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thequietkid-moonie · 11 months

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Sweet S/O gets a cruel punishment

[ ONE-SHOT ] [ Kokichi Ouma ] [ Danganronpa V3 Killing Harmony ]

⚠️ This contain a little bit of spoilers

This was requested by @sleepyone2three, thank you for requesting it!! The version of the other characters requested you can find it in the masterlist

I have a love-hate for Kokichi, I don't justify Kokichi's actions but I kinda understand him, and from my point of view at the end he was brave and super smart the little bastard. Also, this is my first time writing for him I hope you like it!! 💜

It could be pretty surprising to see someone like Kokichi, who likes to mess with everyone and always put jokes on others, with someone so sweet and patient, people may don't completely understand why you two are together but that doesn't matter, Kokichi loves you and you love him, that is the only thing that matters

Once you two get into the Saishu Academy and the killing game his attitude doesn't change much, however at the start he was a little more calm, still he finds this whole situation pretty interesting and exciting, or at least that was what he tell everyone, he find it interesting in a bad way, he doesn't trust the academy nor Monokuma at all and the posibility of you getting killed terrify him (but he doesn't tell you this)

Kokichi doesn't really trust in people and whenever he is atracted to someone normally is just because that person could be of use or bring him some fun, so for you two being a couple means that Kokichi deeply loves and trust you (not blindly but he does trust you), that is why he wants to win this killing game with you, you may don't like his idea but he doesn't like the idea of losing you, the only person he actually trust

Kokichi really appreciate and loves your patience, he can say a lot of little lies or put on you a lot of jokes and tricks and still you never get truly mad at him, he may annoy you sometimes but you still love him and you still are sweet to him. Under other conditions he will like to test your limits but inside of this killing game it wouldn't be a good idea if he wants to keep you by his side, in addition Kokichi grows more clingy and a little more serious and strict with you (it could seem like he is just joking or may he himself says that he isn't saying it seriously, but with you and only you he gets sincere and you can tell that his worries are true), he loves your sweet and calm personality but in a killing game that is just a disadvantage, you could be easily tricked by someone and end up killed, or worst, use you to kill someone else

Kokichi tried to warn you more than once to don't trust in anyone inside of the academy, anyone could be planning something against you or even use you, Kokichi doesn't trust in anyone there aside from you and he is trying to make you see that too, is his weird way of trying to protect you

However, no matter what Kokichi says or do that doesn't stop you from still trying to help the others, with your sweetness and patience you easily inspire the others and motivate them to work together, specially after what happened to Kaede

Kokichi has his own idea of how to end the game and he doesn't care what he has to do to fullfil his goal he is planning to do everything in his power to make the two of you survived and win this whole game

The killing game was stressful enough, the only situation made everyone nervous and somehow a little paranoid from time to time, adding Monokuma, the Monokubs and the incentives that they bring after every trial it makes things more difficult to endure, even when everyone wanted to end with the game the attitude of some of them doesn't help at all (Kokichi being one of them)

As patient as you can be everyone has a limit, between Monokuma and the Monokubs, Kokichi messing with everyone and you trying really hard for them to not attacking him was driving you crazy, and the situation just get worst when you add the investigations, the trials and losing more and more friends. Kokichi tries to remind you that you can't trust anyone, specially after the trials, and he isn't really good to bring you comfort and support in those moments, in other situation he would have less troubles with trying and show some vulnerability with you, giving you and craving for some comfort, but he can't just let himself do it right now, he has to be strong and keep his facade, Kokichi feels like that is the better way to survive but in his need of survive he forget about you in a more personal way

Everything started with an argument between you two, you wanted to make Kokichi see the things from your perspective, you wanted for him to stop messing with everyone and just try to find a way out of there, a way to end with the killing game with everyone else, into the other hand Kokichi just insisted on his own plan, he insisted that you shouldn't trust anyone in there and that he himself will end with the killing, even if he has to do it alone. The stress were making both stubborn, even it were making you lose your patient, however the problem comes with Kokichi, he was starting to feel desperate and stop thinking on what he was saying and just start to compare you to Kaede, remember what happen to her! she tried to help everyone and now she is gone! Do you really want to end up like her? You can't trust in anyone in here! Heck, you shouldn't even trust in him! He can easily being planning something against you too!

What Kokichi told you hurt, it hurt a lot, the discussion was escalating rapidly, it was just rising and rising in tone, even if you tried to cut him and go away it was too late because your argument bring the attention of the Monokubs, now under the lead of Monodam and he can't just let this happen, everyone is supposed to be friends and don't argument like this

It was just like an instinct for you to shield Kokichi, you were always like this, standing up for him when he gets into problems for messing with someone and trying to calm the other person, so this time you, once again, stand in front of Kokichi like hidding him and tried to reason with Monodam, you tried to tell him that everything was alright, you two are friends and get along really well he doesn't have anything to worry about, but Monodam heard your angry voice, and the hurtful words Kokichi had told you a moment ago it still hurts, as much as you tried to put an smile and look calm the sadness was all over your face and tears were close to fall from your eyes

Monodam obsesion for everyone being friends blind him from understanding that the situation was stressful, that in this kind of situation will be normal to break out just like how you two were just doing, he just take your obvious signs of sadness to say that you two weren't friends and he can't alow that, since now he took the control from Monokuma he has the power to punish the students, his plan was to just give the two of you a lesson, hopefuly after this you two will be friends, but human bodies are diferent from the bodies of his robots siblings and the hit were too hard for you to handle, and since you were shielding Kokichi you were the only one who recived the attack

To Kokichi was like it happened is slow motion, he isn't able to react until your body hit the floor, screaming in desesperation your name he runs to your side, with tears in his eyes he kneel by your side and check all over you, the hit was really hard, the exterior of your body maybe doesn't look too bad but the internal damage was the problem, there is no way to help you now (specially since no one in the academy has the profesional knowledge to do so), from this point there is nothing else to do than wait for your death

Even if Monodam understand what he have done Kokichi won't let him get near you again, not him, not the other Monokubs, not even the other students, he isn't going to let anyone get near you for a long time. On your last moments Kokichi can't do anything else than cry and beg you to please don't leave him, this whole time he just wanted to make sure that you two could get away from that stupid killing game and now, for his stupidity, he is going to lose you

When Kokichi finally start to calm down he quietly apologize to you and promise to end with the killing game for you, even if you weren't hearing him anymore

After Kokichi calms down he returns to his normal self, he isn't going to let anyone see how sad he is, how hurt he is nor how much he miss you or how much he blame himself for your death. However the others can intuit it since he doesn't let anyone talk about you, not even if is something good he imediatly gets irritated and scream at them, also he never tell anyone what happened, if they want to know how you died they will have to find out themself because he isn't going to tell them (nor Monodam, he is too ashame for what he had done)

After this Kokichi is more motivated and eager to end with this stupid killing game, he doesn't care what he has to do nor even if he has to put himself at risk, he is going to to finish this hell for you

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa x reader #kokichi ouma #kokichi ouma x reader #kokichi x reader #x reader #x gn reader #video games x reader

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yandere-daydreams · 2 years

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You're worried about your neighbors.

Actually, that might not be the best word for it. You're absolutely concerned, but you aren't paranoid, and you would never even consider reporting them to anyone with any kind of authority, regardless of how suspicious they can be when you start looking for things to be suspicious about. There's just something... well, worrying about the Forgers, and as much as you'd hate to doubt people who've only ever been nice to you, it can be difficult to put aside everything you see, everything you hear. It can be difficult not to worry, even if you're not entirely sure what you should be worrying about.

The father, for example. He's polite, if a bit stand-offish, and you really don't want to think so negatively of the man who's always been so happy to lend you a cup of sugar or invite you over for dinner, even if his cooking does have a habit of leaving you unable to stay on your feet for more than an hour or so well into the next day. If anyone ever asked you about Loid, you'd have nothing but praise, but... you'd have to admit, if pressed, that you don't like the way he rests his hand on the small of your back, and that his stare has a way of making you feel like you're being dissected, pried open, put on display for an audience you're unable to hide yourself from. He's just so smart - whenever you complain about not being able to find some off-handed trinket, he's always able to put together just where you must've left it, even though he's never been inside your flat, much less has a chance to search for it himself. If you ever asked, you're sure there'd be some trick or psychological pattern that'd explain it away, but you never have. You'd rather die than risk insulting him, no matter how many of your things go missing in the gaps between your conversations.

And the mother, too. Yor's lovely, and you don't know if you've ever met someone so willing to help you with the little mundane things that make life so hard, like moving furniture or hauling this week's groceries up half a dozen flights of stairs. But, she can be a little too intimate, a little too prone to hugging and clinging and making sure she's always as near as she can possibly be, whether that means keeping an arm around your waist while the two of you walk back to your complex together (coincidentally, you always seem to run into her on her way home, no matter how little your schedules ever line up) or her side pressing into yours as you nurse a glass of wine, a vintage number she insisted that you try despite your attempts to gently refuse. She's nice, but a little too nice, the kind of sickly sweetness that leaves a bitter taste on your tongue for days after you speak to her, and the fact that you're nearly always speaking to her doesn't help. You'd never try to avoid her, but it just feels like she's around every corner, constantly waiting and smiling and looking for an excuse to take your hand in hers. It can just be a little much, sometimes. It just feels so draining, to have someone put so much effort into being so close to you.

Anya, meanwhile, is a miracle of a child, considering how she's been brought up. She's kind, keen, not especially bright, but you've been told she studies to the best of her limited abilities. You know, from the few times you've been asked to babysit her while both Loid and Yor are otherwise occupied, that she's an angel, even if she did inherit her father's uncanny intuition, even if she always seems to know just what's on your mind, even if you're not sure if you've ever seen a child of her age with such an intense determination, especially when it comes to edging you ever closer to her dear parents - just a child's attempts at making her little family that much bigger, you're sure. That's why you can't bring yourself to say anything, honestly, why you just can't bring yourself to move, or change your locks, or get out of bed when you hear footsteps in the middle of the night that you know you shouldn't be hearing. That's why you can't seem to do anything at all.

You're worried about your neighbors.

And, you're even more worried that they won't only be your neighbors, soon enough.

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3d-wifey · 5 months

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And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 8

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 4.8k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! Tag List: @melancholicmelanin , @yvy1s, @honethatty12 A/N: Are yall mad at me 🙁🙁 Your outfit & Finnick's outfit.

Past (ix) - You

[19 & 20] - THE CAPITOL

You like Johanna, you decide after only a few minutes of talking to her. She’s clever and somehow always simmering with rage. With her stature and how meek she seemed in her interviews, even you were surprised by the 180 she did in the arena. It's easy to see how she won.

It's admirable. Admittedly, your games were more animalistic than strategic. The careers had turned on each other pretty early on, leaving behind those who were desperate to stay alive. There was even a boy who resorted to cannibalism, eating the heart of any tribute he killed. His name was Titus. He was only thirteen. When they airlifted you out, it felt like you were taken out of the wilderness and brought into captivity.

You also note, despite her permanent scowl, or maybe because of it, she’s pretty. And that thought plants dread in your chest. You know the future for pretty, young victors all too well.

Is this how Finnick felt when he first met you?

There are ways around it, you note. Though the consequences are pretty grim. Enobaria comes to mind. She won her games by ripping another tribute’s throat out with her teeth. An act of desperation turned into her main selling point. She was smart. Went to an extreme and sharpened her teeth to garner more Capitol appeal while simultaneously dissuading Snow from selling her body. She’s pretty, but no one’s jumping to get into bed with teeth like that.

And Haymitch…well, Haymitch wasn’t given much of a choice considering Snow killed any leverage he might have had over him.

You make your rounds, jumping from group to group, barely being able to pull away from those who want your attention. Obviously, you aren’t mingling because you want to. There isn’t a single client you’d willingly interact with, ever . However, what you want doesn’t really matter at the end of the day. A fact made all the more apparent when you get cornered by a particularly tenacious Capitol.

Ursa Lowvale—a notable actress old enough to be your mother, with a surprising amount of political influence—has one hand caressing your cheek and the other holding your waist. Her makeup, in Capitol fashion, is cakey and clashing. You force down the impulse to move away because no matter how long you’ve done this, it never ceases to amaze you how uncomfortable their touch makes you.

“Did you get the care package I sent you, dearest?" She asks, rubbing a thumb over your cheekbone. You take her hand from your face and move it to rest over your heart, just above your breast. Her touch makes you nauseous, but you play it off as if you’re showing your sincerity and not your disgust.

“I did. And I must say, your kindness knows no bounds.” You threw the package away immediately. You didn’t even bother looking inside. “You’re so giving.”

“Oh, I’m giving in all aspects . As I’m sure you know.” She moves her hand down to rest on the crest of your cleavage and you play none the wiser to what she’s insinuating. That’s the personality you’ve cultivated over the past four years; shy, docile, naive—if not a bit ditzy. It’s that very image that ropes them in. Corrupting the ‘innocence’ of a victor is awfully appealing.

“I’ll be sure to set up another meeting sometime soon. It’s been far too long.” She leans down and places a kiss on the corner of your mouth. “I’ll be waiting.”

You wait until she’s out of sight to drop your smile. You take a sip of champagne out of the flute and then you take another. You’ll never drink enough at one of these events to lose your wits, but it doesn’t hurt to be a little tipsy. If more encounters like that happen, you’ll need it.

You stick to the outskirts of the party, savoring the limited solitude while it lasts. You watch on as Johanna turns another person down. You don’t know how they even work up the nerve to ask her to dance; she certainly isn’t welcoming. She seems to tolerate victors well enough, but anyone else—well, they should know better than to approach her.

You jump when toned arms slide around your waist, champagne sloshing out of your glass.

“ Stunning as always, Star. ” He whispers, voice husky in your ear. You relax in his hold.

“Finnick Ewan Odair, I swear if you made me drop this glass—”

“I know, I know,” he smirks against your cheek and you can’t tamp down your smile, “Missed you.” He kisses your temple and moves back. It wouldn’t be perceived as strange for Finnick, of all people, to hang off of you, but you keep it to a minimum as a self-imposed rule. No one would blink twice at innocent affection in public, but you both know how easy it would be for the two of you to get carried away. There’s flirting and then there’s flirting.

“Mhm, I’m sure you did.” You chuckle into your drink, playing at being impassive and he sighs dramatically.

“You see, now, normally, when somebody says they miss you, you’re supposed to say…?” He prompts with his hands and trails off. “C’mon, Star. I know you know this one.” You blink up at him, silent. He scoffs in faux offense, turning to walk away and you drop the act.

“Okay, I’m sorry ,” you laugh, pulling him back by one of his billowy sleeves to hook a finger in one of his belt loops, “I’m sorry. I missed you too.” In the past six months since Johanna’s games, you’ve only seen each other seven times. Odd, since you’ve both come to the Capitol at least twenty times combined, and usually, the two of you are brought in to work at the same time.

“Now, was that so hard?” He teases and you poke him in his stomach where he’s ticklish. The muscles in his abdomen twitch as he snorts unattractively. Or, it would have been if anyone other than Finnick did it. “You’ll catch a cold in that.” He notes with a quirk of his eyebrow and looks you up and down for longer than what’s strictly necessary. He’s referring to the newest dress your stylist stuffed you into. It seems like she gets more and more daring with each outfit. This time you’re in a thin strapped evening gown with an almost see-through corset bodice. There’s a slit up your left thigh reaching your hip. You try not to toddle in red heels that are truly too high.

One of his hands goes to your waist and moves you to sway with him to the music the live orchestra is playing. Your free hand trails up his strong shoulder to play with the hairs at his nape.

“I can say the same for you.” You tug on the shark tooth necklace that definitely isn’t his. He’s in a loose, khaki-colored wrap shirt with a deep v-neck. Deeper than deep, honestly. It’s sheer like yours and tucked into the front of his white slacks. The sleeves cinch at his wrists and the whole thing offers very little coverage to his bare chest and stomach, which is probably the point.

“I guess we’ll have to find a way to keep each other warm then.” He bites his bottom lip with a grin that spells nothing good for your patience.

You pinch his side.

“Ow! I’m kidding .” He raises his hands placatingly, grinning broadly.

“ Behave .” You scold through your teeth and your cheeks hurt with the stretch of your smile.

“You gonna punish me if I don—”

That earns him a smack to the bare skin of his chest.

“You are so irritating,” you scold and he laughs loud and unrestrained with his head thrown back. A sight that never ceases to leave you breathless. Finnick usually never lets himself be this carefree in public, but maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s your presence. He catches his breath, ruddy cheeks dimpling. He looks awfully pretty under the soft yellow lights, hair shining like gold. A possessive thought sinks its claws into you. You don’t want anyone to see him like this. No one else deserves it. You aren’t even sure if you do.

“You love it.” He’s still letting out breathy little giggles as he beams down at you, big doe eyes twinkling.

You shake your head with an insurmountable fondness. “I love you .”

He wrinkles his nose and your eyes are drawn to the faint freckles dotting the bridge of it. “See, that’s not fair.”

“Oh?” You cross your arms, balancing your glass precariously while playfully sizing him up as one would before a sparring match. But that train of thought makes you think. Could you take Finnick in a fight? You snort. Can anyone? “Please, Mr. Odair. Please tell me all about how unfair it is that I love you.”

“ Ouch . Mr. Odair?” He huffs at your expectant stare. “You use it for evil .” He mirrors your stance by crossing his arms, and drawing your attention to his biceps. His loose-fitting sleeves are doing a horrible job of hiding their shape and size as they flex with his movement. Hmm . You bring back that thought of fighting Finnick, but now it’s not that funny. You picture you and Finnick spent and sweaty as you wrestle on a mat, he would be red in the face and grinning from exertion as he pinned you down and—

You take a sip of champagne.

“Well, I guess I’ll just stop saying it all together then if it’s such a hardship.” You shrug.

He raises his hands like he’s fending off an attack. “Woah! Alright, alright. I’m willing to come to a truce.”

The pair of you are still joking and giggling together when you get approached by a couple. Edgar, one of Finnick’s regulars, and Karlo, his husband whom you’ve had many meetings with yourself. Anyone else in your position would have jumped apart, and put as much space and plausible deniability between you as possible—and maybe you would have done that when you were younger, but you both know now that the best way to squash any suspicion is to act like there’s nothing to be suspicious of.

You and Finnick share a glance. Breathe and endure , you mouth to him while your back is still turned to the encroaching couple. You welcome the wry twist of his lips.

“What are you two drinking that’s making you so smiley?” They ask and you both sober up. Well, not literally. You don’t know about him, but you’re still a little fuzzy. You shiver as the silk of Finnick’s shirt brushes your bare back as he wraps his hand around yours and takes a sip from your glass.

“Champagne.” He supplies, with that charming smile that you don’t even have to turn around to know is there. “It hits quicker than you’d think.” This is partially true, but, really, the only thing you’re drunk on is Finnick.

You lean back into the heat of Finnick’s chest and his hand goes to your hip to steady you, his thumb rubbing circles into your hip.

“Looks like someone’s drunk more than her fair share.” Karlo laughs as they crowd in on you both and if you really had been as drunk as you’re pretending to be, you would have thrown up from the smell of their strong perfumes clashing. Both sickeningly sweet and fighting to clog your lungs. “Don’t tell me you’re drunk already.”

“Honestly, I barely drank any. I must be a lightweight.” You laugh, fake to your own ears and you’re sure to Finnick’s too.

“Really? That’s quite surprising. You know. With your rough background and all.” Edgar says with genuine confusion. It’s odd to be insulted so sincerely. Finnick scoffs behind you in what could be mistaken for amusement, but the grip on your hip says otherwise.

You stay quiet for the rest of the conversation. You chime in here and there, but Finnick carries the bulk of it. It isn’t normally like this. Many people usually fall over themselves trying to be the first person you talk to. But there are a select few who prefer you to stand there and look pretty. You can essentially dumb your way out of a conversation, Finnick isn’t so lucky.

“You’ll have to show us some of your poetry sometime, Nick,” Edgar says while walking his fingers up Finnick’s arm and you almost wince for him. He hates that nickname. Writing, specifically poetry, is the hobby Finnick was forced to take up after his games. Something that’s supposed to give a layer of complexity to his playboy image. Though, unlike most victors, it’s actually something he enjoys and is quite good at.

You, on the other hand, wished you were given any other skill to hone. If your fingers hadn’t already been callused, the violin strings would’ve left them mangled.

“He always forgets to ask that, but I’m sure it’s because you have him suitably distracted.” Karlo laughs and Edgar cackles along with him. You don’t know what’s tighter, your grip on the glass or your smile. You wonder which one will shatter first.

“Ah, anyway. We must be off.” Edgar, thankfully, pulls away.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you.” Karlo takes your unattended hand and kisses the back of it and you instantly regret talking your stylist out of giving you elbow-length gloves.

“Likewise.”

You hold your breath and release it when they’re out of sight. You feel Finnick’s chest expand with his own sigh of relief.

“Alright,” he plucks the champagne from your hand, handing it to a passing server. You’re tempted to complain, “Let’s go. We’ve shown our faces long enough that Snow shouldn’t care.” You’re hesitant for a moment, but you can’t act like the idea of being alone with Finnick isn’t more than enough to convince you.

Other than the constant security and monitoring, the Training Center isn’t a terrible place to stay. As you and Finnick walk hand in hand down the hall, you can take comfort in the fact that you won’t run into anyone you’ll have to hide this from. The soles of your feet ache with each step. You yelp when you almost trip for the third time, your ankle turning inwards. Maybe you really are a lightweight.

Wordlessly, Finnick squats down and pats his thigh. You're confused before he taps your ankle. And he waits patiently like it’s the most natural thing in the world to take your shoes off for you. Your chest warms from something other than alcohol. You place your foot on his thigh and he takes off your heel and does the same with the other. He keeps the strap of your shoes looped over his finger as he stands.

“C’mon,” he puts one arm under your knees, another behind your back, and lifts you up like you weigh nothing. You really do try your best not to gawk at his strength, but from Finnick’s flustered giggles, you’re failing miserably. You wrap your arm around his neck.

“My hero,” you put the back of your hand to your forehead and his chest vibrates with his laughter.

“My star, light of my life,” you laugh as he spins you, “The least I can do is save you from a broken ankle.” He presses a featherlight kiss to your lips. Your eyes flutter shut and you can’t help but smile against his lips.

You and Finnick have unintentionally established a pattern. More often than not, you both would be in the Capitol at the same time for the same reason and one of you always ends up in the other’s room. But the elevator doesn’t stop on either of your floors.

The elevator opens on the rooftop and he’s yet to put you down. You’re amazed at how long he’s been able to carry you without any strain.

The gardens are sprawling and well-maintained, a surprising amount of care for something unprofitable. There was a kid, a tribute from one of the early games, who jumped off the roof. They claimed he fell by accident and the force field was put in place as a safety measure. But you all know what really happened—the districts know what happened. And you suspect he’s the reason the garden was implemented. A poorly planned distraction on the Capitol’s behalf.

Finnick sits on one of the garden benches behind a tall hedge of roses with you on his lap. You rest your head on top of his, tracing random letters on the back of his neck.

Finnick clears his throat. “There were kids at the reception. Running around– chasing each other. They asked me to play tag with them.” He laughs. You conjure up an image of Finnick chasing a gaggle of children that don’t even come up to his waist, because of course he did, and suddenly, you can think of nothing else. “Have you ever thought about having any?”

“I did when I was younger.” You hum. You thought of a lot of things when you were a kid. When you were young enough to be shielded by your parents from the brutality of your district, young enough to dream. That period didn’t last and you haven’t been a kid for a long time.

“But?”

“But, I didn’t think I’d live long enough to have any.” You didn’t even think you were capable of that kind of love. You didn't think it was in your capacity. It was bred and beaten out of you, especially after your games. But Finnick’s in the business of proving you wrong. “And to bring them into this world, into Eleven, seems cruel.”

The chirp of crickets fills the silence. Fireflies dot the sky and blend with the stars.

His fingers tap on your thigh. “I always thought I’d have two. They’d be close in age so—”

“—They’d be friends.” You finish and he gives a slow nod that picks up speed.

“Yeah, a boy and a girl.” You want to picture it. You want to imagine a world where it’s possible to have that life together. But you fear the fate of a child that would look like you and Finnick.

Your eyes drift from constellation to constellation. Perseus, Pegasus, Pisces. The stars are clearer here than at the Marquis, but not by much. It’s times like this that you miss your dad the most.

“If you’re comfortable sharing, I’d love to hear some more of your poetry.” You mutter into his hair. What Edgar said got you thinking. You don’t want Finnick to associate his talent with those people. Everything he writes is a piece of him. It amounts to more than that, more than them.

“I would think you’d be tired of it by now, considering how much I write in my letters.”

“Mmm, I’ll never be tired of anything you do. You really do have a gift, Finn, and you shouldn’t waste it on them.” The words were out of your mouth before you even had time to comprehend them. You lift your head when he moves to look at you, “It’s true.” You say, somewhat embarrassed. You aren’t really the emotionally forthcoming one in this relationship, but you weren’t expecting what you said to be met with surprise.

He places a kiss on the shell of your bracelet. You shiver as he trails his lips down to the tip of your fingers. Your heart speeds up in anticipation. He presses his cheek to the back of your hand and he sits there with his eyes closed, before speaking.

“My heart, who am I to deprive you of what's yours by right? The air in my lungs, I breathe for you. The blood in my veins pumps for you.” He laces your fingers together, eyes still closed. “A leaf can’t stop itself from falling and neither could I.” When he opens his eyes back up, you’re swept away by the sheer adoration. That’s something you should get used to, right? You don’t think you’ve seen Finnick look at you any differently. And you don’t think you ever will.

He shakes his head with a smile as bright as the sun. “Everything I do, I do for you.” He whispers and just when you catch your breath, it’s gone again.

You’re not sure who leans in first, not that it matters. No, all that matters is this moment—just the two of you.

He pulls back, the tip of his nose brushing yours.

“So,” he speaks, lips twitching into a smirk, and you brace yourself for the sheer strength of the eye roll that’s certain to follow whatever he says next, “your room or mine?” Your eyes truly come close to rolling out of your head, but you snort despite yourself and that smirk becomes a full-blown smile.

Present (VIII) - You

[23 & 24 ] - TRAINING CENTER

You inhale through your nose and release the breath through your teeth. Your arms burn from your fingers to your biceps and you try to adjust your grip on the bar, but the strain in your shoulders convinces you to tap out. You drop to the ground and the screen next to you reads four minutes and eight seconds, but you know you can make it to five.

You bounce on your toes and shake out your hands. Just as you’re about to jump back up, you notice a crowd forming around the archery station. Your curiosity gets the better of you and you’re able to slip to the front and see what the commotion is about. Inside, Katniss shoots down the hologram opponents with deadly proficiency, seemingly sensing the enemies before they’re even there. The arm strength involved with shooting a bow and arrow is nothing to scoff at. Especially with the fluidity and speed she’s going.

After she hits the last hologram and the exercise shuts off, everyone else stands impressed—yourself included. You're starting to understand why Haymitch is putting so much stock into her.

In terms of basic survival, there’s nothing for you to improve on. Shelter making, fire starting, weapons, hand-to-hand—there isn’t much for you to learn within the day you have left. You think about stopping at the camouflage station but think better of it. As long as there’s something to climb, you’ll have camouflage. Mags hovers by the fish hooks station, but you worry if you go near her, Finnick won’t be far behind. You don’t know what he wants from you, why he even wants to speak to you. It’s not like he responded to any of your letters, so why now ? Why now when you’ve finally come to terms with the way he wanted things to be?

On the topic of avoiding Finnick, you also steer clear of the knot-tying station. He’s there now teaching Katniss how to tie what looks like a noose. You’d run out of fingers if you tried to count the number of knots he’s taught you. You never thought you’d ever have to use any of them, but there’s no telling what will happen in the arena.

Edible insects are much easier to distinguish than plants, but you’re more than adept at both. The same can’t be said for Peeta. You must have been watching him for nearly thirty minutes and he’s gotten close to nothing right.

He still has the paint that the female Morphling—Megan, you’re pretty sure—painted on his arm. Swirls of the orange, yellow, and purple trail from his wrist to his shoulder.

The screen flashes red as he organizes the plants incorrectly.

“You are terrible at this.” You walk forward to lean against the control panel, “Like, extraordinarily.”

Peeta looks up from the buttons. It’s technically the first time the two of you have talked, not counting that meeting after the chariots where Chaff kissed Katniss.

“I just,” he scratches at the back of his head and frowns, discouraged, “I can’t remember the names. I know nightlock, obviously. But not much else.”

“Well, you’re able to recognize where you fall short. That’s good. You’re trying to match the names to the fruit, but you don’t have enough time to remember all of that. It’s pointless anyway.” What good is remembering the name of a berry if he doesn’t know if he can eat it or not?

“Then, what am I supposed to do?”

“Instead of figuring out the names, try to focus on what they look like and whether or not they’re edible. That’s all that matters, honestly.” You restart the exercise, changing the parameters so he’ll have to organize the plants into categories by picture.

“You’re helping me?”

“I can’t, in good conscience, let you die because you decided to tussle with the wrong berry.” Hundreds of kids have died in Eleven from eating something they shouldn’t have. Not because they didn’t know it was poisonous, but because they were so hungry that they took their chances. “Trust me, that’s not a fight you wanna pick.”

It’s touch and go for a second, but it’s not long before Peeta starts catching on. He’s a quick learner, and it’s much easier—more beneficial—to memorize what an edible plant looks like rather than what it’s called.

While Peeta is distracted with a timed matching game, your eyes trail to where Finnick goes through different motions with a trident while Katniss watches with laser-like focus. He stops to say something to her and glances your way. You’re quick to look back down to the task at hand.

How are you supposed to work with him in the arena if you can’t even handle being in the same room as him?

“I’m just not good at this.” Peeta laughs with a hint of self-deprecation. The screen shows he was only able to get half of the plants organized before the timer went off. For somebody starting from scratch, he’s selling himself pretty short. He just needs a little more time and you’re confident he’ll be able to recognize what can and can’t be eaten within an hour.

“I watched your games. You could definitely be better.” Poisonous berries are the leading cause of death in the arena. Followed closely by being killed, either by another tribute or the arena itself. This will help protect him from the former. He doesn't need to master this. He just needs to know enough to get by.

”Yeah, Katniss is definitely better at this kind of stuff.” He looks over his shoulder to where Katniss and Finnick are still training. This time Katniss holds the trident and her movements are nowhere near as polished as his were. Despite that, Peeta’s eyes shine.

You look at Peeta— really look at him—and realize something.

"You actually love her, don't you?" You marvel. It hadn't even crossed your mind that their feelings could be genuine. He looks at you surprised, before whatever persona he's embodying slides into place.

"What, do you think it's an act or something?" He laughs.

"I did. But your eyes gave you away. They hold this kind of—softness whenever you look at her, whenever you talk about her," you turn back to the screen but don't restart the exercise, "I'd recognize that anywhere." Of course, you would. It's how Finnick used to look at you.

You're both quiet. He looks from you to his hands on the controls.

"I do." He breathes, hard to hear over the cacophony of sounds in the room. "I really do."

You take a breath and let it out in a sigh.

"I'm sorry then."

"For what?" His brows furrow with confusion.

"You shouldn't have to go into the arena with someone you love. It's cruel." Your heart aches for him. You don't know how much Katniss reciprocates his feelings—you're starting to think she doesn't at all. For that, you can't help but feel sorry for him—can't help but see yourself in him.

Haymitch was right, after all. Peeta's a good kid. He doesn't deserve this.

"Then, I'm sorry too." You glance at him from the corner of your eye. "You're right. We shouldn't have to." You don't say anything for a second and he doesn't press you to. You doubt anyone told him about you and Finnick, so maybe he's just that observant. And smarter than anyone notices. An oversight you're sure he takes advantage of.

You don't bother denying it. Instead, you nod. He nods back. A sense of comradery is shared between the two of you, but it doesn't last long. You still have training to do. You press on a random square and a creepy-looking plant appears. A red stalk with shiny, white berries spins in a slow circle on the screen.

"White baneberry, poisonous or not poisonous?" He contemplates it.

"Poisonous?" He asks more than tells you.

"Just to eat?" You prompt and he shakes his head.

"You can't touch it either." He answers far more confidently and you smile. There might be hope for him yet.

"Good. Next."

A/N: SMUT NEXT CHAPTER!!!!! PEW PEW PEW!!!!

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #hunger games catching fire #masterlist #finnick x reader #finnick odair fanfic #thg finnick #and they'd find us in a week #finnick

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kimbap-r0ll · 2 years

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Can you do a TWST imagine (Dorm Leaders+Jamil), In which reader’s parents are one of the great seven? (So like Malleus with reader who’s mother is Maleficent)

Hi, thank you for the ask! I think that this is a large amount of characters and because it's not just the dorm leaders (which I leave as an exception from my five-character limit), I'm just going to choose four random dorm leaders and Jamil.

Edit: For those wondering, I don’t headcanon Malleus and Maleficent being related, if someone has the chapter where this is mentioned let me know tho! As of now in twst it’s not confirmed. It was not my intention on making this seem like they were, so I’m sorry if this upset anyone

Malleus, Azul, Idia, Jamil, Vil with a reader whose parent is a Great Seven

Malleus

He's surprised, as that would mean you're also a fae. The two of you probably had a lot of similarities in terms of magical abilities and it made sense why you were living in Briar Valley. He just didn't know that you were related to a Great Seven, let alone the Thorn Fairy herself!

He doesn't consider it too much however, as he's just happy to be with you. He looks at you for who you are, rather than your reputation as Maleficent's daughter. He'll just say that it is an honor to be with you but that's as far as it will go.

Sebek on the other hand is freaking out that there's two super famous people on campus and that they're both in the same dorm as he is haha. Malleus will make sure that you don't get too much unwanted attention from curious students though as sometimes it can be overwhelming

Overall he's glad to be with you because of who you are, more than you being related to the Great Seven. Perhaps you should introduce him to your mother at some point, the two might have a lot in common

Azul

He knew you were from the sea but he didn't think you would be an octopoid like he was. He was super happy when you said that you were, since it made him feel less lonely.

But you shocked him even more when you said you were related to the Benevolent Sea Witch. Like, the person he looks up to? WHAT?!

He doesn't think he has the honor to be with you, but he fell in love with you because of who you were as a person to begin with. You were smart, talented, brave, and you looked at him as more than the head of Octavinelle or the "scary dorm leader in charge of the lounge."

He will ask to go to Corral Sea with you on some occasions, perhaps he's curious to see your mer form. But if you ask him, he'll be shy about it but with some convincing and lots of hugs he might cave in haha. Azul won't mind too much about your relation to Ursula, though he might be a bit nervous to meet her in person.

Idia

No way you were actually related to the King of the Underworld. No way, he's pressing x for doubt. But you said that it was true, and that you could show him and he was like "...no thanks I like my room."

He likes you for who you are as well, since you were the first one to geek out with him about video games and you were the first one to stand up for him when some students tried to gang up on the poor dorm leader. He admires your charisma but also your fearless personality.

If you do show him your father, expect Idia to hide behind you for most of the event. His hair might go red too, which you might point out is eerily similar to your dad's

Overall, he likes you because of who you are, and he won't worry about your connection to a Great Seven. If anyone tries to overwhelm you because of this information however, he might get upset

Jamil

He thought there was a reason you were so good at magic! Not to mention you would constantly talk about a talking parrot that was eerily similar to the tales of the Sorcerer of the Sands.

He thinks you're too good for him. Jamil's a vice dorm leader, let alone a servant to the Al Asim family, so he has no idea how someone so prestigious (at least in his opinion) would want to be with him. But you tell him that family names and such doesn't matter to you, and he feels the same way.

He might be a bit hesitant to show up in front of your father soon, so for now he might just ask you questions about him. How is it like to be related to him? Is the parrot really annoying? Stuff like that haha

Just remember that Jamil's there for you! He loves you because of who you are! Also, if you do end up showing him your father, expect him to be a bit flustered because he's anxious but the two of them will likely be on very good terms since they're kinda similar in your opinion.

Vil

Yeah you were beautiful, he knew that. But what he didn't know was that you were related to the Beautiful Queen, you know, the person Pomefiore's based off of.

He loves you because of who you are as well. He doesn't consider your parentage very important when he loves you. He won't tolerate people harassing you about your mother though.

He wouldn't mind meeting your mother though, since he has confidence in himself to look good. But once the two of them meet, the two of them realize that they're really similar haha.

He really doesn't care that much that you're related to the Great Seven, though he considers it an honor to be with you. Vil won't think much after that, but other Pomefiore students might be a bit scared of you haha.

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diavory · 1 year

Text

My thoughts on Obey Me! NB

A VERY deep dive so please beware of spoilers! 🩷

Get comfy because this is gonna be long 🫡

First of all, the beginning just tells you this is going to be one hell of a storyline :D also, feel free to add your teories and thoughts!

So we know is canon that this story continues from lesson 80.

Lesson 80 MC is someone who has lived a lot of moments, grown and get to love the characters in the game (especially your love interest, in general, we know we share a deep bond of mutual trust, love and care. It is something shown on many, many events, devilgrams and the main storyline!)

This is why this whole situation feels so painful.

And now they are back to square 0, in a time where they didn't exist, surrounded by familiar faces that don't remember them (minus Solomon) and now they don't have time to grieve the emotional pain of this huge change because they gotta survive.

We are back to being suspicious, unwelcomed, back to being a potential threath to 7 brothers who just became demons and are on a huge unstable situation where they can't afford to take any risks.

Is even sadder when you see MC's dialogues on some lessons, how they want to act as they used to, to greet them as they already know us when they don't.

The 7 brothers are different, same as the Angels and Diavolo with Barbatos; Lucifer's character is so interesting here because he is full of fear, regret, and yet his pride makes him take the burden of all of this on his own to protect his family, this is why him allowing us near was such an important matter and how his trust was broken so fast once we showed how much of a threath we can be (the Ring Of Light adding a HUGE amount of suspicious to the sus level ngl).

We see how the brothers even look a bit relieved to have someone, a demon, with them. Whether out of convenience to have someone that knows how things work, someone who can assist them, guide them or just of a need of a friend in a land where the other demons are being hostile towards them for being former angels. MC represents a sense of security, confort, even when it comes from an unknown person who seems to be too powerful to be a simple demon.

Regarding their sins

I find it fascinating.

They can feel how the sins that were associated to them are now becoming a heavier influence on their acts, way of thinking and personality. Which only serves as a reminder that they are no longer angels, a reality they haven't come to terms with and struggle to accept.

Probably the reason of this being the many, many, maaaaaany insecurities they have acumulated on the year following their fall. Did they do the right thing? Was there a second option? How would things look if they did ____ different? Would there be a day when they feel at home?

Talking about this, let us move to focus on Mammon for a bit.

Our first man may not be the powerful first born, or as smart as Satan. But he cares for his brothers, A LOT. Mammon has shown multiple times that even if he denies it he worries, he doesn't want his brothers to be looked down upon, he KNOWS Lucifer is struggling to keep everything under control, he knows everything is too much. We've seen in the OG game too how he worries about the people he cares, going extra miles to be able to help, even if he sometimes fails and he feels bad for it.

Our boy knows his limits on how he can't resolve everyone's problems, and yet he tries. I really loved the moment when he explains that he wants to tame Cerberus so the 7 can live a better life, not because he wants a treasure. How he can't keep letting others make them feel less, the Devildom is their home now, and he knows the only way that others would accept them is by making them respect them.

How so?

Becoming the rulers.

This lesson where they go to find Cerberus is one of my favorites without a doubt, you can see how they are a family :")

Talking about family, let's move to our newborn, Satan!

Oh Diavolo.

We know how Satan has always struggled with him being born after Lucifer. He is probably older than most of the brothers, having lived inside of Lucifer, watching the World through his eyes, becoming the anger that he was building inside.

And yet he despises the feeling of being nothing for than Lucifer's shadow. His own perception of him as an individual is fragile, becoming easily unstable and having a hard time keeping this controlled. He yerns to find himself, who he really is but he is scared too, confused, being tossed around on a new place, treated like... well, a demon, to keep him from harming someone.

Was this the best decision?

No.

But giving how everything that was happening around them was too much... We can call preventive messsures? We know Barbatos and Diavolo can and will take actions if someone dares to be a potential danger for the Devildom, and a powerfull demon who has yet to learn how to control themselves because well, he has only existed on a physical form for a year, may have the brother on a tough position.

I really love for the lesson where he finds the little cat, he just seems at peace and is quick to ask MC to please leave so he can be alone. I really like how he took the time to understand the little creature in front of him, one of the first times we see him so calm.

Talking about controlling emotions, let's look at Asmo for a quick second.

Our brightest star, the jewel lf the heavens is now struggling to see his light. He can feel how tense the situation is, and is seen many times trying to cheer up his brothers, being a positive energy for them, always smiling to bring smiles back. He now has the power to charm, but the beautiful demon can't stand his reflection in the mirror and secretly yearns for the beautiful white wings.

Asmo grieves in very subtle ways, like focusing in what he was know for: his beauty; or decorating his room in the most beautiful way, even requesting Lucifer to add a window that wss not there to his room. Asmo has a hard time getting used to the obscure Devildom, where the night shines unlike the Celestial Realm where everything is pristine, pure, and well, celestial. That's why he fell easily for Raphael's illusion of him saying they can go back to being Angels. Seeing Simeon and Luke shaked his resolve to keep being positive for their new reality, and I am glad that we are shown all of this side of him; somehow NB makes the Obey Me characters feel more real. They are not perfect.

Which reminds me :)

Solomon. Solomon my dear what the hell are you doing.

He made a pact when Asmo had just experience a very vulnerable state, with major changes happening and without a lot of time to process what making a pact really means.

Yes, they needed a way to survive (dejavù to when MC made a pact with Asmo) but still. HE DID IT TWICE.

He summoned Barbatos too, agains his will. Forced him to obey and even Asmo got a bit uneasy after seeing the power of the pact in action. Yes, Barbatos sent Solomon far away but REALLY!?

What the hell Solomon did to piss Barbatos THIS much. I read that it may be related to the time where Solomon fought the Devildom? I kind of forgot how it goes but, I really hope we would learn more about this.

Listen, let's talk about this sorcerer a bit more. I may be a simp for him but I see the 🚩

First, he traced after us, and honestly I am grateful that MC has someone to rely on instead of being alone in this new time. He already knew the main characters so that helped a lot to cover up any first suspicious we could have raised, after all, we know that Solomon is smart, maybe way too smart.

Jokes aside on him having his honeymoon phase, I belive that MC feels at ease around him. We have the options to trust his judgement and his decisions, he already met the versions of the characters, so who else could be a better ally?

Solomon is... a complicated character to me. He is a human who has lived far too long to the poing of many times being compared to a demon, a powerfull being with many pacts, one being with Barbatos and that says a lot. Thirteen says she likes his soul, yet something changed once he left the reaper's home and didn't come back in many years, his soul doesn't shine as it did before and she doesn't know why. She sees the same shine on MC, which makes me wonder what happened, what can make a soul change?

Something that is bothering me a lot is that Solomon was asked to pick a side already and he chose humanity. He doesn't mind Diavolo's plan as long as it doesn't damage humans, and honestly; what he said about Diavolo being friendly doesn't mean he sees other races as equals is so interesting to me. What does he know? Whas has he seen?

Yet, I can't help but get an uneasy feeling of something major coming our way, Nightbringer aside. With how unstable the current situation is between the realms, we don't know what we may get ourselves into. And Solomon asking us to please, side with humanity if there ever came a moment where we need to pick a side just seems too direct, as a foreshadow for a battle yet to happen.

He asked MC if they would side with humanity.

MC who feels like the Devildom is their home, who got to love the place, their people and their rules. Who is trusted by them.

But this is a tale of another time, they are not the people MC grew to love as hard as it may feel. This is not the Celestial Realm, the Devildom they met.

Is there a loyalty to be acted upon, when the people it was made for are not there?

Is clear MC wants them to trust them, giving back the grimoire and acting agains what Solomon most likely wanted was the biggest giveaway.

Many times MC was told that them trusting so easily, being so nice with those around them was their biggest virtue and yet their biggest weakness.

Sometimes I wonder if Solomon took an interest on MC because he saw the potential of them. He saw an ally, finally a human he could rely on.

Let's head into our next contestants!

The twins.

We can see how they are constantly seen with the other, maybe as a way to process everything that went through, but; as close as they are they have secrets they can't tell to each other, they have regrets that won't leave them alone, and are being tormented by the nightmares of all the things that went wrong.

We see the difference between the way they act, Belphie being more straight forward, not trusting anyone easily and you just know his trust was severely broken, you can see the effects of seeing how giving your all for someone can go oh so wrong, his sister is now dead. He was an older brother once, now he isn't. The only person he was meant to protect is now dead, and he blames humanity.

Beel tries to be the one acting as the middle ground, trying to be the glue, to keep his family, who are his treasure and the people he wants to protect, to keep them together, to keep them close. He struggles a lot with his sin, it affects his daily life, he is aware of how many things can go wrong if he doesn't keep it in check, and we know the least thing he wants to do is end up causing unnecessary trouble, let alone hurt his brothers.

Let us move into Levi now.

He struggles with quickly adapting to new routines, he knows he may be seen as the weakest among the seven, not feeling as if he can shine as bright as them. Being content staying on the shadows where he can be himself.

Let me tell you something, they way the devs handed his lesson where we get to learn how he really feels, his insecurities, how scares he is, how he wishes he could go back to the times where everything was monotonous, simple, to the things he knew.

How he is depressed and doesn't know what to do. Everything on this lesson was so well written that you can understand him, the reason why he does the things he does. And I absolutely love the last part where Lucifer says exactly what Levi needs to hear.

Because after all his family comes first. No matter if he has to go against Diavolo, Levi ends up agreeing to the proposal, but I can't stress enough how important it is that he asked if he was okay with it, reassuring that he could say no. That he didn't need to push his emotions aside and that his opinion matters, HE MATTERS. I may have teared up a bit reading it :')

I love healthy communication.

Okay, before this becomes longer that it needs to be, let me quickly talk about Diavolo and Barbatos.

We know that the og demon King has just recently fallen into his slumber, throwing the weight of being the Devildom's ruler to his son who probably wasn't as prepared as we might think since it is hinted that it was a bit sudden.

We also get to know there are even demons opposed to him becoming the ruler. Diavolo has big plans but has a long way ahead. Thinking about him makes me go back to the OG Obey Me! Lesson where we go with him and Belphie to a theme park in the human work. But I don't wanna give spoilers on this, but I'll leave it with the fact that Diavolo struggles to see sometimes that he is doing something wrong, that maybe he can't use his authority to force someone to do things that they probably don't want to, that there are gonna be cases where he is actually, the one who is mistaken.

Barbatos is there for him, even if we know it was probably Diavolo's request (this was lighly hinted too) he is as efficient as ever, but I can't help but not trust him, don't come at me, I just feel that he knows too much and says too little.

Let us finish with the Angels: Simeon and Luke.

The first time we met Simeon back in the OG game, he already had an understanding of what Diavolo wanted, the wound of loosing his friends and seeing them fall had healed, or at least he no longer felt as if maybe he could have said something to prevent the war, to be able to make them stay.

He keeps his thoughts and ideals to himself, he is trying to recognize his past friends in their new selves, but he is still an Angel, so even if he doesn't feel completely fine with everything, he is going to enjoy being around that people he used to know.

Also, something that I'd like to mention, is that we know that Simeon was demoted for helping Lucifer and his brothers, so let's add that to the list of thing this Angel has to process, alone.

And Luke... he is very similar to the first time we see him on the OG game, making very clear how he thinks of demons and his opinions. I don't really have much to say about him, Lucifer even doesn't seem to know him that well based on what he says when you have it on your DDD's screens.

Anyway, this is all I have to say at the moment I think?

Idk this game is certainly dark.

Thanks for reading! 🩷

#obey me nb #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me!#obey me nightbringer #nightbringer #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me solomon #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me leviathan #obey me spoilers

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dino-cattivo · 2 months

Text

Pray for me, cos I won't pray for you

My fic for the @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang!

The amazing art for this fic was done by @jeniidrawsshit and oh my god I love it so so much. It is just so amazing.

LINK TO THE ART!!! GO CHECK IT OUT!!

Pairing: Hob/Dream

Rating: mature

Word Count: 40,657

Tags: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, Eventual Happy Ending, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, gore like the dinner episode, The Corinthian is His Own Warning (The Sandman), Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Blood and Injury, Alternate Universe - Mob, Organized Crime, Hob joins the mafia, Self Confidence Issues, Hob Gadling Loves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, POV Hob Gadling, Hob Gadling Needs A Hug, Misunderstandings

Summery: After their fight in 1889 Hob falls in with a bad crowd thanks to a boy that reminds him of Robyn. He tries to stop his descent into crime not wanting to be reduced to being nothing more than a murderer again. But eh fails. Compared to all the live he ends helping to guard a basement is tame. If only Corinthian, the right hand man of his employer, would stop flirting with him despite being turned down multiple times already.

Chapter 1 under the cut. Will repost the next chapters as reblog because of word limit.

~1889~

“You knew Lady Johanna. You know, Lushing Lou. You know everyone, don't you?” Hob asked in wonder. He may not know who or rather what his stranger was, but he could never help but be amazed by everything he could do. Sometimes when he laid awake, unable to catch sleep, he came up with the wildest theories about the man. He imagines him being a vampire, a fae, and even considered an old god from Greece. But he would never know, as his stranger never revealed anything about himself, not even his name.

It felt unfair in a way. Him knowing everything about Hob, while Hob got nothing. It had crossed his mind to be petty, to keep things to himself, go against their deal in a way. But Hob couldn’t stop himself from telling the man whatever he could when they saw each other, eager to be able to share.

“I saw her again, you know.”

“Who? Lady Johanna?” Worry flared up. He knew his stranger was fine, sitting across the table from him. He also knew the man was strong enough to protect himself. But he couldn’t help wanting to be there, to protect, to keep his stranger safe, even at the cost of his own freedom.

“She undertook a task for me and succeeded admirably, I might add.”

Jealousy, burning hot, filling his veins. He tried to tamper it down, to net let it get to him, but he couldn’t help himself. All the time he had wanted nothing more than to get close to his stranger, to prove his worth, and now he had offered that chance to someone else. He had chosen someone who had hunted them down and tried to do harm instead of someone he shared centuries of friendship with.

It hurt.

Although, could he hold it against his stranger? The man knew Hob for so long, knew what he has done, knew all his failures during his long life. So it was no wonder he didn’t trust Hob enough to ask him for a favor. His voice was filled with self-loathing as he spoke. “That might be the only thing I've learned after 500 years. People are almost always better than you think they are. Not me, though. Still the same as ever.”

“I think perhaps you've changed.” Hob’s heart started beating faster at the other’s words. Did he really think so? Hob wished it was true. He wants to change, to be good, worthy of his stranger.

“Well, I may have learned a bit from my mistakes. But, uh… doesn't seem to stop me from making them. I think it's you that's changed.”

“How so?”

Hob should shut up now and be content with what he had, seeing the man he had fallen for every hundred years. He should not press the issue, no matter how desperate he was to be acknowledged by the other. But Hob had never been smart when it came to things he desired.

“I think I know why we still meet here, century after century. It's not because you want to see whether or not I'm ready to seek death. I don't think I'll ever seek death. By now, you know that about me. So, I think you're here for something else.”

“And what might that be?” His stranger looked curious at that. Hob liked the look as it meant he had done something to surprise the man.

“Friendship. I think you're lonely.” And in true Hob fashion, he managed to put his foot in his mouth. He knew the moment he had spoken, he had made a mistake. It was the truth, but the wording was just unfortunate and way too blunt. And not at all how he had planned to breach the topic.

“You dare…”

“No, look, I'm not saying–,” Hob tried to backpedal, but it was too late. “You… dare suggest one such as I might need your companionship.”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

Maybe despite Hob’s foolish approach, there was a chance all of this still had a good outcome, and they would get closer. “Then I shall take my leave of you and prove you wrong.” Or maybe not. Hob sprang up from his chair and chased after his stranger as the man strode out of the tavern. The man couldn’t do this. If he wanted or not, they were friends. You didn’t just storm off and leave your friends behind.

“I'll tell you what, I'll be here in 100 years' time. If you're here then, too, it'll be because we're friends. No other reason, right?” He was met by silence as his stranger didn’t seem fit to answer and just disappeared.

“Fսck.”

~1897~

He was pissed, absolutely livid. Who did he think he was? He had no right to speak to Hob like this, no matter how powerful he was. That was not how things worked. You couldn’t be an asshole like that and expect people to stick around. Hob didn’t need him. They saw each other only every hundredth years, and even then the stranger often didn’t have time for Hob and fucked off with someone else. So what if Shakespeare was famous now? Hob would still have been better company back then. No, he didn’t need the man. He would make new friends. Better ones.

~1936~

Okay, so maybe mistakes had been made and Hob should have chosen his words more carefully. That was on him. His stranger still shouldn’t have exploded like this and should rather have tried to talk things out like a grown up, but still – Hob hadn’t been entirely blameless in the situation.

When they saw each other the next time he would have to apologize and maybe then they could laugh together about the stupid fight. Or well, Hob had never seen his stranger laugh, couldn’t even imagine it. He would settle for a smirk then.

~1983~

Anxiety was settled deep in his chest. What if his stranger proved him wrong. What if he didn’t show, determined to not give in. Hob had no way of finding him. He didn’t even know who he was looking for. What would Hob even do? Nothing besides showing up in the White Horse every hundred years and praying at some point his stranger would forgive him and come for him.

Once more, he felt powerless in their relationship. It was the whole reason why he had even started the fight, wanting to know more, anything about his stranger. He didn’t want to be on equal footing, knowing it would never be, but he wanted something that was his. He didn’t want to be just another amusement the man had, but to mean at least something to the other.

Tears sprung to his eyes as he hit his desk in frustration. It was unfair. The stranger meant too much to him, was such a big part of his life, and Hob didn’t even know if he was the only immortal he kept. Maybe Shakespeare was out there under a new name, living his best life and meeting his stranger more often than every hundredth years. And there was nothing Hob could do about it, no way for him to even find out.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on any more work, he gathered his documents and put them in a briefcase before leaving the empty office and making his way through the dark street. They were in the progress of having the gas street-lamps replaced by electrical once, but it was slow progress. And during it many streets stayed dark, since repairing gaslights when they were about to be replaced was a waste of resources according to the major. Hob didn’t care too much, he didn’t fear the dark.

He should have.

A dark figure stepped in front of him, barely noticeable in the moonlight. Turning around to run, he saw another figure blocking the other exit of the street and walking towards Hob. A flash of metal in the dark, a weapon. Hob swallowed, not because he was scared, he had survived much worse, but because it spelled trouble, and he couldn’t risk anyone finding out he was immortal. Not with times changing and hiding who he was becoming more and more difficult.

“Your money or your life,” Hob had to suppress a snort at the nasal voice. Ah, criminals, always the same no matter how many centuries passed. He remembered the time well, when he was in the other's position, stopping the carriages of rich folks and demanding the valuables. He had used the exact same words. Although, he guessed there was no much need for flair when it came to such simple matters.

“Alright, I will give you what I have. Please don’t hurt me,” Hob held up his hands, talking calm and trying not to provoke them. He couldn’t die, sure, but being stabbed hurt like a freaking bitch. Hob would rather part with some cash he had on hand and his watch. Nothing holding real value to him, and easy enough to replace.

So very slowly and telegraphing his movement clearly, he reached inside his coat and pulled out his wallet, holding it out until it was snatched from his fingers. Next was his watch that got the same treatment. And still Hob was well-behaved, not struggling, calm and cooperating. He gave no reason for the situation to escalate, giving his robbers all chances to just leave now with their loot.

Which was why Hob was so surprised when pain exploded at the side of his head. He stumbled, his knee hitting the pavement, his palm getting scratched as he caught himself. Blinking, he tried to lift the haze from his thoughts as he looked up at the two shapes hovering above him.

It was only instincts, honed through centuries with conflicts, that saved him, his head ducking automatically as he heard the swish of metal through the air. But just because the knife didn't slash his face didn't mean he was safe, as he was not as fortunate in avoiding the kick to his side. He cried out as pain exploded in his ribs. Every fiber of his being wanted him to curl up and protect his soft belly, but he forced down this instinct with gritted teeth.

No, if you wanted to survive, you had to fight with everything you got. Using the momentum of the kick, he stumbled back to his feet, and got some distance between himself and the attackers. Despite the throbbing in his head, he now could see them more clearly, that was not the face of someone just messing around. No, they wore big smiles, and were enjoying his pain. They wouldn't stop. At least not on their own.

One of them, heavy dark coat, spindly frame, soon ran towards Hob, knife in hand. Amateur movements. Hob stepped forward, getting close, deflected the blade by smacking the other's arm. His knee meets the other's stomach, sending him down. Before he could make sure he stayed down the other man, this one smaller but wider, jumped on him, and they tumbled to the ground.

That was fine. Hob knew how to wrestle and had the other in a chokehold in seconds. Still two against one, but he kicked out the legs of the man running towards him to tear him off his friend.

The body was suddenly in free-fall, arms whirling trying to get back balance.

Then a sickening crunch and Hob froze.

He had heard it often during his lifetime. He had sworn he would no longer be the cause of it.

Looking over, he didn't need to see the neck bend in an awkward position to know the man was gone.

Hob had killed him. He hadn't meant to, it had been an accident. But he had killed someone.

After all the lifetime he had lead and all the killing and dying he had done, he had wanted to be done with it. He just wanted to live in peace and do let others do the same. But now he had ripped someone else out of their life. How could he live with himself knowing what he had just done.

“Chris,” the man, Hob was still entangled on the ground with, cried out and struggled to free himself. Hob helped him as best as he could now that he was no longer in danger of being attacked.

Getting up himself, he saw the man kneeling next to the body crying, shaking it and begging for Chris to open his eyes. The man didn’t. They never did. Once someone was gone, there was nothing you can do, no matter how you cried out to your stranger to spare them.

Suddenly the man got up, swinging at Hob, but in his grief it had become uncoordinated and Hob easily stopped the punch.

“You murderer! You killed him!”

He hadn’t meant to. And it wouldn’t have happened if they hadn’t attacked him. But pointing that out wouldn’t help, as the man would not listen to reason. He wanted someone to be angry at, to blame, to lessen his own guilt. And Hob was the perfect target. Hob stopped the other punch and just held on as the man cried. It was the least Hob could do.

There was the sound of footsteps in the distance, spooking the man, and he ripped himself free and started stumbling away. Hob didn’t stop him, just sitting down on the ground next to the cooling body and waited. He should probably call the police, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, so he just waited. How long he didn’t know, but at some point steps came closer and when he looked up Hob could see men in uniform entering the alley. The police has arrived.

Hob didn’t resist when he was dragged up and cold iron snapped around his wrist. Neither when he was pulled away. Everything was a blur. He didn’t remember how they made it to the station, just that he found himself in a chair, an officer sitting on the other side of the desk staring him down.

He was asked questions he can’t answer, the full name of the victim, their relationship and most of all why he did it. All Hob can say is, it was an accident, I didn’t mean to, they attacked me first, I just tried to defend myself, then he fell. Over and over, he repeats it like a mantra. Something to hang on when everyone wants to make him believe he did it on purpose. When their words make him question himself.

I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. I was just defending myself.

He didn’t know how much time has passed, there was no clock in the room nor window. His voice was rough and black spots dance on the edge of his vision, they hadn’t bothered giving him a glass of water. The blood in his hair from the first swing he took was dry and flaking off every time he shakes his head in denial. His ribs throb with every breath.

He was about to just nod, accept whatever they said if it meant he will be thrown into a cell where he could lay down and close his eyes. It would ruin his life, but wouldn’t that be right after what he had done? A few years of suffering was the least he deserved. Especially since he unlike others had the option to start anew after faking his death.

His downward spiral was stopped by a man bargain in, under loud protests of some officers. The man’s briefcase hit the desk hard, and Hob flinched back at the loud noise.

“Don’t say anything,” sharp blue eyes drilled into Hob’s making him cower at the imposing figure in front of him. The man commanded respect, not because of the nice suit he was wearing or the expensive jewelry or because he was even taller than Hob, but in the way he held himself, his presence filling the whole room.

So Hob shut his mouth. It was not like anyone was really listening to what he had to say anyway. And not speaking would be good for the scratching in his throat. His fate now would be decided if the new person was a friend or someone wanting to drag him down. Hob didn’t have the strength to fight anymore.

“You,” the man whirled on the officer, making him duck on instinct, only to puff up and try to make himself more imposing when he noticed. “Tell me how it comes that you had him in here for 8 hours and couldn’t even be bothered to give him a glass of water nor give him medical attention? Where are we? At the witch trials,” Hob flinched hard at the words, remembering the trials only too well. Back then he had broken as well, admitting to anything as long as it meant the pain would end.

To his surprise, the stranger pushed his briefcase further on the desk, blocking Hob’s slumped form from view and gave him at least a bit of privacy as he fought with his demons.

“He killed a man! What do you expect? A fluffed up pillow and a three-course meal?”

“Human decency!” The officer was now absolutely cowering under the pressure, despite his best efforts. “Or are you that desperate you couldn’t take the 10 minutes to have him checked over? Maybe because you know you don’t have a case?”

“Bullshit! I know you love to put your nose where it doesn’t belong, Mr. Henderson. He killed the guy. We found him next to the corpse, and he admitted it was him who made the deceased fall.”

“And wasn’t he also quite persistence that the deceased and another man were the once attacking him, and he was just defending himself? Or are you just going to ignore that? So I suggest instead of harassing the victim, you should rather be out there looking for the second attacker.”

And the officer, despite his complaints and grumbling, got up and left the room. There was no way to know if he was really searching for the other attacker, and if there was even a chance to find the man with how little information Hob had been able to give, but getting a breather was enough for Hob.

His head laid on the desk, the cold helping against his headache, and he just rested his eyes for a moment. He heard movement but ignored Mr. Henderson for now. Or at least he tried to, but the man kneeled down next to Hob’s chair and his hand laid on Hob’s knee.

Blinking his eyes back open was an effort, but Hob managed and looked down at the concerned eyes looking up at him.

“Mr. Gadling, I wish could say it will be alright, but your situation doesn’t look good. But rest assured, I will do anything in my power to get you out of this.”

“I don’t think I have the money to pay your commission,” Hob was not poor. But the last years after he had fought with his friend, he had let himself go. Gambling, and throwing money at unnecessary luxuries just because he could. When he had pulled his head out of his ass, he had already spent most of his fortune and was now living like the middle class. Not bad, but not enough to pay a man wearing jewelry that could feed a family for at least a year.

“Don’t worry about money. Just focus on getting through this.”

Hob snorted, so either once he was out the man would make demands to be paid back another way, forcing Hob into his servitude, or he was just plain stupid. Saying that straight to the man’s face was not the best idea, but the man just laughed.

“Personally, I see myself as someone just trying to do the right thing, reforming the misdeeds in the justice system.”

So, delusional. But Hob could work with that. And having a delusional lawyer was better than not having one at all, so accepting the help would be best.

“The biggest problem is all we have to confirm your story is your word. Even if the police showed an ounce of competence and finds the other robber, he will tell his own story.” Hob knew all that. He didn’t know why the other even bothered, since there was no way he would get out of here. Not with everyone in the station being hellbent on making sure he went to prison. But at least he got to go to a holding cell for now and take a nap until Mr. Henderson would return the next day.

And return he did with a big smile on his face. The police had not found the other robber, but they had found a woman hanging around the alleyway, and with a bit of pressure she had admitted to seeing the whole thing backing up Hob’s story. The officers complained and tried to poke holes in his defense, but in the end they had no other option but to accept that his actions had been to defend his own life.

Things dragged on, Hob being pushed from one cell to the other as people discussed his fate. Mr. Henderson, please call me Edward, was there every step of the way and the only reason why Hob didn’t fell apart.

Still, Hob couldn’t believe it when the judge finally spoke the words not guilty, and he was stepping into the sun. Till the last moment he had waited for the second shoe to drop, for someone to jump out and present new evidence sending him to jail.

Turning to Edward standing beside him, smiling brightly, he couldn’t help himself, but pulling the man into his arms and thanking him under tears. The man had been there for him, like a true friend, and if he ever needed it, Hob would be there for him in return.

He had lost his stranger, but he was not alone. There were good people out there, just waiting for him. All Hobs had to do was open his heart and accept them.

With this being over, Hob could move on with his life. Things finally looked up. Or they did until he found out he had no longer a job because of his long absence and his old boss was unwilling to hire a killer despite Hob being proclaimed not guilty. Hob didn’t understand it, but he was unwilling to start a fight. He could find someplace else. Only words of his case had spread through the whole city, and no one was willing to hire him. And without a job there was no money which meant he would be unable to pay his upcoming rent.

But nothing he tried worked. The only positions willing to hire him wouldn’t even make a dent in his rent, even if he had three jobs. And with the housing shortage, there was no place else he could live that would be cheaper. He could move, somewhere no one knew him. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave London. This was his home, where his only friend lived. And he had to be here in a few years to be at the White Horse in case his stranger returned.

He could ask Edward for help, but he didn’t want it to seem he was just after the other's money. Especially with Edwards business taking a major hit after a person he was defending was proven guilty. Hob tried to help as best as he could behind closed doors but knew he couldn’t do more since it wouldn’t look good on Edward if he was seen with Hob.

It was a major point of friction. Edward didn’t care about his reputation and had no trouble inviting Hob out for dinner or even hiring him. But Hob refusing frustrated him, especially when Hob even declined his money, despite Edward knowing how much Hob was struggling. He just wanted to support his best friend and being unable to do so and just having to watch how he made himself smaller and smaller, shrinking under all negative attention focused on him angered him.

Their love for each other made them want the best for each other. And it tore their friendship apart. They were unable to spend time together without a disagreement, and then their friendship ended in a big fight.

And it was Hob fault. He always said the wrong thing, turning away the people he cared about. First his stranger now Edward. Maybe he was meant to be alone.

But the world didn’t stop for his emotional turmoil. The rent needed to be paid, now especially since there was no longer a friend who would have a place on their sofa for Hob to sleep on. And Hob really needed to keep a roof over his head.

He was terrified of ending back on the street. He did it once, and it was the worst time of his life. Just a nightmare of pain, suffering, anger, blood, and a desperate fight for survival. He knew getting back up once you were so far down was almost impossible. He couldn’t let it get this far. Not if there was something he could do. Even if it means he had to let go of his pride.

The first time wasn’t planed. Was just walking, trying to clear his head and finding a way out. The window was open, everything else dark, and no car in the driveway. He knew it was wrong, he should be better than this.

He climbed the fence and slipped through the window, heart beating fast as he listened for any sign of life inside the house. Nothing. Sneaking around, he grabbed anything of value.

Ten minutes later he was out, pockets heavy, and on his way to the pawnshop. It was not enough to pay the rent but enough to satisfy his landlord getting another week before he would be kicked out.

It made him think about how easy it had been. And how little effort had taken to get the money. And it was not as if he hadn’t tried other options. It was them, society, not giving him a choice. If they had just given him a job, he wouldn’t be in this position. It was their fault, not his.

And it was not as if he had hurt anyone. A few valuables were gone. And? They could replace it, their house had been nice enough they could afford a small loss like that.

Yes. It was the least all of them deserved for letting him down like this. He would just take what he needed to survive. And it was only temporary until he was back on his feet. They all thought he was a murderer, a bit of stealing was nothing in comparison.

It became a routine, going on nightly strolls and returning with his pocket full. He was good at it. Always knew when someone was home or not, avoided being seen when he made his way inside, and didn’t spend a second longer inside than he had to.

No one had to know what Hob did. Well except, the pawnshop owner, but he didn’t say anything and just gave Hob a price much under the actual value of the items. Hob was fine with that. Paying hush money was better than being ratted out to the police. Especially since the police so far had no idea he even existed. There was always breaking and entering, and he chose his targets so far apart there was no connection. The cops had better things to do than chasing a criminal that didn’t cause real harm. And Hob liked things that way. He had managed to avoid prison once, he didn’t want to risk it, especially since this time there would be no Edward bailing him out.

His rent was paid, he had food in his belly and a new coat. Life was good. Or it should be. There was still the guilt nagging at him that all of this wasn’t his. That he had stolen it and it was wrong. But with every failed attempt to find another source of income, he fell deeper into his ways. It was just too easy. Until weeks passed by without him searching for a legitimate job.

~1989~

He started hating the man he was becoming. Or rather, he was returning to. He had thought he had become better, had changed. But now he was back at square one. Just a lowlife surviving by harming others. He didn’t want to be like this.

But there was still hope. One last chance to turn things around. Hob may not have the best moral compass – if he had any at all- but his stranger always knew right from wrong. Even before society or law. It had taken him to tell Hob for Hob to realize slavery was wrong. Today it was unthinkable, but back then it has just been how things were. And even then his stranger had known it was wrong. Hob just had to tell him, and his stranger would set him right and correct Hob’s course for the next 100 years.

Yes, all Hob had to do was meet his friend and things would be okay. So he drove to the White Horse in a car he had stolen, full of excitement in the prospect of the weight leaving his chest. He would do better, become good. To get his stranger approval.

But the longer he sat there, alone, the worse he felt. It looked like this was his stranger's answer. They were never and never would be friends. Hob was alone, on his own. There was no one who cared. No one who had any expectations, everyone had given up on him. Why should he even try? If there was no one to judge him, why not make things easy for himself?

Things escalate from there, as there is nothing holding Hob back. So what if the houses he breaks into now are not from some rich fucks but middle class as well? They had shunned him just as well. And their security was a lot laxer. Also, less to steal, but it was enough. And then there was someone home, but the house was way too good to pass up on. But it was okay, he would just be quiet.

A good plan if not for the man of the house stepping out of his bed to get a glass of water just as Hob was clearing out their silver drawer. They looked at each other frozen, and Hob was glad for the hat and the scarf hiding most of his face.

Before the other could too much than let out a shocked shout, Hob had jumped over the counter and tackled him to the ground, choking him until he lost conscious. When the wife appeared in the doorway, he was prepared, knocking her unconscious.

He used things found around the house to bind them to two chairs and gag them, before taking his time emptying their whole house. They would call the police anyway, Hob could at least make it worth it. And worth it, it was. He left the pawnshop with a big bundle of cash.

And if he spotted some rich folks taking a shortcut through a dark allay, well then it was their own fault, since they had begged for it. You couldn’t blame Hob for standing there with a knife demanding their valuables in a sick play on the situation that had started this whole thing. But other than his attackers back then, he was just after the money. Once he had what he wanted, he let his victims go unharmed.

He didn’t kill. That was a line he would never cross again. And if he had to attack someone or render them unconscious, he did it with causing as little harm as possible. It was something which baffled the police and press alike, as they couldn’t decide if he was a monster or a gentleman thief. It was kinda amusing reading about people losing their mind trying to figure him out. Especially since it was that easy. He was just someone no longer following societies rules and just living by his own codex, doing whatever he pleased.

Even if this codex was completely screwed. Like right now, still blood on his knuckles from having to knock someone out who resisted, but being offended by a bunch of teens ganging up on a gangly little thing. It just strokes him wrong, seeing something like this.

But it is not his problem. There is no need to get involved.

Or at least it wasn’t until the boy rose his head and looked straight at Hob. Dark brown eyes, with hair of the same color. But that was not what stopped Hob in his tracks. He looked just like Robyn. Well, not exactly, it was more the vibes he was giving up. But Hob couldn’t stop seeing his son laying there on the ground beaten and bloody, his tormentors surrounding him.

He moved before he really thought about it.

His fist connected with the nose of the guy to the left. The bone crunched under the impact and the guy stumbled back, shouting in pain. That got the attention of the rest of his group, who instantly stepped in to avenge their friend. With no option to back out of this anymore, Hob just went with the flow and beat everyone getting into punching distance. They had the numbers, but they were untrained and rather stood in each other's way than taken advantage and overpowering Hob. Which leads to Hob standing between fallen bodies, breathing heavy and blood on his shirt but mostly unharmed beside a few bruises.

Walking over to the fallen boy, he saw him flinch. Hob hadn’t meant to scare him, although the display of violence must have been frightening. But he didn’t feel comfortable leaving him sitting on the ground with unknown injuries, especially since his attackers would get up soon.

He wanted to gain the boy's trust, but Hob had forgotten how to be comforting and soft. Hadn’t had need for it in years. Even for Edward, he had not managed to bring back that part of himself. Which was just as well because Edward liked his brash and direct way.

But now he tried, crouching down, holding out his hands and speaking softly. “It's okay. I took care of them,” well, he tried. He failed miserably, sounding more threatening than reassuring, but he had tried. How had he managed to deal with Robyn without frightening the child? He couldn’t remember. And wasn’t that sad? Not remembering this everyday life with his son, only holding some special memories close to his heart while the rest faded?

Knowing that his presence would only distress the boy more, he got up and turned to leave. He would just call the police to check things out, once he was far enough away. Only there was a tug on his pant leg and turning he saw the boy grasping the fabric with shaking fingers. The big teary eyes looking up at Hob broke his heart, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning down again and pulling the boy into his arms. Crying and wailing filled the alley, but the boy clung to Hob desperately.

Carrying him into his arm and towards Hob’s apartment, reminded Hob of the times Robyn had been unable to sleep and Hob had walked through the whole house with the child in his arm to keep him calm, while Elenore watched them with a smile. He had forgotten it until his actions pulled the memory back up.

Entering his building, he sat the boy on his sofa and retrieved his extensive med-kit. Being unable to die meant treating injuries yourself that would bring up questions, going to the hospital. He didn’t need much of it to treat the boy. The injuries had looked worse than they actually were. A bloody nose, bruising, scratched hands and knees, a gash close to his hairline that luckily didn’t need stitches, and a cracked wrist.

Once the task was done, Hob looked at the boy awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

“You want tea?” You could never go wrong with tea. The boy nodded and Hob set to work, returning with two mugs of tea.

“Thank you,” the voice was shy and soft. But at least the shaking had stopped as the kid started to relax.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hob meant it. Neither the tea nor stepping in had been much trouble, and Hob had done it for his own piece of mind. There was no need t thank him.

Hob swirled the tea in his mug, not knowing what to say. Should he give the kid money for a taxi? Take him home? Offer him the sofa for tonight? Hob didn’t know.

Luckily for him, the boy was not as incapable of social interaction as he was.

“My name is Georgie Baldwin. What about you.”

“Hob,” he didn’t give a last name. The less the boy knew, the better it was for him with the life Hob lived.

“Thank you for saving me, Hob,” the boy put down his empty mug, hugged Hob and then left the apartment before Hob could compose himself. He looked at the closed door not understanding what exactly had happened, but then he just shrugged. Another weird day in his weird life. No need to think deeper about it. It was not as if hew would see the boy ever again.

After cleaning up the medical equipment, he laid in bed, unable to sleep.

The encounter had brought up memories of a happier time. It made him realize just how lonely he felt. There was a gnawing emptiness in his chest, where his heart once was. He wanted someone to be there for him, to greet him when he got home, to care if he made it home. He didn’t want t be alone anymore. But every time he tried he messed up and ended up back alone. It was better to not try, and be disappointed rather than to suffer.

But knowing that didn’t fill the emptiness in his chest and no matter how much he tried he didn’t find any rest. Which left him cranky and short temperate when he stomped to the door, mug with extra strong coffee in hand, to tell whoever was on the other side to fuck off. Throwing the door open, he came face to face with the kid from yesterday.

The door banged close, as Hob didn’t have the patience to deal with whatever bullshit this was. Instead, he took a big swing of his coffee, cursed as it burned his tongue, and debated if a nice fluffy omelet was worth the effort of actually making it.

His doorbell chimed again.

Hadn’t he been clear enough in his dismissal? But no, when he opened the door, the boy was still standing there smiling at him. What a prick. But not stupid, as he held out a bag that smelled heavenly of backed goods as bribery.

With his stomach grumbling, Hob admitted defeat and took the bag, leaving the door open as he stepped inside. The boy had already been here, it wouldn’t do any harm to let him in. But Hob was not in the mood to play good host right now and didn’t offer any tea or coffee. Ripping open the bag, he found muffins and chocolate croissants. All things considered, it was a good bribe.

Humming happily, he dug in as the boy sat down watching him carefully.

“So what so you want kid?”

“It’s Georgie,” the way the kid pouted was kinda cute. He must have old ladies want to feed him all over town. “I want you to teach me how to fight.” Hob choked on the bit of croissant. He couldn’t say if it was his immortality or Georgie slapping his back that prevented him from entering the sunless lands. Whipping tears out of his eyes, he looked at the kid as if he had lost his mind.

“Are you completely crazy? Why would you ask me?”

“The way you fought was amazing. Please, I want to be able to do it too.”

“Hard pass. Why the heck should I teach a brat?”

“I can pay you,” the kid dove for his pocket and placed a stack of bills on the table. It was no small amount. So, a rich brat. Well, it was not as Hob really needed money with how well his business was going. And he would rather not involve the kid by accident. If he went down for his actions it was one thing but dragging a kid down with him was completely different. And if he gave in now, he just knew the kid would one day rob houses side by side with him.

“Pass. Go home kid. You are young and have a bright life ahead of you. There is no need to get involved with the likes of me.”

“But what if they come back?! I need to be able to defend myself,” Hob just groaned as this was just playing unfair. Especially since it was a fair point. The bullies had found him once, and there was no guarantee they wouldn’t do worse when Hob was not close by to step in. It was just unfair. Hob was not responsible for the kid, could barely remember his name. But he had made it his responsibility when he stepped in. The least he could do was see things through now.

“Okay fine. I will teach you self-defense. Nothing more. And you will stay out of my business.”

“Deal,” the kid smiled brightly as he held out his hand for Hob to shake. Knowing that one day he would regret this Hob took the offered hand.

#dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream x hob #centennialhusbandsbigbang

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larcenywrites · 1 year

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Headcanons | Raising Kids Together

Tony Stark x Reader

Iron Man is a family man now! And his toughest battle yet is navigating parenthood while also juggling, like, the rest of the world.

Warnings: Mild swearing (like twice), one very mild sexual reference

Family Man Series: 1 2 3

💠Adores his two sons. Will do anything for them. Which usually means spoiling them way too much 🤐

💠Which means they sort of strive for his attention. It works out in your favor, though, because suddenly they're on their best behavior and doing their chores without question.

💠The older they get, the more excited he is that they’ll get to do the things he does! There’s so much he can teach them and so much they could do together!

💠Realizes that was probably exactly how his dad felt. And look how that relationship went :/

💠Suddenly worries about that exact situation. He is going to do anything he can to try and avoid it. He'll wait until they express interest in that sort of thing, for starters

💠But if they never express an interest he is going to be a little sad :(

💠… cue all the amount of Legos and Ages 5-10 Science Kits he can find. Maybe it’ll help in a, like, indirect fun way, right? Maybe? Who knows, but he had more fun with that “grow your own geode” kit than the rest of you did!

💠The older they get the more they also look like him. He was definitely there when they were made! They got his dark hair and cute cheeks, and now you had three pairs of brown puppy eyes that could get you to do damn near anything.

💠They did take some of their dad's temperament. They were too clever for their own good and always up to something, but they were usually too busy bickering to actually get it done. You weren't sure if that was a blessing or a curse because at least they were too sidetracked now to take apart the Wii. Again!

💠And no, they never put back together the things they take apart. That was dad's job.

💠And sometimes money's job.

💠They can be pretty sassy, and sometimes Tony sasses them right back! You don't let him get away with it even when it is funny.

💠They’re not exactly sweet angels to begin with, but when dad's gone they get a little extra ill. They're just sad that he's gone and don't know how to deal with it, so you definitely need to put the 'gentle' in gentle parenting during these times. It's not their fault 💔

💠They don't know why he leaves. He doesn't want them to know much about Iron Man, and definitely not that it's him. Which is really hard to do when you're out in public because everyone else knows.

💠It’s also hard having to lie to them when they ask where daddy is, or when he’ll be back ☹️

💠News channels are always parental locked on the tv for this reason

💠The lab is also very off limits for this reason. Among others, of course, including the fact that it’s not exactly a child-safe environment to begin with. Eventually he’ll let them in, but first he has to deal with all those suits that are just sorta standing around.

💠It’s a bit weird, actually, isn’t it?

💠Tony gets upset when he finds out that some of the stories you tell at bedtime are actually about him. He only finds out because when he puts the boys to bed one night, they're asking him to tell one of those 'superhero' stories that you tell. He's instantly suspicious and asks for an example... It's something very familiar to him. He hesitates, but... they seem to really enjoy hearing them.

💠It takes him a minute to think of one he's okay with sharing, but they’ve already heard it 💀

💠They don't know it's really their dad they're talking about, of course, but it makes him feel pretty good when they talk about how cool he is. And don't forget brave, and smart, and handsome!

💠There are some days when Tony comes home and just feels like absolute shit. Usually physically, but there's always a toll taken on his mental health too. He always perks up at the sound of his troublemakers running his way; and no matter how bad he feels, he's picking them up or bending down to hug them. Sometimes he's visibly roughed up, but don’t worry they’ll kiss those scrapes on his cheek better ❤️‍🩹

💠His sons follow him everywhere when he gets home. They go where he goes and they do what he does! And he's more than happy to have them padding along with him… for a bit. Even the best dad in the world needs a break. So when he’s not locked in your bedroom or in the lab, you’ll catch them all sitting in the same cross legged position on the couch, or they all have that exact same focus on their faces while playing Jenga or reviewing the instruction sheet for some Lego set.

💠He occasionally jokes to the others that it’s nice to get away sometimes but it’s really not. Doesn't usually have time to call or facetime but he tries to text when he can. He has a pretty hard time leaving you guys.

💠Even when it does mean he gets to escape an argument, or not have to be the one that deals with whatever your kids are currently doing with those shovels and plastic hard hats- wait!

💠Sometimes they hide from him when he has to leave again. Not to be silly, though. They're mad at him. They don't understand why he's leaving again :(

💠Whatever bullshit Tony's being called in for suddenly doesn't matter. He's going to sit outside that pillow fort and talk to them until he gets his goodbye hugs!! And he always manages to make them laugh before he goes. Refuses to leave them sad and upset with him.

💠Tries to make up for it by occasionally bringing something back from wherever he's been. Plus, it kind of helps them associate him leaving with him coming back with ✨cool stuff✨ and who doesn't want cool stuff?

💠They get excited about anything he brings back. Plushies, weird candy, a freaky glowing rock that he had to swear up and down wasn't radioactive. You name it!

💠Except for a pet, though. He can't quite commit to that one yet.

💠But speaking of freaky glowing things…

💠Eventually they get curious about that ghostly blue "thing" on his chest. He's had it for their whole lives, so they never really questioned it until one of them realized: wait… no one else has a weird glowy circle thing in their chest.

💠He tries to avoid the question at all costs.

💠"I'll tell you when you're older" was only met with a drawn-out no and tell us. He can’t resist the pitiful pouts on their faces. There was no harm in telling them the truth about it, or at least some of the truth.

💠He has way too much fun with it first.

💠You hear everything from "it's a flashlight" to "it's a bomb". The latter resulting in a rather comical scream-and-run combo, only for them to return with blankets and promptly throwing them over their father's head. And maybe you had to step in to make sure they didn't actually smother him.

💠And yes, one of the first things your kids learned was various fire safety and suppression tips. What gave it away?

💠 And we can't forget Tony's loyal AI assistant! You'd say that it was creepy how you'd walk by the playroom to overhear your kids having a random conversation with JARVIS, but sometimes you were guilty of doing the same, so it could slide.

💠They really like talking to that disembodied English accent, and you're pretty sure JARVIS likes talking with them too. Sometimes.

💠"JARVIS, where do babies come from?"

💠"I… you may need to ask your parents." Not even an AI wants to deal with that one 🤧

💠Don't worry, there's a parental lock on JARVIS and his answers too.

💠Eventually Tony let’s them into the lab, but they tend to poke around when he’s not paying attention. Their dear father isn’t the best supervisor when he’s busy working.

💠"Daddy, what’s this?" is always the scariest phrase that breaks him out of any thought and focus because only god knows what all could be found in this lab. He usually puts away the dangerous stuff unless he’s directly working on it, but rarely they still manage to dig up a hand-piece that is very capable of shooting a hole in the wall

💠They did, in fact, shoot a hole in the wall. And learned a new word that they aren't allowed to repeat!

💠Imagine your surprise when they excitedly told you about it over dinner, including that new word! And Tony’s surprise when you only let him off with a little warning

💠He could just lock them out but they want in so bad! And he wants them with him! But...

💠He realizes the best way to keep an eye on them was to just make them a part of what he was doing. If they wanted to, of course

💠This is where they really start to take after that Stark name, much to his joy. He's very proud to see them want to learn and catch on to how things work. They don't really know what they're doing, but they're having a good time!

💠Until one of them gets jealous of the other for getting to hold or use a different tool or they argue over which wire should go where.

💠Next lesson is to teach them how to actually put the Wii back together

💠It’s incredibly tough keeping up with them all by yourself when he’s gone, but you do it and you do it well! And Tony cannot express enough how much he appreciates you for it

💠No, really. He can’t. As soon as he finally has you under him and starts kissing at your neck he’s interrupted by the door slamming open and two little Starks piling on top of you both.

💠"What did I tell you two?" Tony’s defeated sigh doesn't bother them at all. They have no clue why he would be frustrated with them.

💠"Sleep." "Go to sleep."

💠"And you’re in here because…"

💠"You never said where to sleep!"

💠Well, the three of you thought it was funny, but dad was way too tired for this. Maybe it was time for a parents-only vacation

Family Man Series: 1 2 3

#tony stark #tony stark imagine #tony stark x reader #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark fic #tony stark oneshot #iron man #iron man fanfiction #iron man x reader #iron man imagine #iron man drabble #marvel headcanons #marvel x reader #marvel

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flowerflamestars · 5 months

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Another alternative Effloresce pov. Azriel, as the slow moving shitshow train wreck his life is is quickly becoming a fast moving shit show train wreck.

I cannot tell you how much I love this one!

So, I would say across all my fics Azriel is a character who is the most consistent? Especially since almost all of them were written before acosf TERRIBLY let us in his actually creepy little headspace, and I've additionally chosen to keep my made up shadowman as he is.

Effloresce Az is basically Starlight Az but SADDER. He's Daylight Az without a kiddo and husband, Shoreless Sea Az without the absolutely beneficial retirement, and man is he TIRED.

You're Azriel, and your job sucks. Your inborn skillset leaves you zero other options, and you know this. It's better to be the left hand of power than in a cell for life, but you know what? Sometimes you can only do so goddamn much.

You're Azriel and that's kind of all you've got. You're one of a kind, literally. Alone forever in that. But you love Cassian. You play the little games with Mor for harmony. You respect- alien, ancient, different, probably what you'll feel like in a thousand goddamn years if you live that long- Amren.

You see the good in Rhysand, limited as it is to personal things, but you also see the vast potential for failure.

You see him listening to this CHILD OF A GIRL- who seems nice, yeah. You're worried about her, frankly. The Courts of Prythian revived her and will not just let that go- but that doesn't mean you think she has, shall we say, good ideas.

You watch Cassian spend days arguing against this.

You rock up over the wall and realize these two mortal, innocent women have probably been taken captive by Spring. Your orders are a mistake, you have a war to fight that has nothing to do with these people, but you're here, and you might as well do some good.

You move to neutralize the threat.

Lucien Vanserra does not act like a vassal of Spring. No, not even at Autumn prince. You can drown fire in the dark, but you can't swallow the sun or an ocean of flame without end.

That doesn't matter either, because this determined little slip of blond sunshine just fucking stabbed you. And for the first time in maybe decades, you just want to laugh. You've fucked up, clearly, but you're okay. (You can live through so much worse than letting a human woman stab you to feel safe.)

You hear Cassian coming, and you know.

It doesn't matter what Feyre is saying. Has said. You're Azriel and you can't not know or not hear- she's wrong or she lied. You have a High Lord sweating blood to protect a stunningly, dangerously charming woman and you have her sister, who feels less like delight and more like a dream.

You're a shadowsinger, whose providence is secrets and these two woman are shrouded.

You're fucked, essentially.

You know they're not really human.

You know they're hiding, and Feyre is going to break that right open if Rhysand has his way, no matter how many times you point out that the Queens want nothing to do with Prythian's fae.

You're Azriel, and you've always been smart enough to stay quiet when you have no orders forcing you to do otherwise. You're polite. You're frankly, horrified. You have no idea what to do with the Archeron sisters acting like you're nothing to be afraid of.

You know, before Cassian knows, that every wind that has ever carried him had lead him right here.

(You remember what that felt like. The fear, the euphoria. You were young and stupid enough to consider it simple rightness, your extra senses on your side, pulling you toward the correct choice in fealty. You didn't know what it was until too late. You didn't know and you never even got to know or got to mourn. You didn't have the right to mourn a girl dead too soon, who would have never been anything but your queen had she grown old enough to wear a crown.)

(Dead before the start, just like you.)

You decide, immediately, you cannot let what happened to you happen to Cassian. Nesta Archeron might be a compelling power, might be a fighter with ash in her hair and a cunning mind, but Shahar was a High Lady born. Not even that could save her.

You understand the instant way you like Elain is magic, whether she knows it or not. (She does not). Real affection follows quickly, you are, despite all magic to the contrary, as Illyrian as Cassian. You cannot not know. You like Nesta too- if only for her ferocity. Her bleeding, present fury.

They treat you like a person.

Fearlessly.

Easily.

You watch as their sister breaks their hearts, cracks already laid. You watch Rhysand act more and more territorial, and of course you know why too. You watch Lucien Vanserra safeguard the lives and livelihoods of hundreds of humans and you understand this, here, is a Court too.

A better one.

You quietly, a secret, kill their father.

You bind yourself in blood to a favor, and use it to unshackle the Archeron bloodline and their vassals from the Queens.

You watch Nesta Archeron kneel in the snow, watch Elain Archeron pull a knife on a High Lord of Prythian over human lives, and think, with dread and barren exhaustion, you're making the right choice.

The hard choice.

(How many noncombatants died in Sangravah? In every city Amarantha occupied? How many servants in the Hewn City every year? How many Illyrian children in the starving north? How many deaths were Azriel's fault, because Rhysand didn't care?)

(The Archerons would rather die with their people than live. Were educating their maids. Sending their kitchen boys to university. Taking in the orphans of other estates, having never forgotten what it was to be forgotten, hungry and alone.)

You're Azriel, and you can't not know how badly this is going to hurt.

#FAST MOVING TRAIN WRECK AHOY #I only covered what's posted because the next chapter is truly #THE BONES OF MY SOUL IN MY HANDS THE WORLD ON FIRE AND I HAVE NOTHING LEFT TO GIVE BUT MORE DEATH #from Az's POV #he takes finding Shahars remains NOT WELL #plus you know #the war kickstarts #Cassian continues to act basically insane in a good way #And Nesta and Elain just keep raising the goddamn bar he was trying to ignore even existed #The Shahar stuff is actually really important #he does not tell Rhys #EVER!#Bones are literally he closest he's ever going to come #they weren't in love #they didn't even know each other #HE DIDN'T KNOW UNTIL SHE DIED #and of course #Rhys made that entirely about himself #Az just. I think he likes Feyre in this impish way canon always wants Cassian to (but then Cassian put her on such a high altar it failed)#but also? is too deep in the shit of it all #not to be like: she's a really powerful symbol #but she shouldn't be in charge????

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zurajanaizurakoda · 19 days

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So today my glasses snapped in half and I had to get a rush appointment at a seedy shop that would take appointments. The exam was remote, with a monitor mounted by the ceiling informing me of the process and then showing me a commercial for how modern the system is. Then the system very glitchily crashed and I sat in the dark room while everything reset, and as usual, my mind turned to Katsura and how much he would hate this.

And I was blindsided by an image of him having to be physically removed from an optometrist. He hates every step of the process, hates machines and foreign technology, hates the stupid machine that flashes in your eye, hates the machine that blows air up your eyelid (and PTSD makes that extra fun) and he's already verbally abusive by the time they get to the pointlessly flicking the lenses and asking which one is better (they're the same)

And then at the end of it all, they have the nerve to tell him that all of this stupid, pointless machinery has the gal to say there's something wrong with him?! Wrong with his eyes that he's used since birth??? His eyes that could slice the wings off of a fly??!! He failed?????

And everyone who knows him are like, "Yeah that makes sense, have you noticed you can't recognize anyone at five feet? And that just makes him angrier, and how dare you talk about him like that?? Don't you know he was a gifted pupil? Who read??

And the irony here is that he was smart enough that when he couldn't see shit it didn't matter because he remembered everything he'd ever been told and he heard a lesson once and retained it and he compensated enough no one noticed, and let's face it, before the Amanto came it's highly unlikely he would get his eyes checked.

So he calls the whole thing a scam and storms out and refuses to get glasses and unleashes his fury on anyone who suggests he get a second opinion, and the matter is simply dropped. Gin knows, and he thinks it's kind of funny and it makes for good pranks and it's easier to steal his food. Everyone else has forgotten or doesn't care. His men notice he seems to identify people by voice and genuinely thinks his stealth techniques work because, hey, he can't tell the difference, but "no eye exams" is so thoroughly ingrained into his lessons that they just chalk it up as another of his unique quirks.

Elizabeth does NOT know, and if she did, she would probably try to drug him and have non-consensual Lasik preformed on him while he was asleep. (The eyes-open sleeping would help with this) because even Elizabeth does have limits to his bullshit sometimes.

Anyway, it will probably never come up again, but Zura-can't-see-and-aggressively-berates-anyone-who-tries-to-help-him-see headcanon has been accepted into my universe against my will.

Edit: The lasik bit isn't as funny but I did write it

#gintama #katsura kotarou #headcanon #mindless rambling #should I tag this shit something

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fourtyfourcatss · 5 months

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[████████ 100%] — the lovely @sugutoad !

sazh sazh 🗣️ my fellow matchmaking genius, my sister from another mother (i need to stop), here is your matchups ❦

giving and giving without exhibition or restraints, a relationship built on heavy trust and the wish to send you home safe, treading on calm waters that can drag you into the heart of the sea.

;༊ you’ve gone to levi ackerman

;༊ this man would be held-by-the-nose smitten with you, did you know that? your bluntness is a gift in his eyes, he sees it more of being straightforward, someone he does not need to be guarded with, someone he is able to trust easy, because he knows of your loyalty and the resilience that comes with that loyalty. in fact, most your flaws are traits he internally admires and appreciates. your thirst to know the opinions of others lead to amazing command and leadership, so he feels like he can share the burden with you. it’s something he deeply appreciates, as a man whose love language is most definitely acts of service. you being smart and creative furthers this more, and its just an amazing relationship built by trust. so much trust, that romance starts to blossom.

— colleagues into lovers. the values the two of you have together align amazingly.

;༊ whenever you are brought up by the other cadets or hange and erwin, a glint of pride is gleaming in his eyes and he gives them a nod of acknowledgment. not only that, you seem like the type to give 100% whenever you can. levi likes that a lot. he isnt someone who can merely be with another who doesn’t have passion boiling inside them. but he has to say, your tendency for rule breaking irks him — first in annoyance like for the rest of the cast, but then in annoyance and affection. but this is actually an amazing thing. levi needs to unwind himself in many ways, and you allow him to start to truly relax in the way it matters, so he wouldnt be so absolutely grumpy all the time. there are certain things you can learn from him and certain things he can learn from you. he’s an extremely humble, efficent, and life-compassionate man. he is aware of his limitations and how to really deal with internal turmoil, so he can definitely help you whenever you feel overloaded with stress — offering you pieces of advice, taking your mind off of the stressors, helping you work through it with cleaning (since thats how he deals with it too). i think his humbleness can help you too— to not beat yourself up whenever you cant be the best at something you are proud of. he is someone who can support you with all he can muster, someone who can provide you with security in many forms. i think he would definitely give you more personalized ways of improving maneuvering with your ODM gear, trying his best to keep an eye out for you out of the field if you were to ever join their cause — but levi would rather not, who would want to send their own lover to the unknowns?

;༊ he gets your humor. levi has a different brand of the same dry humor you have, but he’s more monotonous with it while you at least seem more upbeat. it brings about a comedic effect, and the two if you have to try not to laugh while just looking at each other sometimes.

;༊ the two of you are just so so domestic. everything you do, he definitely partakes in. the window is open, rain is falling, and the two of you are in bed together— his hand on your shoulder as he sometimes peer down at your fixated form, reading, watching anime, scrolling on your phone or being on your electronics. something about the way you do things attract his attention immensely, and he cant help but partake in any sort of activities with you. especially baking, good god. the two of you are like the confectioners, a good old rivalry somehow starting between the two of you on who can make the best pastry and getting the other person to admit defeat. i think the two of you clash a lot in the relationship, but always in an adorable way, playfully and lightheartedly, something you can laugh about afterwards.

;༊ so i have no idea what the name would be, but the idea i have for your technique is based on sealing manipulation. this starts off small, having to leave traces of your cursed energy by physical touch and only being able to seal things for minutes or so, before expanding with how you can do with it over time. since you’re creative, im only going to give you a base to work with, so you have more movement, but this seal applies to anything. so you can even seal an opponent’s thoughts too, other than their movements or cursed energy or technique. it creates this sort of geometric effect around them that is barely visible, and the startup for this technique is instantaneous.

;༊ how i got this: a little mix of everything (your personality, likes, etc). i sort of can’t explain it, but there was a thought process i had for this, and now i sort of cant recall it and put it onto this page again. im so sorry 😭 but i do remember the mood of rain was an important factor, feeling stagnant as the skies are a constant grayness. i hope you dont mind the shortness of this one, so to make up for it, i wrote a lot for levi! hope you enjoyed!!

#matchup exchange #aot matchup #aot #aot x reader #levi ackerman #jjk matchups #jujutsu kaisen power matchups

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eldritch-spouse · 11 months

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What makes you think this monster won't mutate you into something dreadful if he believes he has to?

Mutations? Tell me more mother. What would you need to do to make Patches consider that? And what would they be?

What would trigger this in Patches would most likely be repeated escape attempts. Because every time you try to get out of his grasp, more and more of his hope dies, and the dullahan slowly abandons the idea that you'll ever love him in your current state. Nothing in his life is ever easy, why would getting you to love him be any different. He always has to suffer, always has to tweak things, work on top of more work- But that's fine. He loves you. He's willing to put in that work.

Alternatively, enough humiliation will also do this. It's hard to gouge Patches' limits, given how incredibly masochistic he can be and how much delight he'll take from plenty of your abuse... But, to the undead, it starts getting dangerous the moment you use others to humiliate him. It's one thing to tell Patches he's useless and a stupid little minute man, it's another thing entirely to flirt with others in front of him, to joke about replacing him, to try fucking someone else just to spite him. That's already too far, and he will explode, it's only a matter of time.

The mutations he induces in you can be carried out in many ways, some more invasive than others. And, to be fair, it usually starts small.

He might just rid you of a mouth at first. You wake up with a smooth expanse of skin where your lips once were, unable to feel your tongue or teeth, it's all just a solid mass. But somehow, you can still breathe. You just can't scream, crying silently. Patches is admittedly a bit sad, your mouth was pretty, and it felt good- But it's better this way. You can never run your silly little mouth and make things difficult anymore.

Too many smart ass moves from your part and it doesn't take too long before Patches humors amputations. He's cocky about it, unconcerned. Because, see, while he will definitely sever your limbs (making sure to preserve them properly along the way), he'll also replace them with new ones, made of his vine magic and animated by his magic. This is a lengthy process that requires planning ahead of time, so if it seems like Patches isn't punishing you for a grave offense- Then don't make the mistake of assuming he's forgotten what you've done. That when he's snuggling up with you, he isn't already calculating how much longer it'll take until the magic limbs have grown enough and how much anesthesia he'll have to use. Aside from the horrendous adaptation period and mild breakdown you'll have at waking up with new appendages your body refuses to acknowledge as your own, you'll also find that you can be stripped of motor control whenever Patches deems it necessary. That's right, all it takes is a certain command tone, and you'll turn a swift 180 degrees back to his side.

These are just two. He can glue your fingers together to make sure you stop fucking around where you don't belong. He can make it so you're just as turned on by pain as he is, he can even kill you and bring you back as an undead, though this last one requires monumental amounts of meticulous planning.

Keep in mind that playing with magic like this often has its side-effects. Sometimes, in an effort to induce something in you, other changes might sprout up. Something in your face dislocates, one of your limbs becomes strangely flaccid, your skin gets discolored, you start growing hair in weird places and there's teeth on your legs? Your body starts to fall apart, slowly but surely caving under the magic Patches has forced into it.

But, by that time, it's already starting to become too late.

He's getting addicted to performing these procedures on you.

Addicted to breaking you apart and putting you back together. You've always been his favorite specimen, after all. Little blemishes won't stop him.

#Patches oc

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comforthouse · 1 year

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"𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞"

Synopsis: Your lover sometimes says weird things. But hey you love him, he loves you, so it doesn't really matter.

Contains: Slight angst, reader has been reincarnated many times, small spoiler of Zhongli's past, mostly fluff, Reader is hinted to be a formal Adepti, Mention of 'barbatos', f!reader. Sorry my m!reader or gn!reader.

Note: I arose from dead after more than a month only to write this lol. Enjoy.

The man and woman walked side by side. Fingers intertwined togather as the walked down the flashy streets of liyuu harbor. Only a few hours left till the lantern rite begins.

Childrens ran past them as the woman mumbled something about 'how they chould be more careful'. The man beside her, squeeze her hand in response. His bright golden eyes gazed onto her dark ones. It was something the woman was used to. Often times, her lover, would lovingly stare at her.

"You are doing it again.'

"What, my love?"

"Stare"

The man chuckled as he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on the back of her hand. Something he had always done ever since they got togather. Not like the woman minded. It was a sweet act.

Zhongli, he was a kind man, maybe a little bit dumb when it came to managing money but they could work on it. He was nice, probably what every parent would want for their daughter and knowledgeable. Not to mention a good physical image too.

The woman sometimes wondered how could he every fall in love with her.

"I still don't understand what you see in me."

"What do you mean my love?"

He was also rather...slow to catch onto her insecurities. It was nice that he didn't see why he should not love her but it would be nice to have verbal assurance. Especially when Zhongli was more of a "actions speak louder than words" kind of man.

"You are just..uh..perfect you know? Smart, know alot of history which is not only limited to liyuu, and you are such a gentleman! And me..im just.. a normal girl from mondstadt!"

Zhongli was a little taken aback by [name]'s sudden confession. He really didn't think she felt that way, after all they both have been a very open with eachother.

But maybe both did have things they couldn't tell eachother.

"Oh love you are extraordinary in so many ways that even if i start now it wouldn't end till we meet again"

Ah, he also had a habit of talking as if one of them was about to go on a long ass journey. But after awhile, [name] had learnt to not question him.

Zhongli suddenly stopped. [name] confusing looked at him, wanting to know why he stopped. The taller man gave her a small smile as he brought up his hand to her cheeks. Softly, he pressed his lips on the crown of her head.

"I have been in love with you for all my life"

[name] raised a brow

"All your life? Zhongli you have known me for two months."

It has been only two months since [name] had moved to liyuu because of a certain tone-deaf bard. Meeting Zhongli the moment she set foot in Liyuu. She felt a strange attachment to the man. Luck seemed to be in her favour because they seemed to bump into eachother almost everyday after that.

And she doesn't know when her attachment had turned into love. She only remembers waking up in his house after she had gotten rather drunk. And apparently also confessed her feeling to him which was more or less very embarrassing.

Thankfully, Zhongli also returned those feelings.

The man laughed, but [name] was sure she sensed a hint of sadness in it. But she wasn't sure.

"..Let's get going, the rite will start soon"

Both lovers moved forward. They walked hand in hand while [name] pointed towards different decorations she had never seen in her life because festivals in mondstadt are very different from liyue's.

But deep inside Zhongli knew she felt familiar with all this. Even though she herself never told him that.

Nither had she told him that her favourite food was almond tofu, or how she loved to stay inside the covers on a rainy day. But he already knew.

After all, it wasn't the first time they had met and Zhongli was sure it wouldn't be the last time.

He had been inlove with her since the beginning of time. And he would love her till the end of time.

His love for her never changed. Even when Summer passed and winter begins. Even when her warm body turns cold. Even when he waited for centuries to be united with her. His love for her remained the same.

Even when they fought side by side during the archon war where he lost her for the first time, he waited in hopes the universe would somehow reunite the two of them. And even when he saw her sing once more on mt,hulao just like you used to a hundred years back.

Perhaps this time he found her rather quickly thanks to a certain formal friend of his.

Maybe he'll pay a visit to Barbatos soon.

#genshin venti #genshin imapct #zhongli #genshin impact liyue #lantern rite #genshin impact morax #genshin impact x reader

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gcldfanged · 19 days

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Jae kept his hands loose and ready. He was used to fighting that way and didn’t see a need to shake things up. Not when the most difficult thing he was already going to be grappling was how to fight fair.

Really. He hadn’t the slightest clue. He’d usually go for the eyes first, then groin, then throat. All three locations, he was pretty sure, would be off limits in a spar. He’d never joined some of the other thugs that liked going off together to practice rounds against each other, except to sometimes mess with a punching bag. Jae-hyo preferred exercising alone. He wasn’t about to let any of that keep him from showing the blonde what for, though.

Now, there are dumb fighters and there are smart ones. The general rule in professional fighting was that no one knew how a fight would end until after a guy was laid out on the ground.

At least, that was how the fighters always talked about it during interviews.

On the street, that was a lot of bullshit, mainly because the average guy only fought for two reasons- to beat someone down or run away. So either the fight ended with someone knocked out (or dead) or it ended by staying alive and escaping. Either way, it didn’t matter that there was a ‘winner’ so much as there was someone ‘not dead’ and sticking to the end wasn’t much of a priority. Being able to gauge the pressure another guy was putting on and knowing when to cut away and run was a pretty important skill set that a lot of the more prideful and hot-headed types tended to look down on.

Perhaps it was because their fighting styles were a poor match-up, but Jae had been feeling that pressure the moment he’d faced Rufus. Stupid, because they’d barely done anything yet.

It wasn’t like those underground fights where an atmosphere of rabid bloodletting was deliberately cultivated. It was a bizarre mix of danger and safety that shifted the focus from possible death to… accepting pain and possibly the fall of one’s pride. The Turk wasn’t sure he liked that. That was the sort of atmosphere that belonged in a bedroom, not in a fight.

He’d seen enough official fights to know that, like in the street, the fight tended to be decided by who moved first. In a ring, it always seemed like the man who waited the longest won. In the street, it was the opposite. The man who got in a good hit immediately tended to be the one to call the shots for however many seconds the fight lasted.

The best time for a spinning kick is not when the opponent is backing up, but when the opponent is moving in. The spin rotates away from the incoming target, making it appear to be a retreat, but then the opponent walks into the kick which amplifies its power. A spinning kick is an elaborate fake, but devastating when properly timed, especially against an aggressive, overconfident opponent.

Opening with it rather than trying to feint and set up with other blows was high risk. But then again, when had Yoon ever done anything the safe way?

Plotted Starter for @sometimesrufus

#sometimesrufus #◈ rp threads

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variousqueerthings · 4 months

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Please remain calm while your central nervous system is disabled.

I may be losing a bit of steam, but that could also just be the end of the year blues. but we watched "Oxygen" a couple of weeks back and I remember liking it and also what happened, enough that I think I can rate it... relatively accurately, if a bit more shortly than usual

sexism rank objectification (female character is ogled/harassed/turned into a sex joke by the doctor and/or a lead we’re supposed to root for and/or the camera): 10/10

sexism rank plot-point (lead female character is only there to serve plot, not to have her emotional interiority explored, or given agency to her emotional interiority): 5/10

interesting complex or pointlessly complex (does the complexity serve the narrative or does it just serve to be confusing as a stand-in for smart, this includes visually): 9/10

furthers character and/or lore and/or plot development (broader question that ties into the previous ones, at least two of these, ideally three should be fulfilled): 7/10

companion matters (the companion doesn’t always have to be there, but if the companion is there, can they function without the doctor– and overall per season how often is the companion the focus or POV of the story): 4/10

the doctor is more than just “godlike” (examines the doctor’s flaws and limitations, doesn’t solve a plot by having it revolve entirely around the doctor’s existence): 8/10

doesn’t look down on previous doctor who (by erasing or mocking its importance, by redoing and “bettering” previous beloved plotpoints or characters, etc.): 6/10

isn’t trying to insert hamfisted sexiness (m*ffat famously talked a lot about how dw should be sexier multiple times, he sucks at writing it): 7/10

internal world has consistency (characters have backgrounds, feel rooted in a place with other people, generally feel like they have Lives): 8/10

Politics (how conservative is the story): 7/10

FULL RATING: 71/100 (if I can count….)

I've got no smart words. spooky corpses in this one

OBJECTIFICATION: everyone's wearing the same spacesuit and everyone is pretty equal.

PLOT-POINT: Bill isn't really much of the focus in this episode, but she does overall continue to have some feelings about space around her and the like. also I believe she calls out to her mother right before she thinks she's going to die, which, of course her mum is a bit of a throughline this season

COMPLEXITY: it's quite a neat little plot, which I think I remember comparing to the earlier episode "sleep no more," in which one of my major issues with that episode was that it seemed to just be creepy for the sake of being creepy without knowing quite what to do with anything. this one has a central Theme, which we move towards and so keeps plottwists from seeming kind of pointless

CHARACTERS/LORE/PLOT: at the end of this the doctor is blind. my friend watching this episode didn't like the way that was revealed, feeling it came out of nowhere as a concept, and I don't totally disagree, especially considering where it goes next. I think because I like things to be character-driven, I don't think it tells us enough about how the doctor feels about things, beyond "it's hard to be suddenly blind and people can't know because I've got to keep control of situations" but that's... moooore next episode's Thing than this one, isn't it. stay tuned

beyond that, there's not much explored in character-dynamics, and by that I mean not much explored that holds weight for future episodes. we know the doctor is sacrificial, we know that sometimes it's hard to know what the doctor is thinking, we know it can be scary travelling with them. I think it's that bill has less to do this time around than tag along, which can be fine and I guess as a catalyst for the doctor making that sacrifice... yeah it does work, it's not super egregious, it's just that there's not much new information this episode on the whole

COMPANIONS MATTER: bill, like I said, doesn't reaaally do much other than be there and have a struggle, because her spacesuit is malfunctioning

also, nardole is along for the ride. is it contentious to say I don't enjoy nardole onscreen? I find him to be superfluous and I'm not a massive fan of matt lucas' brand of comedy. he can be good, but it's a m*ffat doctor who show, and I think he had outworn his welcome post husbands of river song. anyway, he also is mainly there to nag

I think that's a thing as well. I feel like it's trying to make nardole the voice of some kind of thematic relevance (or maybe it's not and I'm trying to be gracious) -- the doctor's conscience or something, idk, and it just translates to nagging. nardole isn't even really a character, so he (it?) and the doctor don't have the background to justify the not-really-repartee going on. I mean yeah, technically nardole was there back on darillium, but we never saw that and nardole wasn't much beyond a comic relief character in the episode, so yeah, just doesn't work for me, takes time away from other characters and plots and themes... like bill

“GODLIKE” DOCTOR: the doctor figures out some things bit by bit, and then goes blind. I like a bit of whump. this episode I think it's alright, although I don't feel like I remember it "mattering" sooo much in the end, and exists more as a setup for the next episode

PREVIOUS DOCTOR WHO: nothing much here. a callback, but otherwise this episode exists pretty much on its own

“SEXINESS”: so this is mostly fine... except for fucking nardole, who has a monologue with himself in one scene where he's reminiscing about a fling or something he had with an AI and tries to remember her name and then later randomly remembers her name was Velma, I guess... highly suspect

INTERNAL WORLD: this one is pretty cool. basically yer future capitalism taken to its natural conclusion type story, which is both the core of its setting and its politics. but yeah, station, workers on the station, eventually they go back to earth

I quite like as well that with bill we've had a bit of follow up in a couple of episodes -- so in this one the doctor tells her that there's a revolution of some kind six months later. this doesn't have to mean all good things afterwards, but it's just a sort of "ah yes, this has consequences that we don't see or know the exact outcome of, but it has some consequences." think vs the rebel flesh where I felt there was a teensy bit of "hey wait a second" to where they ended it (which, maybe pedantic, doctor who does that lots, but I'm here to rate on Criteria)

POLITICS: POLITICS! as in we have actual politics, right in yer face anti-capitalism politics. I dunno what else to say on that front, it's solidly saying "capitalism will sell air to you if it thinks it can get away with it, and it will kill you if it favours profit" and you're like... yeah that tracks

on the flipside of things, couple of little tidbits -- I felt kind of. yoooo at the sheer amount of corpses we start with in this one. 36 people are dead at the beginning, and their corpses are wandering around the station, and while we do have some dead people who centre the tragedy onto faces and names, I don't think it was done thaaat well on the whole, beyond the one woman who dies right at the beginning

it's something I was thinking about throughout m*ffat that sometimes worked out okay, but often death feels kind of meaningless, and I don't know what this one did with 36 that couldn't have been done with a few, but a few that were really connected to the other survivors. death does need to matter on this show in my opinion, for the themes to land properly

also slightly leery at the "you're blue" "racist" "lots of my friends are blue-ish" bit. it's just a very lazy nod to the idea of "racism taking on new shapes in the future" without really caring to do more than make it a joke. it's not the worst thing this show has done, it's just kind of badly thought out (also the "blue-ish" part of it... comes from fucking nardole... maybe I've decided to dislike nardole and therefore am looking for nardole things to dislike... sorry to people who enjoy nardole... I will be petty I think)

FULL RATING: 71/100 (if I can count….)

it's a good episode. spooky corpses. I dunno if I'm coming to this realisation late (or if I ever said it before), but I do note that it's not really necessary for every episode to do every thing perfectly. this isn't one of bill's strongest episodes, but it does a lot of other things well and it balances out relatively well for other bill entries

there are some things that could have been scrapped to give bill more space, but on the whole this one is pretty neat. this'll probably be the last of these I manage in 2023 so... on to 2024 for more doctor who (wooo)

#im watching nu!who #im watching capaldi who #episode oxygen #the measurement

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