger brother of an Arabian queen, and oh God the court intrigue and politics and drama you could pull with that. Esp if Shen Jiu eventually just. Yoinks SQH. "If this ice king wants to keep you around then he's welcome to start fucking acting like it."

And ofc Shen Jiu's husband won't say shit besides "oh we gotta welcome my brother in law appropriately! Make sure he has clothes and nice rooms etc etc" because he's also familiar with the little merchant/logistics lord who is absolutely wide eyed fluffy hamster levels of ADORABLE (bc I firmly believe SQH is the cutest little thing second to nothing but White Lotus Binghe, and also oblivious to this) and correctly thinks that having SQH's spymaster/logistics capabilities working for them is a good thing.

So SQH gets a break, gets to wear some super pretty clothes, gets to never have to worry about freezing to death, or getting injured accidentally or otherwise, etc etc. The courtiers, especially the scientifically inclined ones, adore him, partly bc he's cheating using modern knowledge. But he tells such wonderful stories! And he runs things so efficiently!

The Queen is sharp and brilliant, beautiful and vicious when provoked. His younger brother is just as intelligent, but is absolutely adorable, skilled at organization and he tells the *best* stories.

(please I just want Shang Qinghua to get so much of the appreciation he craves that he doesn't even know what to do with it)

MBJ and LBH are both sulking in the demon realm bc Shen Jiu is forcing them to think about what they've done and use their words.

......ok now I want "disillusioned but naive" Binghe and "learned but foolish" Shen Yuan to get a romance. They both learn that life and the world isn't what they thought it was together. Shen Jiu is furious but Binghe has taken every bit of his running a kingdom advice to heart and is truly genuinely doing everything right. Finding out the beast refuses to so much as hold hands with A-Yuan until Shen Jiu has approved of him would, once upon a time, have caused him to double down on disapproval. Now- with his doting husband who looks thoughtfully at the pair and says, with the look on his face that means he's thinking of their own relationship, "maybe we should give him the chance to disappoint us first. Something tells me he's not going to,"- Shen Jiu sighs heavily and sets about making a true good faith attempt to finding out if Binghe and a-Yuan are suited to each other.

(the main reason he does so is because his a-Yuan loves monsters, and Binghe will be able to take him to see as many as he wants while still being single mindedly focused on keeping him safe.)

YES YES YES!

EVERYTHING IS A BIG FUCKING RED YES!

SOMEONE MAKE THIS INTO A 100K FIC BECAUSE THIS IS PERFECTION!

[More in #Shen Jiu is forced into an arranged marriage to an Arabian Prince AU]

#shang qinghua #shen yuan #svsss #svsss ideas #svsss au #the scum villain's self saving system #mxtx #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #yue qingyuan #luo binghe #Shen Jiu is forced into an arranged marriage to an Arabian Prince AU

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splatsvilles-fashionista · 2 years

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Salmon Run tips for beginners

My last post about Salmon Run, the one about Explosher, was kind of a hit, and I had some other advice that I wanted to share with people new to the series. Salmon Run gets pretty intense and stressful as you climb the Grizzco-rporate ladder, so hopefully some of these tips will ease that burden for you all just a bit.

That said, here’s some things I would suggest new players keep in mind! People who have played for a long time will probably not need me to tell them these things, but you never know, sometimes a reminder is nice.

Killing bosses is more important than collecting golden eggs. This might seem contradictory at first, after all, collecting golden eggs is how you win waves. While this is true, you also need to survive the wave, and the thing most likely to lose you the wave is not having too few eggs, but being overwhelmed by bosses. Boss Salmonid control vast amount of space with their size, damage, and paint output, and leaving them unattended for too long, even the more passive ones like Drizzlers and Fish Sticks, can very quickly spiral out of control as more of them spawn and completely take over the stage. This isn’t to say that you should ignore eggs entirely and run towards a boss at every given opportunity, but I’ve seen people basically pretend bosses don’t exist and instead try to ferry six eggs from the shoreline to the basket on their own, and this can cause far more harm than good. Move around stage with purpose and pitch in eggs where you can, but never sit idle. Time is precious and it’s on you to use it well.

Adapt to the weapon you’re assigned. All weapons have their own strengths and weaknesses, and you should act in accordance to them. If you get a Charger, park yourself up on a ledge and support your team from afar. If you get a shooter, move around the front line mowing down regular Salmonid, and so on. Far too often I see people approach all situations the same regardless of what they’re armed with, and it usually ends in disaster. Chargers and Exploshers rushing in to gather eggs who get themselves trapped and dogpiled, short-range shooters that try in vain to shoot down Steelheads or Slammin’ Lids, getting tunnel vision in the progress. I know not everyone can be good at or even like all weapons, but you should always try to use whatever you’re given to the best of your ability.

If possible, drag bosses to the basket. Okay, so when I said you should kill bosses as soon as possible, I was actually lying. There are a lot of boss Salmonid who don’t pose a threat until they’re right on top of you, like Maws, Scrappers and Steel Eels. So why go through all the trouble of dragging all of the eggs you’ll get for splatting one of them to the basket when you can make the boss itself do it for you? This was common knowledge in Splatoon 2, but it’s something I see a lot of people disregard in 3 now that we have egg throwing, but throwing eggs come with a hefty ink cost every time you do it, so it is usually more efficient to pull the boss to the basket first. Trust me when I say that doing this will save you a lot of time and effort, and having eggs around the basket when things go south is often what saves an entire run.

Use the Squid Roll! Squid Rolls are one of the fancy new things in Splatoon 3, and its something a lot of people forget about, but it has a lot of useful applications in Salmon Run. One of the simplest applications is to start doing them as you pick up eggs, immediately shifting your momentum in a different direction and letting you get back to the basket faster. Squid Rolling also gives you a bit of ink armor, letting you tank some extra damage. If you haven’t used Squid Rolls much up to now, experiment with it for a bit, I think you’ll be surprised by the ways in which it might help.

Don’t forget about bodyblocking. Did you know that your body can block bullets from your own team? This is most commonly an issue with Shooters and Splatlings, and can cause some serious headaches if you or your teammates aren’t cognizant of it. It can especially become a problem in Glowfly waves, where the whole team is usually huddling together and guarding a single pathway. Don’t be the one who loses your team the wave because you soaked an entire charge’s worth of shots from your Hydra teammate.

And that’s all I have for now, I think, don’t want this post dragging on for too long. Hopefully this will be useful to someone out there!

#splatoon #splatoon 3 #salmon run

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xoxitgirl · 4 months

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⊹₊ ⋆ seasons results! ⊹ ࣪ ˖

⟡ part one ⟡

so usually I try to write it down from the day i start and document the results from then but I literally forgot lmaoo so heres it broken down into every couple days/every week! ima keep this method tho ngl because its so useful but this is probably gonna be a long post bc i wanna be as raw as possible w ya’ll.

season one: jdnavsthewrld ⋆𐙚 ₊ ˚ ⊹ ♡

overview

so first and foremost—my season is going to be filled with all of my designs blowing up, making hundreds of dollars a week, improving my relationship with my boyfriend, and getting a new charger. I wrote out everything in detail so that way it was easier for me to understand exactly what I want like shipping out orders and stuff in my new car, taking a trip to NY, collaborating with some designers that I really like + meeting some designers as well, having hella photo shoots, etc! so it starts off with me getting a new car, it’s easier for me to process all of my orders and get yarn/make clothing just because I have a more efficient car.

dec 3-10

this week was full of me reminding myself im living in my season and my whole idea is about my buisness blowing up and a new carr so ngl its already blown up a little cause someone posted my skirt but it slowed down and now its picking back up. one thing that I’m trying to remember is that I’m not going to know how good it is to have a lot of sales unless I know what it’s like to have lower sales like understanding the duality of owning a business that not every single day you’re going to have the most ideal amount of sales, but that time to be creative and breathe will definitely lead you to that outcome in the long run. I made 4 sales this week so its definitely making me feel a little like imposter syndrome like this cant be happening blah blah blah but I quickly redirected my thoughts to, “what happens in my season? my business was meant to blow up, this is what I’m meant to be doing.”

dec 11-18

okay I made 6 more sales, when I started I had 25 now I’m at 35 so I feel hella confident because I’m constantly falling asleep doing SATS. I can literally feel all the excitement and anxiety and nerves that come with an abundance of success. I sold my biggest custom order to a new client, this two piece set and a fur skirt so I’m like damn. its only bigger and better from here. another thing I added was me and my boyfriend are getting better and connecting more and I feel like our relationship is definitely growing in a healthier way. I made around $300 this week from my pieces so I cant even be upset if I wanted to (,:

dec 19-25

so okay new updateee I sold another 3 item set so I made another $100 this week, mind you im writing this the 21st so the week’s not even over yet, and I feel hella confident in my season. I finally finished drafting everything thats happening. im also having a lot of fun maintaining that it’s already mine. I literally spend so much time vaunting. I was meant to be a designer. of course I have sales, im that bitch. people loovee my clothes cause who else is doing it like me? literally nobodyy. this is what gets me to feel more confident too, if you’re not reassuring yourself who is yk? and my relationship is sooo goodd 🥺 like its been so peaceful and my bf has been surprising me with pinterest dates and shit like what is my lifee!!

ima come back and update after my moms bday, I always have a routine for the new year which is expelling all old energy. like cleaning my room, donating clothes, i also sage everything, make new sigils, wash my hair and alll my clothes so yeah lol i have a feeling the new energy will be beautiful.

dec 26-jan 2

okay I’ve been learning how to sew and I’ve been getting really really good at it. like making my own pieces by myself—before I used to have my mom help me, but now I actually know how to sew fr. I wanna show y’all so ill insert some things ive made/been making. ngl tho I think ima give it like a week or so more to really saturate my mind because I been listening to this sub by slade and its really been helping but I gotta focus on consistency! so thats really what im focusing on through the 15th so more updates around then!! my goal is to have more posts and get ready for a mini photoshoot.

jan 3-jan 12

jan 4th.. coming up with designs that are exactly what I envision/things that ive never seen knit or done in this style. made my collab post but skeptical about when I should make my collab collection so well see but I feel like the things im making rn are multimillion dollar designs like I can feel it in my core. also about to clean my car out soon to trade my car in for the charger of my dreams, apparently my parents were looking for chargers for monthsss and didn’t tell me cause they wanted to surprise me.. for reference y’all I literally have a charger sub i made 5 months ago and was so in my head about it but now i feel like my mind is fully saturated. every time I drive, it feels like im already in a new car, I imagine it in the driveway. I already have it in the 4d so its beyond mine in the 3d.

jan 7.. omg so update, I literally cleaned my car out today and I’m trading it in on friday like what the fuck is my lifee I knew it would happen but this was the first time where I realy put my foot down and envisioned myself driving the car literally everywhere. I race ppl like im in a charger already lmaoo the planes were bound to align sooner or later!! ill insert how it looks when it gets here yall we might have to order it but this is the first step in my journey—I get my charger, my design acc blows up, and so forth. (;

okay hi guys I made 2 sales recently and I just got my charger, everything literally feels like it’s falling into place and it’s kind of surreal. I think I’m gonna make a part two for my results because this post is getting helllla long but I GOT A 2023 CHARGER STX and tbh I wanted an R/T but the only one I could get was 2015 so im just hella happy I got a brand new car and it looks EXACTLY HOW I WANT—black rims, spoiler, it looks so mean!!! ugh im in love. peep my noface air freshener from my last car (,: and it only has 10 miles yall… I love using seasons so much

next post coming by valentines day! 💋

itgirl ⊹ ࣪ ˖

#vzn #xoxitgirl #seasons challenge

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amity206 · 10 months

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Sky Theories: The Shattering Diamond

In this post I’ll be going over various theories on the Shattering Diamond, and evidences to support (or not support) then. This is probably going to get a bit long, so the rest will be below the cut. If you have any theories you’d like to add or flaws you’ve noticed in what I’ve written, please let me know!

I also ended up going into the aftermath of the explosion so tw for discussion of nuclear fallout

We can be pretty confident that the Shattering Diamond was a massive darkstone / artificial star. It seems to have consumed a lot of light and had some sort of purpose, so what was it supposed to be used for?

Theory One: it was meant to levitate Eden into the sky, like some sort of spaceship (sort of a modified Ark plan like we saw in concepts) - that being the reason part of Eden is now levitating. We know that darkstone can levitate things, see the platforms in the Vault of Knowledge.

This could have been a sort of Planet B project, as the ancestors realized their world was dying. It could have also been a plan to reach Megabird as sort of a religious journey (I remember one user comparing the structure of Eden’s city to the Tower of Babel). It could also have been a plan to OVERTHROW Megabird. But the massive ark (which seems to have been scrapped, in 7 Days of Sky they said (my emphasis on certain words) “in ONE ITERATION of Sky’s story, they built a massive ark to survive the apocalypse) would have been much more efficient at all of these things. Which brings us to the next theory.

Theory Two: it was meant to be an unlimited power supply, tapping into Eden’s light beacon to provide sustainable energy for the Sky Kingdom.

I’ve been seeing this theory a lot more lately, and I think it makes sense - with light getting scarcer in the Sky Kingdom and increasing protests against the use of light creatures for power, the King could have turned to Eden’s light beacon - a seemingly unlimited power source - for power. That could possibly explain why everyone is praying beneath it (though not entirely, I mean I’m not going around worshipping solar panels, so probably it’s the King they’re worshipping, with the Diamond seen as a symbol of his power).

This could have run into two problems - first of all, the light creatures needed that beacon for migration purposes. They might have been drawn to it - only to be absorbed - or attacked to keep their migrations safe. Second, that was a LOT of power.

I’m going to pull up the quotes from four of the six Shattering memories (if you’re hanging trouble reading them, you can find these on the Season of Shattering page of the Sky Wiki):

It’s possible that some of these could refer to light creatures being drawn to the Shattering Diamond, or just to artificial beacons set up to capture them. This could also point to the Shattering Diamond actually holding the souls of these light creatures, and that being how we can view them inside these “frozen memories”. So perhaps when the Shattering Diamond started to absorb the beacons power, for a while it glowed brighter than the beacon and the light creatures were instantly drawn to it - and as a result, absorbed by it. Since this meant their souls couldn’t rejoin Megabird, it further weakened the light in the universe, possibly causing the stars to start falling as we see in “The Seed” from the Aurora Concert.

It also had another consequence - the Shattering Diamond couldn’t hold that much light. Something was going wrong with it, and it was getting unstable. Let’s look at the final two Shattering memories:

This points to a massive explosion of the Shattering Diamond - as it absorbed too much light, it, well, shattered. Somehow the Elders were all there when that happened - the concept timeline says they gathered to curse the King in Eden (trapping him forever), so maybe they were doing that? (Maybe the King is the dark star thing at the very top of the Diamond?)

In Light Awaits, there was a note on them trapping the resulting storm behind the Gate, so maybe they were trying to stabilize / contain it?

The explosion also created the just mentioned storm of darkness from all the light it had absorbed, warped, and released (I believe someone in TGC referred to the red as a warped flame and @/lelanida theorized that red presented darkness mixed with light). The storm corrupted light creatures caught in it, turning them into the krill (“a distorted reflection” of light creatures).

(Images from Aurora Concert and Seed of Hope quest)

We know from the Seed of Hope and Stealthy Survivor’s memories that ancestors encountered krill, so the blast didn’t kill everyone in Wasteland and beyond - it might have done so in Eden, however.

It might have been similar to a nuclear bomb, and krill creatures created by “radiation” poisoning - many people would have survived the initial blast, only to be crushed under falling buildings, die later of their burns, or die days or months later (maybe even years) of radiation / darkness poisoning.

Life would have very difficult for ancestors that did survive, especially in Wasteland - the water was polluted, krill searched for any light they could consume, and they had little light left to power the darkstone boats they could have used to escape. Darkness pollution would have sickened and killed many, especially children.

Vault accepted some refugees (as seen in Season of Remembrance), but probably shut their doors to keep the corruption at bay. This was probably the era of the Abyss spirits - concept art has Cackling Cannoneer wearing trophies that represent their battles with krill, and the spirit’s search for resources would fit in with this era.

Other areas faced a lot less of a threat from the explosion, but no longer having light to power their boats they would have lost contact with each other. The Elders had died in the Storm and they had no one to lead them. The animation trailer points to the falling of the stars as the reason Isle became a desert - meaning the people there would have starved (of course, they could have gotten food from the sea, but a lack of light probably also meant a lack of fish).

Prairie’s farms might have suffered, but they probably still had food for a while - we do see darkness growing on their bell towers and out of pots, so perhaps their farms became contaminated. Maybe the storm used to be a lot bigger, and affected all the realms a lot more.

Forest probably would have suffered due to the polluted rain and lack of food. Valley likely relied on imported food as well, so they would have starved.

The Lightseekers would have become very important, as they searched for the last traces of fallen light the ancestors could use for power.

Slowly, the last survivors died. The explosions around the Shattering Diamond continued to maintain the storm, as the beacon was still an infinite source of power. Eventually, it would start erupting again - triggering the start of Season of Shattering.

The shards we get are referred to as “pieces of frozen memory from the Eye of Eden”, again connecting all these memories to the theory that every one of them (not just the obvious ones) takes place in Eden.

It’s possible Eden started erupting again because of excess light brought to it by skykids, or due to the Megabird and therefore the beacon getting stronger. The fact they’re referred to as “eruptions” links Eden to volcanoes - other links include the way the fallen look like the bodies at Pompeii and the possibility that the storm contains volcanic lighting - but instead of being a regular volcano, it would be a volcano of darkness.

Anyway that’s all I have for now! Please share your thoughts / theories / things I might have missed, I’d love to hear them! (And please if you think I got something wrong don’t hesitate to tell me why and what your theory is, I want to make sure my understanding of the lore and the big lore blog(s) I have on the sky wiki is as accurate as possible)

#sky cotl #sky children of the light #thatskygame #sky: cotl #sky: children of the light #sky cotl lore

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olive-gardens-breadstick · 1 year

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part 2 of my hope!hob Pandora's box au

part 1 part 3

word count: 2079

Morpheus picks the candle up and rolls it in his hand, examining it. it's not really anything special, just a yellow prayer candle. The glass is completely blank showing off the candle completely. He runs his fingers over the smooth glass considering putting something on it, like a sticker or something. Does he even have any stickers? Does hope even like stickers? Does he know what stickers are? He shakes the thoughts from his head and instead thinks about what story to tell. He'd thought about it a lot over the past few days. He's lived so long. How could he possibly choose where to start? Would hope have some sort of request?

he eventually decides to just light it, maybe his audience will inspire him and everything will work itself out once hope is here. Morpheus grabs a match and lights the candle and for a moment, everything is still. Morpheus looks around not seeing anything change and wonders if he did what he was supposed to. Maybe he was supposed to light it on an altar? Moving to a small table in his living room, he notices all the lights in his house are getting noticeably brighter until he has to set the candle down on the little table and cover his eyes from the blinding light. He keeps his face covered until he can tell the light has died down. When he uncovers his eyes he sees hope looking at him with a confused look.

"why were you covering your face?" he asks as Morpheus blinks away the floaters from hopes entrance

"your entrance was very bright" he says rubbing his eyes "if i hadn't it would have caused some serious damage to my eyes"

"oh I'm so sorry" hope apologizes stepping back and pulling his hands seemingly into his chest "I didn't know I'll try not to do it next time" he says looking down.

"It's alright, I doubt you can help it" Morpheus says turning back to the little table kneeling "next time I'll just close my eyes and face the wall after I light the candle." he assures hope as he clears the table of its previous inhabitants.

"What are you doing?" Hope asks, peering over his shoulder.

"I'm making a specific space for your candle." He explains picking up the candle to wipe down the table. He doesn't notice the endless' start to glow behind him.

"like.. an, alter?" hope inquires expectantly. no one had ever made HIM an alter before, it was always for some lesser being, made to syphon from him through a god or deity, he could feel it while he was in the box. he felt the faint pull in his chest, the construction and destruction of temples and altars made for others in an attempt to reach him through them. to have an altar made with specifically him in mind, well, it was... flattering.

"Yeah, an altar. seems like the most efficient way to do this, to get you caught up when I'm busy. I can just leave you things and you can examine them to learn about the current state of the world." he explains, dusting off his hands and standing up "does seem a little bland right now though huh? I don't think my darker colors really match your candle though, gonna have to go out and get some white and gold stuff." he adds examining the bare 'alter' with nothing but a candle, 'hardly counts as an alter right now though'

Morpheus turns to face hope, noticing he's still wearing a tunic. "how about instead of a story we can go get you a new wardrobe and some stuff for your altar?" he suggests looking hope up and down "you'll have to change though, i think my clothes will fit you"

"i- i mean- yeah, sure, sounds fun." Hob can feel himself falling through the words, first the mortal makes him an altar then offers to not only buy him clothes but choose things for his altar? He stands there lost in thought for a moment until the aforementioned mortal speaks to him once more.

"Also, will you stay here if I snuff the candle? I don't want to waste it." he asks handing him a set of completely black clothes 'he doesn't want to waste it' hob thinks with a smile. "yes I will, is there a room I can change in?" after Morpheus helps him to the bathroom and leaves hope to change, he snuffs the candle and makes a small list of the things he knows he has to get:

gold tablecloth

white lace runner

small offering tray

one (1) nice outfit for hope

they'd have to go somewhere nearby, hope doesn't seem like he'd be too keen on travelling by anything other than foot. Luckily there's a small boutique and second hand store nearby where they should be able to get everything. hob walks out with the clothes slightly askew and holding a pair of shoes.

"I do not know how to put these on," he says, raising them slightly higher. Morpheus looks up from his list surveying hope in his clothes.

"I probably should've helped you, apologies" he says adjusting the clothes slightly "but you managed to get the socks on so overall I'd say this is a success" he declares, motioning for hope to sit down on the couch. as soon as he does Morpheus kneels to help hope with the shoes

"Will the clothes we get me today look like this?" Hope asks as he watches Morpheus tie the left shoe.

"no, were going to get you something nicer, these clothes are just easy to take off and put on" he explains tying the right shoe "makes the whole process of clothes shopping easier" he sighs looking up "ready to go?" he asks standing up, hope nods. "alright let's go then."

the shops truly aren't that far. a ten minute walk at best. They don't talk much as Morpheus is too lost in thought and hope is too enamoured by the advancements of civilization, so enamoured in fact that he almost gets hit by a car. If Morpheus hadn't pulled him back onto the sidewalk at the last second he would've been very uncomfortable. He takes a minute to process what's going on and notices he is very close to Morpheus, almost burrowed into his chest with his arms wrapped around him. and Morpheus is so very comfortable and warm with the long coat he has on an-

"Okay" the word cuts through Hob's thoughts like a xiphos as Morpheus backs up to look him in the eyes and holds out his hand "take my hand."

"why?" If hob were human he'd say he could feel the blood rushing to his face as his eyes widened. but he's not human so he could soundly tell you that he was glowing slightly.

"So you don't go, somehow unknowingly, stepping into oncoming traffic." he explains as he holds his hand up a little higher, hob takes it and they continue on their way.

Morpheus wouldn't say he was out of his depth when it came to clothes shopping, he just didn't buy color very offten. All of his clothes were various shades of black and dark grey with a few lighter greys (to which his students never failed to make a comment along the lines of 'busting out the spring collection I see' ) but looking at hope in his clothes... well he just didn't look right in black. but trying to figure out what base color to start with was tricky. black was out of the picture but yellow seemed too strong to use as a base. Eventually he settled on a white button up to layer with some sort of sweater. Maybe that's where the yellow could come in? He could worry about that in a moment, he should deal with the rest of the outfit first then the rest of the layers. He looked over all his options, made some choices and measured them against hope to get the right size and sent him to try them on and went looking for some layers. Maybe a blue sweater? but then the colors would-

"professor galanis?" uh oh "what are you doing here? its for sure not your style.'' This much was very true, though he hadn't expected to run into any of his students so he absolutely did not come up with a cover story.

"well, i-"

"hey, could you help me with this?'' The students' eyes go wide and Morpheus can't tell if the interruption is a blessing or curse but goes to help nonetheless. After defeating the buttons he hands hope a couple sweaters to try on and turns around to see his student still standing there.

"sorry about that I-"

"don't even worry about it sir." she says with a smile "sorry for interrupting your … outing." he’s going to get so many questions on Monday "i'll just-"

"actually, could you help me?" he will never hear the end of them "I'm not much of a color person and I need to pick out some accessories"

her eyes light up and she smiles wider "of course sir, i wasn't planning on buying anything anyways"

They spend far more time in the store than Morpheus had planned and by the end of the trip Hope has several outfits with accessories to match. The outfit he's wearing to replace Morpheus's clothes consists of a pair of cuffed blue jeans, a pale yellow sweater over a white button up, a string of fake pearls and a pair of converse.

"Thank you Ms. Tarcey," he says as they start heading out.

"no problem Mr. g, I came out to window shop and this was way more fun!" she says, opening the door.

"I'm sure it was," he says with a laugh "to show my gratitude, I'm willing to give you full marks on the writing assignment I know you haven't started." he offers as they get to the street watching as her eyes go wide and mouth falls open. "Now this is a one time thing. I will not offer this if you help me again." he warns, grabbing Hope's hand before he can run down the sidewalk to follow a dog.

"sir you have no idea how much that helps me" she mumbles, face still in total shock.

"I actually do," he quips. "have a good evening Ms. Tarcey. I'll see you Monday" he says leading hope to the secondhand store across the street.

"who was that?" hob asks once they're in the store.

"one of my students." Morpheus says inspecting a tablecloth. "I teach creative writing" he clarifies, putting the tablecloth back and picking up another. "What do you think of this one?" he asks, handing the fabric to hope.

The cloth is a rich yellow with a light shine, when the light hits it, shifting it reveals a pattern akin to Victorian woodwork, hob doesn't know that of course but he thinks it's beautiful anyways. He looks over to Morpheus who is carefully inspecting other tablecloths and table runners. hob notes how sharp his facial features are, how … elegant … they look. Morpheus turns back to him and he shakes the notion from his head.

"so..?"

"huh? oh, OH, yes i like it, it's perfect" hob chastises himself over how the words come out and picks up a thin lace table runner and pretends to examine it to keep his eyes from wandering. "this one's nice isn't it?"

"mm" he agrees silently, taking it from hob’s hand and putting it in the small basket on his arm and walking towards a different part of the store. As he's following a small dish catches hob’s eye, well it's not really a dish, it's a scallop shell with a castle on a hill painted in blue on the inside and the edges are painted gold. He carefully turns it over in his hand examining it closely.

"Do you like it?"

Hob turns and sees Morpheus is behind him looking over his shoulder "oh yes, isn't it cool?" he beams, staring into morpheus's very.. pretty.. pale blue.. eyes.

"It is very pretty," he says, taking it from Hope's hand, examining it himself for a moment before gently putting it in the basket. "lets go check out." he says with a small smile and hob glows a tad.

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meowjings-arsb · 7 months

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Behold a pikmin OC

Their name is Mint and they live on PNF-404

I don’t know what the collective species that Hocotations, Koppai, etc fall under like humans do, but they’re inhuman* basically

I don’t know what to call them tbh. A shapeshifter maybe

I might be about to infodump a timeline a little 👌 under the cut

Mint landed on PNF-404 years ago. Their species is designed to be great hunters, since they’re shapeshifters and whatnot. Maybe I’ll try to delve into the species or not I have no idea at the moment

In my opinion, Pikmin 4 takes place after Pikmin 3. Olimar just crashed and got stuck again for like the 4th time idk

Anyways. Koppai trio comes in and Mint is curious about them and starts mimicking them and filling them around. Koppai trio is equally curious because how tf is someone living there. Mint can’t communicate with them so yeah. She gets to know the crew + Louie and Olimar. Very much likes Louie because he’s weird and eats creatures too.

Mint travels back with them to Koppai since they think she’s a castaway, but they can’t find her on any databases which is just… puzzling. Even more, blood tests say that she’s not part of any known species. She becomes an oddity because of these things including her PNF-404 orgins, but the Koppai trio protect her and keep her safe.

She’s stays with them for the time being, they teach her english* (whatever they speak), and she slowly gets integrated into society. Alph even teaches her a thing or two about engineering. I don’t know how many years it would take for these things so idk how long yet. Probably speaks a broken english*.

Once she can communicate with others efficiently they still don’t know where she’s from because she doesn’t know either. She just woke up on PNF-404 and lived there until the Koppai trio’s mission. She’s learned to be more secretive about whatever her mystery species is because like… a shapeshifter is not a common sight to see or know about and Mint doesn’t like a lot of attention.

I want to give her a dog or something similar. I’m working on it

Idk. She gets recruited on a treasure trip to PNF-404 because it’s very known that she’s lived there and probably knows her way around things. Thing is, the people who hired her are shady as heck. She ends up not liking them and tends to avoid them and run off while exploring the planet

In the end something happens, could be the group is getting attacked or whatnot, but she gets left behind. She’s kinda sad but not helpless. After some time she gets her communicator working and messages the S.S. Drake to check in and ultimately chooses to stay on PNF-404 because she’s felt homesick

The communicator actually breaks a year or so in so she’s actually stuck, but she brushes it off because.. eh

Pikmin 4 appears ✨

Meets Olimar and Louie again and is happy. Helps them out. Olimar goes missing uh oh-

A lot of ships seem to be crashing lately and Mint doesn’t really know why, not looking into it much. This red leaf b-word also showed up and now everyone’s day is ruined

Enter Rescue Corps 👌

Mint kinda just stumbles into Collin, Shepherd, and Oatchi and decides to help out. They accept her help because who else is gonna go out in the danger planet? At first, Mint doesn’t stay during the night to which the crew worries because how could someone possibly be living out there? It’s dangerous?

Uhhhhh

✨Shenanigans 💅✨

I hope to god I can draw more about her before the Overwatch fixation takes over. Also play more of Pikmin 4 because I kind of stopped at some point after getting Yonny

#hopefully will draw more #there name was originally going to be Moli but one of the npc’s is named Molly so it’s not Mint #Moli pikmin is such a fun name tho #my stoof #signatured #milly’s arts #pikmin #pikmin 4 #pikmin oc #mint #game oc #my ocs #my lookalike #why is my tagging system so jack #doodles

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curious-sootball · 4 months

Text

Assorted OxDeadlands headcanons because this campaign lives in my brain rent-free:

Nate has been doing the "bumbling old fool" act since he's been able to look old enough for that - say, since his late forties or early fifties: he thought it was a lazy way of achieving things when he initially learned it from his fellow workers, but ended up changing his mind pretty quickly.

Young Nate pretty firmly believed in the value of hard work and humility - to a fault; he had a few very rough patches when he just arrived in America and was taken advantage of by his bosses (who were all too glad to hire a guy willing to do twice the work for half the credit seemingly without realising). As he would say later to Delacy, "It was a formative experience for me!".

I really like the idea that Nate absorbed a small encyclopedia's worth of knowledge about supernatural creatures of the Weird West solely for the purpose of steering clear from them as efficiently as possible - he can hold his own in a regular fight, but supernatural fight is a whole different can of worms (mostly inspired by @/melsrainpod including Johnny telling everyone that vampire tumbleweeds are a thing as Nate's in-character freakout in a fic, I loved that detail so much. Also, did you know Tumblebleeds aren't the only creatures pretending to be mundane things in Deadlands lore? There's a creature called Bloodwire, it looks like a living barbed wire and hunts by pretending to be part of ranch fences. Weird West is fucking terrifying)

Speaking of the original Deadlands lore - I think that OxDeadlands have a more matter-of-fact attitude towards the fact that supernatural things exist and affect people: the original Deadlands have both Texas Rangers and Men In Black Dusters keeping up the idea that supernatural stuff is just superstition and folk tales in everyone's minds (spoilers - it doesn't work too well). Isn't much on its own, but helps with the supernatural legislation headcanons that I have. (Imo being able to call a supernatural creature what it is really helps with writing and issuing laws about them). Not all states have the same legislation around the supernatural creatures and enforce it the same way.

Garnet always gets an uneasy feeling around large quantities of ghost rock - not quite the full body pins and needles of being in The Hunting Grounds, but close. After the finale, so do Edie, Silas and Delacy (and Nate, but he got that way after coming back as a Harrowed - as opposed to others, who were properly touched by the arcane after entering The Hunting Grounds), but to a lesser degree.

Edie knows how to bind books(that's how she maintains/expands her copy of the monster encyclopedia... read Reading is more fun(when you can draw on the margins) its so good) and later taught Delacy how to do that.

He and Bison Billy actually compiled and made a custom version of a song collection book for Edie as a birthday present; Bison Billy called in a favour from his friend, who runs a printing workshop, to print that collection without censoring the raunchier songs. (Don't worry, the workshop didn't get in trouble with the local law - that wasn't the first or the most NSFW thing they printed, they have this figured out)

Silas and Edie were really touched when Victoria made them packed lunches; they still think about it bitterly from time to time. (In a very guarded, filled with internalised guilt "if I hadn't let my guard down around that person, maybe the fallout of them betraying all of us wouldn't have been this horrible" kind of way)

One evening, a few months after the finale events, Silas, Edie and Garnet had a talk about the whole situation, because they all felt understandably uneasy about ending up as potential new Horsemen recruits (that sounds like a thing that would make someone rethink at least some of their life choices). Silas was mostly upset at the Horse afterimage and the implication that he had enough in common with Ben Bellows to end up as the new War Horseman. Garnet mused about Victoria getting desperately lonely - not in a defending way, in a "that line of thinking was not a product of a sound mind" way. Edie was still mad at Victoria for weaponising her memories of her brother against her and Garnet, and didn't say much.

Speaking of Victoria... you know how the Rider of the white horse (Conquest and later Pestilence) is depicted with a bow and crown? Victoria gets a flaming sword and a crown in the finale, but the bow is never mentioned (probably because pulling out a bow inside a house while riding a big gravity-defying horse is a bit ridiculous mental image, and that would've kind of killed the vibe of fighting a Horsewoman of the Apocalypse). Does it even exist in this universe? Because if it does and unsealed Conquest doesn't have it on hands, that has very interesting implications: given that IRL Pestilence replaced Conquest in the Horsemen lineup - was that a hint for the players to thoroughly search Daisy's office?

Continuing on with the weaponry/items descriptions for the Horsemen - these five either had them swapped around from the start or there's a story reason for their respective items: Victoria wields a flaming sword in the finale - usually the rider depicted with the sword is War. Either the sword originally belonged to Victoria, or she took it for herself after breaking the seals (as a sort of retribution for delaying the Apocalypse) Also, Andy mentioned that Johnny cut the fight short when they shot Victoria with the Coup - that implies that she could've wielded another weapon(s) later in the fight.

Hildegard and M.T. Boudreau also seemingly swapped symbols: Judge's main weapon is a pair of guns with sickles mounted on them - a very clear reaper imagery - but there is also at least one pair of scales (on the Justice statue) and probably more in the rest of the courthouse. Famine is traditionally depicted with a pair of scales, but they're never mentioned around Hildegard. One could argue that hell that is coming with the rider in this case is corporate hell.

I headcanon that the Red Hand gang bit of Victoria's backstory was mostly true - that's the name The Horsemen picked for themselves to stand out a little less among the outlaws of the Weird West, and that's how they operated for a while (assuming they needed "normal" human corporeal forms to get onto the mortal plane).

Speaking of "normal" humans: it seems like the closer the chosen avatar was to a regular human, the better respective riders adjusted to the mortal plane. Victoria obviously takes the cake,but there is also a clear pattern with the others - Bellows is pretty convincing as a regular terrible person, DuCrow runs a crooked, Poxwalker-filled sanatorium and is both a Mad Scientist and a Poison Woman, Hildegard is a cutthroat CEO and gets visibly monstrous once she gets shot, and M.T. Boudreau is a Hangin' Judge, a very prominently undead creature, and is notably the most unhinged of the five.

The Horsemen kept in touch via mail after sealing Conquest's powers and going their separate ways.

Daisy DuCrow used to be the Red Hand gang's doctor back before The Incident (technically, she still is one) - she's both the most informed about the topic out of the five and genuinely curious about how well the avatars hold up.

Daisy and Hildegard used to team up pretty often before The Incident - they still do, but less actively: Daisy sometimes helps raze some of Hilda's competitors' crops to the ground with blights, Hilda sends people to Daisy's sanatorium(as clients, potential new hires and future fodder for the regeneration machine).

Bellows has a reputation for(among other things) just straight up refusing to die - which isn't entirely baseless: he has supernatural healing and a tendency to get carried away in a fight or in a challenge once he's angry enough. (I think it is specifically healing - powerful, but it can be overwhelmed. Harrowed don't pass out from pain, and only get immobilised if you behead them - which would imply that if Bellows was a Harrowed before the finale, he would have to have been playing dead from the moment Nate shot him onwards: through Garnet taking his ring and the townsfolk stripping his corpse. This guy canonically has an ego the size of a small town, I don't think he would've been able to convincingly play dead through all of that)

Speaking of poorly picked challenges: one of his bodyguards figured out that Bellows wasn't human after he won a drinking game against one of the contestants - a big, burly blacksmith who could bend a horseshoe with his bare hands - and shown barely a trace of that next morning, to blacksmith's utter bewilderment and bartender's disappointment.

Despite his temper, M.T. Boudreau is very good at keeping secrets: Victoria would've figured out that other four don't really want to go through with the original plan a lot sooner if it wasn't for him.

Also, M. T. is supernaturally hangry during both episodes of his arc (because Garnet set a sentenced man free), that's why he's so highstrung. He really hadn't taken being an undead as well as he thinks he had.

#oxventure deadlands #oxventure deadlands headcanons #extensive assorted theorising on how OxDeadlands world works

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unexistingdotnet · 2 years

Text

Random Empires HeadCanons

Scattered HeadCanons, one for each emperor.

Gem: Gem has trained bees that she keeps as pets. They are trained to land on her arm like a Falcon. They also buzz around her home and sit on her head. They think she is a flower.

Katherine: Katherine is blind in one eye due to an incident before she can remember. During an earthquake, a vase broke and a shard of glass stabbed her eye. At this point it is mostly faded over.

False: When False is nervous, which nowadays is pretty much always, she makes simple little machines. She makes a lot of toys, which Sausage sometimes takes to give to Hermes, but right now, she is making the smallest, most efficient useless machine (a machine that's only purpose is to turn itself off) she possibly can.

Shelby: Shelby has a locked box under her bed filled with poems. They represent all her intense, unexpressed emotions. She is up to seven poems about Katherine right now, and is probably going to burn the box soon.

Oli: Oli has straight up perma-died thirteen times, and soft locked himself in holes four times. He has to keep resetting the world using fourth-wall breaking powers to keep himself alive.

Scott: Scott is wanted in three separate empires for crimes he committed when he was a rebellious teen. Luckily for him, the police are looking for one of his aliases, so he can still enter these empires, but there are definitely some people who have figured it out and are keeping it quiet.

Fwhip: Fwhip is a very good pickpocket, except he has never used it to steal things. He just uses it to slip little presents into his friends pockets, usually rats. They never seem to appreciate it much, except for Lizzie, for some reason.

Joey: Joey can't swim. Despite being a pirate, he never learned how to properly swim. He can just kind of doggie paddle and tread water.

Joel: Joel was bullied by his fellow gods for being too kind to humans, and part of his plan for Stratos is to demonstrate how mean he can be to humans. So far, no one is convinced.

(I wrote this before Joel’s newest episode, but I’m keeping it. I think It actually works better if he can’t remember it.)

Lizzie: Lizzie has developed a habit of going to Stratos, sitting in whatever room Joel is in and pointedly not looking at Joel. He has gotten used to this and has mostly started to ignore her, which is the most infuriating thing.

Sausage: Sausage can read minds. He doesn't know if it's an outgrowth of his powers. (I also absolutely think he knows Shelby's lying about being on the run from the witch cops, and is just waiting for her to be ready to ask for help on her own)

Jimmy: Jimmy has begrudgingly started to incorporate the apple of lies and potion of truth into his fighting style. He grumbles while doing it, but he can’t argue with the fact that size-changing is very useful in combat.

Pix: Pix found the grave of his season one counter part. He took a quick ten minute break to have an existential crisis about it before promptly returning to the dig.

#empires smp #empires #empires headcanons #empires smp season 2 #esmp

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mod-kyoko · 9 months

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May i req class78 survivors on a mission impossible type mission 😛😛 i'd love to see how u perceive their dynamic (i can just HEAR byakuya yelling at everybody)

class 78 future foundation members on a mission!!

♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

makoto, byakuya, kyoko, and yasuhiro are all in the 14th division of the ff, which involves public relations, recruiting new members, spreading news

aoi is in the 13th division which handles front-line food and resource distribution

and toko is still an intern

so, if they all somehow were assigned to a mission together it would go like this:

kyoko is in charge due to her being the leader of the 14th division

she, byakuya, yasuhiro, and makoto are on the front lines, seeking out survivors of the ultimate despairs' attacks and recruiting them for the organization

aoi is in charge of providing two-way communication between the organization and the members out on the field

she also provides first aid, sustenance, and general information

toko is allowed to go with the group, but mostly watches from afar with aoi, so she can get experience in the field but also be monitored

most of the time missions go well, and there is minimal danger

but sometimes, when things get really bad, they let genocide jack run loose

byakuya fought against it, of course, but no one else cares

gj gets the job done

and you're right, byakuya is definitely yelling, but he only yells at yasuhiro and toko because kyoko would shut him down real quick

since towa city is basically ground zero for the production of those deadly monokumas, the five are usually assigned to patrol the island, and clear as much as possible

everyone is equipped with those megaphone guns, except toko, which she complains about, so she clings to byakuya to keep her safe

makoto and kyoko are always at the front of the group, sprinting forward into action with their weapons

byakuya is in the middle, only because toko keeps dragging him behind (kicking and screaming)

yasuhiro is always at the back of the group because dude is not fast, he's always yelling at everyone to wait up

aoi discreetly follows them by taking shortcuts through buildings, acting as backup if the main 5 get in trouble

they're actually really efficient at getting things done

one time, though, things were getting really tricky, and the main five were surrounded by beast monokumas

genocider was doing her best to bring them down with her trusty scissors, and makoto, byakuya, yasuhiro, and kyoko stood in a circle, firing at them from all directions

aoi was watching from a nearby building, and noticed they were surrounded, so she had to think fast

her only plan was to run outside and act as bait, so the monokumas would see her and follow, giving the others a chance to escape

genocider passed out, so yasuhiro tanked her up onto his back, and they ran, leaving aoi to climb on top of a car to avoid the beasts

"get back to the helicopter! i'll save aoi!" kyoko yelled, turning around and running straight back to the crowd

she noticed a window just above the car, and ran into the building it belonged to

luckily, kyoko was strong

from the open window, she dangled halfway out of it, grabbing aoi's hand

singlehandedly, kyoko hoisted aoi up to the windowsill with her, and her rescue mission was complete

from there, they rejoined with the main five, jumped into the helicopter, and were off to hq

♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

this scene was based on something i did in the last of us part 2 video game !!

#mod kyoko #danganronpa #danganronpa headcanons #danganronpa imagines #kyoko kirigiri #aoi asahina #byakuya togami #toko fukawa #makoto naegi

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electricbluebutterflies · 6 days

Note

jessleto but it's jessica overstepping (in some way leto couldn't care less about) and trying to make amends through a little seduction ☺️

I finally got to use some of my favorite headcanons in a fic! Mid-era, vaguely nsfw, and also on ao3.

Say the wrong thing to one person one time…

Jessica is trying, she really is. The boundaries she sets for herself grow less harsh as time passes, but she still-

It might be an incident. It might not be. It’s too early to call. She needs to run damage control anyways.

There is an art to how she maneuvers her life, every cautious step with full awareness of the ecosystem around her and of her specific place in it, and she knows she could just let this go and get comparable results but there is still that part of her that wants to earn the loyalty her partner shows her because that is how the world still works in her mind, that is how-

He used to ask for her presence, innocent requests with optional implications. In more recent years neither of them has tried at all, intimacies become a part of quiet domesticity. For her to initiate…

It is unlike her to slip into his study earlier in the evening than they would usually cross paths, and even more unlike her to wear a dress that exposes more of her skin than she is comfortable with but oh she has a point to make and-

Her partner responds to the sound of the door, glances at her and she can see the emotions cycle through his face, worry always dominant around her, always-

“What did you do?” So casual, barely an accusation just an understanding of their existence.

“Not sure yet,” Jessica murmurs. “But I would like preemptive confirmation-“

Intimacies do not fix them. She is above this behavior. At the same time, her programming hasn’t felt so strong in a while, and-

She clears the distance and takes kisses, deep and desperate. She knows she does not owe this anymore, but still-

“That much of a possible incident,” he breathes against her skin.

“Could still be nothing, but… if it isn’t, it would be in my favor if you have a recent memory that my mouth still has uses.”

She hopes the implications are clear enough to go unspoken, how she may have gotten herself in trouble and what she’s about to do and-

“Do as you will, my storm.”

She knows he delights in these rare moments of assertiveness from her, knows he wishes it would happen more but… her descent into more submissive tendencies was a part of her rebellion, she hopes that is understood, and these flickers-

There is no need for such reflection right now, she thinks as she falls to her knees. Later, perhaps, but not now.

She knows this is safe, knows her partner will tangle his hands in her hair but will not change her pace. Minimal skin exposed and the safety of it, no one else has touched him in a decade and she believes that fidelity like nothing else in the world and-

Eyes closed, instincts high as she takes his part into her mouth. This is hers as the rest of the body it is attached to is hers, and this act she only initiates when she needs to prove herself…

Not that he’s any better, she reminds herself, but not like she’s about to complain about such an apology method, whereas this-

Senses up, aware of his reactions, the changes in his breathing as she moves, changed tension in his hands – not to hurt never to hurt but to keep her close – and an uneven pulse and-

She is efficient in this, as in all things. There is no reason to tease him when he aches for her, and she has perfect control, and a flick of her tongue, and-

He falls apart with her name on his lips as he always does, and from her current position she cannot see the beauty of it, and that awful voice in her mind says this is all she is good for, and-

She separates their bodies and still the surprise as he hands her a cloth, still-

“You do want what you want.”

“Was that good for you?”

She knows the answer well enough, felt it in how the tension in his body released as his prick did, knows that it’s just as well she was in a mood because she would’ve had to handle this at some point in the evening and at least it’s done now and-

“You are more than I could ever ask for.”

Something in her melts, something deep and vulnerable and sacred and-

“Remember that, when-“

“Always.”

#ebf writes fic #leto x jessica

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munizfr · 9 months

Text

Mainly a Ratchet Character Study but also: Parallel between the Ineffable Husbands and Transformers Dratchet (mostly IDW)

Obligatory Spoiler Warning: just don't read unless you've finished or heard about the last 15 mins of Good Omens S2E6 bc the spoilers (yes, the same moment you keep seeing everywhere) are there but honestly it's not descriptive enough imho.

Short ver. is at the bottom since this is pretty lengthy <3

Ratchet Character Study

The end of Good Omens S2E6 reminded me of Ratchet and Drift/Deadlock from Transformers for some reason. I think it's bc I've accepted the fanon idea (a lot of what's below is fanon/HCs, some canon to it though, but reader discretion and all that) of Deadlock likely offering Ratchet the chance to run away during the war (perhaps after realizing Megatron was starting to lose it and the Con cause was not the same one he initially fought for/corruption, conquering, domination, lunacy, etc.) with the promise of *them* and security with Ratchet no longer having to deal with the stresses that being the Autobot CMO carried and the damage that no doubt did to Ratchet's psyche and over-well being over the millennia. Esp. since Ratchet was so idealistic and bright before the war, and while still opinionated and fierce, was a youthful "party animal" with plenty of optimism, determined to do anything he could to see his hopes of a peaceful Cybertronian society through.

All Ratchet seems to want is the best for his planet, the best for other mecha, hence why I've always believed that Ratchet is a "people person" (further backed up by his past as the "party ambulance" ;D). He just has all his walls up 24/7 (sarcasm/sardonicism, gruffness, anger, etc.) to protect this soft, emotional part of himself, similar to how he keeps his walls up so that he can compartmentalize and perform his job efficiently as CMO even when surrounded by tragedy. He's a "people person" with a job that revolves around death. That shit definitely took a toll, but I don't believe it ever broke him necessarily. And Drift/Deadlock, so afraid of the war actually breaking Ratchet, wanted to do everything in his power to protect him from the war. The possibility of Deadlock presenting this offer, to me, sounds absolutely plausible.

When offered the chance to "run away", of course Ratchet declines, stating he knows his place and that is wherever he can decidedly do the most good and help the most mecha. Even though he'd love nothing more than to be free from the pressure and, most importantly, be with Drift/Deadlock instead of sneaking around throughout the war and having their relationship be so ethically complex. Ratchet understanding why Drift did what he did in becoming a 'Con and everything else, understanding that even though Deadlock went against Ratchet's code of morals, Deadlock was inevitable given Drift's beginnings in the Dead End. Hence why later in LL Ratchet seems to "blame himself" for how Drift became Deadlock, because Ratchet may believe that he should've "saved" or "fixed" Drift.

Then again, Ratchet knows the complexity of that, knows that it isn't "that simple" and that converting/ensuring Drift as an Autobot wasn't much better than having Drift become a Decepticon because, realistically, Autobots were doing things nearly just as bad. Of course, as the war went on it became clear that Megatron was going off the deep end and the Autobots truly did become the "Good Guys", if one could even call it that. Really, they were the lesser of two evils, or the arch-nemesis of the Decepticons that put a stop to their wrong-doings, but regardless, the Autobots themselves were far from innocent. Esp. from other civilizations/planets' perspectives.

When the Decepticons began, it was mainly in an effort to change Cybertronian society for the better, to gain equality for all Cybertronian mecha and get rid of the corrupt government and caste system, and I believe Ratchet (esp. seeing the corruption from the medical malpractice POV) low-key sided with them when this was their original goal. Drift/Deadlock is what makes Ratchet truly acknowledge this millennia after the war (either during the LL which it is hinted at or sometime before then during the war they may have had disagreements about this), but he'd known it deep down since the beginning.

Ratchet mostly went with the Autobots because of his own personal ties (friends like Orion Pax), his position in said hierarchy (he was the chief of medicine for descendants of the Prime and really, would Pit mecha really be accepting of the Senate's CMO in their ranks?), and as seen in the IDW comics, various other reasons.

In the end, Ratchet practically stumbled into becoming an Autobot. He really didn't want to be with any faction, but as an Autobot he believed he could do more good, esp. since he tended to end up helping both sides' soldiers anyways. Being an Autobot just meant he had access to better supplies/tech/etc.

I also personally believe Ratchet was too proud of a mech to admit this to Drift/Deadlock's face until the LL. Admitting that Ratchet was originally on the wrong side, helping the wrong side, this whole time would be a blow to his own mental, it would (and does) cripple him with guilt. Again, all of this is just my personal head cannons and fanon ideas that I've seen, but I like to imagine this is pretty generally accepted.

I feel like younger Ratchet is torn between sides. Having started clinics for the "lower class" mecha in areas like the Dead End, providing care free of charge to those who couldn't afford it as long as they promised to change themselves for the better, conveys to me that Ratchet was empathetic to the struggles of lower class mecha, despite starting off as a forged medic and becoming the Chief Medical Officer for the Senate. Yes, Ratchet started off and lived a comparatively privileged life, but he has never turned a blind eye to any other mech's struggles and does his best to understand it regardless. Ratchet's "golden spark" so-to-speak is something I believe Drift sees and cherishes, and thus it's what Deadlock wishes to protect. The Prime's doctor willingly decided to save the life of a drug addict grifter in the Dead-End and continued to see value in and, most importantly, care for Drift's life, even after Drift became Deadlock and turned to a life of killing mecha that Ratchet may have considered friends/allies/etc. I full-heartedly believe that Ratchet still looked after/patched up Deadlock even though he was with the 'Cons, esp. since I believe Deadlock kept watch after Ratchet even though he was with the 'Bots. Regardless of their conflicting morals, these two never stopped looking after and caring for one another.

I can see their "argument" or discussion over this proposal going so many ways, but ultimately, as with a certain Angel and Demon, Drift/Deadlock wanted them to become their own "side" and Ratchet, for a multitude of reasons (pride/empathy/guilt/loyalty/desire to help or "savior complex" depending how you see it/arrogance/etc.) decided to stick with the life he hates. He despises the war, the life-loss, the pain, the pointless-ness of it all (aren't they all Cybertronian in the end?), but Ratchet is an emotional mech deep-down and because of his complex feelings and morality, he turns down Deadlock's offer.

The Parallel:

As with a certain Angel, Ratchet can't just sit on the sidelines and do nothing, he has to help. As CMO and a close friend of Optimus, Ratchet is shown to have a lot of push/pull on Autobot command and their decisions and not always but often in various comics/shows/media, we see Ratchet propose the more compassionate and ethical, while still cruelly (realistically) logical, decisions.

Like Aziraphale, Ratchet believes that by being in a position of power/control/leadership and by being a determined son of a bitch, he can "save [their race/people/planet/universe/the balance/etc.]" for a lack of better terms. They put aside their own happiness/freedom/peace/etc., no matter the repercussions for them or those in their personal lives, to make the decisions and take the actions that they believe will do the universe, as a whole, the most good. That's really all they want.

Short Ver.

Aziraphale still believes that there can be good and that Heaven can be "fixed", and additionally, having Crowley back with him on Heaven's side would make *them* and everything else so much easier. Easier to protect Crowley, easier for Crowley to be happy because Aziraphale himself would also be safer, everything would be better if Aziraphale could "fix" things and the balance. Make Heaven "good" again and Hell "bad" once more, un-blur the lines, despite Crowley knowing it was never like that to begin with ("I think I understand a lot more than you do"). Additionally, all the trauma and manipulation that Aziraphale has experienced in Heaven no doubt plays a role in all of this.

Aziraphale only wants to do the right thing, but his headspace and how he decides to go about it are just so seriously warped by both himself and from his experiences of being an Archangel of Heaven.

Ratchet just wants the war to end. For the fighting to stop and there to be some peace. He still believes, despite everything he's witnessed and been through, that the war can end. He continues to hope. Ratchet, despite how gruff and jagged his exterior may become, no matter how cynical and pessimistic he acts, still has a spark of gold deep down. He still wants to do good and he believes that there can be good again, even though Deadlock knows that there was never any good to begin with. Why save Cybertronian society and the way things used to be if they were never any good before? Moreso, why save Cybertronians when they were never any good before? Shit's always been fucked up and messy, where does this bleeding hearted CMO get off in trying to save all of them?

He gets off nowhere but he's still going to try regardless because it's worth it. Cybertron, Cybertronians, mecha, are still worth saving. If Ratchet is anything, it is stubborn and after everything he's been through, he'll be damned if he gave up now.

Side Note: I still believe there was a miracle in Aziraphale's coffee ;) but in case there's not take this comparison I randomly drew from the S2 finale <3

#good omens #good omens season 2 #gos2 #good omens 2 spoilers #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #good omens s2e6 #transformers #maccadams #dratchet #ratchet #drift #deadlock #transformers idw #character study

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