#also shout out for having actual art being worked on and like. around them. in the art studio

[demolitionistic]

he took his pencilss... whatever shall he do with them....

i like how their friends are just like oh well. this is normal behaviour 👍 normal and fine thing to do, let's just stare

he is??? sharpening??? the pencils??? for him?????the gay people are KILLING me once again here hello?????

[mountainpresspublishing]

and if I get burned, at least we were electrified by @seiya-starsniper

The latest bind here at Mountain Press Publishing! This one was a ton of fun and made for a chuck of firsts for me as well! From making a book of a smaller size (and a different size than my usual in general!) to refreshing my Illustrator knowledge as well as some quick sticker making, this ended up being a very fun project!

Initially, I planned for this bind to be the size of a CD album (and it was), but I intended to be able to fit it within a CD case itself. However, it ended up being the perfect size of a case, which meant it didn't actually fit inside of the case.

Lessons learned there!

Thankfully, I had also picked up some CD case sleeves that I was able to package the book within to still achieve that aestethic I was going for.

Now, you may be wondering why I went for a CD size at all. This fic's title (as well as Chapter Titles) were all based on lyrics from Taylor Swift's reputation album! Which, once I found that out, helped me solidify the styling I was going for.

I looked up the Reputation album and the styling and fonts that were used on the cover images as well as the lyric booklet within, which is how I settled on the drop caps and the fonts I choose.

And here's the reference image I used for the text

You can see that the fonts are pretty similar. The header in the book also matches the header here!

And, of course, if I was diving down this copy of Reputation, I had to make a matching cover as well!

Shout out to the Sadman server's channels devoted to Ferdie and Tom and Boyd. I had plenty of good photos to sift through and choose from to get all the boys in the image!

Here's a full view of the cover, spine, and back as well. And yes, I did have to pen tool that summoning circle by hand since I couldn't find a good transparent one online!

Now, for the chapter headers, you may have noticed some peculiar images in the back. In the fic, The Corinthian as well as Dream have symbols, signatures of sorts, that they have. Old ones, made before humanity as we know it. They end up featuring a few times, mainly when the marks appear on Hob, marking him as theirs. So, of course, I had to design those as well!

The Corinthian's is on the left and sharper than Dream's, which I thought fitting for a nightmare. There's the theme of three in his, with the three sections, three lines, and three little swoops. The design is also mirrored, which ties nicely to his function as humanity's dark mirror.

For Dream, his is more fluid, more swoopy. It starts like a circle that quickly breaks into diverging lines, similar to the unreality of dreams and their meandering paths. It also looks somewhat like a treble clef, which also ties well with Dream's role and relations to the arts and creative pursuits.

The final image is of their marks combined, swooping and curling around one another.

The last major part of this bind was the stickers that I created and printed to go along side the book! Since the CD case didn't work out as I had hoped, I still wanted to add something special and unique to this gift for Seiya, so I decided to design some sticker that went along with the fic! I didn't take photos of them all cut out, unfortunately, but I do have the original sheet here.

We have the marks in color, the album cover, along with some more fic specific stickers! These were really fun to design, honestly. I have the knife one on my laptop currently! 😂

Overall, this was an amazing fic and if you're a Hobrintheus or Hobrinthian lover, you definitely need to check it out! This project was a ton of fun to work on and I'm so glad I could get a copy to the wonderful author ♥️

[lenreli]

endless pawns playing a fixed game

Explicit, 7.8k, Dream/Hob. Reacher-inspired AU with an ex-spy Hob and mafia kid Dream!

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2

[AO3]

When Hob took the Endless family bodyguard position, it was mainly for the paycheck. And also a lack of breaking kneecaps for collecting debts, which he does feel some way about. More that it’s a waste of his considerable skill, but nonetheless. 

Recent hushed rumours around the estate have made the Endless bosses more paranoid for their well-being, so he’s gathered in his time at the vast place. 

The bosses are ― well, efficient mob, and just generally terrible people, as evidenced by shouting matches featuring Night or Time, which surely can’t be their real names― 

Then again, with their children’s names, with the many different aged children also getting into screaming matches with the parents, Hob considers his lack of family a blessing, in cases like this. 

The kids, with all sorts of D-name, are varied, and from what he gathered, either orphans gathered up for some good PR, or due to some twisted sense of actually wanting a family. Or maybe they were from people and former mob bosses the parents killed and raised, which would be an impressive sort of fucked up. The kids are mostly a non-issue for him as he does his job, and usually walks past a few of them throughout his days― 

He’s used to seeing Death’s much-too-kind smile, to Destiny being cloistered up in the library, to Desire’s comings and goings at all hours, and surely he must’ve seen Dream somewhere before that night of the attempted poisoning. 

As he looks around the room as some poor schmuck is taken, screaming and pleading, he catches blue eyes and is momentarily stunned. As Desire talks to Dream, Hob gathers that stoic, pale man mainly lives around the art quarters ― which would explain why Hob only briefly remembers him. Plus, the art quarters are very dark and moody, and this is probably the first time he’s seen Dream in actual good light, arms crossed as he talks quietly with Desire. 

As he stares at the cut of Dream’s suit, the blue eyes stare at him for a moment, and Hob catalogues the minute expressions of annoyance as Dream talks with Desire. He definitely knows those blue eyes, have felt them following him since he arrived at the estate, a background awareness of everything else, and Hob considers Dream’s pink, plush lips, low voice begging and screaming, pale skin splashed with― 

“Gadling!” His boss calls and he looks over, Dusk folding her arms and giving him an unimpressed look, “you’re needed.”

Blinking, he puts his hands into the pockets of his pants, “what about Cori?” He’s pretty sure Cori actually gets off on the torture in his job, and he’d hate to take that from him.

“Who the fuck knows. Hence, you,” Dusk drawls, and she gives him an extra glare for good measure, eyes narrowing as she looks between him and Dream. Hob nods and suppresses a smirk, thinking of how cute it is that she thinks her disapproval, or even some don’t fuck who you work for would stop him. 

-

If there’s something Hob likes about his job, it’s that there’s always plots under schemes to uncover, always people to kill ― and now, Dream’s blue eyes staring at him occasionally, like they’re drawn to him. And maybe when Hob feels like a pointless one night stand, he gets a pale twink with dark hair and bites into his neck, replacing the high whines with Dream’s deep voice, the coarse black hair he tugs with the soft-looking spikes of Dream’s hair. Just for a bit of fun. 

Hob’s always one for looking for the bright things in life, especially after getting out of his former job. 

The point is, his life is pretty good, potential firing squad due to some light treason notwithstanding. 

-

Sometimes the goons of the estate think that the Endless kids should learn how to defend themselves, which would be good, he’s sure, if said goons weren’t such idiots when it comes to teaching them. And today they’ve managed to drag a scowling Dream out of his art quarters, which is why he’s actually witnessing their poor attempts at teaching today. 

“Are you going to keep judging, or are you going to give a few pointers?” The big man frowns at him. Hob blinks and crosses his arms, leaning more on the wall as he glances at Dream, hair ruffled and scowling. 

“I’m not the teaching type,” he says with a shrug, and the goon scowls, no doubt angry at Hob as he barks orders at Dream, who looks just as impressed as Hob does with him. 

The subpar teaching makes for good entertainment, and Hob briefly considers maybe giving Dream private lessons. Or maybe not so private, if only for the good screaming and whining to be echoed throughout the grounds. 

At last, the goon gives up with a huff, and Hob stares at the bruise on Dream’s cheek, the colour matching the other’s lips as Dream straightens out his ratty black clothes, small specks of blue paint on the bottom of Dream’s shirt. 

Dream looks at him, stepping closer, absurdly plush mouth opening―and a phone rings. Dream frowns and takes out a flip phone, answering it curtly, then shortly leaving. 

-

A week after that, something is wrong. Dream has been one for Wednesday meetings with his sister in the library, and nothing. Only Death, looking faintly worried. 

Then a ransom call comes in, and Hob only gets that Dream’s been kidnapped before he holds his anger tightly, the Endless parents not even worried as the modulated voice lists their demands. Many of the fellow security and goons give him skittish looks, who have been wordlessly ribbing him for taking a liking to Dream.

Hob says nothing to the Endless parents as he leaves the room, ringing up some of his contacts to get something, and quickly ― before he decides they need some persuasion. 

In the end, it takes seven days for him to find out that Burgess, another mob boss, recently hooked up electricity to an abandoned building, the night before the ransom call. Hob briefly considers going to Fawney Rig, where Burgess’s own mansion is, then considers after, once Dream is back at the estate. 

For all the heightened security that the Endless parents put in, they’re remarkably unconcerned that their own son is kidnapped, whether out of neglect, or simply because of the people around working on it, Hob is unclear about. And, well, if they didn’t give him his income, he’d consider adding more bodies to the one’s he’s already planning on.

When he tells security of his plans, they offer to give him some goons as ‘back-up’ and Hob bites back a scoff. “I can handle it myself,” he frowns, glaring at the man until he steps back, nodding sharply. 

-

The plan is to go through the abandoned building and kill everyone that’s not Dream. A simple one, but it’s never failed him yet.

Hob is almost offended at the front door, when he goes in to see five rent-a-thugs, nothing approaching a challenge as he methodically makes his way through them. With two already dead, he uses the body of one as a shield, gunshots ringing out, but soon silenced by one of his daggers through the shooter’s heart. 

The other two go down with more daggers thrown, and once he’s collected and cleaned them off with fabric from the cheap suits of the men, he puts them away and sighs. 

Unsurprisingly, the other rooms are easy enough to go through, finally finding Dream tied up on a chair, with two men near the door, guns raised at him. Hob puts on a disarming smile, putting his hands up. “I’m going to be nice, and tell you how you die,” he says, smiling brightly. Then men are shaking, guns rattling quietly in their grips. “You,” he nods to the man on his right, “are going to try and shoot me, and then I’m going to go after your buddy here and kill him with a clean knife to the heart. Then I’m going to take it out of his body and throw it into your heart, and you’ll both be dead before you hit the ground.” 

The men seem even more freaked out, sharing scared looks ― but this isn’t about them. Maybe he wanted to show off, just a little bit, for the captive audience. Dream’s blue eyes are wide, mouth gagged with black fabric― and the man on his right moves, and it goes like he said, pulling out his dagger and cleaning it off the dead man’s body before stowing it away. 

“Hello, Dream,” the other man’s eyes go even wider, a muffled sound going through the gag as he walks up to him, leaning over the chair to cut loose the ropes holding Dream. “We haven’t met yet officially, but you can call me Hob,” he smiles as he rips off the gag, then goes to the ropes around Dream’s legs, cutting them off as he stands up. Dream also gets up, face even more pale ― and Hob’s brows furrow as he touches the corner of Dream’s mouth, where a bruise is. “Maybe I should’ve tortured them more,” he remarks. 

“Thank you,” Dream croaks, eyes a dark, deep blue and Hob hums, stepping away as he rubs his thumb, still feeling the soft skin under it. 

“Let’s get you back home, Endless.” Hob gives Dream a once-over, finding nothing out of place with the black suit, or the way Dream’s holding himself. 

“Is it just you?” Dream asks as they step outside of the room, and Dream stops, looking at the bodies lining the rooms as they go through each one. Dream always takes a moment to stop, looking at the various bodies, wide eyes leaving them to look at him ― and his clean suit, not a speck of blood on him.

“I was offered back-up, but they’d just get in the way,” he says with a shrug. Dream nods as they exit the building, and Hob opens the back car door, then stops Dream from getting in. “Burgess met you, didn’t he? Probably to gloat, he seems like the type of asshole to do that,” Dream steps back and nods as Hob leans on the car door. “Do you expressly order for me to kill him for you, or do I have to do it without it?” 

Dream’s mouth moves, opening and shutting before something hard settles over Dream’s expression, “you can kill him,” Dream says, voice breathless and Hob nods. Moving out of the way, he gets in on the other side as Dream slides in, looking at the dark screen between them and Mervyn, the driver, starts the car. 

Dream still looks shocked, wide-eyed and flushed cheeks, and Hob considers the effects of kidnapping, which are never good. Or maybe it was all the dead bodies, especially considering Dream maybe doesn’t have much experience with that. 

Hob watches as Dream takes deep breaths, suit jacket being thrown off, then shoes joining them, and Hob tilts his head, looking at pale collarbones, sweaty and glistening as Dream undoes the top buttons of the shirt, black a contrast to the white of his skin. “I need you,” Dream says roughly, eyes mostly black, and Hob blinks as Dream pulls him closer by his collar, “to fuck me,” Dream states before kissing him, biting into his lips. Or maybe, Hob thinks nonsensically, grabbing onto Dream’s waist as the other man slides into his lap. 

Hob blinks, eyebrows raised, “no complaints here, just as long as you don’t regret it,” he breathes, fingers sliding up under a black shirt, and he watches as Dream shivers, bony limbs pushing him down onto the backseat. 

“Definitely not,” Dream says sharply, cold hands tearing open his blazer, then waistcoat and shirt, and Dream pauses as his blazer is thrown off, eyes zeroed in on the bracers around his biceps ― and the daggers in them. There’s a huff as Dream takes them off, then the bracers and his waistcoat and shirt, and there’s another huff as Dream stares at the harness around his shoulders, the guns on them. “Hob.” 

Suppressing a smile, he shrugs as he toes his pointed shoes off, Dream still on his lap as he watches Hob pull out a tiny syringe, then a few small daggers and puts them on his other weapons on the floor. 

“A syringe?” Dream asks, leaning closer to look.

“Lethal poison,” he says, sitting up to sit against the car side, his hands going under Dream’s shirts to take it off, pale skin and pink nipples, and he nibbles up Dream’s neck, restraining himself from drawing blood as Dream whimpers. “This too, plus another, but you’ll have to take my pants off for that,” he whispers into Dream’s ear as he tugs the hair tie off his wrist, throwing it onto his pile of weapons. 

Dream makes a sound, cold hands getting warmer as they tug at Hob’s pants, “a hair tie?” The other man asks incredulously, belt being taken off to join the rest of the weapons as Dream takes a moment to stare at the line of tiny daggers lining the inside of the belt.

“The hair tie can also turn into barbed wire,” he offers with a smirk, “and not that, I forgot about those,” he shrugs, arousal a constant, pleasant buzz with how Dream is sitting on him. Dream mutters something, words incomprehensible as Dream sits up to tug his pants off, the underwear, knives strapped with harnesses on his thighs thrown with everything else, and Dream’s look of annoyance makes Hob bite back a laugh. 

“Is that all? Anything else?” Dream hisses, and Hob does actually smirk as Dream tugs at his chest hair. Hob hums and touches the crotch of the other’s pants, feeling a wet spot already as he unbuttons them, clearly not as turned off by all the weapons. 

“Not today,” he says. Tugging Dream closer by the zip of his pants, there’s a broken sound as they kiss filthily, and Hob’s already addicted to the feel of Dream’s smooth skin as his nails scratch down thighs, Dream’s lower clothes soon joining the rest. “I’m not taking you raw,” he drawls, smiling as Dream tugs his hair and pulls back with a huff. 

Dream mutters some more and reaches for the back of the passenger seat, revealing a compartment filled with small packets of lube and condoms. Desire, probably, Hob’s mind supplies as he takes some of the lube and a condom. “I thought this would involve more fucking, not all these―” Dream’s complaint turns into a moan as Hob pushes a finger inside Dream, and his cock twitches at the thought of going inside that warm heat as he bites at the other’s jaw. 

Dream pants, breath harsh near his ear as fingers grip his chest hair and he adds another finger, twisting and stretching the walls around them. “Hard or soft?” He asks, free hand digging into and trailing up Dream’s spine, feeling him shiver and shake as Dream clenches around his fingers. 

“Now,” is the desperate order, and Hob pulls Dream by the hair into a forceful kiss, making those pink lips even redder as he takes out his fingers and prepares his cock, lube and condom cool compared to the burning heat of Dream on top of him. Hob groans as he enters the tight heat, Dream shuddering and squeezing around him, and Dream cries out, a hand coming down from his hair to dig into the stubble of his jaw. “Yes,” Dream breathes, twitching. 

Hob takes a deep breath, smelling blood and sweat on Dream’s neck as he gets used to the feeling, a part of him wanting to drive in, but also Dream was just kidnapped, so he tries to have a modicum of care as he bottoms out, nails digging into Dream’s waist as they adjust. The tenuous self-control frays as Dream wriggles on top of him, licking into his mouth as Dream grinds down onto his cock. 

“Stop being such a pussy and fuck me,” Dream croaks ― and there’s a gasp as Hob’s free hand circles Dream’s neck, nails digging into the other’s esophagus until Dream coughs, eyes wide and dick leaking onto Hob’s stomach. 

“With the way you’re acting, no,” he frowns as Dream continues to cough, eventually nodding frantically as Dream’s hand pulls the one away from the other’s throat. 

Dream licks his lips, a bit of terror in his eyes that makes Hob’s sharp anger lessen. “Please,” Dream whispers, eyes still overtaken with black, a thin ring of deep blue as the car passes a pot-hole, jostling them and Dream wails. “Pleasepleaseplease.” 

“Better,” he breathes, tugging Dream’s hair roughly as he guides the other man up and down his cock, feeling tight walls slowly loosen up as Dream is impaled on him. Dream tries to say something, but Hob shifts him and only a cry comes out as he hits the other’s prostate, and Hob nibbles at the blossoming bruise on Dream’s throat in the shape of his hand. 

Dream sobs and claws at his chest, at his shoulder as they fuck, as his tempo rises ― and Dream comes with a sob, squeezing his cock tightly and pulling an orgasm out of him. 

-

Checking all his weapons are where they’re meant to be, he puts on his clothes as Dream frowns, glaring at him on the backseat. “Now, I have to report to security, and you’ll probably have to deal with your family, so. See you around, Dream,” he says with a lazy fingered salute as he hops out of the car. “Mervyn,” he says with a smile and a nod towards the driver. Mervyn gives him the middle finger as he leaves. 

The security briefing is, well, brief. Mainly because he doesn’t reveal the people who kidnapped Dream. So that he can go after them himself, but that’s splitting hairs. There’s a cacophony of sound, and there’s a done-up Dream, looking only a tiny bit ruffled as he’s surrounded by all his siblings as they talk at him. Dream catches his eye and sends him a desperate get me out of here look, and Hob only shrugs, leaning against the wall as Death and Delirium move on to hugging Dream, only quickly though. 

Dream scowls, bruises on his neck hidden by layers of collars and black as he steps into Hob’s space once the room has cleared out and the siblings have dispersed. “Will you join me? To my room,” Hob raises an eyebrow and Dream looks away, fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt, “for protection, after my ordeal.” 

Hob frowns, Dream looking so exhausted now, and he nods, following after Dream into the labyrinth of the mansion until they end up at a room near the art quarters, opening into a red and black bedroom. Hob watches as Dream sheds off his clothes, marks and bruises ― mainly from him, bright against his skin as Dream goes into the bathroom. Hob closes the bedroom door as Dream fills the bath in his en suite, eventually hopping in with a weary sigh. 

There’s only the sound of a ticking clock, a far-off, muffled television as Dream curls up in the bath, eventually hopping out after at least an hour. Hob’s heart aches, which he ignores as Dream pulls a fluffy black towel around himself. “Hob,” Dream whispers, voice rusty as Dream dries himself off, getting into a ratty black shirt and pants. “Will you stay? Until I fall asleep?” 

Dream looks at him with red-rimmed eyes, drained and tired, at how vulnerable Dream is, and he wants to make sure that no-one else ever sees that look, as much as he wants to make it even worse. However, he did say, he would deal with Dream’s captors, and he thinks of the soft touch of the other’s skin, the fiery determination, even after being rescued. 

His heart, which he long thought dead, twists at the other’s exhaustion, and the decision is simple.

“Of course.” 

-

Going through the information gathered on Fawney Rig, Hob may actually have a bit of a challenge, so he decides to take his time working out angles, and what he plans to do. Especially when he discovers that the kidnapping wasn’t the first time he’s interacted with Dream, and those haven’t been good either. Nothing as overt as kidnapping, but enough of a pattern to make Hob think of the many ways to flay an old man alive.

Afterwards, Dream asks him to his room more. Sometimes for just peace of mind, apparently. And other times for sex, which isn’t trouble at all, and Hob is happy with the way things are going in life, even as he deals with rising amounts of plots against the Endless family with no clear mastermind, much to his frustration.

However, there’s always time for some fun, this time with Dream pushing him against his bedroom door and kneeling down, hands quickly taking him out and Hob gasps at the hot mouth around his dick, sucking him to hardness. Groaning, Hob grabs onto soft dark hair as Dream pushes his hips against the door. 

“What, no undressing me first?” He says, and Dream stops to give him a withered look, clearly not in the mood to deal with his many weapons. Hob barks out a laugh as Dream licks him. 

Dream moans, long black lashes fluttering as Hob fills up in his mouth, the other’s nails digging into the harnesses under his pants, daggers cold against his skin as Dream licks and sucks. 

“You may want to move those hands,” he breathes, tugging the other’s black hair, “daggers.” Dream gives him a tired look and pulls off him, teeth lightly grazing the top of his cock, annoyance showing even more as Dream tugs down his pants to reveal the harness and taking off the daggers. 

There’s a huff as Dream’s mouth returns, one of Dream’s hands going underneath his shirt to tug at his chest hair, and the pleasure fizzles steadily, unwilling to look away from the other man.

Even just looking at Dream in this position is enough to make his arousal build, spiraling at how much Dream obviously enjoys it. “So pretty,” he whispers, and Dream shivers around him, lashes fluttering and Hob smirks as Dream’s hips move, grinding into air. “Taking me so well,” he says, a hand trailing down to touch Dream’s jaw, going down to a pale throat as Dream moans and swallows around him. “Knew you’d be good with lips like these.” 

Dream whimpers as his hand goes up to pink lips, split around his cock, a thumb pressing inside the warm heat. There’s a cry, blue eyes shiny and tears sticking to the edge of long lashes. 

His orgasm is a slow thing, helped along as he tugs Dream by his hair, making him choke and swallow around him desperately as he comes. Dream coughs, covering his mouth as he swallows the white fluid. “Was that necessary?” Dream asks, voice rough and fucked, and Hob meets on the floor with a smirk. 

“No, it was just fun,” he says with a grin, making Dream gasp as he tugs black hair roughly. Pulling him in for a messy kiss, licking some off of Dream's puffy lips as Dream whimpers. His other hand goes to black skinny jeans, swiftly undoing them―and Hob raises his eyebrows, leaning back as Dream’s face reddens. “Was it the praise or the way I used you?” 

Dream’s face burns even more as his hand feels a softening cock, come coating his fingers as he takes his hand out. 

-

A different day, and Hob’s spent hours between Dream’s sheets, wringing out orgasms until he’s had his fill, the night air cool on his skin as he sits up on the bed, a warm lamp and moonlight showing their clothes strewn about the room. He at least tries to sit up, with a skinny arm going around his waist, and there’s a groan as Hob puts some of his daggers back into their harnesses. “Cuddly, are you?” He asks. 

“No,” Dream groans, muffled against his skin as the other man curls around him, a thumb going under one of his thigh harnesses as bright blue eyes peek at him. “Surely there’s better things to do than whatever you’re planning.” 

“Like making you come even more?” He asks, raising an eyebrow as he finds his syringe of poison, putting it into place. Dream huffs, pouting as Hob moves off the bed to sheathe even more of his weapons before haphazardly putting on his pants, afterglow settling in his veins.

“I could read to you,” Dream says, pride in his tone and Hob blinks, baffled as he turns to look back at Dream. “I have been told I have a good reading voice,” Dream explains as he picks up a book from his nightstand. Hob considers ― and Dream does have a good voice, and Hob did work very hard today with his own side project of dealing with Burgess. 

Hob crosses his arms and waits, although, “well, Prince of Stories?” Hob says sarcastically, and Dream blinks, shock on his face before it quickly becomes blank, Dream flipping through to the start of the book, a bookmark kept in place near the end of it. 

“Along the shore the cloud waves break, The twin suns sink behind the lake, The shadows lengthen. In Carcosa,” Dream begins, words deep and resounding, and vaguely familiar. 

“Horror?” He says with a grin, going back to sit on the edge of the bed. Dream’s eyebrow twitches. 

“It’s what I’ve been reading,” is offered primly. Dream clears his throat and pulls the sheets over himself, eyes focused on the page in front of him intently. “Strange is the night where black stars rise. And strange moons circle through the skies But stranger still, is Lost Carcosa―”

-

Hob frowns as he walks towards the art quarters, knowing that Dream would be there, since he’s not in his room. While the mansion has many cameras, there are none in Dream’s art areas or their rooms ― and not that he’d care for them, but it’s handy, especially with what he wants to talk to Dream about. Sighing, he enters the art room, finding Dream mixing paint near a canvas. “Anything you want to tell me?” 

Dream turns around and blinks, paintbrush in his hand dripping black paint. “About?” 

“Like another attempt on your parent’s life, which I only found out about after I left your room,” he says slowly, walking closer to Dream. 

“What are you implying?” Dream asks, shock giving away to an offended glare as the paintbrush gets put down. Hob doesn’t say anything, just watches as Dream glares at him, and continues―until a tiny tic, Dream looking away momentarily. 

“You knew,” he drawls as he grabs the other’s jaw, forcing blue eyes to look at him as Dream tries to look away again. “Why?” 

“You have some gall to accuse me,” Dream breathes, trying to push his hand away and failing as Hob digs his nails into Dream’s jaw. There’s a brief look of terror from Dream as his fingers go down a pale throat, beginning to cut air from his windpipe. “It wasn’t,” Dream gasps, voice high, “I did want to spend more time with you, but also.” 

 “Again. Why?” He asks as he lets go, letting Dream wheeze and take some deep breaths. 

“They want to send Delirium off,” Dream mutters, “and we―my sibling and I, don’t want that.” 

Hob nods, rumours and attempts coalescing into a clear picture, “that’s all? They want to send her away?” 

“Among other things,” Dream says quietly, giving him a wide-eyed look, “you can’t tell anyone.” 

Hob crosses his arms as he tilts his head, “I don’t know. I do enjoy the money.” 

“Once they’re ― nothing will change with that, I swear,” Dream says, almost pleading, “just a change in who runs things.”

Sighing, Hob steps back as he pats Dream’s cheek, a brief flash of fear crossing the other’s face. And, well, he did briefly consider killing the parents himself for the way they acted with Dream’s kidnapping. “As long I get my money, do what you want,” he says curtly as he leaves. 

-

A day later, and Dream freezes once he enters his bedroom. “Hob, I thought you’d be…” Dream trails off as Hob smiles, waiting for the other man to come closer. 

“Maybe I wanted to reward you for being so honest with me,” he says, holding his hands out ― which Dream takes warily as he pulls Dream on top of him. The other man looks confused and apprehensive, even as they share biting kisses. “A gift,” he breathes, smiling as Dream’s hands go under his shirt ― and stops, the hands leaving to pat over his thighs and chest. 

“Why do you have no weapons,” Dream says flatly, patting his thighs like he expects them to suddenly materialise from where Hob stashed them in the en suite. Hob resists rolling his eyes, bringing Dream in for another kiss, licking into the other’s mouth as their clothes are shed. The arousal builds slowly as he grabs Dream’s hip, stroking up and down as Dream gets his lube. 

“No,” he whispers, and Dream lets out a sound as Hob takes the lube from Dream, coating his fingers in it ― and Dream makes another sound as Hob puts the finger in himself, feeling odd after so many years. “Like this,” he says into Dream’s lips, watching Dream’s eyes widen, mouth dropping as Hob puts another finger in, stretching himself. 

“You―what,” Dream chokes, thin hands gabbing his waist tightly as Dream stares down as Hob puts another finger in, stretch sliding from weird to pleasurable as he brushes his prostate, gasping at the jolt of it. 

“A gift,” he whispers, looking up through his lashes as he finishes prepping himself ― and putting a condom on Dream’s red, leaking dick. There’s a whimper from Dream, hands fluttering up and down his chest as Dream breeches him. “And a punishment,”  Hob says with a grin as Dream bottoms out, and he shivers through the pleasure, nails digging into Dream’s jaw to force those blue eyes to look at him. 

“Fucking you? A punishment?” Dream asks, expression flummoxed, then quickly turning into determination and cockiness as Dream holds him down. The rhythm builds quickly, sometimes brushing against that bundle of nerves and bringing Hob closer to orgasm ― and Dream looks quietly smug, blue eyes dark as Hob clenches around him.

Hob blinks, watching as Dream fucks into him, nails scratching marks into his waist as Dream gets closer to coming ― and when Dream exits him, he puts his hand around the other’s cock. Dream cries out, orgasm stopped in place by his hand. “I think I need another orgasm. You, however.” 

Dream’s eyes widen, pink mouth gaping, cockiness forgotten, “but I. No. Hob,” Dream pleads, “Hob, please.” 

Smiling at how he can feel Dream’s cock twitch and jerk in his hand, he deems the orgasm stopped ― and uses his other hand to control Dream by the hips, guiding him in. Dream cries out, body collapsing on top of him as Hob guides the other’s cock, oversensitivity making it pleasure-painful as his cock eventually starts to fill again, and there’s only the sound of slapping skin, his moans and Dream’s pleading as his next orgasm arrives slowly. 

By then, he’s stopped Dream’s orgasm once more, who continues to beg into his neck. 

His third orgasm is erring on the side of painful and dry, but he enjoys it anyway as Dream lets out a broken wail as his own orgasm is stopped, Dream’s body shaking above him, and he can feel tears on his neck. “Do you think you’ve learnt yet?” He asks breathlessly, smiling as Dream nods against his neck. “I’m not entirely sure you have, considering that stunt you pulled.” 

His fourth orgasm is entirely dry, the oversensitivity making him grit his teeth as his walls clench around Dream’s throbbing cock. Dream at this point is completely incoherent, only the suggestions of begging are almost discernible beneath broken sounds. 

It’s after he’s stopped Dream’s orgasm for the seventh time, does he take Dream out, who is a collapsed, shivery mess on top of him. As he gets up from the bed, Dream blindly reaches for him, eventually gripping onto one of his biceps. “Hob,” Dream croaks, blue eyes watery and puffy, black eyeliner running. 

“Behave, and I might let you come,” Hob purrs, pulling Dream in for a filthy kiss by his hair, and then leaving to put everything on in the en suite.

-

Next day, the soreness is pushed away with painkillers ― and the way Dream stares at him, eyes pleading and suit askew at a meeting for the family. Hob listens on with half an ear, mostly looking outside the window as he feels Dream’s gaze on him. 

“Oi!” A voice hisses next to him, and Hob turns around to see Matthew ― and a cut-off, decaying finger in a ziplock bag. “Hold this.” 

Sighing, he gets out his leather gloves, putting them on before handling that, turning it around to look at a tag also in the bag, only making out a vague Choron, “more dirty work?” 

“Trash, actually,” Matthew says as he picks up a drink. Hob gives him an unimpressed look. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it, I just wanted a bit of space.” 

Hob goes to say something, but catches Dream’s intense stare across the way ― the way Dream’s lips have parted as they hand at his hands. “Ever wonder how they lived with that?” He asks idly, shaking the bag and bringing it up to his eye level, Dream’s gaze pinned on his hands. 

Matthew chuckles, and there’s a gulp and sigh as Matthew drinks more of the middling beer usually on offer for such a fancy place as this, “badly, probably. Can’t imagine jerking off with a missing finger, poor fuck,” Matthew says with a laugh. Hob smirks, and the rest of the meeting passes uneventfully, and Hob watches as Dream squirms in his seat, heavy gaze resting on him all the while. 

Meeting adjourned, Hob’s unsurprised with how fast Dream appears next to him ― although, the way Dream grabs hold of his lapels and pushes him against the corridor wall is a bit of a surprise, considering the cameras as they share heated kisses. “What brought this on?” He asks, gloved hands holding onto the other’s jaw, watching as Dream shivers, body pressing against him. 

“Hob, you know why,” Dream says, tone almost desperate as he pushes his face into Hob’s hand. “Please.” 

Humming, his hand trails down the other’s torso, feeling Dream press even closer as he reaches Dream’s clothed cock, his other hand going to tug Dream’s head to the side as he bites into the marks hiding under Dream’s collar. Arousal flares as Dream whimpers, squirming against him as he opens the other’s pants, leather-clad hand stroking Dream’s leaking cock. 

“Yes,” Dream gasps, a pale hand gripping the back of his neck as he strokes Dream, almost no friction from pre-come getting onto the leather. “More,” Dream breathes and Hob looks up, catching sight of a goon staring at them. 

“Think this is good enough for now, don’t you think?” He smirks, keeping eye contact with the shocked goon as his hand in Dream’s hair ghosts down his back to slide under Dream’s shirt, feeling him shiver and cry out. The goon seems to move out of his stupor and walks out of sight, Hob tracking him as he bites further up Dream’s neck. “After all, the only reason I’m not fucking you at this moment, is if I’m not sure if you deserve it.” 

Dream lets out a pathetic sound, clutching him tighter he presses against the slit of Dream’s cock, making the other man shiver. “It won’t―that won’t happen again,” Dream pants.

Hob sighs, twisting his wrist as Dream moans, hands scrabbling desperately over his torso as it takes only a few more strokes until Dream comes. There’s a loud cry, Dream going boneless as his other hand goes to Dream’s front to pinch at pink nipples hidden under the black dress shirt. “Next time, I won’t be as nice,” he says, hand moving out of― 

Until Dream grabs his wrist, and his cock, neglected, throbs as Dream licks his come off the black leather, eyes an intense dark blue as they look at him. 

“Needy, aren’t you?” He rasps, Dream’s eyes fluttering shut as he continues to lick the his gloved hands, and Hob moans as Dream grabs his cock. Dream undoes his belt and zipper as his thumb presses Dream’s bottom lip, black glove and pink lips making his cock twitch before Dream gets his own hands on it, stroking it in a frenzied rush as Dream bites at his fingers, licking the palm of his hand as Hob comes with a groan.

-

Dream has asked him to be around his art room, looking haunted ― and Hob gets the impression he’s there for more emotional support again, which. He’s a bit out of practice with, but for Dream usually just requires being in the area, so he’s sitting in one of the plush chairs and reading a book, while Dream mixes paints and glares daggers at a canvas. 

There’s a sigh, and a clatter as brushes get put down, “why do you let them do that?” Dream asks, apropos of nothing and Hob blinks, attention dragged away from his book to Dream.

“Let who do what?” He crosses his legs, placing the book down the side of the chair. 

“I heard some guards talking about you. They don’t know about you.” Dream clarifies, eyes narrow as they stare at him. 

“They don’t matter. And I like to operate so that people under-estimate me,” he shrugs, putting his face on his hands. “Art not co-operating today?” 

Dream scowls and glares once again at the canvas, then stands up and comes over to him, hands gripping his thighs. “I read about you ― or what wasn’t heavily redacted. What did you do?” 

Hob’s brows raise, and he huffs, gently pushing Dream away with his foot ― and Dream lets out a sound, blue eyes darkening as they stare at his pointed shoes. That’s always an option, Hob considers as he guides Dream onto the floor, shoe on Dream’s shoulder. Cocking his head, he thinks that Dream kneeling for him might be one of his favourite things. “A light disagreement with a former employer, nothing interesting,” he breathes. 

“It said you’re to be executed on sight, from the MI6, that wasn’t redacted,” Dream scowls, trying to hold onto getting his answers. Hob hums, smirking as he puts his other leg in between Dream’s, lightly pressing onto the other’s crotch, and Dream gasps. 

“The disagreement wasn’t so light, then,” he amends, feeling Dream’s cock fill under his shoe as Dream grabs onto his shin, nails digging into him. 

“Hob,” Dream growls, staring up at him with blue eyes swallowed by black ― and Hob’s other shoe taps against Dream’s cheek, trailing to the other’s jaw and pulling his face up, legs loosely crossed as he does. 

“Dream,” he mimics, feeling Dream shiver as he grinds his shoe into a hard cock. Hob blinks, resting his head on his hand, watching as Dream holds onto his ankles. “While you’re down there, there’s better things to do than talk about ancient history,” Hob drawls ― and Dream shivers, arching into the shoe on his groin ― and the point of the other shoe presses into Dream’s pink mouth. 

“I―I don’t,” Dream whines, muffled by his shoe as he’s given him a wide-eyed look, surprise as Dream grabs onto the shoe near his mouth. There’s a whimper as Hob continues to press onto Dream’s cock, making the other man shudder and curl in on him, Dream’s nose brushing against his other shoe, cheeks flushing red. 

“You don’t even have to do anything if you don’t want, which I’m sure you’ll enjoy,” he purrs, own arousal making his dick hard in his pants, and he grins as Dream moans, blue eyes glazed over as they look at him, mouth open. “Look at that,” he breathes, leaning over to grip Dream’s hair, Dream following along obediently. “Now,” he guides Dream’s face to his other shoe, still grinding into Dream’s cock as the other man whimpers. “Be a good boy and lick.” 

Dream lets out a whimper, staring up at him, then to his shoe, blinking ― and there's a frisson of pleasure coiling inside at seeing a tentative lick on the top of it, blue eyes fluttering closed. There’s a broken, surprised noise as Dream kisses his shoe, hands moving to grip underneath as kisses and licks get laved upon it. 

Having been roughly involved in the BDSM scene, but again. Disagreements, and yet he’s delighted to see how easily Dream falls into subspace, feeling the scrape of teeth through leather as Dream bites at the point of the shoe, sucking it and Hob shivers, dick throbbing as he watches. Licking his lips, he lifts the one on Dream’s crotch, and Dream whines, staring at him imploringly. “If you want to come, you’ll have to work for it.” 

Reclining back in the chair and resting his fingers on his cheek, Dream takes a few deep breaths, blinking up at him. Dream moves forward, a hand coming to grip the ankle of the shoe that was grinding into him ― and he lets out a pleased sound as Dream starts to press against his shoe, chest arching into his leg as Dream moves up and down. 

“Beautiful,” he praises, stroking Dream’s red cheek as he whines and grounds up against him, licking the top of his other shoe, and there’s only the sound of their breathing, and Dream’s whining, with leather creaking as Dream works himself towards orgasm. 

Dream comes with a cry, hiding his face into Hob’s shoe as he pants, weight falling onto Hob’s legs as Dream stares up at him. 

-

A week later, Hob enters Dream’s room, who reacts with ― embarrassment, blue eyes looking away as Dream’s face starts to redden. “What?” Dream asks, voice gruff and giving him a death glare. 

“I’m going to visit a mutual friend today,” he says dryly, and Dream, hunched over a desk with a notebook, tenses as Hob pulls a gun out of the holster under his suit jacket. Refraining from rolling his eyes, he grabs the barrel of the gun, butt facing Dream as he walks up to the other man, other hand in his pants. “Remember, whose men I had to deal with to free you?” 

Dream’s eyes widen, looking between the gun and his face as Hob leans against the desk. “Why now?” 

“Had to make a plan, at least a bit of an effort regarding some things,” he shrugs, and now Dream looks more confused, closing his notebook. “As for this,” he rattles the gun, thumb moving to the side of it to show the shining gleam of it, “a kiss? For luck,” he says with a grin. 

The other man scoffs, staring down at the barrel, “why? You don’t need it,” Dream mutters, glancing between the gun and him for a few moments. Hob raises his brows, and Dream’s lips purse before he moves forward, lips pressing onto the barrel of the gun. There’s a clack of teeth against steel as Dream grabs onto his hand, eyes dark as they stare up at him. 

A pink tongue presses against the barrel and Hob takes a breath, feeling himself get half-hard as Dream pulls him down, breath almost mingling over the top of the gun―  And Hob takes the gun away, putting it back in its holster, Dream’s stare heavy and Hob forces his mind back on track, that’s not filled with Dream’s delicious cries and warm skin. “Later,” he manages, voice rough as he steps back, and eventually out of the room.

[neddea]

Some days ago I made this post with some concept art, so here’s a little bit more info about my No Man’s Land! (Disclaimer about the details below the cut: I’m just an artist and in no way, shape or form a scientist, even less so an astrophysicist, so the chances of some of this info being wrong or dubious are very high lol)

Just as a little bit of context, Kepler-47 is an actual “solar system” with two host stars. We’ve been able to find three planets so far, and the outermost (47c) lies in the habitable zone. All three of them are gas giants (or rather “puffy giants” since they’re surprisingly not very dense and temperate).

I’m not gonna give too many details about the real 47c, I’ll leave that for the long post I’m working on (if I ever get to actually publish it, let’s be honest), but the only thing to keep in mind is that Nomans would be a moon orbiting this planet. Also, I decided that people would shorten “No Man’s Land” to “Nomans” overtime, which is the name I’m gonna be using. The question is: how do we call the people living there? Nomanians?

So here are the main points of my design!

-I’ve given 47c several other moons because I wanted it to match the canon as much as I could, and I think it might even help the stability of the orbits if they’re in a specific resonance? Idk, maybe an actual astrophysicist could give me some advice on this (please do)

-The interesting bit about trying to make it match the canon is that I had to make Nomans tidally locked to 47c just to have an excuse for why we never see the big planet on the sky. The idea would be that most of the Seeds ships crashed into the outer face of the moon, and since the other side, the one that’s always looking at 47c, has more extreme conditions precisely because of the influence of the host planet on it, not many people have ventured too much into these lands. At least until now…

-Speaking of the other moons, which one would be the best candidate for the Fifth Moon incident? (Spoiler alert for Maximum and ‘98: Knives forces Vash to use his Angel Arm and he ends up firing at the fifth moon, which leaves its surface marked with a big crater) We have two options: It could be one of the outer moons (the ones whose orbit is beyond that of Nomans) since those are the ones more likely to be present in the visible sky; or it could be Moon II, whose regolith would be launched into space from the blast and form the rings…

-The surface gravity is almost identical to ours here on Earth, although slightly lighter (9.66 m/s^2 compared to 9.8 m/s^2).

-Nomans is somewhat bigger than Mars but smaller than Earth.

-One day lasts for almost 27 hours, and one year would take almost 270 Nomanian days (I swear this was a coincidence). Also, a fun fact on which I’m basing the calendar system (still working on that): it takes 6.6 days for the two stars to orbit around each other. People probably noticed this and were like “Sure, that’s the seven days of the week if you ask me”, probably so that they didn’t have to figure out everything from scratch (I’d do the same). It would be fun to see different cities and places to develop their own weird and wonderful systems (not me spending several hours yesterday to understand all the Maya calendars and wondering what they would come up with in this alien planet moon…).

-And speaking about time, here’s a visual explanation on how the times of day work on the side facing 47c! I realized the other day that at noon the light would probably be tinted slightly red (or some other color, depending on the elements found on 47c’s atmosphere), just like it happens on our Moon when there’s a lunar eclipse. Please make as if you didn’t know this and let’s move on. Also, as a Spaniard I have the right to declare noon time in this part of the world the Sacred Siesta Period.

(Also, shout out to @norageonlypancakes because my main inspiration for these BGs is Chesley Bonestell, he was The Space Artist™️ of the 20th century and inspired so many people to become space nerds or even scientists!) (Also x2, thank you everyone for the lovely comments and tags on the previous post <3)

[slashv1xen]

*kicks open door** GROSS CREEPY REDNECK MAN!?

No but seriously Otis is my guilty pleasure character and I need him with a 'tomboy' reader (aka a basic rural southern woman (It'd be nice if you could include her being oddly feminine despite all the hunting and the cursing and the fighting: Like she calls him a cunt then goes and bakes a bunch of sweets or goes off to work on a dress tailoring project XD))

i like the way u think ;) also otis does NOT have enough fanfics/headcannons written about him and it’s actually a crime

i feel like otis has two types of girls: the same (tomboy like u mentioned) or the opposite (hyper feminine girl from the city).

i also think that when he stumbled upon u he had the only intention to kill u like other victims, but something keeps him from doing so (that’s up to u anonie). and i think it sealed the deal after u got along with his family (helping mama clean up around the house + doing baby’s hair for ex.) after keeping u locked up in his house for months. he’s also definitely a family man, so he appreciates it.

like otis, u have a smart mouth on u (which otis thinks is cute only to a certain degree, going further than that and u wish u hadn’t opened ur mouth in the first place). nonetheless, otis still loves u, and thinks ur cussing and smart mouth makes u all the more loveable.

because u happen to be a tomboy, when u do traditionally more girly things/have girly hobbies it surprises him, but he doesn’t hate it (in fact he thinks it’s cute but he would never say that out loud), which makes u a combo of both fem and masc (best of both worlds - his words not mine).

one shot 💗

“yes!” you shouted as the bullet that shot from the rifle hit the deer in the head, otis grumbling (but you knew he was proud of you). the two of you had a bet on who could shoot prey first, and you won. “pay up baby!”

otis rolled his eyes with a cocky grin on his face as a slapped a scrunched up $10 bill in your hand. “i was just going easy on you, i could easily beat you next time.” he yelled as you walked away giggling with the money, waving him off. “yeah, yeah!”

as the both of you made it into the house you noticed that otis’s air around him was tense. you frowned slightly but didn’t say anything, after all he hated speaking about his emotions, or just hated talking about emotions in general (it didn’t help he was practically a pro at hiding his emotions). then it clicked in your head as he roughly put his rifle down. ‘is he annoyed he lost the bet? i wouldn’t have picked him as the sore loser, petty type.’ you chuckled, finding it a little cute, but you still didn’t want him sulking around.

suddenly an idea came into your head, and immediately you began working, knowing that this would surely cheer him up.

after around 2 hours you knocked on his door, and he muttered that you could enter. you did, and set a warm tray on his bed. he was sitting at his desk, working on some art project (he’s always got some art project to do). he smelled the air and turned to the bed, and his eyes lightened up for a second before a confused expression emerged onto his face.

“cookies? what’d ya do this for?” he rose an eyebrow, wondering if this was a ruse or something. you tsked, annoyed he didn’t understand the gesture, but you explained it to him either way. “well i noticed you seemed a bit annoyed for losing the bet, and i thought this would make you feel better.” you smiled, feeling proud of yourself.

“hm, didn’t pick you for a baker type’a girl.” he mumbled, inspecting the cookies. you scoffed before his eyes met with yours. “y’know, this is unnecessary. i’m not even mad, you’re seeing into things that aren’t there.” he said, speaking up louder. you were annoyed at this reaction. you spent 2 hours baking him cookies (he has a big sweet tooth) to cheer him up and this is the thanks you get.

“fine, i’ll just take these back and give them to someone who’ll actually appreciate them and won’t be a dick about it. maybe baby, or tiny.” you grabbed the tray before you felt otis’s calloused hands grip your wrists, forcing you to set the tray down.

“hey baby, don’t be like that. y’know i didn’t mean it like that, i appreciate the effort, i do. i’m just surprised, okay?” he looked genuine and his eyes met yours. you were waiting for him to say sorry, but the way he his, he probably wouldn’t. you sighed, not saying anything. he sighed as well, and with all his strength, he mumbled something. “…sorry.”

you’re eyes lit up when he said this. otis driftwood, saying sorry? that was a first. suddenly a grin flew onto your face as you hugged him and laughed.

“now, stop that bad mood of yours and let’s eat these cookies before they get cold.”

tysm for this request, i had so much fun writing it! i’m sorry if this wasn’t up to ur standards it was a challenge to write and i wanted it to get out asap. if u have any more please send them in, i would love to hear them x

[carelisswriting]

I wrote something based off a prompt by @epkot94 https://at.tumblr.com/epkot94/dp-x-dc-idea-time-so-eventually-danny-tells-jazz/8wbwdhtc71pm

 I hope y’all like this, this is the first bit of my writing I’m posting on Tumblr! I also crossposted this on Ao3, which is https://archiveofourown.org/works/45308998 

Btw, I adore @proshipper-on-ship and @kine-iende thinking of Dan calling Danny ‘Mom’, so that’s in here too!

EDIT: @lenacraft drew some amazing fan art of the Phantom royal family here! https://at.tumblr.com/lenacraft/im-still-trying-to-figure-out-how-i-wanna/u0n7lg2g8eo9

---

Dan liked being one of the ‘good guys’, don’t get him wrong. He enjoyed saving people, and being seen as a superhero. What he didn’t like was being on a team.

Oh he could work with them just fine, but Ancients did they get on his nerves. Superman constantly checking in on him, Batman trying to figure out his identity (he didn’t have one in this universe anyway, take that asshole), Flash trying to befriend him. All in all, Dan was not a fan of his coworkers. (Ellie insisted that he secretly liked them, but she was wrong and also being very annoying about it.)

They were being particularly annoying today. Flash hadn’t stopped talking for the last 20 minutes. They were all in the main meeting room, for some sort of meeting. Honestly, Dan hadn’t been paying attention, so he had no clue why they were all here. Batman was droning on at the front of the room, something about a cult? Dan had no clue, and really didn’t care enough to listen.

He was idly tossing his thermos (which he still hadn’t told the Justice League the purpose of) back and forth when John Constantine burst into the room.

“We’ve got a problem.” He said, slightly out of breath.

Everyone had stopped talking when he burst in, turning to stare at the man. Batman sighed, before asking “What is it?”

Constantine came up to the table they were all sat around, setting down an ancient looking book across the table from Dan. He noticed that the title was in something similar to Ghostspeak. Interesting. He wasn’t gonna tell any of his coworkers about it, though. They all thought he was an alien, which technically he was, and it would be suspicious for him to know some random magical language, even vaguely.

“Someone is summoning powerful entities from a dimension parallel to ours, using this book.” Constantine said, gesturing to the book “I brought my copy, but I don’t know how to stop these beings.”

“Why?” Batman grunted out the question, already flipping through the old book.

Constantine sighed aggressively, pulling out a cigarette. He lit it, before answering sarcastically “I don’t know, maybe because they’re significantly more powerful than most beings from this dimension? Maybe because they have an insane set of abilities?”

Batman grunted in acknowledgement, turning back to the book.

A few moments passed, before everyone started talking, shouting questions over each other. Dan sighed. This was going to be a long day.

\(oo)/

A few hours passed, everyone still trying to figure out what the hell to do. Well, almost everyone. Dan had long since given up on planning, playing a game on his phone under the table. It wasn’t like anything could actually be a threat to him, and if it was? He’d just call Danny. He’d prefer if his coworkers figured something out, however, so he hadn’t bothered telling them about the fact that he could probably deal with whatever this was in a snap. If they still hadn’t figured anything out in the next hour, he’d deal with it.

Wonder Woman looked up from the book Constantine had summoned for her to read through, hoping it had answers.

“Where are these entities from? You didn’t say what dimension it was.” She asked.

Dan realized that no one had thought to ask that anytime in the last few hours. Seriously? He knew that most of his coworkers were stupid when it came to magic and stuff like it, but seriously? He slipped his phone back into his pocket, wanting to see where this was going.

Constantine glanced up from where he was studying a leatherbound tome. Dan couldn’t see what it was about from here, but he bet it was unhelpful, considering how much Constantine had been glaring at it over the last few minutes.

“The Infinite Realms. It’s an extremely dangerous dimension, home to the dead.” Constantine answered, his tone grim.

Dan couldn’t help it. He chuckled. His coworkers looked at him like he was insane, which only caused him to laugh harder. He bent over the table, laughing.

“Something funny, Phantom?” Batman asked, glaring at him.

(Dan had stolen Danny’s superhero name, it was his first anyway. And besides, everyone found it hilarious, including Danny.)

Dan theatrically wiped a tear from his eye before replying “Yeah, it’s so damn funny that he said that with a straight face. I mean, c’mon, ‘extremely dangerous’? Maybe if you’re an idiot.”

Superman raised an eyebrow at Dan, before exchanging a look with Batman.

“Have you been to these ‘Infinite Realms’?” Superman asked, voice calm.

Dan snorted “Yeah, of course. Ancients, if the problem’s just some guy summoning ghosts, I’m just gonna call my mom.” Dan could deal with it himself, but where was the fun in that?

He pulled out his phone again, dialing Danny’s number. The ‘mom’ thing had started as a joke, but honestly? It fit Danny so well, and Ellie already called him that, so why shouldn’t Dan?

“Why are you-“ Flash asked, before being cut off by Batman.

Batman glared at Dan “What are you doing.” He asked flatly.

Dan laughed, waiting for Danny to pick up.

“Calling my mom, duh.”

Batman gave an aggravated sigh, and went to speak.

Danny picked up, and Dan immediately started talking, cutting off whatever Batman was about to say.

“Hey, so, apparently some asshole is summoning ghosts and causing problems over here. Thought I’d have you deal with it.” Dan said, explaining quickly. The Justice League stared at him, shocked and very confused. Dan hadn’t told them anything about his family, so their reactions were pretty justified.

Danny sighed “Not even gonna say hello?”

Dan sarcastically cut him off “Hello!”

Danny sighed again, but Dan could tell he was amused. They shared a sense of humor, Ellie had the same one too. Perks of being a clone/evil future self and their original/past self (Their relationships were all kinds of funky, but it worked for them.)

“You said someone is summoning ghosts? I’ll be there in a sec.” Danny said, before hanging up.

Dan put his phone away, finally glancing at his coworkers. They all looked extremely confused, except Batman who was fuming, and Constantine who looked wary.  

“Who was that?” Batman growled.

Dan looked at him, the picture of innocent confusion.

“I already told you, my mom. He’ll be here in a moment.”

Dan could see Flash mouthing ‘he?’ to himself a few seats away. Dan relished in the sense of confusion he was causing. It was extremely funny watching his coworkers flounder in the face of Dan’s sheer chaos.

Constantine took a moment to speak “I don’t think-“

He was cut off as a green portal opened up in the middle of the room, above the table. Everyone, excluding Dan, went still as it appeared.

“What the-“ Superman started to say, as Batman pulled out a weapon. They were both startled by a white and black blur flying out of the portal and attaching itself to Dan.

Dan was knocked out of his seat as Ellie bowled him over. He tumbled down to the floor, falling flat on his back. Ellie grinned at him, sitting on his chest.

“Got you!” she gleefully yelled out. Dan chuckled, gently shoving her off him. He sat up, and was greeted with his coworkers, who all looked ready for a fight. Their faces switched to confusion when Dan just blankly stared at them.

“What’s up?” He said, slightly sarcastically.

Ellie floated into the air, hanging upside down in front of Dan.

“Well, you were just tackled by someone they don’t know.” She pointed out, a grin on her face.

Dan sighed, gesturing to Ellie “Please meet my little sister, Ellie. She’s an annoyance.”

Ellie smacked him on the shoulder, before flipping around so that she was facing the Justice League, and also so that she was right side up.

“Hi! It’s nice to finally meet Dan’s friends!” She said, darting away when Dan attempted to hit her.

“They’re not my friends! We’re coworkers!” he shouted as she flew to the corner of the room, sticking her tongue out at him.

He sighed, before looking at his coworkers. Most of them were still stuck in a state of confusion, and Flash hesitantly asked “I thought your mom was coming?”

“Oh yeah.” Dan said, before yelling over to Ellie “Where the hell is Mom?”

Ellie floated closer “He was right behind me, so-“

The portal, which had slipped the Justice League’s minds when faced with the chaos that is Ellie, sparked as Danny stepped out, before it flickered out of existence.

Immediately, the aura of Danny’s power settled over the room. Being the King of the Infinite Realms afforded someone a lot of power, and death magic always affected people more than other magics. Also, the crown, ring, and cape made him look very intimidating. Combine that with his imposing stature (inherited from Jack) and he was downright terrifying. It was a comforting thing to Dan, who was used to Danny’s powerful presence. To the Justice League, however, it felt like the Grim Reaper himself had just come for the souls.

Danny looked around, spotting Ellie floating up above the table.

“Ellie, I told you not to scare them! We want to make a good impression.” He said, Ellie immediately darting down to stand next to him.  

“Sorry Mom, I just wanted to say hi!” Ellie defended.

Danny sighed, ruffling her hair.

The Justice League looked so confused. Constantine looked like he was about to throw up.

“That’s… King Phantom.” Constantine said, shocked, before he scrambled to stand in front of the Justice League.

“We didn’t mean to offend, I swear-“ Constantine started, before Danny cut him off.

“Dude, it’s fine. I just came cause Dan asked.” Danny said with a chuckle, slightly uncomfortable. He had gotten better at the formalities that came with kingship, but he still wasn’t that comfortable when people begged for his mercy, understandably.

It seemed to hit everyone then. That this terrifying man, and king, was who Dan had been referring to when he said ‘Mom’.

While his coworkers processed his chaotic family, Dan floated over them to stand next to his mom.

Danny smiled, ruffling Dan’s hair. They were almost the same height now, so Danny didn’t even have to stretch to reach it.

“How have you been? I know we talk everyday, but it’s not the same as seeing you in person.” Danny said, a soft smile on his face.

“I’ve been fine, Mom. It’s nice, helping people.” Dan replied.

Danny beamed at him “I’m happy it’s working out!”

“Yeah, and you haven’t even tried to kill someone!” Ellie cut in, a smirk on her face.

Dan reached out automatically to swat at her, but she dodged.

The Justice League seemed to snap out of their shock.

They are started to talk at once, before Batman yelled “Quiet!” over top of the noise.

“I believe introductions are in order.” He said, before muttering under his breath “especially as they’re some sort of royalty.”

Dan hadn’t told them about his enhanced hearing, so Batman had no way of knowing that the three ghosts could hear him perfectly. Dan and Ellie shared a smirk at how done the man sounded with them.

Danny clapped his hands, startling some of Dan’s coworkers.

“Yes, you are correct! Danny Phantom, King of the Infinite Realms, at your service!” Danny said cheerily.

Ellie spoke next “Ellie Phantom, Princess of the Infinite Realms.”

They both looked expectantly at Dan, who sighed.

“Dan Phantom, Prince of the Infinite Realms.”

Technically, he was also sort of the king, but it had been a different Infinite Realms that he conquered, so this one had decided he was a prince. He was fine with it, honestly being King sounded annoying.

Predictably, that led to another outcry from his coworkers. Constantine looked like he was having a mental breakdown.

When they had settled down, Superman asked “You’re a prince?”

Flash chimed in “Also, your superhero name is just your last name?”

“You’re the prince of the Infinite Realms. The place the entities are from?” Wonder Woman added.

Dan rolled his eyes at the questions, before looking at Danny pleadingly. Danny sighed, but answered the questions for him.

“Yes, we are the royal family of the Infinite Realms. And the beings there are called ‘ghosts’, by the way. Also, Flash, it was a superhero name before it was a last name.”

If anything, that answer made Flash even more confused.

Ellie stuck out her tongue at Dan “If you just told them about us, you wouldn’t have to deal with all these questions!” she sang out.

Dan groaned “Can you stop it for two seconds?”

“Nope!”

“I swear to the Ancients, I’m gonna-“

“Settle down, you two.” Danny cut in, stopping the argument.

Dan and Ellie gave him matching pouts. They loved arguing with each other over nothing, it was fun.

Danny sighed, before turning back to the Justice League.

“So, Dan said that you’ve got a ghost problem?”

Batman stepped forward.

“Yes. Someone is summoning ‘ghosts’ into our world and causing havoc. Constantine doesn’t know who, but they need to be stopped.”

Danny closed his eyes for a moment.

“Okay, got it. Some asshole in Central City.”

Constantine startled “How do you know where he is? I couldn’t find him, even with my most powerful tracking spells!” He shouted, before a look of immediate regret came over his face. He probably just remembered that he was yelling at a death god, or close to one.

Danny dropped his smile, his eyes going blank. His presence seemed to double, a crushing sense of doom coming over the room. Constantine realized just how much he screwed up.

“The Realms is connected to all, especially those who are going to die shortly.” He said, flatly.

Dan chuckled slightly at Danny’s scary act, sharing an eyeroll with Ellie. Danny tried so hard to be intimidating, and it never really worked.

(Meanwhile, the entire Justice League is trying not to faint. Constantine really needs a drink.)

Superman shook it off first, asking “Going to die shortly? Are you going to kill him?” his voice pitched down at the end, trying to sound threatening.

Danny laughed, the crushing aura receding “No, of course not!”

Superman nodded, relieved.

“I’m just not gonna stop the others from doing it!” Danny continued.

Immediately, the mood of the room plummeted.

“What do you mean?” Batman asked.

Danny gave them a sharp smile, Ellie and Dan mirroring it on either side.

“He is enslaving my people, Batman. I’m sure they’ll want justice for that.”

Danny turned, opening another portal above the table.

“I’ll go deal with the asshole. Ellie, Dan, let’s go.” Danny said, smiling at them.

Ellie patted Dan on the head, before darting through the portal.

Dan looked out at the Justice League.

“I’ll be back in a bit, don’t wait up.” He said. He was definitely going to take advantage of his family coming to visit him, he wanted to hang out with them a bit. Maybe show them Gotham? He knew Danny and Ellie would get a kick out of it.

With that, Dan walked into the portal.

Danny surveyed the Justice League for a moment.

“Thank you for helping Dan. Don’t be too annoying to him over all this, okay?” His words were light, but his tone was anything but.

Batman nodded seriously.

Danny smiled, stepping through the portal to go keep his kids from getting into too much trouble.

(Constantine looked seriously at Batman “Don’t call me for the next week, I need to get drunk. To deal with all…that.”)

 ---

Tag List! 

@seraphinedemort @ever-changing-weirdo-3100 @thewondersoflebanon @botwadtict @akikkobara @sailor-goddess @dontfightmecauseillcry 

[3terna15unshin3]

Connected

—

A/N: idea came from this ask, so thank u anon🥰🥰 it was so fun to think of how Matty and Este’s relationship was seen from the other side like what fans pick up on, and also establish how much they decide to share with fans vs keep to themselves. this concept is so interesting to me but i had a hard time writing from the pov of a fan hahaha so i just did it this way instead :))

This obvs is based heavily on TBSG lore so none of this makes sense if you haven’t read the main fic - go do that first!! and also check out the Instagram AUs, they add to the pizazz

—

“Love, look what I just saw on Twitter. This is hilarious.”

Este points her phone screen towards Matty as they sit in bed on a Sunday morning. He yawns, tired and still half asleep, then blinks his eyes a few times to read what she’s showing him. It’s a tweet from a fan that sits in her mentions from a couple of days ago when a clip from his Zane Lowe interview resurfaced.

megs ⎕ PL4YINGONMYM1ND

thinking about the fact that matty mentioned meeting e.manansala when she worked at a bookstore in manc to zane and in this 2018 interview he said his fav spot in the city is Greenhouse Books …….. what are the chances this is the same bookstore bc that would be so😭😭😭💔💔💔💔 https://manchesterwire.co.uk/?s=matty+healy+give-yourself-a-try/arts&culture/article

jaymie SAW UNDO LIVE trmanb1ackk

→ Replying to PL4YINGONMYM1ND

Hold on you might be onto something

megs ⎕ PL4YINGONMYM1ND

→ Replying to trmanb1ackk

right like okaayyy bookstore worker x customer to lovers notting hill pipeline????? 🤭 huge if true

She watches his eyes scan over the text and a fuzzy smile grow on his face. Matty loves talking about Este when he can—to bring some much deserved attention to her writing—and did so often, but does’t always mention many the details of their relationship. That was until strolling around the Northern Quarter with Zane brought a bit of it out of him.

Este is what brings him back to Manchester the most often, from visiting her family and Cate and Georgia to just needing a bit of a homey feeling from its familiar pubs and nostalgic shops. So, naturally, Matty talked about her in the interview done for the release of Being Funny—explaining how they’d met and how much the city means to them both.

“How they put two and two together is beyond me,” he says, scratching his head. “That Manchester Wire interview was five years ago now, you know. Did you ever read that?”

She chuckles. “Course I did! We had a few fans come in that summer with the sole intention of coming to a place you recommended, actually.”

“Why have you never told me that?” Matty asks, “You’re welcome for the business, by the way.”

“You never even told me about your little shout out, to be fair. I had to find out on my own,” Este teases. “Plus, we weren’t even a thing at that point—we’d met once! Quite creepy, in retrospect.”

“When you put it like that it’s honestly so cringe so please change the subject now.” Matty buries his head in the bunches of sheets that sit in her lap, embarrassed and frankly too sleepy to defend himself.

Este giggles, letting her hands settle into his curls. “Oh c’mon, you weren’t cringe. I’m just pulling your leg. It was sweet,” she reassures him.

“You’re just saying that because you feel bad,” he whines, then rubs his eyes to try and get the sleep out of them. “That’s so crazy that they dug that up, though. I’m not sure if many people know you’ve been around since then.”

“They probably looked at your life in 2019 and figured you were a rockstar with a new girl in every city but in reality you were calling me to get to sleep every night and doing origami in your free time because it reminded you of me.”

Matty’s jaw drops at her blunt comments. “I was about to get mad but I can’t even disagree.” He sits up, raking the hair out of his eyes. “Do people still use the word ‘simp’? Can that be applied to this situation? Was I a simp?”

She throws her head back, mouth wide, as she laughs at how ridiculous his question is.

“Please don’t say ‘simp’, love. You’re 34.” Este squeezes out between her giggles, “But no, people don’t use that word anymore. And yes it can be applied. And also yes, you were. And still are.”

“Proudly am,” he adds.

She leans into his side and he snakes his arm around her waist. They sit there, Matty only in a pair of pyjama pants and her an oversized tee, scrolling through the funny replies to the tweet and how big of a deal some fans were making it.

“You should respond. Tell Megs that she’s right.”

“Seriously?” Este asks, shocked that he’d want her to engage in something so meaningless and speculative.

But alas, he nods casually with a smile. “Yeah. They seem sweet, and just curious. And maybe being such a simp will give me some brownie points,” confirms Matty.

“God, enough of that word!”

Este e.manansala

→ Replying to PL4YINGONMYM1ND

Can confirm🤝

liv livmymistake_

→ Replying to PL4YINGONMYM1ND and e.manansala

MEGS OH MY GOD

Jude 🥾🌎 ittsjudesk

→ Replying to PL4YINGONMYM1ND and e.manansala

UMMMMMMMMMMM

megs ⎕ PL4YINGONMYM1ND

→ Replying to e.manansala

omg hi😭😭😭 are being fr i can’t cope

Este e.manansala

→ Replying to PL4YINGONMYM1ND

Greenhouse is the bookstore i worked at and is where matty and i met that year:)) and hi💌

megs ⎕ PL4YINGONMYM1ND

→ Replying to e.manansala

i think i’m psychic for guessing that🤭🤭🤭🤭

—

megs ⎕ PL4YINGONMYM1ND

k now i’m going crazy bc i had no clue him and este had been dating for that long💀 was genuinely convinced it had been 3 years max

Jude 🥾🌎 ittsjudesk

→ Replying to PL4YINGONMYM1ND

Literally they didn’t post each other until like 2020

sarah🧸 _102sar

→ Replying to PL4YINGONMYM1ND

I think she was at the 2018 Pryzm show too. Not sure but I was at the after party and remember seeing her there lol

megs ⎕ PL4YINGONMYM1ND

→ Replying to _102sar

WHAT…….. this lore being uncovered omg

“Someone recognises you from the Brief Inquiry album release show?!” exclaims Matty in disbelief. “There’s no way.”

They still sit in bed as Este types away, having fun interacting with the small group. He leans his head on her shoulder and watches her as she does it.

“They’ve known you longer than I have, you know. They know their stuff,” she responds.

“Even I don’t remember you being at the Pryzm show.”

Este’s mouth falls open in shock, thoroughly offended. “You prick.”

“I’m joking!” Matty defends through fits of laughter. “C’mon E, I’m joking.”

She knows he is, but enjoys the theatrics of it all; shoving his head off her shoulder and scooting away from his touch in protest.

“That was a special night for me! The first time I saw you play and met the guys! Don’t make fun!” Este pouts, crossing her arms playfully.

“Fine. I take it back, I take it back,” Matty begs, dragging her back over to him and bringing her legs over top of his. He grabs her hand and places a kiss on her palm. “I remember meeting Cate, and introducing you to Louis. And Ross making fun of my gallbladder surgery, and leaving Cate on the dance floor to get drinks, and screaming at each other over the music at the bar. You telling me about the anniversary party. I very much remember!”

“Okay, okay. Enough gushing. I forgive you.”

Matty pecks her palm once more and shuffles her even closer. “Open Twitter back up. This is fun.”

Jude 🥾🌎 ittsjudesk

→ Replying to PL4YINGONMYM1ND and _102sar

This is absolutely shocking bc how did his chronically online ass manage to hide a whole gf that long

megs ⎕ PL4YINGONMYM1ND

→ Replying to ittsjudesk

fr!!! like do we think she was on the abiior tour with them bc i swear jordan absolutely fed us with so much bts content it would be impossible to miss?? someone dig

sarah🧸 _102sar

→ Replying to PL4YINGONMYM1D and ittsjudesk

If u scroll back on her IG u can see Matty in her comments since then. And they’d repost each other on their stories and stuff🥲 So not that hidden if ur a stalker like me lmao

megs ⎕ PL4YINGONMYM1ND

→ Replying to _102sar

thoroughly upset that i missed so much bf matty content </3

Este e.manansala

→ Replying to PL4YINGONMYM1ND and _102sar

Ignore me stalking u🤭🤭 i was indeed at that Pryzm show lol but we weren’t dating yet. And during abiior tour I saw a few UK shows but otherwise i was just in Manc working/being a bad groupie x

Este e.manansala

→ Replying to PL4YINGONMYM1ND

Also matty is sitting beside me now and he is cool with me filling u in (it was his idea) and he says hi. and that u guys are cute

megs ⎕ PL4YINGONMYM1ND

→ Replying to e.manansala

ohhh yes u are a working woman how could i forget!! bookstore worker/groupie same difference. thank u for responding😭 u are the coolest❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 (also hi matty😳)

Jude 🥾🌎 ittsjudesk

→ Replying to e.manansala

Hi Matty sorry for calling u chronically online x

Este e.manansala

→ Replying to ittsjudesk

He forgives you (but it’s true imo)

liv livmymistake_

→ Replying to e.manansala

este wait i have to know …. since u are a former bookstore girlie turned writer are u the reason matty periodically spam posts a bunch of literature on his instagram stories???? did u convert him to bookstoregirlieism??

Este e.manansala

→ Replying to livmymistake_

I am obsessed with the idea that he was illiterate before meeting me so i’m gonna say yes. thank u for that

Este e.manansala

→ Replying to livmymistake_

Liv it’s me I stole the phone and don’t appreciate this sentiment tbh. You should know I’ve always been a wanker so all the literature spams are just me letting that out and este just enables me. hope that helps x Matty

[okay-babe]

Hiya Dot! Sorry for the random ask but I am so in love with your writing that it single-handedly got me into this accursed fandom, and now I'm wondering where to start with other authors. Do you happen to have any fic or author recs??

Hi there, anon! I'm so glad you asked because I definitely have some author/fic recs that I'm more than happy to share with you/anyone else who comes across this post!

Before we begin though, shout out to all of the people I mention below! I hope none of you mind being tagged/linked but let me know if you do and I'll remove everything asap :)

1. Starting off strong, we have the amazing @jyoongim! She's been my mutual since I think like day one or two of me creating this account, and I honestly cannot think of anyone more kind or welcoming. Plus, their writing is amazing! Like genuinely so good, I cannot recommend her highly enough. 2. Also, if you're into smut, I am always utterly baffled at the quality of @hazelfoureyes' work. Like, as someone on the ace spectrum, I can say very firmly that sometimes, I don't want to read smut, but even so, I will always read a new post from Hazel when I see it because they're just so well written that I simply cannot wait lol. Plus, their sense of humor is just *chef's kiss*. Love them, truly. (Note: I used they/them here because I don't know Hazel's pronouns, but if anyone does and they aren't gn feel free to let me know and I'll edit this post asap) 3. Additionally, if you like headcannon style writing @a-hazbin-reader is incredible. I've spent actual hours on her page just reading through some of the absolute art she posts there, and it is always a treat. Plus her interactions with her readers are usually either hilarious or incredibly sweet/kind, so it's a good time all around.

As for story/specific fic recommendations, I do have a few of those too!

1. The Deer Dolly series by @ohproserpine (Genuinely incredible writing and a killer story line). 2. You & Me for the worst eternity to come by Notafraidtosimp on AO3 (Definitely not your typical x reader series, but I love everything about it and would never forgive myself if I didn't use this opportunity to share it with everyone). 3. The Partners in Death... and Life series by @safination (This might just be my favorite Alastor series I have ever read, the writing is incredible and I simply cannot recommend it highly enough). 4. Even Death Can Never Part Us by JuliaRobHURTS on AO3 (This is an amazing ongoing long-fic that makes me gasp audibly every time I see that there's been an update. The way the characters are written is utter perfection every time).

I definitely forgot some amazing fics/authors here in my haste to get this posted before class, so everyone should feel more than welcome to comment some other recs if they want to! <3

[lemonlokkich]

Writing prompt: Sky and Wind do crime together

The Mom Friend

Sky and Wind. Mainly Wind lol. Thank you for the prompt ace!

So,

Maybe he shouldn't have stolen that gem. Maybe he should've just kept his sticky hands to himself like Legend had warned him to when they entered Castle Town in the first place.

He should've listened to Twilight's warnings about how jumpy and panicky his towns folk were. How vigilant they were after the events of his adventure.

But the beautiful sky blue Sapphire was embedded in cheap metal that looked near to rusting. The thing's beauty was obviously neglected just to make a quick rupee and he had the perfect use in mind.

500 would've been fair if it was actual jewelry instead of an arts and crafts project gone wrong.

So Wind did what any reliable pirate would do, he calmly walked along the side of the booth, pressing as close to the crowd as he could get before deftly swiping the neglected object off the table in one smooth and most definitely practiced motion.

He almost dropped it as someone screeched in his ear, loud and panicked and angry.

“Thief! Thief!” A random woman standing behind him yelled, pointing straight at him and looking close to a near faint from the shock “Guards!”

Shit.

Fucking hell.

Farore strike him down.

A commotion of clanking armour erupted a few paces further from him in the crowd, the telltale sounds of a guard shouting in response to the mass of now panicking civilians who have devolved into clucking like frightened cuccos.

Wind didn't need to be told to run, he just went. He squeezed himself through the crowd, slipping the sapphire-junk amalgamation into his magic pouch where it'll -hopefully- remain safe.

Bodies pressed close as he ducked and weaved and sidestepped, the guard hot on his heels. He should've lost the guy way back in the crowd, but Twilight's era seemed to have a love for darker, duskier colours and had a clingy sort of shade to everything compared to Wind’s sunnier clothes and general vibe.

That made him easy to keep track of, even as he reached an entirely different section of the marketplace where the panic gave way to the familiar demure shuffling of the crowd.

He was so close, if he could just find an alleyway or shop to hide out in…

Cold metal clamped around his twiggy arm and he couldn't resist a tiny yelp as he was physically lifted into the air by the guard and left dangling like a misbehaving kitten in front of the knight.

This had the effect of both being eye level with the guard and being able to somewhat look over the crowd if he strained his neck a bit.

Only one of those was an issue as he locked eyes with the aforementioned guard and scowled his fiercest scowl.

It seemed to be a man around Times age, clearly strong by the way he lifted Wind up like a bag of straw. Although, his brothers claimed he really was just that scrawney which Wind sincerely resented.

He was a growing boy, okay.

The man scowled back at him, eyes narrowing.

“What do you think you're doing, boy?” The guard growled, low and timbre and reverberated through Wind who was… not intimidated at all.

Twilight told them his guards were kind of pathetic, all things considered. And Warriors definitely could be wayyyy more intimidating than this.

But Warriors also said to never speak when he got arrested until he could get ahold of any of them. Something something lawyers…

Hell if he knows.

He flattened his mouth into a thin line and started trying to wiggle out of the guards grip. The guard, who was positively shook by this very obvious escape attempt, just readjusted his grip a bit.

Which gave him a perfect opportunity to sweep his gaze across the crowd and have his eyes land squarely on the comforting sight of Sky.

Now, Wind could do a myriad of things in this situation. He could call out his brother's name, he could shout something unintelligible, he could just scream like the seagulls had taught him to back home.

Despite popular belief, those were not liable to work in any way shape or form. Because this is Sky.

But Wind has an idea… to exploit the hero's spirit.

Afterall no hero can resist the call of a child in danger… separated from their family perhaps.

Wind took a deep breath, and in the most boyish, shrieky shout he could manage he screamed.

“Moooooom!”

Several heads in the crowd swiveled around, mainly women and a few elderly folks.

But most importantly, Sky's head shot up and locked eyes with Wind and his totally hidden smug expression. He could spot a range of expressions flitting over the older man's face, glancing around before diving into the crowd and making his way towards them.

Wind could feel the guard stiffen, fingers tightening patiently as a collage of images of a thousand angry mothers flashed before the poor guy's eyes. Clearly experienced in the wrath of entitled mother's with their ‘little angels’.

It wasn't long before Sky burst into the little pocket in the middle of the crowd where Wind dangled.

Wind, who's smile sharpened in absolute delight before calling out in a very convincingly teary voice, “Mom! This mean guard grabbed me! He thinks I stole something…”

Sky's expression twitched between perplexed and incredibly amused before settling on a fake grave expression which made Wind's heart soar. He may get off scott free yet.

Sky put his hands on his hips, squinting upwards at the guard and teen duo.

“Well, did you?” He raised one eyebrow convincingly, voice pitched in a pretty convincingly feminine impression.

Who knew Sky was a man of such absolute skill? Wind did, Wind never doubted the Skyloftian for a second. Anyone who did is obviously a hater, looking at you young-Groose.

Wind let his eyes water a bit to make it even more convincing, flailing as a response and wiggling in the guards grip. The guard, who was way too haunted to recognize that Sky was a full grown man.

“No! Of Course I didn't! I was just looking I promise, you know I'd never, Mom! You would kill me!” Wind would like to credit his amazing acting skills towards Tetra, who had pulled the same stunt in front of his very eyes once.

Good job Tetra, go girl.

Sky gazed up at Wind for a longggg long moment, long enough that sweat was starting to bead at the boys brow in fear of Sky maybe backing off.

Sky definitely knew he stole something.

And then Sky glared.

The air went suffocatingly still for a moment, the guard shuddered and leaned back and as Sky locked his glare onto the guard the man dropped Wind.

He did not stumble, that was just… intentional. Part of the act.

Yes.

Sky was quick to wrap an arm around him and pull the boy into his side protectively, all like a mother he was pretending to be, still glaring.

“You don't lay another hand on my poor sweet angel again y’hear?” He clucked, wagging a finger at the guard for dramatic effect.

The guard sputtered, “B-but ma'am? I saw him, he stole-”

“He did no such thing! Didn't you hear him? He knows the consequences of stealing and my darling sweet child-” okay, laying it on a little thick there Sky- “would never lie to me, he may be a bit overamaginative, but a liar he is not!”

“I-”

“Don't you dare suggest such preposterous things ever again. My baby boy and I will be taking our leave now! Good day sir.”

“But-”

“I said, good day.” Sky growled.

The guard just sagged, a hopelessly defeated sigh escaping the poor fellow. “Good day, ma'am.”

With Wind still tucked under his arm, Sky turned and made his way back through the crowd.

“So, what'd you steal?” The Skyloftian asked, promptly dropping the act as soon as they were out of range.

“I'll have you know your sweet baby would never, mom”

----

Thank you for reading! My prompt inbox is always open if you wanna give me smth to write! This was written in like 1 hour and I proof read it only one omw to school so excuse my spelling and stuff. English is my second language.

If you wanna read more fics check out my ao3:

LemonLokkich

[lonleydweller]

Can I request hcs for Chop Top as a dad?

🌹Chop-Top as a dad hcs🌹

This was fun!! Thank you!!

!Warnings!: murder mention, cannibalism mention, mentioned generational trauma, some toxic mindsets due to time period, chop tops slightly neglectful at times

-----------------------------------------------------

● Now wether by some miracle he's had a biological kid or he's adopted some kid off the street.. I feel like he'd be a bit hesitant. Him, a dad? Having to take care of another human being? Especially with the life style him and his brothers are living? Maybe that's not the best idea.. kid would probably be better off with someone else, yeah?

● In this case however he ends up taking care of the kid anyways. He tries his best, rooting through books, magnezines, and such about parenting. He also often thinks back on what Bubba was like when he was younger as reference too, especially if the kid acts similar to him. It's been awhile since he's had to take care of an actual child.

● He certainly isn't going to ask Drayton for advice, even if he did practically raise him and his brothers while grandpa was working. Considering his method of parenting involed beatings with a broomstick and shouting. However it takes him time to realize some of his own behaviors need changing.

● During the first few months he has a tendency to walk off and leave the child unattended, after all its not like he has to constantly hover around his brothers. They're fine by themselves. He has to remind himself he's taking of a child, someone who's gonna need extra help, someone who he can't just leave completely by themselves to do whatever. Luckily Drayton and Bubba are around to monitor the little one too to make sure they don't maim themselves.

● Eventually he gets in the habit of taking the kid with him most places he goes, whether he's aimlessly wandering around the amusement park, in his room, or sometimes even out in public when he occasionally goes. Although someone might want to teach him how to properly carry a child first.

● He then has to try his best to turn down his teasing. He teases his brothers all the time mockingly, curses at them, makes light comments and insults. To him it's just his way of showing brotherly love, for the most part. Debatable when it comes to Drayton. However he quickly learns that type of behavior isn't going to fly well when it comes to his kid. It just makes them cry.

● Then of course, there's the whole being a serial killer and cannibal thing. Assuming they're younger he'll try his best to desensitize them to it slowly. Putting bits of human meat in their food to see if they like it, let them see a few chopped up bodies, Drayton might let them help him cook if chop top bugs him enough, then maybe they're a bit older he'll bring them on a few killing trips with him and Bubba!

● Once he gets a hang of what he's doing, he's pretty fun as dad, he has the hyperactivity and energy of a child so he can keep up pretty well with the kid. Also plays a lot of games with them, tag, hide and seek, board games if they have any, or anything either of the two can come up with.

● Very supportive with it comes to intrests! The like pins? He'll get the some. They like a certain band? He'll pick up some records. They like art? He'll steal them some supplies. They wanna go someplace real bad? He'll sneak them in at night.

● Maybe not the absolute best as a dad, but he'll try his best.

-----------------------------------------------------

[infini-tree]

episodic - part 3

< back | next >

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Summary: It's business as usual. At least it looks like it, and that has to count for something. The boys do a bit of arts and crafts. Krupp takes a step back.

A/N: literally the worst part of writing fic for CU is trying to think of pranks. they’re up there with choreographing fight scenes. also these next chapters were brought to you by: me referencing the movie’s art book i got as a gift. Locations And Fascinating Objects section my beloved…

this chapter's scene went through a lot of shuffling-- melvin was supposed to be in this one. but alas, once this was finalized he was pushed back into the next chapter. ideally. at the earliest. its been almost 4 years, i swear he actually has a part to play in this AU, he's technically part of the core secondary cast--

---------------------

Back in the present day, the boys snuck into the art room. Even now, there wasn’t a proper class for it in Jerome Horwitz, despite The Prank For Good. But because of it, Krupp never had the thought to put it under lock and key again. The doors still remained unlocked for any kid that needed it. And George and Harold had a big need. In fact, they had been caching away supplies when no one was looking.

Captain Underpants trailed behind them; he looked at the room and gave a small nod, murmuring something about being “back at the start”.

“What will we be doing this time, sidekicks?” He clapped his hands together. “Oh! I could try and ask for a carnival again–”

“NO!” both of them shouted. The hero jumped up in surprise and stayed in a low hover.

George was the quicker of the two to regain composure. “No, no– we’re doing something different.”

“Oh.”

Harold unpacked the contents of his bag. There was a ridiculous amount of flour and bottles around them, along with other plastic pails and shovels.

“Ooh, are we making a cake? Can I decorate it?” Captain asked.

George sighed. “It’s not for a cake.”

“Well, what is it for?” 

Harold dumped a bunch of flour and oil into the largest bucket with the glee reserved for children about to make a huge mixture of stuff. “Sand!”

When the hero continued to look baffled, George cut in. “With Krupp instating the grade-wide assignment gauntlet, we have to retaliate with the exact opposite of that.”

“…Recess?”

“Close!” Harold began to mix the concoction with a plastic shovel. “Summer vacation!”

“And we need to make a lot to really sell the beach vibe.”

“Oh…” Captain nodded with the confidence of someone who had no idea what that meant. He knelt down and gave a curious sniff at the flour sand, catching the faint whiff of some sort of cooking oil.  mix his own bucket the other boy handed to him.

To make a long story short, they managed to create enough of it to create a sizable layer in at least two classrooms. They hauled the first half of it to Guided’s classroom–or rather, Captain flew it over in record time. He began to push all the desks back and started to stack them high up against the edges of the wall. It reminded Harold of that one time he showed George a boardwalk on a faded postcard, tall buildings looming over sandy beaches.

“Why only two?” Captain asked as he stacked some of the desks on the teacher’s desk. “Why not make the whole school a beach?”

The boys perked up from their efforts to place the sand evenly across the classroom floor.

“‘Cause the first big tests are in Ms. Guided and Ribble’s classrooms,” Harold said.

“We’d have loved to do something big," George explained as he scattered the beach toys. "Really put the last big prank that happened here to shame–”

“But we had to improvise. Go for lots of smaller ones for the first part of this plan, you know?”

“First part?” Captain echoed. 

“Yeah!” Harold continued, ushering them all out of the room. Captain followed in a low hover, and George swept over the remaining footprints with a hand. Looking back at their work, it looked like no one was ever in the room.

“The first bit is to wear all the teachers and Krupp down. And then–”

“Bam.” he punched into his own open palm. “That’s where you come in!”

Captain tilted his head. “I thought this was where I came in?”

“What? No– I mean, we appreciate your help, but you have a bigger part to play here.”

“I do?” he asked.

“We figured you’d want to get back at Krupp, right?” George said. 

Captain was silent, his expression dumbfounded. 

“With enough pressure, he’ll back off from you and he’ll back off with all the sudden assignments!” Harold clarified. “It’ll be great.”

“We’re not sure how long he’s planning on making everyone miserable, but we’re planning for the long game.”

That seemed to make things more murky for him but the curiosity still remained. He tilted his head with furrowed brows, as if trying to figure out the connection between the two facts. “…How long, exactly?” 

“As long as it takes.” Harold gave him a good natured punch to the side. “Now come on, let’s get the other classroom set up.”

The boys grabbed his hands and led him back to the art room, chatting about what else they could do.

---------------------

The school didn’t know what hit them. 

Later that day, the fourth graders enjoyed the slices of beaches in the pair of classrooms. They made their sandcastles and moats as the teachers tried– and failed– to get their papers from their desks buried under their own students’ desks. 

And on the day after that, there was the petting zoo in the math classrooms on the same day a calculator-less test on long division was meant to happen. It was no tiger, but the kids enjoyed petting the sheep. For extra salt in the wound, there were numbers drawn in bright colors on their wool. 

Corralling the animals out was one thing. Finding out they were only Sheeps #1-6 and 8 was another, leaving all the teachers to scramble to find the last sheep of the set for the past few hours.

Apparently, the third time wasn’t the charm as George and Harold were called into the principal’s office. When they walked in, he had never bothered to close one of the desk drawers, clearly embroiled in whatever work principals do. Krupp was faced away from them, yelling into the phone.

“How many times do I have to explain it to you, there probably isn’t a Sheep #7– are you falling asleep counting them?” He turned to face them and grimaced. “I’ll get back to you.” 

He hung up the phone, glaring at them as they took their respective seats. 

“Care to explain the last few days?”

Harold shifted in his seat as he gave a glance to the other boy. “We have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“We were a bit too busy dealing with the sudden wave of assignments and tests to try anything,” George added with a shrug.

“Don’t play innocent with me. The gaps in my memory are extremely obvious.” He waggled an accusatory finger at them.

“Like we said, we were busy–”

“What– watching him get bit by sheep yesterday?!” He held up his other arm filled with band aids of various sizes.

George leaned over to the other boy and whispered, “Man, they can be really vicious, huh?” 

Krupp slammed his fists onto his desk. He opened his hands. Closed them. Before pushing himself off his seat to look down at them. “Whether you’ll actually admit it, I’ll cut to the chase. Stop whatever you’re trying to do.”

“If it was us, why would we? You started it.”

“Oh, hah–” He let out an incredulous, breathless laugh at that. “I started it? You’re one to talk after all you’ve done to me. You should be grateful I don’t just hold you back right now for that comment!”

Harold was unmoved. “Man, you got so much worse– I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Oh, I can do so much worse after your little breaking and entering stunt,” he shot back. “Invading my privacy, looking into things you shouldn’t–”

“So you admit you were talking to him.”

“Now I never said anything about talking, have I?”

George and Harold leveled a glare at him, refusing to give him any confirmation or satisfaction that he was right. “So that is why you cracked down on the entire fourth grade, huh?”

“Or maybe it has to do with the fact that I’m losing sleep over mysterious injuries!” The boys wanted to speak up, but he refused to give them that. “And– and, seeing the school be nearly destroyed multiple times a week.”

“Not like you really cared about the school before,” George grumbled.

Krupp spluttered furiously, turning a new shade of red in the process. “Says the children who keep on endangering it and wasting its resources!"

“We’re saving the school!”

“From problems you made up.” He slowly made his way around his desk to them. “Is that why you made me your little stooge? Were you just tired and wanted to feel important in your little superhero fantasy? Or was getting rid of me the main motivation here?”

George stood up from his chair. “Oh, if we could have, we would have!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, it suddenly felt like the office had turned somewhat askew. Gone was the red in Krupp’s face and gone was the anger– if anything, he looked like he had been slapped in the face. His mouth opened. Closed. Nothing.

The boys were suddenly aware of the clock ticking, now that it was completely silent. George couldn’t help but be reminded of the time he said something that crossed some unseen line with his mom.

And just as quickly as the conversation was fishtailing out of what any of them were used to, the principal clambered for any sense of control.

“I’ll deal with the both of you later.” He put up a hand to rub his temples– and conveniently hid his eyes. “Get out.”

Harold blinked. “What–”

“NOW!” He whipped his arm to point at the door.

They stumbled out of their seats and ran without a second thought.

---------------------

For the rest of the last class of the school day, Harold was sitting on pins and needles as he looked at the clock. While most kids looked at it expectantly for the final bell to ring, right now he was dreading it.  He figured George was doing the same.

Krupp getting the jump on them was a matter of when today , not if, especially when he was as mad as he was earlier.

Five minutes. He glanced to the front of the class. Even Rected was struggling with the new mandate to increase kids’ work. Which, he guessed, made sense– more work for them meant more stuff the teachers had to look at.

Two minutes.

Speaking of work, he was quickly scribbling out some ideas for the next issues. Though he couldn’t help but let his mind wander off to the other prank plans they had– he figured by the way Rected was pulling at his hair, they can bring Captain in for the cherry on top by the end of next week–

The speakers screeched to life. There was a beat of silence long enough for someone to ask if Krupp called an announcement on accident, until–

“Pop science fair, end of this week,” he said tersely. “Hope you can wow the teachers, since this is now a good chunk of your mark. How much? That’s the ‘pop’ part of that.”

The kids began to groan and slam their heads on their desks. Even more heads fell on their desks as another screech echoed through the school.

“You have George Beard and Harold Hutchins to thank for that. That will be all.”

The bell rang. One by one, everyone turned his direction, some shocked, others confused, many furious. Even Mr. Rected gave a baffled look.

After dodging the onslaught of kids ready to hound him or worse due to the announcement, he found George running down the hallway for similar reasons. At some point along the way, the other boy got their skateboards and helmets. With a frantic throw, they skateboarded out of the front yard and down the quickest route to their house.

“George?” Harold said, once they turned to their street. He had been eerily silent the whole time.

The other boy jumped off his own board and pulled his helmet off. He could see how much sweat was on his forehead now.

“Change of plans–” He stomped the end of the skateboard to make it stand before quickly grabbing it. “We’re taking stock of everything tonight.”

Harold stared at him. He knew why– he could still feel a flare of indignation from that announcement.

It was like George read his mind. “What Krupp said– those were fighting words. We’re going to move the Captain Plan up next.”

He gave a curt nod.

[tixdixl]

"You're so thoughtful for wanting to celebrate my birthday with me. Genuinely, I'm honored!"

Set Home: Thank you for the wishes!

Groovy: [LOCKED]

Home Transition 1: I like to think that being born on the day of the Summer Solstice wasn't a coincidence. Oh, no. I don't mean that in a righteous way or anything. I've just been told I have a "sunny" disposition.

Home Transition 2: Another trip around the sun complete! On to the next chapter of this journey!

Home Transition 3: I'm honestly really excited to see all of my friends come together in the spirit fun and sharing each other's joy. There's nothing more I could possibly want on my birthday!

Home, after Login: I'm glad you could make it!

Home Transition, Groovification: [LOCKED]

Tap Home 1: Kalim and Rook both said I'm not allowed to prepare my own birthday party. It sounds like one of them is planning a surprise, but I'm honestly not sure.

Tap Home 2: If I had my way, I would want to eat one of Trey's cakes. But I wouldn't want to put him under all that stress. He's dealing with so much already.

Tap Home 3: I have a feeling Ruggie is going to try and steal one of my gifts. Either that or my jacket. "Something something boyfriend privilege."

Tap Home 4: I'm sorry- I'm just so giddy! Seeing everyone's smiles just makes me so happy.

Tap Home 5: A birthday without friends and loved ones is a birthday to mourn.

Tap Home, Groovification: [LOCKED]

Birthday Jacket Vignette 1

Birthday Jacket Vignette 2

Birthday Jacket Vignette 3

~ ~ ~

So normally, I don't have the time to get things done for character birthdays. But somehow, I managed to get literally everything ready in time for Emil's birthday. And I'll be the first to admit, this card art actually required me to do a lot of work outside my comfort zone, and I spent a LOT of time on the graphic design aspects. For what it's worth though, I'm actually really really proud of how it all turned out!

If anyone who uses CSP wants to know which fonts I used for the date and the initial patches:

Numbers and Initials = STENCIL

Date = Old English Text MT

Also major shout out to @the-trinket-witch for that post compiling all of the fandom resources. Literally, so much time was saved because of that master post. Thank you, thank you, a million times, thank you!

Tag list: @cyanide-latte @simons-twsted-children @inmateofthemind @ramshacklerumble

@rainesol @elenauaurs @blithesharem @theleechyskrunkly

@thehollowwriter @boopshoops @starry-night-rose

LMK if you want to be added/removed!

[makethatelevenrings]

AHHHHH! Massive congrats on 3k!!!!!! Your writing is so good I’m not surprised you have so many fans!!! 🙌💕 For the prompt could I please request “Did I do good?” with Mr. Bruce Wayne? 😁 Thank you!!! ❤️❤️❤️

tw: blood! explosions! canon-typical violence! angst! i'm sorry but i'm not! i actually started fanfics as an angst writer so...sowwy

also, give this man a bunch of tiny robins and a scary Clark Kent. send tweet.

“I don’t understand what’s the big deal,” Bruce said as he tugged his bowtie into place. You scoffed from where you stood across the room, one heel on and an earring halfway into your ear. The annual Wayne Enterprises Gala which touted “a celebration and appreciation of all of our amazing employees” was set to start in half an hour and here you were, arguing with the man of the hour in your bedroom.

“Of course you don’t understand,” you seethed. “Bruce, your kids just want to see their father outside of the suit sometimes, okay? I know you have this crusade. I know better than anyone what hell you put yourself through, but you forget that you are a father and a husband sometimes.”

“How can I forget when you’re so eager to remind me?” he snapped. You knew that he was stressed. There was a new player on the field that he hadn’t been able to nab yet and they were causing havoc around the city. You got it, you understood that, but he had missed Damian’s art show and prying the youngest out of his shell was already a Herculean task. Bruce’s failure to show up, despite you and Dick coming, seems to have instilled this idea of Damian being “unworthy of Father’s approval” and therefore, a failure. Nothing you could say or do was changing his mind and it was breaking your heart to see him like this.

You straightened up once you had your heel firmly settled on your foot and adjusted the skirt of your gown to fall straight before adjusting your earrings. Clearing your throat, you clasped your hands in front of you and waited for Bruce to look up from buttoning his tux.

“I understand that you have a worthy and noble cause. You forget, however, that I am your wife and that means I have duties too. I have supported you countless times throughout the years, I have taken in and loved every child you have brought home, and I have never once asked you to give up your night job. But if you ever speak to me like that again, Bruce Thomas Wayne, then you better have a good story for the press as to why I left you.”

With that, you walked out of the room and let the heavy oak door slam shut behind you.

He doesn’t have a chance to speak to you once the gala starts. You’re busy wining and dining various business executives and fellow billionaires, keeping them up to date on all of the charitable work the company was engaged in. Occasionally, one of the kids would steal you away to give you a break from the monotony of small talk and you appreciated it so much. You loved each and every one of your kids so much that it made your chest hurt at the very thought of the work they put in every night. Currently sandwiched between Damian and Duke, you felt a sudden urge to pull your sons in close and hug them tightly.

And that’s when you noticed the look on Bruce’s face.

“Something’s wrong,” you whispered. Duke nodded in understanding and Damian tried to wiggle out of your arms, but being the wife of Gotham’s resident vigilante had taught you some things. You spun Damian in closer and pulled Duke around him before turning and placing your body between them and the oncoming blast as the detonation ripped through the ballroom of the Tipton Hotel in downtown Gotham.

A high pitched ringing shriek reverberated through your ears when you came to. Multiple people were shouting and sobbing beneath the blare of the fire alarm. Someone was shouting your name and you desperately tried to focus on whoever it was. Your vision was blurry and you winced as a calloused hand rubbed your eyes before patting your cheek.

“Bruce…” you murmured once you could finally see. His blue eyes were full of panic, an emotion you rarely saw in the indomitable man. Why was he so worried? Did something happen?

Right. The explosion.

“The kids…are the kids okay?” you gasped out. He nodded and shouted something over his shoulder that was too quick for you to understand. Why was he here? He needed to be suiting up and hunting down whoever did this. You would be fine, you just needed to get to your feet.

“Stop. Stop moving,” he barked. You stilled instantly under his strong hands and took a chance in looking down. Warm, fresh blood stained the entire front of your gown and you inhaled a shuddering breath before you let your head fall back on the floor.

“Bruce,” you whispered. “Bruce. Did I do good?”

“What? Honey, you’re in shock. Just focus on staying awake, okay?” Worry laced his tone and you could feel him holding pressure on your abdomen. Was it shrapnel? Debris? You didn’t have time to focus on the specifics.

“Bruce, look at me.” His eyes met yours instead of the frantic, frenzied glances around the room. “Are the kids okay?”

“They’re fine. A few cuts here and there but they’re fine.”

“Did I do good?” you repeated. His brow furrowed at your question and he shook his head, indicating that he didn’t understand. “Bruce, was I a good mother? A good wife?”

Realization dawned on his face and you wished desperately that you could wipe away the tears building in his eyes. Bruce leaned down and pressed a featherlight kiss to your forehead, as if anything harder would break you instantly, and then leaned back.

“You are an amazing mother and wife and when you are out of surgery, I will spend the rest of my life groveling,” he vowed. You chuckled at his promise and smiled up at him. Your handsome Bruce.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Your voice was growing weaker and he bellowed for a paramedic once again. They were coming, but not quick enough. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this. Not after your anger and the fight and his idiocy. Not ever. He wouldn’t be able to survive if he lost you.

Bruce stood to let the paramedics prepare you for transport to Gotham General. Your blood soaked the white sleeves of his shirt and his hands, but he couldn’t feel his skin. For a brief moment, he thought about suiting up, but he knew better. Nightwing, Red Hood, and Black Bat were on the hunt. They would find whatever bastards did this.

He stared down at the puddle of blood on the ground where you had laid and, in a blink of an eye, saw your blood mingle with two others on the ground of an alley in the Bowery.

He couldn’t suit up. Not right now. He didn’t give a fuck if Jason buried a bullet in the head of whoever masterminded this fucking show.

If Bruce got into the suit right now, to hell with his code. Not even Clark would be able to tear him away from killing them slowly, one by one, until they knew he was coming and all they could do was wait in fear.

If Bruce Wayne lost you, he didn’t know what he would do.

Tag List:

@someoneimsure @perpetual-fangirl900 @visagebrise @alexxavicry @the-wayward-daughter @cursedandromedablack

[mageknight14]

Something I always find funny when it comes to TWEWY discussion is how people tend to take Hanekoma’s words at face-value when it comes to the TWEWY mythos and his opinions on the Shinjuku games’ structure and take everything he says as fact when the games show, subtly or not, that he’s a heavily biased source who will outright LIE in the Secret Reports and that he’s not always the right moral viewpoint.

And that’s what I honestly love about his character because like any well-written character, he is often fraught with his own subjectivity.

I think an important thing to note is that in the Secret Reports, there is a small mistranslation that shapes a lot of what Hanekoma has to say regarding the events that takes place within the story; namely, Rindo DOESN’T have a high Imagination. It’s actually rather low or mediocre and his Replay power mainly comes from his pin, with Nagi and Fret being the real powerhouses.

(Shout-outs to my friend ζ for this great document!)

In the original ENG translation, the report went "For better or for worse, he is able to maintain abnormally high levels of Imagination, thereby increasing the accuracy of each Replay."

When in actuality, it’s "The higher [the] levels of Imagination he is able to maintain, [the] increas[ed] accuracy of each Replay." Which basically means that Replay relies on him maintaining the focus of his Imagination, rather than how much Imagination he has in general. It also fits in well what we know about Rindo and how he contrasts his team. Nagi is a huge otaku with a passion for her favorite gacha game, Fret is a fashionista that’s caught up on the latest trends, Shoka has her entire thing with Gatto Nero and Neku and Beat are winners of the last Reaper’s Game, with the former already having high amounts of Imagination even before he got sucked into the game due to a combination of his love for urban culture and the arts and Hanekoma’s graffiti subconsciously raising his Imagination levels even higher. Meanwhile, all Rindo has is the words of a social media guru that he mindlessly parrots and a mobile game that he casually plays. Not exactly grounds for cultivating a high level of Imagination, no? That said, Rindo is still able to function as a potent user of Replay due to his ability to hold a LOT of information in his head at one time, giving him a holistic view of the situation that makes him be able to piece together character relationships and bits of information in a way that he can use to his advantage to turn a bad situation around to his favor. W1D5, W2D2, W3D3, and the final day are especially great examples of this.

This is an important distinction to make because Hanekoma actually dismisses Rindo multiple times due to his low Imagination, in contrast to how supportive he was of Neku in the first game. Hanekoma's prioritization of Imagination is him believing that it is a necessary foundation for people to have in order to face adversity; to interpret their world; to grow, self-analyze, and to properly contribute to society. With that in mind, Rindo not having a good level of Imagination to him is indicative of a kid whose potential to do all these things is not as impressive and therefore would probably fail the Shinjuku Reaper’s Game. And to some extent, he’s right since Rindo does fuck up at times and stagnate when people he believes to be more capable show up to potentially solve his problems for him; taking away his responsibilities from him.

However, Rindo does grow from his mistakes, which ultimately culminates into him rejecting the offer for Haz to solve everything for him in favor of striving for a better future for both him and the people he cares about and the Shinjuku Game’s ruleset does make him come out of his shell as a leader, which was what ultimately saved all of them in the end, not his Imagination levels. It’s important to note that unlike the others, Rindo doesn’t actively participate in Operation Awakening: he’s the guy who gets the pieces to go where they need to go in order to have the operation go by smoothly and navigates them to do their job correctly. Operation Awakening ultimately succeeds due to Rindo’s skill as a leader, which Hanekoma did not view as something to make ado about. Hanekoma's vibe was that imagination, and by proxy, the things it provides a person to do, is something that is predisposed..but Rindo proved that you don't have to be predisposed to imagination to do really amazing things or affect change on a grand scale; you can learn how to do it through your experiences. There’s a reason why World is Yours, which is basically Rindo’s theme, has the phrase "Making mistakes is proof that you’re challenged. The World is Yours."

This is also a pretty big contrast when you consider how the Shibuya Game operated, which was heavily biased towards high Imagination people to excel further while pushing low Imagination people out of the running. I mean think about it: out of a normal week in the original game (Week 1), only Neku and Shiki survived legitimately (Beat only got by due to Hanekoma’s intervention in order to make him a wild card later on). But because they have high Imagination, Hanekoma is fine with such a low survival rate for the others. If someone only cares about supporting the already "gifted", then it makes sense that Hanekoma would only focus on a model that promotes Imagination gain and self-reflection for those he deems worthy, i.e. already have good Imagination.

That’s not even getting into how the nature of psychs and pins already predisposes low Imagination people to be weeded out in the original game. And of course, there’s also this Report from the original to consider.

"So, what happens to those who survive the week? Those whose Imagination is less than outstanding are broken down into Soul, while those with excellent Imagination become Reapers. The most talented of these may travel to the next plane, inhabited by Us Angels."

Remember Sota and Nao? By Hanekoma’s and the Shibuya Game’s logic, those two deserved to be absorbed into Soul by account of them not being able to survive but it’s because how the Game operates, that’s just how it has to be, even though the circumstances were out of their control and they are shown to be genuinely good people. From Hanekoma's view, he sees the act of facilitating Imagination as the means to progress evolution; a way to improve the health of world's laws. And why wouldn't he, right? By focusing on Imagination, you are promoting people to think better, to build self-awareness, to grow and change into better people; to reflect. Hanekoma finds this to be ideal, but maybe doesn't consider the vast ways with which people could achieve high Imagination. Hanekoma essentially viewed the lack of focus on Imagination specifically in the Shinjuku Games as precluding the capacity to grow and change, but failed to account for ways in which the team system could allow for growth and self-reflection in other ways even without an entry fee, and arguably more so because of it. The great thing about Hanekoma as a character is that while he has good intentions, he still falls under the Higher Plane mentality of "the ends justify the means" and this leads to a heavily biased perspective from his end. Just take a look these excerpts from the original game’s secret reports:

"My art is widely accepted in Shibuya."

"This proves that those with Imaginations sufficient to create the future are gathering in the area. Shibuya's future is looking very bright."

"I imbue my art with two command codes. The first is "Enjoy the moment more". This strengthens the Imagination. The proxy received this signal loud and clear, though past trauma precluded him from responding accordingly."

"The second code, "Gather", calls to those with strong Imaginations. Hence the inevitability: why wouldn't the Composer find his worthy proxy standing in front of my graffiti?"

When you break it down, he’s essentially saying "My art is so good that it is propelling Shibuya into a better future. Just ignore how I implant my own codes within it to specifically cultivate Imagination." Sounds just a bit egotistical, doesn’t it?

Shibuya is a hub of youth culture and is where new trends are born. Of course the UG of it would value individuality and creativity -> influencing others through art and passion. Shinjuku is both a business district but also has a very expansive night culture. It’s considered "adult" in comparison so of course the UG would value having to work with many, many different kinds of people -> being able to navigate and work with people to your advantage. This also helps to explain why the concept of entry fees aren’t a thing because the team set-up is the challenge in and of itself. Obviously Shiba’s version of the game is an anomaly so huge teams like that probably wouldn’t exist in a "normal" version of the game.

But being a leader in and of itself puts that individual in the best position to ascend and gain power within the UG, but then the leader is burdened with being in charge of the individuals under them. Meaning they have to learn to balance the two and work with their team. Likewise, just joining a team means you end up at the mercy of just following along with what your leader says, meaning without the ability to actually challenge or discuss things openly, you will also fail as an individual within that team.

Let’s compare Fuya and Kanon’s teams for this example: Fuya is explicitly noted to have a high Imagination but that didn’t stop him or his team from repeatedly coming into second-to-last place and the mental breakdown he’s currently having while Kanon doesn’t have a whole lot yet she has her head on her shoulders and the social skills needed to be an effective leader, hence why she and her team are able to survive relatively comfortably in the middle. Just having high Imagination or high qualities won’t be enough on its own if you’re unable to work together and balance out your respective strengths The Wicked Twisters end up being the best example of this ideal since they’re able to work together and clash thoughtfully as a team and support one another in times of needs, with the final day in particular running entirely on this concept. If just a single piece was out of place, the entire thing would’ve fallen apart.

Ultimately, Rindo’s growth is a response to OG TWEWY in that you don’t need high Imagination or some other equivalent to be able to enact change and that there are other methods to do so, especially if you use your own unique strengths for them.

Then we must compare how the respective Games are operated. The Shibuya Reaper missions (other than the one assigned by Kitaniji) tended to be pretty simple: go here, defeat Noise, etc. The other stuff such as the need to fix 777’s lighting seemed less about intentionally giving a mission and more incidental. They additionally have harrier Reapers, who more or less fit as the game’s RNG element with their job being to actively hunt down Players like animals. With this and giving the Players simple missions with little structure to go on but letting them have to figure out any resultant complications, the Shibuya Game is a lot more chaotic. By contrast, the Shinjuku Reapers are a lot more involved and administrative, which is fitting considering their business aesthetic. You have them being around to answer questions (unless you’re Shoka but she’s had to do this repeating structure for ages without a shake-up of things so it makes sense that she would be sick of it), preventing unfair interference, providing help, and generally ‘administering’ the missions. You have ordered events like the Scramble Slams, with the commentator actively, well, commentating, more involved missions like decals being set up ahead of time, spot-the-difference missions, a pig treasure hunt, etc…

Of course, there are certainly chaotic elements as well (bribing Reapers for more points, having to act on the whims of the Game Masters, teams forming alliances with one another, etc) but for the most part, it’s a much more controlled structure and it really fits in well when you consider the individuality vs sociality mindset of Shibuya and Shinjuku respectively and shows why Hanekoma, an Angel infatuated with Shibuya, would look down on the Shinjuku games in comparison. In his mind, Shibuya’s more emergent mechanics and interactions allow for more Imagination to be cultivated and to him, Imagination is the sole important thing to focus on. But Rindo’s growth disproves that mentality quite a bit and shows that, like many things, there’s room for compromise between both sides. It may also reflect the devs' changing opinions as culture has changed. In 2007 Nomura and company may have focused more on individual talent under the idea of the spirited sole artist, but by 2018, they realized that leadership and followership, and the ability to work in teams, also really fucking matters. Individuality is still important at the end of the day, hence why Rindo needed to get his shit together and not just become a follower like he was before in order to achieve better things for himself and others, but accepting and learning to balance different viewpoints in order to achieve a desired solution is also extremely important.

At the end of the day, Rindo’s growth is a response to OG TWEWY in that you don’t need high Imagination or some other equivalent to be able to enact change and that there are other methods to do so, especially if you use your own unique strengths for them and even Hanekoma himself seems to realize this when he praises Rindo’s ultimate decision and the courage he had to have to make that choice and sincerely hopes to meet him someday.

Ultimately, Rindo’s growth is a response to OG TWEWY in that you don’t need high Imagination or some other equivalent to be able to enact change and that there are other methods to do so, especially if you use your own unique strengths for them. And even Hanekoma himself seems to realize this when he praises Rindo for this courage he had to make his final decision and that he sincerely hopes to meet him someday.

[undermine-the-instinct]

Crush or Chance?

● Bard!reader masterlist ● Next part.... ●Warnings: None ● Wc: 5.9K

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times and shame on the both of us. So what be said for a fourth time?

(Or in other words, Kaveh met you long before you knew him.)

If he's being a little honest, Kaveh has a bit of a crush on you. 

Or maybe it's something more like a bittersweet admiration, the same way you'd look at phoenix and think, this will end in flames.

The more he worked, the more clients he contracted the more dissatisfied he became. Functionality over art, structure over beauty, efficiency over soul. He felt like life was being drained out of him. And after a while, he started thinking; Why should I? What was the point? However great he was in the eyes of others, no matter what praises they heap onto him, he is but one person. What could he do on his own?

And how arrogant of him to hope to even try! What has he ever truly done? Even his Magnum opus; A palace that doesn't even belong to him and has buried him in a lifelong debt. He was never really ever going to amount to much.

 It was during one of these depressing bouts of his that he met you.

Bars are cesspools, collecting tears and drunken spurs, but also joy. Like his polar opposite you lit up the room, and he couldn't help but feel drawn. Your voice resounded throughout the space, and it stirred something deep in his heart. He felt like he had just found the answer to a puzzle he was grilling over for so long, and seemingly, for no reason at all. He was alive! He was in a bar! Shouldn't he be joining in on the merry?

And so he danced the night away. He sang and greeted old friends and he paid for all his drinks that night. It wasn't until the place was closing that he thought about the bard that stirred his heart and feet into action. But by then you were long gone. If it's meant to be I'll find them again, he thought, and began the trek home.

He didn’t get to meet you that night. He found you again though another day, dancing in the center of a crowd that had surrounded you. There was a man playing a fiddle, while another played on a flute. You were barefoot, a scarf around your waist trailing behind you in a ribbon of silk, a smile on your face. You weren't afraid to get too close to the crowd, you snapped fingers and captured a delighted stranger in your scarf, taking a child by the hand and twirling them around and around.

Mentioning art is the quickest way to end a conversation, is something that is generally known in Sumeru. But there was no conversation to be had here, there was only music and laughter, for the simple joy of being able to move. He felt like a bystander watching a moving painting.

Shouts sounded behind him, and as one the crowd turned back to see. Matra were approaching with scowls, a collective thunderstorm to usher the people on and disperse the crowd.

“Hey! You folks! You're under arrest for public misconduct and unsanctioned musical performance!”

“Uh, no we’re not!” with a last bow to the crowd, and a trilling sound from the flutist, you and your companions ran in opposite directions, gone like magpies in the wind. One second you're there and then you're gone. 

Kaveh wants to know what your name is. Who are you? 

“Oh, that pest? Just some runt from all the way in Monstadt,” a client frowns, deep and fissured.

“One of those traveling sorts, so let's hope that they pack up and get moving soon.”

“Have they been especially troublesome?” He scoffs at this and looks at Kaveh with wide disbelieving eyes.

“‘Especially trouble?’ Like you wouldn’t believe! You and I both know how the Akademiya hates those artsy types, and then this person shows up and decides to make a whole mockery of that. And for what? Out of spite? How childish.”

“I might have seen them around actually, at a few bars I've visited with some colleagues,” Kaveh supplies, refilling the man’s drink.

“They didn’t look like the sort to cause much trouble.” He’s a liar. As a matter of fact, that smile you wore back then spoke nothing but mystique and mischief. 

“Those Monstadt types always like to cause trouble. They had one revolution and think themselves all martyrs and rebels. Trust me, I’m older than you and I know. Remember that one girl who graduated from the Akademiya in two years? I even offered to sponsor that girl and look where she is now; working as a librarian in that grass field of all places,” he scowled.

“What a waste of talent. I’ve had enough of them, so let's hope this one hops over to Fontaine or something, they'd be welcomed over there I bet. Now, didn't we come here for something? The plans for my building, you got them?”

“Of course sir, right here…” This isn't the first time he's heard something like this, especially amongst his oldest clients. It's a shared sentiment, and it feels like something bitter and vindictive. He knocks back his own glass.

Kaveh doesn't know who you are, but he wonders; if you ever went to Fontaine, would his mother like you?

The next time he sees you is in a public garden. And he's late, he was supposed to be at a meeting with another client at least forty five minutes ago, but rushing along, the way you were just standing there caught his eye.

He can hardly see you above all the rolled blueprints and stuffed folders he's carrying, he forgot his bag and it was too late to go back and get it, but he could tilt his head back and get a clearer look at your form in the grass.

Standing in the shade and dappled sunlight of a great tree, barefoot and…posing. He followed your gaze to a book you had lying open in the grass, and saw a few poses and stands he half recognized, all hand drawn with notes in the margins.

You paid no mind to the odd looks or stares you were getting, the way that people gave you a wide berth of space, how some shook their heads and scurried their children on, the way that others would stop and stare before shaking themselves out of their reverie. Kaveh wasn’t part of either group, but he was still…watching you.

He must have been more obvious than most because you lifted your head just as you were stretching, tilting your head in question like a bird, an automatic smile on your face. Quizzical but warm. He tilted his head back at you, like the idiot he was, and your smile broke out wider. 

“Good morning to you too, stranger! What are you up to this fine morning?”

Him? You were speaking with him? He lifted up the filled blueprints he had in his arms, obscuring his face more. “Off to work. And, um, how about you?”

“Stretching! Or at least, pretending to.” You twirled a bit into your next position, so that you had your back to him now.

“You're not doing a very good job pretending.”

“Oh? Am I being too obvious?” There was mirth in your voice, amusement.

“You're doing an arabesque in a demi-plie, I think it's obvious.” You stumbled a little and whirled so fast to look at him that he wondered for a second if you could get whiplash. He was holding too many blueprints he could imagine it was hard to see anything other than his bob of his hair and his brows.

“...You know what an Arabesque is?” He shrugged carefully.

”My mother lives in Fontaine, and they are fond of performances there. I know a few terms.” He saw your expression fall a bit through the peeps of his papers, but you brightened up before he could say anything more.

“That's still more than most people I've talked to. What else do you know?”

Kaveh could see you, eager and open to a stranger like himself. He recalled the way the crowd clapped along with you when you were dancing in the street. The way you sang, loud and unabashed, like a thunderbird whose only job it was was to wake the world, to a prophecy now foretold. But he couldn’t tell the future, and he thought neither could you.

How naively brazen you are. How unapologetically bold. How lovely.

“...Aren't you afraid?”

“What?” Your face shuttered off into confusion but he went on.

“Sumeru isn't the most ideal place for musicians and artists. I’m sure you've felt the general attitude and atmosphere, so, what are you doing? Aren't you scared of the repercussions?”

“Repercussions?”

“The sages have the matra set on you. That's not a rumor-it's fact. Aren't you scared of what else they could do to you?’’

“Well yeah, of course I am? But what else am I supposed to do, change the way I live?” His eyes widen, while you scoff, kicking up your feet.

“I’ve said it before and I'll say it again, they’re frightened of us.”

“Frightened? Frightened of what?” What could the sages, the governing force and face of Sumeru, have to fear from the populace?

“Frightened of what we can do? What has humanity done when pushed against the corner, or forced inside the cave? What have we done when the night falls and the rain pours?” You spread out your arms and tilt your head towards the sky.

“We sing! We gather together to tell stories over our work, we dance around the fire, we paint the tales of our passages onto the cavern walls, all things we have done before the written word. Even then, when we learned to write and record our stories, we created fables and tall tales to tell one another.”

“After humans discovered how to read and write, civilization did start to advance, at a before unprecedented rate.,” He admits.

“Art is what pushed civilizations to prosperity. It continues to.  The only reason The Akademiya doesn't acknowledge this is because they don't see nor recognize everything as a form of art.”

“Isn’t that a bit naive though?” He shuffles the load in his arms.

“That sounds like romanticism to me.”

“It is. And what's wrong with that?” You shrug.

"Tell me, who embroiders those elegant robes they all wear? Who tills and plants their outdoor gardens? Who builds their offices and homes and buildings? Who cooks their food or carves their furniture? Art is intrinsic to humanity. It is inevitable, irrefutable. Are they trying to deny that?" You scowled.

"Do they not find these things lovely, and necessary? Do they think themselves above the divine craft of creation? Do theyhink themselves as Gods?" You scowled harder, but then sighed, letting your breath out in a single push.

"Hm. But, that's not the question you asked me, right?"

“....No.” Then you thought, tilted your head up to the sky and huffed out a laugh.

“Well, actually, yes I am. But what else can I do, change the way I live?...No. I’m going to continue as I've always have, and if that’s something that makes me a target, then that’s just what comes with the territory of being a star.” You grinned, bright.

“....There are rumors that the Akademyia will deploy the General Mahamatra to subdue you if you make any sort of big fuss.”

“Well, what kind of star doesn't have a scandal or two under their belt?” You grinned again, but wobbly at the corners, and take a good look at all the papers he's carrying.

‘I…hope I'm not keeping you up? You seemed to be in a bit of a hurry before–” He gasped, cutting you off.

"Oh Archons, yes! Damn it, I'm going to be so late!!” He got completely sidetracked!! He gave you a nod that he hoped you saw and ran off to his appointment. Hopefully the client was still there.

Life is art, and art is intrinsic to life, basically, right? If that's the way someone like you sees the world, maybe he can adopt that mindset.

And hopefully he'd find you again, and greet you properly this time, no matter what rumors you were embroiled in. He’ll leave it up to fate this time as well.  it's already led him to you twice before.

You're so pretty. Kaveh has a bit of a crush on you already.

He woke up to a dark familiar room, and a dull throbbing in his head.

This was familiar, and normal. He wasn't kidnapped, or anything. He must have gone drinking again, and stumbled his way back home. The question was how he got inside. He’s pretty sure that he lost his keys several days ago and hasn't yet found the time to go get a new pair made. So the question stands…

Actually, the question can wait. His mouth feels like it's full of dust and cotton, and he needs water. That's his first priority.

His feet are bare and the floor cool as he pads his way over to the kitchen, trying to rub the heaviness out of his eyes. 

When he reaches the kitchen he stops, and rubs at them again because what are you doing sitting at the kitchen island talking to his jerk of a roommate?

“Oh, you're up.” You stand and walk over to him, reaching out like he needs steadying.

“What are you doing here?”

“We went out drinking and I carried you home, remember?”

“Oh, I remember of course, I wasn't talking to you though dear, I was talking to the man standing there like a mother ready to catch her kid sneaking back inside.”

“Because that's exactly what you did.” The bastard had a steaming cup up to his face, not even bothering to look at him. “How did you get in without your keys?”

“We used the key under the mat. I lost my keys, so how else?”

“I had taken the key and hidden it somewhere else.”

“What? Why would you hide the key?!”

“Because then you'd lose that one too, obviously.”

“Tch. Wait, then how did…” You laugh and shuffle a little, culprit.

“Yeah, sorry, this is my fault. I really wanted to get Kaveh into his bed so I kinda…picked the lock? It’s not broken or anything but still…” You lower your head in apology.

“I wasn’t willing to be patient, I’m sorry.”

“Yes, I'm sure you were in a hurry.” Al haitham sighs in reply and Kaveh bristles.

“What was that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. What do you think I meant?”

“I think you know exactly what you were insinuating.”

“Then why don't you spell it out for me?” He finally looked at him, tri-colored eyes gleaming oddly in the light. He looked…Apprehensive? No, that was just irritation, as usual.

Kaveh clicks his tongue in annoyance and turns back to you.

“See? What did I tell you about this guy? You don't need to apologize to this jerk, alright? You’re perfectly fine.”

“Oh? Talking behind my back now are you.”

Kaveh scoffs, heat curling in his chest. Or maybe just the leftover alcohol.  “It's nothing you wouldn't outright say yourself, so no need to ponder what I’ve said directly. I only spoke the truth, which is even sadder if you ask me.”

“Okay, stop it, that's enough,” You step between the two of them, frowning.

“There is no need for this petty back and forth. It’s late and we should all be in bed already. In fact,” You turn to him, “You were sleeping when I left you, do you need something?”

“...Were you two talking?”

“Just…greeting each other. He came in not too long after we did.”

Another cup sits on the table, softly steaming and obviously yours. It hasn't been long, but you’ve been here for more than a few minutes at least.

You scratch the back of your head with a sheepish grin. “Maybe I should have waited, then I wouldn’t have needed to break in.”

“No harm no foul.” Kaveh’s mouth gapes open when Alhaitham waves you off.

“‘No harm no foul?’ Have you lost your mind?! Are you sick?!”

“I'm perfectly fine you fool,” He sighs through his nose.

“I just expect as much behavior from any of your companions. Nothing was harmed in the end so its fine, I’ll just have the locks changed tomorrow.” He drinks from the cup, and looks up at him.

“I hope you know I’m not paying for your own set of keys.”

“What?! Why not–”

“Kaveh,” You interject. “Are you alright? You were dead asleep when I set you down.”

He groans, rubbing his forehead.

“About that, Thanks for carrying me all the way back here. I was the one who invited you out but you ended up taking care of me.”

“Well, you let me pick the place so I guess it's even between us. Did you get thirsty or something?”

He nods. “Then go lay back down, I'll bring it to you.”

“What? I can't have you serve me under my roof.”

Alhaitham snorts. “‘Your roof?’ Technically its–”

“Ah ah ah!” You cut him off with a raise of your voice and a sharp look, Kaveh grins from behind your shoulder. Alhaitham’s eyes widen by your audacity, and by the archons are you lovely. You turn back to him.

“It's fine. You're the one who needs to rest so let me help you out. Go lay down.”

“Well. if you insist.” He turns and starts the trek back to the room, and the house is quiet enough that he can hear your lowered voices as he walks off. He can't help but feel that you sent him away so that you could say something, or finish talking with Alhaitham. But why would you?

He has a hand on the knob, shutting his door when the thought strikes him, Why is Alhaitham even up at this hour? Sure, sometimes he'd get back late from his scribe duties or whatever, but that was rare. And it's not like he went drinking out late that often (as if he had people to go with him).

And beyond that, why was he talking with you? Of course you were amazing and charming in your own right but people like the both of you don't mesh very well, and with your reputation, it was best to avoid him. As The Scribe, he was technically a Matra, after all.

Oh fuck he’s a matra.

He's just about to go swing the door open to dash to your rescue when it swings open of its own accord, and there you were with a glass of water, wide eyed to see him there.

He grabs your shoulders and tries to turn you to steer you back, but damn it you’re strong. You don’t budge.

“Uh, buddy? Are you alright? What's going on?”

“You have to get out of here, like right now.”

“What, why? Can we calm down for a second?” 

“Nonono, you can’t, you have to go now–” He tries to grab you and pick you up around the waist, but you spin around behind him, grab him by his collar and drag him inside the room.

“I’m being serious!” You shut the door, a laugh under your breath.

“I’m sure you are, so explain yourself first.”

“My roommate, he’s the Grand Scribe.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So he’s technically a Matra. And I wouldn’t put it behind him to do something so you need to… like, go, before he reports you or something! One word and the matra would come swarming in here like flies to honey.”

“But he won’t.”

“Darling listen–”

“But he won’t. Not only have I already done my community service, paid my fines, did my time and stayed out of trouble, he actually wanted to thank me.”

What? “Thank you for what?”

“For getting you inside quietly. He just came back from work he said, and didn’t want to deal with any of your drunken shenanigans. So he said it's alright that I picked the lock.”

“He told you it's alright?”

“Yeah, as long as I use the extra key next time.”

“What?!” He threw his hands up in the air.

“He told you where the secret key is?”

“Yep. And he said that he's gonna give me a copy of the new one.” You pop the ‘p’.

“And sorry, the stipulation that I can use it is that I’m not allowed to let you know where it is.” He sucks his teeth and they laugh, reaching out to tug the sleeve of his shirt.

“Sorry love. But come now, take off those scarves so you can lay down, alright? It's late.” And something goes warm and gooey when you use that soft tone of voice, so Kaveh does exactly that, and takes the glass from you with a grateful look when you hand it to him.

“Does your head hurt?” 

“Just a little. Not as bad as it usually does.”

“See? That's why you drink water before you pregame.”

“Well now I know for the next time.” He takes a big gulp and hands the rest of the glass to you, waving it away when you try to put it back in his hands.

“Oh, fine.” You finish it yourself then, and Kaveh falls back into the sheets, heavy lidded once more.

“How come you’re not drunk or stumbling, hm? It’s not fair.”

“Oh, I am drunk,” you giggle, “I just know how to hide it really well.”

“It's not fair.”

“That’s because I'm from Monstadt dear, my blood has at least a 10% alcohol content.” Kaveh sighs and covers his eyes, drinking in the quiet. You’re sitting next to him, humming softly under your breath, a brush away from fully singing.

“Hey, why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Call me those pet names. Like honey or dear or love. Why do you do that?” He looks and catches the tail end of your shrug.

“Because you're my friend. You’re like, the only real friend I've made in this entire damn nation, so I gotta be a little sweet with you, yeah?"

“Sweet with me?” He turns so he's facing you.

“Yeah! You make syrup with honey and not salt, right?” You smile, gold flashing at your throat in the low lamp light.

This close he can see the warm flush that the alcohol has given you, the way you give your smiles even more easily than you normally do, eyes soft and direct.

If he’s being a little honest, Kaveh has a bit of a crush on you. There's no other way to put it. He's so excited to see you, whenever he can, whenever you can, and he wants to see you now more than ever. He wishes you didn’t have to hide so often because he wants to be seen out in public with you, not sneaking like teenagers to some seedy bar, where people are too drunk or too downtrodden to care who comes in.

You…like those kinds of places though, odd as you are. You order a drink, and as soon as you down it you're tuning up an instrument and springing into song. By the third song the whole bar or tavern is joining in, and tears are replaced with smiles, at least for that night.

“Will you stay the night?”

You laugh, again. “And where would I sleep, silly?”  

“Right here. Right next to me.”

“Oh, I could never.”

“But you could.”

“I could. But I won't.” You move to get off the bed and Kaveh shoots up, grabbing onto your sleeve.

“Then you can have the bed. Just, stay here. For now. Until morning.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, and his heart while you're at it, while he waits for your answer. Maybe it's because of the way he implores you, or this quiet moment of the night, but you sigh and he knows you’ve given in.

“The bed is big enough for the both of us. Scoot over.” He does as he's told and hopes his face isn't giving his excitement away. He slides under the covers while you slip off your outer layers, and soon enough he can feel you slither beneath the sheets next to him.

“You want to keep the lamp on?”

“No, turn it off.”

“Alright.” The room floods in darkness, and you settle back down.

He’s had a couple sleepovers before. Although, the majority of these were before his father’s…incident, while he was still a very young boy. The others were during his Akademiya days, and were most often just him and his colleagues passing out after days of working on a project non-stop.

So this was new. He’s perfectly aware of his and your bodies; every shift, every position, the way your breathing sounds. He wonders how he’s gonna fall asleep like this.

“Kaveh?”

“Yes?”

“Are you up?”

“Yeah. How else could I answer you?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” You giggle. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did love.”

“Another question, silly.”

“Of course.” You wriggle a bit till you're laying on your stomach, face towards him.

“Why didn't you come to the anniversary performance? The one with me and Miss Nilou?” He winces, and turns to face you too.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you come?”

“Would you believe me if I said it was work?” He sighs.

“Really. I had to meet some bigshot client and I tried but I couldn’t reschedule.

“I really wanted to go.”

“...Yeah, I wanted you to go too.” The guilt twists and churns inside him, and he sits up in bed.

“I'm sorry, truly. Tell me when the next one is and I'll be there, I promise. I’ll even miss an appointment if I have to.”

The silence reigns heavy, you don't speak. He's about to repeat his words, swear on them, when you answer him. 

“Cyno came and interrogated Zubayr and his son. He then had the members takes a few days leave of absence so that he could interrogate us each. So, Zubayr decided that I shouldn't have any more performances, for the time being. The whole thing with Cyno put the theater on blast, so no more future performances.” Your voice is somber and dull, like a worn knife, disappointment sour.

“And no more public performances either, huh?” 

“Not for a while. Cyno is keeping a closer eye out on me. The only reason I could go out with you today was because he had to go out on an excursion, and I know how to avoid the lower Matra.’ You sigh and roll over onto your back.

“So maybe its better if you didn’t come. You would have been targeted too if you were seen with me.”

“...Well, you might not be able to perform publicly, but The Akademiya has no say in what goes on in private property.”

“So?”

“If you…ever want to sing or dance or anything really, you can come find me. This place was given to Alhaitham and I to be refurbished as living quarters, or you can even find me at the Architects Guild, since that building isn’t government owned.”

“Kaveh,” and now it's your turn to sit up. “I can’t put you in danger like that.”

“I won't be in danger.”

“You know, better than I probably do, that the Akademiya don't like outliers. I’m an outlier. If they come to know that you’re friends with me, what do you think will happen to you?”

“It’s not like you’ve done anything wrong. Not really.”

“I’ve undermined them and they really don’t like that. It's hard enough for you, the light of the Kshahrewar, to get clients and make ends meet. I don't want to make things any harder.”

“Things are already hard and I'm doing fine enough, so you don't need to worry about me. The worst I’ll have to deal with is a couple of rumors, and those are everywhere in Sumeru.

"If my reputation is as good as people proclaim I can survive a few rumors.. Furthermore,” He cuts you off as you open your mouth to speak.

“I know how hard it is for you to be here. I know you feel like you have something to prove but that doesn't mean I don't want to make things easier for you, even at my own slight expense. You can't change my mind, love, so don’t try.” Silence returns to the room in a wave, while you two stay poised, tense. Kaveh doesn’t know if you can see him in the darkness; he stares into the room until the dark takes over his vision, blinding him until he blinks it back again. 

“I used to be a knight you know,” You speak.” Back home in Monstadt, I was a part of the Knights of Favonius.”

“Oh, wow, that’s amazing.”

“I quit,” You continue without fanfare.

“I started to hate my life, and hate myself. I was young too, and I was in a relationship that was falling apart and my whole life felt like it was ending.” You laugh.

“Goes to show how naive I was then. But I quit, and I left, and I just decided to do the things that made me happy, and went along with my morals. I never wanted to feel so miserable and hopeless ever again. Those feelings still sometimes come back, but what I do then is go to where the people were, and sing, make them smile and laugh.

“I don't have that option in Sumeru. I mean I do but, it's never been a choice I’ve ever been actively punished for, before. I'm going to keep doing it of course. I’ll be damned if I ever let a government silence me, but…

“But it still hurts a little, you know?” He reaches out and drags you closer till you're resting in his arms. You've hugged one another before, but this time he wraps his arms fully around you till your brow rests on his collarbone, his cheek against your hair.

“Well, my offer is open for you anytime, at least. I’m sorry my home hasn’t been exactly welcoming to you.”

“Mhm.”

“It must have been hard for you. I’m sorry.”

“You don't need to apologize,” You breathe, reaching to hold him back.

“You've been perfectly wonderful. I don't know what I would have done without you.”

“Well, we are both fellow artists on the brink of homelessness, so we ought to stick together.”

“If your roommate ever kicks you out you can stay with me. And if I'm ever kicked out we can roam the streets together.” He chuckles, and he's sure you can feel it where you're pressed to him.

“Well, I can play an instrument, so maybe we can be traveling bards. We can go to Fontaine and meet my mother.”

“Oh, that would be a shock, I bet. I met a girl in Liyue once who plays that Fontaine rock music. I could send her back something. Is your mother a nice lady?”

His chest twinges, remembering tears,  heavy silences and dull eyes, The memory of sunshine.

“She's a rather shy woman, and she’s just gotten over some adversary. She's perfectly lovely.”

“What does she look like?"

“Well, I suppose you can look at me and figure it out,” He shrugs. “I've been told I look remarkably like her.”

“Oh, so she's beautiful then.” He starts, and he feels a flush crawl over his face, warm and slow.

“Oh, you sweet talker, you.” You tilt your face up and he's sure you have that sweet smile on your face, that cat's curl.

“I speak only the truth, my dear, I swear it. Anywho, how else am I supposed to keep you by my side, if not with my wily words?”

“Perhaps your fiery temperament? Your musical skill? Your graceful figure? Your sweet kisses?” And you reach up and kiss him, taking the bait.

And yes, you’ve done this before as well, nothing further, but Kaveh’s heart never fails to race. Your mouth is skilled in more than just song, and your tongue is sinfully soft.

You definitely feel the heat of his face when you pull away and rub your cheek against his.

“You’re absolutely precious Kaveh.”

‘Oh, don't patronize me,” He grumbles, and pulls you in even tighter, shoulder to hip aligned, legs entangled. “We have to sleep now. It’s late enough.”

“Why should we?” You flirt. You brush your mouth against his once more and snuggle yourself closer. 

“”I'm afraid your kiss has sent my blood racing. It will be hard enough to go to sleep now.”

“Hm. Well, why don’t you sing then? Maybe something calming, a lullaby your mother would sing to you before bed.”

“Hm…I spoil you too much already.”

“But you'll do it, right?” He chuckles when you bonk your head against his. But you settle down, and it's not long till your voice comes hither, soft and lilting. It's hardly more than a tune under your breath, a hum in your throat, but it is soothing, and soon enough he’s actually asleep.

When he wakes up in the morning, the dull throb lessened but persistent in his head, you are not in his bed, or his home. There's only a single note, a badly drawn winking rabbit, but he smiles and pockets it, getting ready for another day. He’ll run into you again soon enough. And if not, then he’ll simply find you.

There seems to be a commotion a few streets away, from what he could hear. Kaveh sighs, harsh and loud, and pushes himself off the wall that he's been leaning against. He came out for some fresh air, and the promise of some spectacle does not entice him. He starts making the trek back to the Architects guild.

Pounding footsteps slap the ground behind him, and he turns just in time for a figure to dash into him. He barely shakes off his shock before he reaches out to half catch the person, but the weight drags him down and he falls too.

“What the hell…? Archons, are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry for being in the way.” And its the way you turn your head to check behind you that gives him a clear look at your face, familIar and shocking. He barely has the sense of mind to reply back, struck like hammer against a molten steel.

He…hadn’t been looking for you, to be honest. It’s been three times already, that you’ve met but never properly seen nor greeted each other, and he had hoped another opportunity would just…come. Fall into his lap, luck be damned. 

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times and shame on the both of us.

So what could be said for a fourth time?

“....the General Mahamatra.”

“The what now?” the General Mahamatra? He heard the rumors, but he never thought that you would prove yourself trouble enough for the sages to deploy him. Against you?

You must have done something reckless, like dancing in the streets again. Or singing in the taverns or just being too you. You were lovely, but sumeru likes its lovely things in glass cases, not prancing in bars or dashing down alleyways.

You speak quickly, and the words just register in his brain before he hears the commotion in the plaza, nearer now, the wince on your face and the way you jolt, ready to flee. He makes a decision.

He grabs at the hand fate and has dealt him, and pulls you further inside the commercial alleyways, knowing exactly where he wants to take you and nothing of what he wants to say to you.

But he can start with this. “ I have heard of you! I’ve been wanting to meet you!” He grins, bright like a star.

“I’m Kaveh. You are?

Taglist

@jjkclub, @jaguarthecat, @swivy123, @seajellyx, @ash-in-lavender, @pepithe3rd, @uchihaeirin .

[lilliancdoodles]

I wanted to shout out some of my favorite fics! Most of them are FitPac cause I have a problem. (This will probably be updated overtime)

Burnt Espresso (by @solsays ) - Modern AU slow burn FitPac fic that I ADORE. It's on going and super good. It flips between Fit and Pac's pov on the chapters, so Chapter 1 is from Pac's pov; Chapter 2 is from Fits, so on and so forth. I love the world and the way the characters interact!! It just AAAAAA. I love it. Go read it.

One Like You (By @massivewaffle) - Also a Modern Au slowburn FitPac fic. IT'S SO GOOD. RAMON AND PAC'S RELATIONSHIP MEANS EVERYTHING TO ME!! And there's this one scene in Fit's gym where Tina, Etoiles, and Foolish were all talking/ arguing and it was so accurate I could hear it in their voices. The whole fic is amazing, Fit and Pac's respect for each other- I just *muwah* On going and amazing read. (plot has progressed since first writing this AND IT RAAAAAAA I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH I CAN'T TELL YOU. I WILL BE SO SAD WHEN IT'S DONE TAT. this little family has my whole heart and it's written so beautifully)

I don't want to be this kind of animal anymore (By @tastytoastz) - A six chapter fic of Fit grappling with his 2b2t past and what that means for his feelings/relationship towards Pac. It's super good, love every second of it. AMAZING headcannons (that while writing became cannon so pog) All the love!

Ask me to bare my throat, and i'll show you where to put the knife (also by tastytoastz) - One shot fic of Fit and Pac exchanging Promise Rings and a similar 2b2t tradition. It's super cute and I love it so much.

Promise? (also by tastytoastz. Listen I can't put everything by TastyToast but if you have the time check out all of their work I love it all) - One shot fic where Fit was around to help Pac recover after the Risus Potion. It's a really good fic and if I could make it cannon I would. (minor warning Forever is mentioned at the beginning of this fic, but only a little and he doesn't come up again. If you can get past it I HIGHLY recommend) Life is like the ocean, it goes up and down (surprise surprise another tastytoastz work what can I say) - A mermaid AU fic where Fit is a mer and gets captured with Ramon. Pac eventually finds them and wants to help. It's an on going fic and absolutely amazing, the world building has me hooked (ha ha). I've actually done a few art pieces for this fic, so if you want to see what the mers look like to me, you can look in my 'lcdoodles' tag! The federation makes my blood boil in this fic it's so good. Im always excited for more chapters!! (Again just read anything by tastytoastz) flash, thunder (you and i are burnt flesh and melted alloy) (By yourfauxentropy) - On going fic where Tubbo has been elected president and after someone tries to assassinate him, sends Sunny with Fit and Pac to a house in the country to keep her safe. This fic is crazy. IT HAS A PLOT. AN ON GOING PLOT THATS HAPPENING AROUND THE SLOW BURN. The plot is so good and the slow burn is so well written. I liked this fic so much more than I thought I would, give it a read!! i can't hide from you like i hide from myself (By ellabellachicketychella) *(new addition :O )* - Kingdom SLOW burn au. Fit is a knight and Pac is a healer. There's only one chapter so far, but it's AMAZING. I love fantasy settings and this is so good. The world building is pretty small right now, but I can't wait to see if it develops. I love how they handled Spreen in this fic, probably the nicest i've seen him dealt with (that being he doesn't just walk out. This is just a different way to handle it and it's done really well). If you aren't convinced yet, chapter one is a lot of baby Ramon. Can't wait for the next chapters <33. so I'm following the map that leads to you (By knightinsourarmor) *(new addition :O )* - Fit gets fucking kidnapped via portal, and Pac had him literally ripped from his hands. Pac is dealing with the grief as is Ramon, cause they know why he got taken, but the others don't know. And they're going to try to find him. It's only got two chapters right now, but it's really good and im excited to see where it goes. It's a different but very interesting premise! <33 Diamond Blossom (By @fitpacs) *(new addition :O )* -The lovely and wonderful fitpac wedding planner au. only one chapter so far, but I actually laughed out loud at several points, god I love these kids they're sassy as hell. Amazing start, very excited for the next chapters <3 Long Long Time (By @emiliaexists) *(new addition :O )* - Zombie au, but the zombies aren't really there cause this aint about them. This is an incredibly sweet story of these two characters just living life together. It's apparently an au based off of an episode in the last of us, but you don't need to know anything about that to enjoy it, I sure knew nothing about it. Can easily say i cried for like the last 15 minutes while reading the last chapter, but its a good cry. If you are able to play the music do it, I suggest getting a one hour loop for the last scene, just in case it takes you longer to read than the song length so it doesn't ruin the vibes. Pay attention to the 'growing old together' tag but just be aware of the others. I want everyone to be safe, but if you can handle it, it's an amazing fic.

Side Effects (By WhyB.) - 7 Chapter completed Fic where Fit got effectively Feeble Mind-ed (It's a dnd spell, look it up) and he's super comfortable around Pac so stays near him while Pac tries to make a cure. It's really cute and sweet and I love the way they interact. <3

Easy (By WhyB) - One shot Au where GreenGayNinga's died during Purgatory and Ramon is left as an orphan so Pac takes care of him. Its AAAAAAAAAA I CAN'T SAY ENOUGH HOW MUCH THEY MEAN TO ME. (Im pretty sure I cried reading this)

Forget-Me-Not (By @iridescentpull) - Same concept as the above one, but it starts before the eggs wake up. Currently only three chapters, really hope it keeps updating. I KNOW FOR SURE I CRIED READING THIS. AAAAAAA CHAPTER 2 KILLED ME. I WANT IT TO CONTINUE SO BAD PLEASEEEEE. <THIS IS STILL VALID. I WANT IT TO CONTINUE SO BAD ;-;

Cry Little Boy (By random_idka) - One Shot Modern AU where Ramon is upset about Spreen and Fit isn't there so Pac comforts him. Pac and Ramon's relationship means so much to me you have no idea.