#but fr it was like. after all that i straight up was like we're not handling the goblin camp tonight im logging off and watching anime

[cosmicrhetoric]

im realizing ive never played an rpg with romancable companions like i completely missed the boat on the mass effect/dragon age type games in high school. kotor doesnt count imo and the last long form rpg i played was literally 36 bit. that being said even if i KNEW it was coming (like i knew it was coming. sort of) lae'zel hitting on my tav shocked me so much i logged off LOL

[phoenixcatch7]

Lmaoooo okay so MAJOR story spoilers ahead-

But I just finished the crisis at hyrule castle quest line (after thorough googling that I wasn't going into the final boss, of course) and went back to the landing where everyone gathered to discuss what to do next.

It was all very solemn and thoughtful, everyone theorising and letting it sink in how incredibly dangerous ganon was, and then purah and riju are like 'omg there was a sixth sage maybe we can find whatever they've left behind maybe it can help us' and then Link IMMEDIATELY speaks up like 'oh yeah about that I've already found her. Yeah she's fine she's going to help us. I've also got the master sword too by the way'.

Everyone was SHOOK. I got praise and amazement from all sides. Purah was like 'ALREADY???!! And you didn't think to TELL ME??' it was great.

Never felt more like canon link in my life. I've got a screenshot of everyone's :O?! face. Going to be riding that high for hours XD.

But it's very impressive that I managed to procrastinate so hard I managed to skip about three major plot lines just by squirrelling my way where I'm not supposed to be purely by accident lmao.

[ironmanstan]

My dad will cause a whole fight w my mom arguin about how he doesnt wanna pick me up from school and wants to drop me off and then drop me off late every time he does

[atlabeth]

the first ball (aka luke goes a little insane)

pairing: knight!luke castellan x princess!reader

a/n: okay these two literally just like. possess me because i am already thinking about them always. thank you to those who sent in requests, they were already things i wanted to write for them in the future so it's perfect!! we're all on the same wavelength fr i just needed to get this out before i started on them

wc: 3.2k

warning(s): luke is a lil sad </3 knightly duties are rough

once again, a mix of hc's and traditional fic!

okay so last time we left off luke had been knighted and you were kind of upset that he straight up promised to die for you. 

since then, things have smoothed out a bit. The fire inside of you has cooled.  

It was easy to get used to Luke’s constant presence. It was a bit more difficult to get used to what it truly meant for him to be a knight.

In private, he was mostly the same Luke you knew. When he would walk you back to your room at the end of the night and you would invite him in, and you’d sit on the floor and talk for much longer than you should. Go out to the balcony with him and stare at the stars, wondering aloud about your future. You would crack jokes in the hallway and he’d laugh like always—he’d actually talk with you, act the way you have for years.  

In public, though, he had a different part to act. And that part was largely silent. During meetings he would stand with all the other knights, and the most you could get out of him was a slight smile or a glint in his eye when you looked over at him after something ridiculous was said. 

More often than not, his role in your life was to trail quietly behind you or stand at attention. 

Sometimes, when the knights would train in view of your balcony, you would stand there and watch, just so you could see Luke display some fierceness, some emotion other than the obedience that was required. 

You had to get it into your head that you weren’t just you and Luke anymore. 

You’re the Crown Princess, the sole heir to the throne, and Luke is the member of the crownsguard, a knight entrusted to your personal protection. 

Things are different now, and you wonder how long it’ll take you to get that through your head. 

and things are about to get a little more complicated for you both lol 

It’s your first ball since Luke was knighted, which means that it’s the first ball he’s coming to with you. 

When you were younger, you typically stayed home and you and Luke would mess around the entire night; stealing treats from the kitchens, giving your governess the runaround, and running out to the castle grounds to do whatever the hell you wanted. 

Once you were old enough to accompany your parents, Luke would just have to be alone. His mother always went with your family, seeing as she was your father’s guard, but Luke only had servants and knights decades his elder for company. 

He usually ended up training, roaming around the grounds himself, or thinking of you. 

Actually, no matter what he was doing, he was typically thinking of you. 

Luke would wait up until you came home and listen to you talk and talk and complain and talk about everything that happened. He could be seconds from falling asleep and then he would hear the horses and carriages and he would be back on his feet immediately, instantly going to find you. 

You mostly complained—about how your feet hurt from the shoes, how you had to talk to so many stuffy nobles (he would remind you that by definition, you were the stuffiest noble), how you had to pretend like you cared about anything anyone was saying. 

Luke doesn’t care, though. He’s always loved listening to you. 

One thing is typically the same, though. 

“I wish you were there, Luke.” 

(So does he.) 

Times seemed so simple then, when you were just there to be there—you didn’t have to think of the intricacies of politics, you were just a twelve-year-old who happened to be a princess. 

And now you’re only two months from eighteen, and you’re already feeling all of the pressure. 

Namely in the form of a marriage. 

Relations with your neighboring kingdoms are shaky as hell but they’re a necessity if you want to keep any modicum of peace. No one likes it, but you’d like war a little bit less so you’ve gotta suck it up. 

The easiest way to keep the peace is through alliances, and the easiest way to get an alliance is through marriage. Fortunately for Aurelda, the princess is eligible and seems to be the subject of many noble affections. 

Unfortunately for you, that princess is in fact you. 

And for like, the first time since Luke has been knighted, you’ve actually been separated from each other for the majority of the day

Luke had to get a lecture on knightly etiquette, this being the first ball he’ll have attended away from Aurelda. He’s gained a temper as he’s gotten older, and the last thing anyone needed was for him to lose it in the midst of peace talks. 

And you were busy with all sorts of preparations. A meeting with your parents and their advisors ensuring you would know what to talk about, a meeting alone with your parents ensuring you knew how to act as the Crown Princess in times like these. A talk from your parents not as their daughter, but as their heir, on how to deal with the suitors you would meet. 

Unlike the Aureldan nobles that would thrust their sons in front of you in the dim hopes of sparking your interest, the men you would meet at this ball would actually be potential husbands. Princes, sons of the richest dukes and earls—and you would be expected to entertain whatever advances they deemed appropriate, or worse—make the advances yourself. 

The thought of it was a bit overwhelming. 

And obviously, Luke is such a fan of it. 

(He kind of wants to die just imagining it.)

(But he doesn’t tell you that.) 

You leave Aurelda a few days before the ball to make sure you’ll make it in time (carriage rides go crazy)

unfortunately, Luke is on horseback alongside the rest of the cavalry and so you have nobody to save you from the continued lectures of your parents. They really just want everything to go perfectly, and you understand it, but you’re already tired of this. 

You arrive the morning of the ball so you spend near the entire day accompanying your parents as they talk with the royal family—at one point you’re forced to go off on your own with their son who just happens to be your age. 

He’s nice, at least—just dreadfully boring. You manage to slip away from him at one point after he gets distracted talking with a servant, and Luke follows you without complaint. 

“Do not say a word,” you told him.

“As my princess decrees,” he said, amused. 

At the end of it all, an hour before you’re meant to leave, you find yourself in your room with Luke. He’s standing guard at the door, and you’re making last minute adjustments to your appearance. 

You should both probably be somewhere else—everything has to go perfect tonight, and you feel as if the entire staff has been in disarray trying to ensure that—but you had to get away. 

And if you’re getting away, Luke is coming with you. 

It doesn’t matter that it’s his duty—he would do it anyway. He thinks he’d do anything you ask.

You’re also very thankful that he doesn’t snitch on you—sometimes, you’re able to appeal to best friend Luke rather than Sir Luke.   

You’re fixing up the last couple bits of your appearance, ensuring all your jewelry is shiny and your gown fits just right and your makeup is perfect. 

The only sound is your sighs and hums and the clinking of your bracelets. You feel Luke’s eyes on you the entire time, and then he finally speaks up. 

“I don’t like this, princess,” Luke said. 

“Really?” you hummed. “I think I look quite dashing.” 

“You always look beautiful,” he said, “but you know that’s not what I mean.” 

“You don’t like much,” you mused, adjusting the position of your necklace. 

“This ball is a bad idea,” he insisted. “You shouldn’t be here.” 

“I don’t have a choice,” you said. “It’s enough that my mother is staying home—if I don’t go, especially now that I’m of marrying age, it’ll be taken as a huge insult.” 

“Let them be insulted,” he said. “Your safety is more important than their feelings.” 

A smile tugged at your lips as you turned around and cocked your head at him. “Everything is going to be okay, Luke. No one would be bold enough to…” 

You trailed off, your smile fading as the memories fronted. It had been almost two years and it still felt so fresh. 

Of course Luke would be thinking of it—this would be his first ball in a foreign kingdom as your knight. His mind was probably reeling thinking of all the ways you could be murdered.

You shook your head before the memories could fully surface, before you could entertain any possible disasters. “It’s going to be okay,” you repeated, more forcefully this time. “You’ll be by my side the entire time, right?” 

“Of course,” he huffed. “I just hate the thought of you having to go through all of this.”

“It is what I was born to do,” you said wryly. “I’m going to lead this kingdom someday.”

“Queen is a good title for you,” he admitted. “It seems so far away, though.”

You huffed. “And may it remain that way.”

You moved closer to the mirror to check your makeup, which was when you realized you forgot the most important piece.  

You picked up your most prized necklace from your jewelry box and undid the tie. You attempted to get it back together around your neck, but for some reason you couldn’t get the knot from this angle. After a few fruitless attempts, your shoulders sagged. 

“Luke,” you grumbled, “can you help me with this?”

You could see his raised eyebrows in the mirror. “If you can’t do it, what makes you think I can?”

You didn’t give him an answer, instead turning around to face him as you batted your eyelashes. “Please.”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Please,” you repeated, jutting your lip out. “You can swing a sword—you can do up a necklace.”

Luke sighed, but he was already removing his gauntlets, setting them on your bed. “You’re dangerous, princess.”

 You smiled inwardly, and once he was done and walking over to you, you held out the pendant.

Luke paused as he took it, and his eyes darted back up to yours with the slightest smile on his lips. “You still have this?”

“Of course I do,” you said. “It was from you.”

It was only five years ago, but it felt like a century. Luke had gone into town with his mother when your father was cooped up all day in meetings. He’d come back beaming brighter than the sun, proclaiming he’d gotten a gift for you. 

Luke was paid a tiny sum per month at May’s request for the chores and work he did around the castle—she claimed it would keep him in order if he was rewarded for staying in order. It partially worked.

Luke saved for months under your nose, and used what meager gold he possessed to buy you a simple pendant from a merchant. Once again, your excited scream must have echoed through the entire castle.

You wore it every day for the next year and a half, but at some point after tragedy struck, it ended up out of rotation. 

But you’d always had it, even when you weren’t wearing it. 

Always. 

“I just thought…” He glanced back down at it before looking back at you. “It’s not nearly as nice as your other jewelry.”

“It’s from you,” you repeated. “That means it’s my best piece.”

A small smile pulled at his lips, and he gestured for you to turn around. You did, and you watched his work through the reflection. 

His callouses scratched your skin ever so slightly as he moved your hair out of the way, and a shiver ran up your spine both at his touch and the cool air hitting your bare skin. You were silent as he positioned the pendant, not daring to even breathe. 

He tied it together with deft fingers, and you smiled as you felt the leather cord settle around your neck again. 

“And you said you couldn’t do it,” you said wryly.

“Perfect,” he murmured, almost to himself. Almost as if he’d forgotten you could hear him. 

For a moment, time froze. Luke’s hands just barely grazed the bare skin of your neck, and your breath caught in your chest at his proximity. He’d done what you asked, but he didn’t move. You didn’t ask him to—you didn’t think anything would come out if you tried. 

You could see his lips part, but they opened and closed a few times before he managed words. 

“Princess, I—”

And then there was a very loud knock on your door, jolting the two of you apart. Air finally returned to you as you tried your hardest to will the heat out of your entire body, and Luke was putting his gauntlets back on quicker than you’d ever seen. 

“Come in!” you exclaimed, voice higher pitched than usual as you smoothed out your gown and fixed your hair and felt the blaze beneath your skin. 

Your lady’s maid opened the door, not even paying Luke a second glance. “I was wondering where you were, Your Highness.”

You forced a smile, thankful for all your childhood training that it would be at least somewhat believable. “My apologies. I required some time alone after the chaos of today.”

She nodded. “You needn’t apologize, Your Highness, but it is necessary you get on your way. Your Majesty is nearly ready, and it is imperative you enter together.”

You swallowed thickly as you glanced over at Luke. He wouldn’t make eye contact with you. 

“…Of course,” you said. “Lead the way.”

You followed your lady’s maid and Luke trailed after you. For some forsaken reason your skin still burned where he’d touched you. 

and you’re expected to entertain other suitors tonight with Luke in the vicinity.

god help you. 

but anyways. you manage to regain most of your bearings by the time you reach your father—Luke still won’t look at you, but you can’t deal with that problem right now, even if it’s clawing at your insides—and your father helps calm you down before you go in. 

You enter the ballroom on the arm of your father as the two of you are announced, and your hold on him tightens as you see the sheer number of people here. It all feels much more overwhelming than it did when you were younger—maybe because you understand what this all means.

You continue to stand with your father, clapping politely as other royals are introduced, connecting faces to names and descriptions that you’ve been quizzed on for years. 

It isn’t long after the king of the kingdom you’re visiting gives his speech that you’re pulled into a conversation with your father, and it takes five seconds for you to realize this is what the rest of the night is going to be like. 

You search for Luke by the wall with all the other guards, but you can’t find him. You sigh and let your attention be drawn back to the conversation at hand. 

Luke, meanwhile, can see everything. He sees you looking for him, he sees you talking with the prince of a nearby kingdom, he sees both your and his father casually moving away to leave the two of you to talk alone. 

He says nothing. 

Not that he can, anyways. Luke stands at attention with the other crownsguard, specifically stationed next to your father’s personal guard. He’s within view of every exit, and he can’t help but profile every person that walks past him. 

He’s especially honing in on every person that talks to you throughout the night. His mind is working overdrive trying to remember all the names of foreign royalty—he feels like he’s already made up ten worst case scenarios for how this night could go. 

It only takes another hour for the prince of the kingdom you’re in to find you and spark up a conversation, and a muscle works ever so slightly in Luke’s jaw. 

He already had to deal with that dull prince for hours, showing you around the castle and trying to start conversation and just making everything so dreadfully boring Luke was surprised you could handle it. 

That was why you were the princess, after all. You could take everything in stride with a pleasant smile—Luke fought his way through his problems. 

He couldn’t exactly fight through this one. 

But you sure as hell could smile through it—and gods, your smile was beautiful. No wonder you were talking with what seemed to be your fifth prince of the night. 

Whatever he says makes you laugh. The prince places his hand on your arm, and Luke feels himself flinch. 

He’s thankful that the guards are the same as background decorations for a majority of the people here. He’s gotten good at controlling his emotions when he has to, but none of his slipups will be noticed. Not by the crowd, not by your father, not by you. 

It’s a torturous existence that Luke’s got going on here. It’s his job to look out for you, to watch the every move of you and those around you, because he has to be the first to act if anything goes wrong. 

But it’s not all that great for him when he’s just watching royal after royal vie for your hand. 

At least, that’s what he figures they’re doing. He can’t exactly hear everything through the revelry, but it’s the only thing that makes sense. 

Luke keeps going back to the two of you alone, you asking—pleading, practically—for him to help with your necklace. 

The necklace he got you in a childish declaration of love, that he thought you had forgotten about. 

You hadn’t. 

It looks out of place, he knows that much—a piece of himself among gold jewelry and shimmering gems. A leather cord holding onto a rough piece of turquoise, your initials carved into the back in the corner—his own work. 

You had a part of him with you as noble sons tried to woo you, as you tried to take the next step into your future. 

He doesn’t know if that makes it better or worse

Sometimes, Luke wonders if you know. Oftentimes, Luke wonders if you could feel the same. 

He never lets himself entertain that train of thought for very long. 

It doesn’t matter how he feels. It doesn’t matter if you went against all rationality and somehow felt the same. 

Because you’re a princess—the heir to the Aureldan throne. Expected to marry and produce heirs and lead your kingdom into a golden age of peace. 

Luke is just a knight. 

Nothing will ever happen. 

That’s the only thing he needs to remember. 

But that doesn’t mean his lip doesn’t curl in disdain ever so slightly when the orchestra starts up, signifying the beginning of dances, and that tiresome prince offers you his hand. 

You take it, smiling back at him as you walk onto the floor together with other pairs. 

Remember your place, Castellan, he thinks. 

It's a lot harder than it should be.

[ambassadorarlert]

toxic!armin head canons

author’s note: this fr has been a long time coming. it took a while to gather my thoughts lmao. he can’t be sweet all the time, right??😭

warning: modern au. toxic characteristics — obsession, jealousy, possessiveness. gaslighting.

18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

we're not gonna look away from armin's whole underlying character trait of being a known manipulator. he is going to gaslight you.

armin starts his mind games as a last resort. when he's desperate to have his way. when he's being back into a corner, and you're holding your ground in an argument or disagreement. when you're winning and he's losing. he'll play into his unfortunate-baby face-sweet-boy persona and say, "i'm only telling you/doing this because i love you!" armin slaps, "I don't know what you want me to do." at the end of most arguments because he knows it will make you quit arguing out of pure frustration.

we can all agree armin goes through your phone

he immediately clicks on iMessage to see who you’ve been texting. snoops through everything. pictures, contacts, notes. all of it. armin goes all up in your private dm’s, discord, looks through your snapchats. who you’ve been sending tiktoks to. he’s so extra, he even scrolls on your social media timelines. your dash. your fyp. just to see what you’re always looking and giggling at bc who is making you laugh if it’s not him ? arminknows he won’t find anything and that you would never do anything behind his back. but he looks anyway and holds his breath just in case. and, if he does find something he doesn’t like, he will confront you about it and not even address the bigger question

major attachment issues. in bold, italics and regular size font.

the root cause being his parents died when he was really young and was only raised by his grandpa who worked all the time. /: armin definitely has mommy issues. he's very anxious to pleasure you and do everything you want him to bc a.) he's hopelessly devoted to you b.) for some reason he think it'll make you love him more. armin will get really attached to you after the first date, and everything in your relationship moves quickly. he says i love you first. 3 months into the relationship you’re moving in together. engaged after 1 year, married 6 months later. he’s sensitive and in tune with everything you’re doing and feeling and saying. the slightest change in your voice, oh you must be mad at him. when you're literally just tired and have 0 energy, he must be annoying you. armin needs regular reassurance and validation. he will straight up ask “do you still love me?” at least once a day.

armin gets jealous so. so easily.

armin thinks he's not good enough for you and that you deserve someone who can do the things he can't, while simultaneously not being able to bear the thought of you being with another man. he views other guys as a threat and is off-putting on purpose. he goes through your followers and interactions daily and reports guys who leave compliments and thirsts. he gives guys dirty looks when he see's them obviously looking at you. will ask trap questions like "would you still be with me if you could start your life over?" armin is well liked among your girlfriends but makes no effort with your guy friends, and has succeeded in distancing you from a few of them. he disguises ultimatums as open communication. armin's jealousy is a delicate spectrum.

he's very possessive of you.

you're his everything and he wants everyone to know that. you're so gorgeous, he's not gonna hide you away. armin recognizes that you're your own person, and you can show off however you'd like. as long as he's somewhere in the background. he encourages that you tag him in all your posts. he fights for his life trying to convince you to let him come with you while you go out with your friends and he wins most of the time. but when he has to stay home, he stays up and waits for you, he double/triple texts and asks when you'll be home even though you made a point to give him a timeframe. and don't even be 5 minutes late because armin already has seventy-five questions lined up. if he's feeling extra silly, he'll start a fight over text. 🤪

2023. do not copy or repost any work by arlertwitch on any other platform. violators will be prosecuted. 🪼 — @artsyblkblocked / @sleazymac-n-cheesy / @arlerts-angel / @chiinni / @aegonslawyer / @stoned-eren /

[vqrtualheartss]

"𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖" — 𝑬42 𝑴𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒙 𝑭𝒆𝒎!𝑩𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

ᴅ☆ᴇ'ꜱ ꜱᴀʏ|

Do not question why the time is going so fast part two

Yes, your friends are low-key bimbos but they book n street smart

Y'all I'm so happy that my page is growing 🥹 I love y'all fr

—Warnings: I have never been outside this country so I am NOT familiar with Brooklyn slang., Use of N word —hence why the title says it's for black readers

𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓭𝓾𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 | Throughout Brooklyn Visions you were known as 'antisocial' —always wearing a mask even after the end of COVID, never at a party or a school function, 'dead socials', and the one that seals the deal: never seen with a boy.— Truth is you weren't even like that, up in that school the way everyone thinks is basically copied and pasted and not in a good way. It wouldn't take much to be viewed differently and not being too interested in interacting with almost anybody, you just kept to yourself. And no, this isn't some typical white highschool movie where you're bullied and apart of some loser, nerd squad, if anything it was far from that. Y'know those pretty, melanin-queen it-girls? Yeah, that's your crew, don't get it twisted though, you weren't some 'accessory friend' used by them —you we're just as pretty if not more— but you've seen how guys treat pretty girls in comparison to those "average" and who would want to be with someone like that? Definitely not you

It was the day before the mid-term break and your friends —Shadae, Nia, Kiara and Lailah— were nowhere to be found. Coming to the conclusion that they were at a party being held for whatever reason an exasperated sigh left your body closing your locker. "So that's really what they doing now? It's their lives soo if they don't care why should I?"

The sun's rays barely illuminated the hallway being hid behind clouds, playing into the gloomy theme. Walking through the large, empty spaces, head held straight going to your third/fifth class, you noticed someone staring at you through your peripheral vision—Miles Morales. A little introduction on him, he was apart of a group basically the male version of yours, minus you. Girls gushed at him, sliding notes into his locker and stuff, typical party animal, you heard through rumours that he hooks up with a new girl every other week. One would think it's false news cause that sounds absolutely atrocious but they came prepared with receipts ―But even those could be made up― and to no surprise, there were girls wanting to be one of his bi-weekly flings. Come to say though, it was a little weird how his gaze situated on you as you walked but you decided to brush it off as nothing. There's no way you could see yourself interacting with him. Ever.

In class

Since it was the last day so far all teachers gave a free period. As usual, you remained silent scrolling through whatever the media had to offer, even though having admitted that it was a boring ritual, you refrained to do otherwise. Time passed and the bell rung with you not wasting a second getting out the door, stuff already packed.

Moving along the steps going down to the next classroom, the deafening screech of the intercom went off as the minority of students covered their ears including yourself waiting for it to end, seeing a person take down their hands, everyone did too before the announcement went off.

"Attention students and staff: In light of the reduced teaching activities and productive learning for the day, we have made the decision to conclude school early. We believe that providing you with this extra time will allow you to enjoy a well-deserved break. Make the most of this unexpected opportunity and enjoy your extended free time!"

The halls erupted with cheers, laughter and talking as people made their way outside the school, although intending to head straight home, a few necessary stops to some stores had to be made before doing so. Heading out, you opened the phone still in your hand to make a list of things that came up to mind

Braiding hair

Gummy Wax

Bonnet

More coconut watrdf

"The fuck?" The words slipped from my mouth under a whisper at the sudden jolt of my body -can't even write a list in this school-, looking back I saw someone holding onto my arm, stopping me from going outside. It was Miles, -what could he ever want from me?- my eyebrow lifted, "hm?" "Sorry, I just wanted to talk to you" he released his hand off my body, leaning on a locker with his bag hanging off his shoulder "Um okay, about what?" I crossed my arms, noticing his eyes widened slightly before returning to their natural, slightly seductive state. "You actually talk?" "Nope" Trying to escape, he caught onto my hand, our eyes piercing into the others before he added "Alright that one was my fault, but I just wanted to ask if you're doing alright"

I glanced over his shoulder, searching for his friends, a camera, or any signs of people giggling, this had to be some sort of prank. Finding nothing, I gave in -one conversation can't hurt right?- "Yea I am, why do you ask?" "I didn't see your friends- wait" he tilted his head towards the door, hinting for us to go outside "You ain't tryna be seen with me or you good right here? " I looked around the room, dragging a hand down my face acknowledging the little clusters of people staring. Facing him again, I nodded and together we made our way out.

"So where we going first? Am I getting punk'd? I saw the lil' list you had" Rubbing his palms together, he anticipated my response as we crossed the road. Using my hand as a sun blocker, I squinted before answering

"You're very nosy and I will be-" "We" I stood taking a good look at the boy, blinking slowly. Realizing that he didn't plan on going anywhere else I caved in, "We will be going to the hair supply store first" he smiled at my renewed sentence.

"His dimples are cute- " "Nah shut the fuck up actually." "But he is though"

Shaking away the thoughts going back and forth with themselves, I focused my attention back to Miles who was already looking at me. To be fair, I was still skeptical of the sudden interactions and wanting to waste no one's time, I went straight toward my point. "What do you want? If you want something with one of my friends I can give it to you y'know" I kid you not when I say that this boy burst out laughing.

He held a hand at his chest before we stopped walking "That's what you think of me f'real?" I shrugged replying "That's what I think of most of them" I made a popping noise with my mouth, his hands digging deeper into the jacket's pockets. A playful smirk dancing on his face as he bit his lip, he was fine and I'm sure he knew it― Girl, no

Still standing, I continued. "Word in the street says that you copping a new chick every two weeks" he narrowed his eyes as I loosened my bag straps. "I be in the streets everyday and I never heard that" crossing his arms, he sent me a jest-filled glare before continuing " and how YOU hearing what's going on in these streets Miss Mysterious?" He pointed at me in the middle of his sentence to which I scratched my neck nervously with my index finger, avoiding any eye contact. Finishing his sentence he urged for my response with a "huh?" before looking down at me with half closed eyes, still chewing on his bottom lip

Counting on my fingers, I started to explain myself "Okay one, I don't gossip but the friends I hang around do and I have working ears, so what? And number two, I have a name sir" "Are you going to tell me it?" "It's (y/n)" "Well, (y/n) to answer your first question. Your crew? Nah, they okay but you though, you caught my eye. And I ain't trying to serve up that 'you're unique' cliché but real shit, that's what got me wanting to talk with you" "Okay I'm sure I'm not that interesting" my hands now rested on the curve of my hips, blankly looking at Miles who couldn't seem to take his eyes off of me. "Let me be the judge of that, tell me more about you"

I shook my head as I went to approach the other side of the pole he was on, worst mistake . He yanked me by my bag, dragging me over to his side as he stared at me with wide eyes "we don't do that shit around here" he extended his hand , pointing to the path infront him.

I looked back at him in disbelief, my eyes and eyebrows being the only features to express my astonishment, looking at my half expression, he laughed. "My bad, just please use your sense next time" "You talk too much, we need to get going" he raised his hands in defense "Alright ma'am" I rubbed my temple smiling underneath my mask, my lips making some type of imprint beneath it

Walking there was pretty interesting, getting bombarded with questions about myself and not about my friends. It was the first time I'd actually had a conversation with someone outside my circle, and you know what? It wasn't half bad. I found myself laughing and smiling at something that wasn't some dumb cat falling and it was quite nice.

Approaching the door and opening it, I joked "Ladies first" "Oh so you got jokes now? Guess I'm rubbing off on you" Rolling my eyes whilst walking inside, he wiped away an imaginary tear entering the store behind me. Taking a quick stroll through the aisles I saw Miles taking up some stuff too —some combs, wax, and a durag—

Shopping didn't go so smooth for me though, being stuck between three colours to choose from —1B, 30 and 350—."What's up?" Standing clueless, Miles came over to my area, positioning himself beside me, waiting for me to say something. Raising my hands with the braiding hair before slapping them on my thighs lightly, I complained "I can't choose" Taking the hair from my hands he started to put each one beside my head before speaking "You'd look like a doll in this one, go for it"

While he returned the hair back to their original positions except the one he picked —which was colour 30— I raised my eyebrows, internally questioning his choice of words before speaking up "you have such a smooth mouth don't you?" Crossing my hands as I gave him a mild, sidelong glance traced with amusement that turned into confusion when he placed his hand atop his head, biting his lip. "I woke up Chris Breezy, oh my God I'm the man" Mouth agape, I dragged a hand over my mask to stifle the laughter "Alright cool cool I get it, you spit lyrics like that. Get up" "shoulda known it's been that way, now let's go. We have more stuff to buy" He took two more packs of hair before we walked over to the cashier — the place where I had to find out how stubborn this boy is—

"Let me pay for it" "No, it's my stuff. I'm more than fine paying"

The cashier cleared her throat, annoyed at our 5-minute long bickering

"Oh sorry, here-" I shuffled inside my bag for my purse, completely oblivious to whatever Miles was doing "Here" "Thank you" I looked up hearing the cashier's words, completely shocked that Miles Morales, a 17 year old just handed the woman a black card. It must be nice.

Bagging the items he turned to face me, "See, I told you I'll pay" "Here, I'll pay you-" "No, think of it as.. a us becoming friends gift, plus we have more things to buy so save up"

Stretching my mouth underneath my nose I teased "Who said we're friends" he deadpanned while handing me my own bag with items "Don't play with me. I know your favourite colours, music, food, and more. I'm real friend material" I laughed at his reaction, not to mention his remix on the "real wifey material" part.

But he was right though, we had more places to be, taking out my phone to check the updated list we comprised together, glancing at the time, I cursed 4:48 PM. "Shit um, I really have to go home. Bye, and thank you" my words dragged themselves louder as I ran down the road waving at him frantically.

You hurried along your usual route back home, "Why the rush?" Well, the aim was to snag a 5 PM package. It might sound like a flimsy excuse to part ways with Miles knowing that girls would kill you in the armor of envy for him, but the package would be returned to facility if not claimed and who wants to wait months again? He'd understand. After securing the package you went home, fortunately enough it started to rain, the pattering of the droplets masking the sound of your attempts sneaking into your room to avoid any confrontation from your parents.

Usually when it rained you found the atmosphere peaceful— having been in a night gown with your bonnet on— but this time, it felt different. For some unknown reason you couldn't shake Miles off your mind—the sensual energy that radiated from him, his seductive stare he always wore or the husky laughs that echoed between you two— Everything about him was alluring, slowly drawing you in and you did not like it.

Miles, on the other hand didn't suppress his feelings, having to physically wipe the smiles and cut the laughter he created each time he thought about you. Ironic enough, he hadn't a clue what it was about you that had him this way. Shit, he doesn't even know how you look. He was sure of however, what it would take to even have a chance at holding your hand given the rumours that you've heard about him, but he was hell-bent on giving it a try.

[reytiri]

Brat

pairing: Dilf!Jake Sully x navi!reader

Summary: You are out at a party past curfew and your dad's best friend Jake Sully happens to be the one to cut the party short and take you home.

Warnings: age gap, angst, spitting, oral (f receiving), degradation (slut), daddy kink, making out, cursing, P and V sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, or else), marking, biting, fingering, rough sex, overstimulation, some fluff, aftercare.

the smut is about to be long and detailed for my homies fr fr.

You sat around a fire that some of the boys had started earlier in the night around when you had arrived. You arrived a little after eclipse to ensure you parents did not see you leave. You were twenty after all but they still treated you like their little girl.

"Oh Ewya, y/n you have to try this!" Your friend Ayea said running over to you handing you a cup which looked to have one of the roots that was said to be intoxicating.

You took it from her taking a sip, almost immediately feeling a rush of blood flow to your head. You widened your eyes looking at the cup.

"See!" Your friend said," You can have that." She smiled sitting next to you her own cup in hand.

As the night went along, A young warrior approached you, Te Oÿa, "Y/n, you look beautiful," He smiled sitting beside you.

"Thank you," You smiled.

He quickly glanced over your barely covered figure before meeting your eyes, and brushing a braid behind your ear.

"You wanna head back to my hut?" He asked whispering in your ear. You nodded at his words. Maybe just maybe it was the root talking.

As you took his hand heading back to the village you bumped into a strong chest, spilling what was left in your cup right on his chest.

You looked up to see Jake Sully. Your father's bestfriend. Your eyes widened.

"Now, what are you kids doing out here?" He asked sternly.

"Nothing," You muttered. He looked behind you seeing the rest of the young navi partying in around the fire. He shook his head.

"Alright, parties over, everyone home now," He demanded calling out to the large group. Some groaned as they left.

"So Te Oÿa, lets go," You ushered taking his hand.

"Uh-uh, your coming with me young lady, im taking you home," Jake said.

"Sir, if I may," Te Oÿa tried. Jake simply glared at him," Right, I'll see you tomorrow he smiled, at you kissing your cheek. You were left their blushing.

Jake placed his hand leading you back to your hut.

"Jake, please, My parents can't know!" you begged.

"Not, my fault you decided to be a brat, and sneak out," He responded not even looking at you he kept his gaze straight ahead.

"Please," You begged.

"Fine," He budged.

"But, what's in it for me?" He asked looking down at you his eyes glazed over with a lustful look.

"My appreciation?" You said sarcastically entering his hut.

"God, you are a brat," He said following behind you.

"And your old," You responded with a smirk.

"Oh really? We're playing that," He said looking at you once more, "Maybe I will go to your father and tell him all about how you were gonna go home with that guy."

You stepped forward grabbing his arm," Jake please," You begged.

"Ill do anything!" You begged as he didn't seem to budge.

"anything?" He asked looking down at you. He knew it was wrong but he wanted you more than anything. To feel how you would clench around his cock as he rammed into you.

"anything," You said letting out a breathe as he stepped closer to you.

You looked up into his eyes seeing his head moving as if he were fighting internally about what to do.

"Jake, I-" You were unable to finish as his lips hungerly met yours over powering you the second you submitted. He pushed your back to the wall his hands quickly running along the sides of your body.

A low mewl slipped form your lips as his hand slipped beneath your top tearing it off. He slowly began rubbing at your nipples, kissing down your neck as he attached his mouth to one. His teeth grazing it.

"Jake," you moaned out, your hands running through his dreads.

"you like that baby girl?" He asked as he kissed his way down to your loin cloth.

He pulled your loincloth down kissing along the your thighs.

"Don't be a tease," You practically begged pulling on his dreads to bring his face closer to where you needed him the most.

He smiled against you, before pulling himself closer to you. He swiftly attached his lips to your clit, running his tongue in circular motions. A string of moans and pleads fell from your lips.

"Please don't stop,"You begged pulling him closer than before.

"Oh baby, im not stopping any time soon," He said, as his finger slipping into you curling against your gummy insides.

You slowly felt a knot building up inside your stomach.

"Jake," You moaned out back arching against him, He only tugged you down holding you down as your thighs clenched around his head.

You cam quickly as he licked it up not stopping, you pulled away, "to much," You practically screamed as the overstimulation become to much for you to handle.

"Awww, the little slut can't handle it?" He said teasingly as he pulled you to meet his lips for a lustful kiss," You taste yourself on my tongue baby?"

You nodded. "Think you can take me?" He questioned, Removing his loincloth.

"yes, please," You begged staring at his huge cock. Your licked your lips at the sight of the tip leaking precum.

"You sure baby girl?" He asked once again running his tip along your folds.

"Please fuck me daddy," You begged bucking your hips for much needed pleasure.

"What was that?" He spoke pulling himself away from you," Say it again."

"Daddy please," You begged trying to pull him closer to you, "Need you inside."

That was more than enough to get him to push into you.

He started slowly rutting into you.

"Faster please," You begged.

"you sure baby?" He asked, reattaching his lips to your neck.

"Mhmmm,' You moaned out at the feeling of him stretching you out.

He quickly rutted into you at a much faster pace. A knot building inside of your stomach.

"Mmmm gonna cum," You moaned out.

"Not yet," He said speeding up his movements.

"Please," You moaned out even louder.

"Hold it," He growled quickening his pace.

"can't," You screamed as you released around his cock.

"You really are a fucking brat," he said pulling out of you gripping your hips to turn you over. He pulled his ass up pushing your head into the mat.

He slapped your ass before rutting into you.

"Fuck baby so tight," He moaned out as he continued his fast pace rutting.

"Fuck daddy, mark me please," You begged.

"I can't."

"Please Jake,Need it."

"fuck, baby I can't you know I can't."

"Please," You moaned out close to your climax.

"fuck baby, fine," He said as he moved your hair pushing it over your shoulder. He kissed along the back of your neck, running his tongue along the spot before marking you.

The feeling of his fangs digging into your skin lead you to your third orgasm of the night.

"That's it baby cum around my cock." He praised as he continued rutting into you.

"Jake, its to much," You said squirming away from him.

"uh-uh baby." He said pulling your hips back into him, feeling himself fully inside you was pushing him over the edge, he quickly pulled out, stroking himself to cum on your ass.

"Fuck," He said as he laid beside you on the mat pulling you to lay closer to him.

"jake, my father can never know," You spoke softly rubbing your hand along his chest.

"I know baby, I know," He said continuing to stroke through your hair.

"Promise me this won't be the last time though," You said looking up at him.

"I promise," He said pulling his hand to pull your chin towards him pressing your lips together.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Thank you for reading!!! Please leave request for my next stories!!! My inbox is open!

[riacte]

Space Opera AU dashboard simulator

🥧 syrupstars Follow

Anyone else think that Red King racer is a little... y'know... fruity?

👑 falsewellsupremacy Follow

He literally says "ladies, gentlemen, everyone in between, get in line" so I think that answers your question.

🥧 syrupstars Follow

What about the "#Ally4Life 🏳️‍🌈" on his Twilight handle?

👑 falsewellsupremacy Follow

I genuinely have no idea. Maybe he thinks it's about him being an ally to cishet people

#idk ren's just like that sometimes #void knows what he's doing #also prev tags you do not want to get into the black hole of who ren has dated #he has rumours with 3/4 of the grid #edit: WHO MENTIONED BAD BOY TEENAGE REN IN MY NOTES #the shippers are here... oh no #edit 2: not ren at the club.

74 notes

🛑 bluebatshater Follow

oh my voiddd ofc That Duo got p1 again... i need them to dnf in the race. i hope they crash and burn and die and i need crastle to get podium for ONCE. i am so mad. i am calling for the goddess tsuki to curse them. dnf dnf crash burn DIE

🌻 lesbianlumian Follow

the goddess tsuki LITERALLY protects racers and that's why they pray to her? you think the goddess tsuki, creator of lumians, will curse an actual lumian? be so fucking fr

🛑 bluebatshater Follow

if you dont have anything productive to say get off my post. freak

#those blue bats stannies are SO ANNOYING THEY ARE EVERYWHERE #they're overshadowing all the other teams #cant even be a bitchy hater in peace #salt #negativity #hateposting

12 notes

🔮 queenofstarz03 Follow

OMG FALSE IS SO PRETTY SHES MY QUEEN OF HEARTS OMG OMGOMGOGM 💖💖💖💖💖💖 i tihnk im gonna pass out. HER HAIR FLYING IN THE WIND AND HER RED FRECKLES AND HER SMILE WHY IS MY HEART BEATING SO FAST and Ren is hot I guess he's tall like a ferris wheel

🔮 queenofstarz03 Follow

Looking at posts from five years ago is funny like how did I ever believe I was straight

🍦 jelliepopsicle Follow

OP, I think I recognise your url... did you write that viral Bad Boy Ren x QoH fic on Launchpad?

🔮 queenofstarz03 Follow

💀 Shut the fuck up right NOWWW!!

#STOP MENTIONING THAT FIC I WFOTE WHEN I WAS THIRTEEEN!!! #everything before my gay awakening is not canon. sorry #tbh... as much as a nightmare it was i kinda miss that stupid fic #it was from a simpler time #now im in university trying to contact my groupmates and i think one of them got lost in a blackhole last tuesday (again) #sigh. this keeps on happening to me #my cousin worked on one of the moons last summer for two weeks and came back like he'd aged six months #my friend's ex got sucked into a black hole and was briefly spaghettified but they managed to revive her and she gloats that she's finally taller than my friend's ex #whoops sorry for dumping in the notes #anyways. bad boy rk x good girl queen of hearts. awful idea. even more awful fic. yet i wrote it #i regret everything and nothing

25 notes

🗣️ peace-and-planets-deactivated63891092

PSA: Sunblr user @/summerheavens writes RPF of the Exterra 1 racers. She is a big name fan in the Miraculous Laserbug fandom so I thought you all would like to know. This is gross and disgusting behaviour and I implore you to stop.

🍬 summerheavens Follow

umm @/peace-and-planets i literally saw your kudos on my fic. the evidence is out there. girl what are YOU doing at the devil's sacrament. what are you doing on my roseduo rpf titled "hang your head low in the glow of the vending machine (we're not trying)".

but i'm glad you liked it enough to give it a kudos ^_^ will certainly be putting more on the starchive!

❄️ justwingit Follow

LMFAOOOO OP DEACTIVATEDDDDD 😭😭😭 sunblr user got killed by a rpf author. if you're gonna secretly read rpf maybe not leave a kudos?????

🚀 exterrablrheritage

Exterra 1 Heritage Post

⚡ littlewoodbabygirl69

It's been ten years since this post... @/summerheavens are you okay after recent developments

🍬 summerheavens Follow

am i okay? is ANYONE okay??? in these trying times??????? with the most chaotic gp to ever exist?????? i am PULLING OUT WIPS i dropped out of respect ten years ago. i've got to send my kid to daycare but once i'm done you bet you're seeing me on the starchive. miss swift even dropped her 20th album just in time for me to use lyrics as titles. i am LIVING and i am THRIVING

#ohhhhhhhhhh #let's go #also can't believe taylor finally addressed the vehicle manslaughter rumours from like twenty years ago #how fitting #also littlewood needs to get his shit together #why does he look like he's the one who hasn't seen his man in 32738102371 years and got his soul shattered #he's weak and won't survive the winter

27,408 notes

🧈 butteredbread Follow

WHAT is wrong with that lykos. i desire him carnally

🌳 treebark

@/handoftheking

🪓 handoftheking

I mean... yeah. Let's face it, we're all like that 🤷

⭐ nonbinarystar Follow

MR LITTLEWOOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

#WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM #I HATE HIM SO MUCH #PARASOCIAL RELATIONSHIPS CAN ALSO BE ABOUT HATE #THIS GLOWSTICK MF IS MY WORST ENEMY #he just canonised treebark for the sixth time #also prev tags so real #need to slingshot him into a faraway galaxy

34,091 notes

🫃 spaceshipmpreg Follow

Who put that Just a Dream FalseRen AMV on my dash again

🔮 queenofstarz03 Follow

Respect your roots!! That 125M views Just a Dream AMV raised a generation. Every kid in my school played it on loop on their ipods during recess

🔮 queenofstarz03 Follow

wait op can you explain your url

🫃 spaceshipmpreg Follow

No 👍

#i think we should get the dogwarts freighter pregnant

6 notes

[bunnyreaper]

YES I DO HONEY BUN!

Let's get your most crack fic takes on how Gaz reacts to seeing spicy photos of his fellow operatives (141, Los Vaqueros and beyond, up to you!)

Like setup can be whatever you want but I'm imagining a "Hey an ex is trying to blackmail me by saying they are going to send these photos to the team so may as well pre-empt it, behold!"

you said crack fic, so I gave crack fic! admittedly not doing a good job with the prompt, but, hey ho!

your little hobby might have gotten out of hand. it started off as a silly little joke with johnny--he suggested you keep a polaroid of him on you, to really solidify your bond and friendship. 

you'd agreed, but hadn't expected him to produce the polaroid himself, and certainly not one that was just a picture of his bright smile, gorgeous torso, and admittedly delicious happy trail. it had taken you by surprise, but you felt the urge to keep your promise, and swore to yourself that one day you'd get him back with something equally as obnoxious.

from there, it had spiraled out of hand. 

simon had gotten wind of johnny's little picture, and one day approached you. you expected him to rip the two of you to pieces, but he hadn't. 

instead he slid across a polaroid of another shirtless figure, one that could be him, but with his face and tattooed arm out of frame and the alluringly lowered lighting, it's hard to tell for certain. he peered at you from behind a plain black mask as he whispered--no one will ever believe you.

price's picture had made its way into your paperwork 'accidentally'--a flattering picture of his thick, hairy stomach and broad chest, leading down to a pair of tight boxer shorts and muscular, imposing thighs. you're convinced he did it just to show them how the boys how it's done, a point of pride over his figure that is all man and not boy. all the while he maintained innocence and embarrassment at the mistake, yet he never made a move to get the photo back from your collection. 

all three photos sit in front of kyle, having spilled out from where they were hidden in the back of your phone case. he fights between confirming what he's seeing and refusing to look at all. 

different parts of him battle against each other. the first thing he felt was confusion, which quickly morphed into recognition, and then embarrassment. while the men's bodies were nothing he hadn't seen before, the polaroids all had an alluring, erotic edge to them, which brought blood rushing to his cheeks. 

it felt wrong to look, and yet he had so many questions--for them, for you.

"didn't know you were that much of a perv, love." he looks at you with a cheeky grin.

"i'm not! it's a joke, they're not for my... personal enjoyment." you scoop them back up and stuff them in your phone case, hiding them from any other prying eyes. 

"they're not?" his eyebrow arches, him clearly not believing you. "so, you just have lewds of all of our team for the laughs?" 

"something like that." you nod, desperately wishing for a change of topic, after all, it is just some overblown joke. 

a few expressions flicker across kyle's face, before he settles on a slightly wounded puppy look. "why didn't you ask me for one then?" 

"we're just friends." you explain, trying to remain straight-faced despite the emotion bubbling up inside you. 

there's a very fucking good reason you never broached the subject with kyle, and went out of your way to even hide it from him. because you knew that one look at a lewd picture of kyle would be the death of normalcy in your friendship. 

"and you're not friends with the rest of the 141?" his face shifts from wounded puppy to confused puppy, head tilted and everything.

"i am, but it's not like i want to be more than friends with them--" you rush to explain, but let out just a touch too much, revealing your long-standing crush on the man sitting across from youm "i mean..." 

"didn't know you felt the same way, love." he smiles, genuinely elated rather than smug. it's clear not just from his words, but from his tone and the look in his eyes that he feels just the same way you do--enamoured." 

you can't help but beam back, equal parts nervous and excited. "not how i planned on telling you, but yeah. with them it's just silly, with you it'd be... different." you feel your cheeks flush at the confession.

kyle leans into your space a little, and as you think he's about to take your hand, he instead takes your phone. 

he throws you a wink before he takes out the polaroids, and slips them into his pocket. "looks like I'll have to take a few pictures of my own then, replace your little collection." 

[mrhowells]

Smallville 5x06

"How you ever had a crush on Richie Cunningham, I will never understand."

I'm actually so easy to please

"And Lois... *laughs* I'd do anything to get rid of Lois."

but thinking about how annoying she is makes him laugh, soooooo... she's a good influence, I rest my case😌😌

Jonathan knows too, like-

Chloe & Lois as an investigative duo are actually really fun

Lex really lives in Jonathan's head rent free💀💀

ohmygoooooddd

MOTHER.

"She's here to dance."

Chloe really threw Lois under the bus like that I'm cryingsjakjsha

the struggle is real💀

SOOOOO let's see if Jonathan actually apologizes when it turns out Lex didn't do anything

CLARKFNKLJFDISLYS

COVER YOUR EYES SWEET SUMMER CHILD

Lois x bisexual lighting I LIVEEEE

they did that for me😭😌

"I'll have a coke😇" ... "S- straight up, on the rocks.😤"

JAkhsshfdlskaBOOBOO WHAT ARE YOU-

I just choked on my ice cream

LMAOOOOOO bless his heart

THE STRUGGLE IS REAL PART 2 I'M CRYINDHSGFJFKD

I'm really not ready for what's about to go down here😭😭

🎶DON'T YOU WISH YOUR GIRLFRIEND WAS HOT LIKEEE MEEEEEEE🎶

Someone needs to go to jail for that music choice💀💀

TOM WELLING YOUR FACE JOURNEYS. LET ME SAY THANK YOU KING🙇‍♀️

this is history in the making. absolutely iconic.

🎶DON'T YOU WISH YOUR GIRLFRIEND WAS WRONG LIKE MEEEEEE🎶🎶

i do wish she was my girlfriend actually they're so right

aaand she's getting into it

ON MY FUCKING KNEES FOR HER MA'AM YOUR HAND IN MARRIAGE PLEASEEEE

he's kind of giving me:

PLEASEWSWKRJWOPQP

EVERY SINGLE FRAME OF THIS IS SO FUCKING ICONIC LIKE WHAT DO I EVEN SAY??

it's okay bb, we're all looking respectfully right now

💀💀💀THE STRUGGLE IS REAL PT.3

SOMEONE PLEASE HELP THIS BEAN

kshadjwka his fight or flight is kicking in😭😭

"What are you doing here?" "What are YOU doing here?"

story of their life fr

the struggle has never been more real, pray for Clark💀

.

they did that.

smallville writers really did that.

legend behaviour if you ask me

i would like to take this moment and say thank you.

"I've never been in a position where people look up to me."

This is such a silly statement, Jonathan is literally the person Clark looks up to the most. His bigger personality flaws clearly come from Jonathan's influence💀 (not to say he didn't also learn a lot of good traits from him -he absolutely did- but you know)

I'm really curious what Lex's (and Jonathan's) politics are actually, don't be shy writers tell me👀

SIR I NEED YOU TO STEP AWAY FROM MY WIFE IMMEDIATELY

creepy mf

"Hey 007. Nice of you to show up." "I'll start assuming that means thank you?"

giggling kicking my feet

"I can't touch him." "Well, I can."

I'VE SAID IT BEFORE AND I'LL SAY IT AGAIN, MOTHERRRR

pls his face😭

he knows he could never be as cool as her

THIS SHOT MAKES ME FERAL

my parents🥹

(listen the shit i went through to upload this last picture tho, i hit the upload limit and had to delete stuff, then i accidentally deleted the whole post for a second🤡 my whole life flashed before my eyes💀💀)

Lex talking about a guy falling in love with his best friend's wife uh oh, no thank youuuuu😬😬

He was making a good point though.

"The thing I always try to remember is, no matter how much le lays on, he never expects more than he expects from himself."

Clark really grew up didn't he😭😭

"What are you doing, you just moved back in."

from the guy who said "I'd do anything to get of Lois." at the beginning of the episode, what in the clownery🤡🤡

All men do is lie.

she's such a menace, I LOVE HER😭😭

AND HE CAN'T STAY MAD AT HER LOOK AT HIS FACEEEEE

they're secret bffs your honor😭

I LOVE THEMMM IT'S ACTUALLY SO SERIOUS

"And you didn't have to come after me but you always do. So I wanted to say thank you. You're a really good friend."

GOING INSANE ON THIS SATURDAY NIGHT

CUT IT OUT YOU ASSHOLES I'M TRYING TO STAY NORMAL UNTIL SEASON 8 QUIT EYE FUCKINGZFGDUWEOAK

well. stay normal challenge failed again but that's exactly how i thought this would go, sooo

Question for the people: should i even tag Lex in posts like this? I don't think twice about tagging characters like Jonathan because I don't expect fans to look through his tag for him specifically, but i know people do it with Lex and I feel bad at the thought of them having to scroll through me losing my mind over Clois with a few Lex mentions in between. Lex fans lemme know

[youngbloodlisk]

parade day - enhypen bias x reader, fluff

the bias isn't actually in it all that much, but just like trust me lol

applicable for any enha member, no name stated, though if you feel it's a bit ooc for your member of choice to say certain things feel free to alter it a little in your own mind to make it fit better!

I shiver, feeling like an ice block from the inside out, despite the amount of layers on my body and the hot drink in my gloved hands.

I breathe out air warmer than my surroundings, granting me the appearance of a steam cloud coming from my mouth.

As I take a drink from my paper cup, I can't help but wonder to myself why Thanksgiving has to be in November. And why parades have to be outdoors. And why I had to be here so early in the morning just to stand here for hours.

Then, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Not just a generic vibration, but the custom vibration that he set for himself on my phone. 'So I always know it's him before I even look.'

⁃ how's the crowd

He's such an ass. He's currently inside, waiting for the staff to tell him to go out and board the float. Inside. He's inside. In the heat.

⁃ cold, dick. how's the nice warm heated building 🤩

⁃ lovely, thank you.

⁃ no but fr ur not too cold right? you have jackets on?

⁃ i can send someone to u with my jacket if u need it

⁃ did you get the drink u said u we're gonna get?

⁃ yes yes yes I have jackets I have my drink im fine lmao

He might be kind of an ass but he's so sweet.

⁃ ok good.

⁃ only a few hours!

⁃ after we pass by the main part you can leave baby

⁃ ik you said you were gonna wait around for me but you don't have to

⁃ I don't need you freezing your ass off

⁃ THAT would be tragic. r.i.p. ass

I can't help but roll my eyes.

⁃ you're such a perv

⁃ woah rude!

Instead of responding, I slide my phone back into my pocket. I don't really have anything else to say at the moment. If I tell him straight up that I WILL be waiting until the end of the parade for him, he'll just whine about how I don't have to.

And now I stand. And wait...

And I waited for about 5 hours. We had to be here at 4:30 in the morning, both for him to get where he needed to go with his members and for me to get an absolutely prime spot in the crowd. The parade didn't actually start until about 9:30.

It's not every day that your boyfriend performs in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.

Longest five hours of my life, but whatever. He better not mess up the choreography after all this shit or I'm gonna be pissed.

Not really, it would actually be pretty funny. But the point is- this is pretty exhausting. Especially since I'm here all by myself.

Other members have partners, but they either couldn't come out for the parade or they don't like me. Not kidding, they seriously just don't like me that much. But that's okay! I don't particularly like them either. Anyways, all that resulted in me being here alone, without anybody to talk to to pass time.

But whatever. Whatever! It's over. The agonizingly boring five hours is over, and the parade is finally starting.

The float I'm really here for is a few floats and balloons back, but the parade feels like it moves quickly, so it doesn't seem to take very long at all.

The big Baby Shark float approaches and I see him already trying to find me in the crowd.

"Excuse me, could my daughter stand in front of you? Just for this performance?" A woman asks from behind me. I look next to her and see a young girl, probably about 10 or 11, holding a picket with my boyfriend's face on it.

She looks like this is the best day of her life. She isn't even looking at me, like she doesn't even care if she has the best view of the group. Just being here and seeing them is enough to fill her with pure joy.

"Of course! Of course she can!"

"Oh, thank you so much." She prompts her daughter to move forward as I scoot back a bit to make room for her. "She loves these boys, she's been talking about it for days. Thank you."

"It's no problem at all." I turn my attention to the young girl. "Is he your favorite?" I point to her picket.

She nods, excitedly.

"He's so pretty."

"He really is. He's my favorite too."

I look up again, seeing that he's still trying to find me. I wave with all my might, willing him to spot me, and soon enough he does. As soon as I have his attention, I frantically point to the girl who is now holding her picket up and waving at him. He leans down a bit to indicate that he's changed his attention to her as he smiles, waves at her, and sends a hand heart in her direction.

She squeals and jumps up and down.

"He saw me!! He saw me!! Mama, he saw me!! He gave me a heart!"

The cute little girl continues to freak out, making me worry slightly that she might just explode, as the float stops and the guys climb down, getting ready to perform.

There was some benefit to getting here so early. The performances are all directly in front of me (and this little girl, who I feel some level of community with at the moment.)

The hosts finish up their introductory stuff about the float, the movie, and the group, and the Baby Shark music begins to play (soon transitioning into the Keep Swimmin' Through tune.)

I watch him intently, full of pride for him and his success with the group.

I know he can't entirely take this seriously. It's a song for a Baby Shark movie. It's not like it's the most serious of performances in the first place. But I also know that deep down he can't believe he's here either. He can't believe he's doing this. He'd probably agree to sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star acapella if it meant he got to be in such a big event that few kpop groups have been in.

The group does a great job. Of course they do. None of them mess up the choreography, so I remain not pissed off. (Lol)

After the performance, they simply walk off next to the float, but my boyfriend makes sure to send a quick flying kiss to both me and the little Engene in front of me before leaving the main square.

"He saw me again!!" She squeals.

"That's great, honey!" Her mother says before whispering to me, "Do you know that boy or something? He seemed to know you?"

I laugh a bit.

"Yes, ma'am. He's my boyfriend."

"Oh my! Oh, you must be very proud of him."

"You have no idea."

The rest of the parade is uneventful, just nice entertainment.

When it ends, I say goodbye to the little Engene and her mom, and seek out a heated place as fast as possible. I'm finally able to find a store nearby that is both open and not too busy. I wait in that store until my boyfriend is released from his duties and able to text me where to find him.

When I finally do leave and find him, he hugs me tighter than usual and holds on longer than usual.

"Are you alright?" I ask, slightly concerned.

"So cold. You're so warm."

I laugh, though I understand. I have to pry him off of me, taking a second to kiss his cold lips.

"You guys did great. Was it fun?"

"Yeah, it was. Less fun though and more just... just a really crazy experience."

"I bet. Did you see a lot of Engenes throughout the parade?"

"Yeah! A lot more than I expected. They really showed out. That little girl in front of you was adorable."

"You're her bias, and I think your heart and kiss made her entire day. Month. Life, possibly."

"Well, I wouldn't have seen her and made her entire life if it wasn't for you."

He takes my hands and pulls me close to him, bringing his face near to mine.

"It really is all thanks to me, isn't it? Technically, maybe /I/ made her entire life. You were just the tool."

"Mhm, mhm. Sure..." He trails off, pressing his lips into mine in a much deeper way than the short kiss earlier.

I feel a warmth run through my body, like the warmth of his kiss is being injected into my veins.

He cuts it off suddenly, staying close enough for his lips to still brush against mine. We utter a sentence each before resuming the kiss.

"Thank you for coming and standing out in the cold just for me."

"Baby, I'm so proud of you."

[prettyboykatsuki]

paparazzi would have a field day w/ oliver + whoever had the displeasure to get into an argument w/ him sleazy/pleased little smile on his face the other person is like gesturing with their arms, brows scrunched clearly passionate abt it and his body language is SO relaxed and smug. like talking to a brick wall fr

anon u sent this to me a day ago and i literally thought about it for 24 hours straight. like couldn't stop thinking about it type thing. bc im imagining the pitcure ending up on social media after everything

and all the comments are like

_oliveraikunews: omg who is that

ballsport_npc: yooo who is aiku arguing with they look big mad

shoei_barou: this fucking idiot

olivers_wife: why is he looking at them like that... im abt to be sick

and people r hounding him on twt calling u mystery person. oliver is normally not active at all on his socials minus insta for thirst traps but on twt he replies to someone who asks that is bc oliver is EYE FUCKING YOU in that picture.

the way he's leaning.. the way his eyes are lidded... it looks like he's going to eat you. after DAYS of uproar he breaks his silence and says some bullshit like "we're in it forever they just don't wanna accept" and it's A NIGHTMARE. oliver is literally known for his womanzing. no face no case ass man. AND HE'S SAYING THIS ABOUT A PIC OF SOME RANDOM? ur life is in shambles. its so over for everyone

[toomuchracket]

amy asking girlie to facetime matty to show him all the tricks she has taught to eloise since he’s been gone on tour and girlie sending him pictures of amy and eloise sleeping together after a busy day

he gets an ft from your phone while he's eating breakfast and it's amy, who's not long home from school and who's currently wearing one of his t-shirts as a maxi dress (she's six but she's teeny tiny for her age) - matty's lowkey weepy about the outfit choice lmfao. and she's a wee darling, so she genuinely starts with a "hi daddy! how are you? i miss you :(( when are you coming home? what have you been doing when you're not at work singing?", and the two of them have a good catchup about work and school. matty gently reminds amy that "sweetheart, you and mummy are coming out to visit me at work and then we're all coming home together, yeah?", and she gets excited; he can tell she's been chomping at the bit to talk to him about something else, though, so he's like "anyway, munchkin, what else is new?", and amy's like "i'll show you i just need to find eloise". she takes your phone with her as she walks through the house shouting on the cat, and matty tries SO HARD not to laugh at that and the close-up view of her chin and nostrils he gets (his daughter fr). anyway - eloise is found, and amy shows him that she's managed to teach her to give a paw in the exact same way mayhem does. actually, she manages to get handshakes (well, amy calls them high fives lol) from the cat and the dog at the same time, and matty isn't sure whether to laugh at the sight, be deeply impressed that amy managed to get a cat to do that, or panic about the way amy's precariously balanced the phone on the edge of the couch. luckily though, you swoop in and stop the phone falling, and matty gets to talk to both of his girls!! he misses you both so much, but you send voice notes and vids every day even if you don't get a chance to call; we've already briefly spoken about sending daily fit checks, but you also send him selfies and pics of amy after her two front baby teeth have fallen out. matty honest to god tears up at how cute she looks and makes one of the pics his lockscreen immediately (his homescreen is one of you on your wedding day. he'll never change it, never ever). but his favourite amy vid of tour - well, of both his girls, actually - is the one of the first ever time eloise did her kneading bit on amy. your daughter had climbed into your bed one sunday morning, cat in tow, and eloise had lain on her little pyjama-covered stomach and started to move her paws and purr happily; the vid is a selfie cam one of you going "amy, tell daddy what eloise is doing", and amy - through uncontrollable giggles - is like "she's making biscuits of me! it tickles", then it just dissolves into the two of you laughing for like three straight minutes until eloise gets bored and goes to lie next to mayhem in his bed (which leads to a solid two minutes of you both going awwwwwwww at the two of them being besties). the giggling chorus is matty's favourite sound in the world, genuinely - his girls being so happy!! what's not to love - and he's trying to figure out a way to get it into the background of a song as we speak lmfao. bless him <3

[signiorbenedickofpadua]

Ship: Dreamling Words: 11,764 Rating: Explicit Warnings: Explicit sexual content, canon-typical violence, rape mention (the line about Louise Baldwin)

Hob watches as his Stranger walks away from him in the rain on the seventh of June, 1889. Then he wakes up in a bed at the White Horse tavern, still on the seventh of June, and watches on in confusion as it happens again, and again, and again. Why, and HOW, is it that this night keeps repeating itself, and what must Hob do to make it stop? To make his Stranger stay? A Groundhog Day AU.

Read on AO3

“I'll tell you what,” Hob says as he walks out into the rain, following in the footsteps of the furious Stranger. “I'll be here in a hundred years' time. If you're here then too, it'll be because we're friends. No other reason, right?”

He is almost yelling, half to make himself heard over the rain as his Stranger stalks away, getting further and further away by the second, and half because he’s angry. No, that’s not quite right. Hurt? Confused? Scared that he’s fucked things up beyond repair? Yeah. That’s it.

The Stranger disappears around a corner without so much as a glance back at Hob.

“Fսck!”

The tone of his voice changes to desperation as he stops trying to catch up with his fr— With the Stranger. He’s gone, and he won’t come back for another century, and perhaps not even then, now that Hob has gone and cocked everything up by daring to think that the nameless man might want a friend as much as he does. Well done, Hob. Good job. This is just grand.

He groans and hides his face in his hands.

~*~

Hob opens his eyes.

He’s lying in bed in the small room he’s renting for the night at the White Horse tavern. How queer. He doesn’t recall lying down in it.

Then he remembers the events of… yesterday? Was it yesterday that he met his Stranger? Then why doesn’t he remember doing anything after running after him in the rain? A glimmer of hope ignites in his heart. Is it possible that he just took a nap and dreamt of the catastrophic meeting? Though, if it was a dream, it felt frighteningly real.

He gets out of bed and looks down at himself. He’s wearing the same clothes as he had on in the maybe-dream. He wouldn’t have gone to bed for the night without undressing, so that speaks for a nap. Unless he was spectacularly drunk, that is, but he feels no trace of a hangover.

Looking through the window, he can tell that it’s evening, a bit dark already, but not late enough that the Stranger wouldn’t have time to still show up — if it is still the seventh of June, that is. A familiar melody, sung rather badly, floats up from a nearby street.

“The first I met a cornet was in a regiment of dragoons…”

Didn’t he hear that song in his dream? Curious… Then again, it sounds like it’s Lushing Lou singing, and he must have heard her sing that ditty a hundred times while loitering around the tavern, looking for men to pick up. Not so strange to hear the song again, when he thinks about it.

He forgets all about the song when he spots a familiar figure walking along the street, towards the passage leading to the tavern where Lou must be hiding from the rain. The man is tall and thin and dressed in black. His Stranger. So it was a dream, then.

Hob sighs in relief and vows never to nap in the afternoon again. It only results in bad dreams and disorientation. He smiles as he hurries out of his room, determined to save his friend from the clutches of Lou. He doesn’t want anything to sour the Stranger’s mood, lest his dream comes true and he leaves in real life too.

“—hunting for rabbits again, Fri— Ouf!”

Hob walks straight into a couple of guests in the corridor outside his room, almost knocking them over.

“Pardon!” he says, not slowing down as he heads for the stairs.

“Watch where you’re going, mate!” he hears one of the men call after him, but he’s already heading down to the ground floor.

Lou is already trying to sell her services to the Stranger when Hob approaches them, apparently not very successfully, judging by her sudden switch to insults.

“Lou!”

She turns around to face Hob, and he fishes a coin out of his pocket and tosses it to her.

“Get yourself a drink.”

He doesn’t pay much attention to her as she mutters, “Maybe just the one,” and hurries off towards the tavern. He’s busy studying his friend.

Wasn’t he wearing those clothes in Hob’s dream? Hm. Probably just a coincidence. The cut of his coat is very much in fashion right now, so it’s not strange that he’d be wearing something like it, and he always wears black, why wouldn’t he in Hob’s dreams?

“Sorry about Lushing Lou,” he says and tips his head in the direction of the tavern. The Stranger’s clothes seem to be keeping him dry enough, but Hob left his coat inside and would rather like to get out of the rain.

“Hello, Hob,” is his friend’s only response as they walk towards the tavern.

Hob smiles and rummages through his pockets for a cigar. It’s nice to hear his old nickname again. Deep down, he’s always preferred it to his never-ending stream of aliases, and even to just plain Robert, if he’s being honest.

“Lushing Lou. Is that what they call her?” the Stranger asks a while later, after they’ve settled at a table.

“Well, in here they call her ‘the Hospital’.”

“Why?”

“Because she's in them a great deal, and because she's sent so many men into them.” Hob feels a little funny as he says that, like he’s said it before. “No idea what her real name is,” he continues, but a little voice in the back of his mind whispers, Louise Baldwin.

“Louise Baldwin,” the Stranger says, casual as you like. Hob blinks. “Her father was in the British army. Her cousin raped, impregnated, and deserted her when she was just a child.”

Hob gapes at his friend. He’s not just wondering how on earth the Stranger can know all that — how the fuck did Hob know it? None of the words came as a surprise to him, though he couldn’t have told you any of it beforehand if you’d asked.

“You are staring.”

Hob shakes himself out of it. “Sorry, I just had the strangest déjà vu.” His friend raises an eyebrow, and Hob adds, “It’s a thing this philosopher bloke told me about a couple of years back. I met him in France and— Never mind. How do you know all that?”

How did I?

“Your cup is empty. You need more wine.”

His friend is obviously dodging the question, and part of Hob wants to press on, but he can’t shake this unsettling feeling that this has all happened before. In his dream? Has he gone and become a psychic somehow? No, that French fellow had said something about your brain only making you think you’ve experienced something before. It’s just his mind playing tricks on him.

Nevertheless, the sensation is disturbing enough that he sits back in his chair and signals for a refill of his wine, taking a big swig of it as soon as his glass is full again. He can’t help frowning as he searches for what to say next. God, he’s thrown off his balance by this thing, whatever it is.

“How has the past century treated you?” the Stranger asks, saving the distracted Hob from coming up with something.

“Exceedingly well. I’m still in shipping. Different cargo.” He sighs and has another drink. “You were right, last time. Of course you were. I was too greedy to admit to myself that the whole thing was fucking barbaric. I put some money into lobbying against the practice, after that, then sent a hefty sum overseas to support the Yankees when they started fighting over it.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

There’s something in his friend’s expression that Hob isn’t sure he’s seen before. He looks like… he’s proud of Hob? It makes him uncomfortable.

“Yeah, well. Doesn’t change what I did, does it? And I’m still a greedy prick, same as ever. Always will be.”

He forces a smile and winks, trying to turn the self deprecation into a joke. He hasn’t had enough wine to turn maudlin just yet.

“I think perhaps you have changed.” The unsettling pride is still there in his friend’s eyes.

“I dunno. I may have learnt a bit from my mistakes.” He exhales a bit shakily, both due to the memories of his past missteps and the fact that the spooky feeling of familiarity is suddenly back. “But, uh... Doesn't seem to stop me from making them.”

His friend huffs in response, not a laugh, but as close to it as Hob’s ever heard from him. Even that feels oddly familiar.

Christ, will his mind not let him have a normal conversation without making him believe it’s all happened before? To make matters worse, he’s having a hard time differentiating between the dream and the feeling of déjà vu. Which one is it that’s screwing with his head this time?

Perhaps he should test it, if only to convince himself that he’s imagining things. What was it that happened in the dream? He’d said something stupid, and his friend had run away. But surely he wouldn’t do that in real life?

“I think it’s you that’s changed.”

Yeah, that was what he said in the dream, and his friend had responded with—

“How so?”

Hob hesitates. The almost-smile on the Stranger’s face has turned into cold neutrality, a warning glint in his eyes. What should he do? Say what he said in his dream? Risk ruining the night in real life too? Ah, for fuck’s sake, Hob, it was just a stupid dream. He had been planning on saying something like this anyway, and he’s not about to let superstitious paranoia stop him from speaking his mind.

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

His friend’s expression has turned impossibly colder, and Hob feels a chill run down his spine as the man says, “And what might that be?”

Are those tears in his eyes? Uh oh. Perhaps he should have listened to his dream, but it’s too late now, the words are welling out of him.

“Friendship. I think you're lonely.”

The Stranger’s jaw clenches, and when he speaks, his voice is even lower than usual, almost trembling with fury.

“You dare…”

Oh, Christ but that’s uncanny. Hob remembers this from his dream. This voice, this look, these words. He’s gone and done it. His friend is going to leave, for real.

“I’m sorry! Don’t—”

“You dare suggest one such as I might need your companionship?”

Hob gets to his feet, proactively. “I did, but—”

The Stranger rises too. “Then I shall take my leave of you and prove you wrong!”

Hob’s hand shoots out, gripping his friend’s wrist to keep him there, to make him listen, to… To ask what the fuck’s going on, because these are the exact words from his dream. But the Stranger wrenches his arm free from Hob’s grip with superhuman strength.

“Do not touch me, human.”

Then he turns on his heel and stalks out of the tavern, leaving Hob in shock for a few seconds before he collects himself enough to rush out in pursuit despite a sinking feeling in his stomach that tells him that there’s no use. He won’t come back.

“Oi!” he shouts after the rapidly retreating figure, hardly noticing the rain as he steps outside. “Stop!”

His friend — well, not actually friend, as he’s made abundantly clear — does not stop.

“What in the name of the Almighty and the whole bloody angelical host is happeni—”

~*~

Hob opens his eyes.

What the fuck? He’s lying in bed again, back in the room at the tavern. He jumps to his feet, feeling his hair and his clothes for raindrops, but he’s dry as bone. From the window he hears a badly carried tune.

“The first I met a cornet was in a regiment of dragoons…”

He looks out of the window and sees a man approaching the tavern, thin and dressed in black. What?

He turns and walks out of the door.

“— she says, ‘Are you hunting for rabbits again, Friar?’”

The two men at the other end of the corridor burst into laughter behind Hob, who wastes no time in going downstairs, heading straight for the door.

He stops there, looking out into the rain at the two figures standing in the passageway across the street. That’s his Stranger, all right. Wearing the same clothes he’s seen twice now. Hob’s head is spinning, trying to keep up with what’s happening.

A thought hits him. “Louise Baldwin!” he calls, and the shorter figure turns to look back at him.

He waves her over, and the Stranger follows close behind as she walks up to Hob.

“What? Can’t you see I’m workin’? Who told you me surname, anyway?”

He stares at her for a moment before muttering, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“What?”

Hob shakes his head and digs through his pockets for a coin. The memory of what the Stranger said happened to her in her youth surfaces in his mind, and he pulls out a couple more, handing the money to her.

“Have a drink. On me. Get something to eat too, why don’t you? You’re skin and bone, child.”

She peers up at him, looking like she’s trying to figure out the catch, but she quickly pockets the money.

“Cheers, Rob.”

Louise disappears into the tavern, and Hob is left with the Stranger, who has been standing in the rain, silently watching the exchange.

“Hello, Hob,” he says as Hob’s focus shifts to him. Hob doesn’t answer immediately, and the Stranger frowns. “Are you well? You look pale.”

“I— I don’t know.” He shakes his head, as if he could rid himself from his confusion that way. “Let’s go sit down.”

He says nothing as they walk through the tavern, heading for the same table they’ve sat at twice already. He watches the Stranger take off his hat and shrug out of his coat in silence, but when the man sits down, he can’t help but ask what’s on his mind.

“Have you… done something to me?”

The Stranger frowns. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I…” Hob doesn’t know how to even begin to explain. “Nothing. Nevermind.”

He keeps squinting at the Stranger, looking him over as if he could get some answers if he just watched the man long enough.

“You are staring.”

“Sorry,” he says slowly. He doesn’t stop staring.

The Stranger is beginning to look uneasy in a way Hob hasn’t seen him before.

“How has the past century treated you?”

Hob laughs, a little maniacal. “I think I’m going insane.”

That’s putting it mildly. Things aren’t repeating themselves exactly as last time, but they are, undoubtedly repeating. What the bloody fucking fuck?

“Pardon?”

“I need a drink.”

Hob jumps to his feet and heads straight for the bar, leaving the Stranger behind at the table. Hob orders two tumblers of whiskey, only to down them both in quick succession. He winces against the sting of the alcohol, but raps a knuckle against the bar to signal for another. The Stranger joins him at the bar.

“You are acting passing strange, Hob Gadling.”

Hob turns his head to the Stranger. “Am I, now? You know, I’m not sure if it’s me or the world that’s gone mad.” He picks up the third glass served to him, taking a sip this time rather than chugging it.

“And you speak in riddles. It is unlike you.”

“Is it? How would you know? You don’t actually know me, and I certainly don’t know you. We’re not friends, as you’d be the first to remind me.”

Hob is feeling a little hysterical, to be honest. He can’t quite wrap his head around what’s going on. This day has already happened twice before, he’s sure of it now. It wasn’t a dream the first time, nor the second, and here he is, talking to the Stranger for a third time in just a couple of hours. And the man is acting like they haven’t seen each other since 1789, like he has no idea that he has entered the bar thrice today.

“No. I suppose we are not,” the Stranger says, and Hob must actually be going crazy, because he imagines that there’s a bit of disappointment in his not-friend’s voice.

If he’s offended by the suggestion that they could be friends, yet disappointed to hear that they’re not, then what the fuck does he want? He can’t have it both ways.

Hob rubs his eyes, then downs the third drink. If this day repeats for a fourth time, he’s walking straight to the nearest lunatic asylum, he thinks, and orders some ale to chase the whiskey that’s already warming his stomach pleasantly.

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asks the Stranger, as an afterthought.

“No. You appear to be drinking enough for the both of us.” The man’s lips curl in distaste. “I must say your manners have taken a turn for the worse.”

“Oh, well, I’m having what you might call a fucking day and a half. I’m sorry my courtesy isn’t up to snuff,” Hob snaps, harsher than he meant, but quite beyond caring at this point.

“Then perhaps you will be better company next century. Good night, Hob.”

The Stranger puts his hat on and walks out the door. Hob doesn’t follow him, even if his instincts are screaming at him to do just that. If he’s actually insane, and the day won’t repeat again after this, at least the Stranger didn’t run out the door crying this time around. He’s obviously displeased with Hob, but at least not furious.

Hob picks up the pint of ale, touching his lips to the rim—

~*~

Hob opens his eyes.

He does not rise from his bed, which he's lying in — again. Instead, he stares at the ceiling, listening to the faint song rising from the street. There are cracks in the old, wooden beams, and a spiderweb in the corner.

“The first I met a cornet was in a regiment of dragoons. I gave him what he didn't like, and stole his silver spoons.”

There are footsteps outside his door, and a muffled voice says, “— abbits again, Friar?’” followed by the sound of two men laughing.

Perhaps he should go check himself into Bedlam. Perhaps he is going mental. But, then again, the stories he hears of how people are treated in places like that… Not to mention having to hide his immortality while institutionalised… No, it's not actually an option, but he's starting to think that's where he belongs.

Unless this is all one very long and elaborate lucid dream, or there’s something supernatural going on. That feels like the three options, really. Lunacy, dream, or magic. All things he knows very little about. Christ, this is making his head hurt.

He sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Just lying here won't do him any good. He'd better get down there before the Stranger wonders where he is and leaves without seeing him at all.

On his way downstairs, he contemplates how to approach this. Should he ask the Stranger what’s going on? The man doesn’t seem to even notice that something’s wrong.

There’s a small part of him that considers just saying nothing. It’s tempting to try to simply have a nice evening that doesn’t result in the Stranger storming away for a fourth time. He gets to see his frie— Strang—

Oh, bugger not being friends. He’ll bloody well call him friend if he wants to. He gets to see his friend so seldom. Would it be so bad to use whatever the fuck is going on to just enjoy the company for a turn or two? To wait a bit before finding out what is happening to him?

Still, he’s the only supernatural entity Hob knows, and if there is sorcery afoot, then he’ll be the most likely person to know anything about it. Fuck, as far as Hob knows, he’s the one causing it for some ineffable reason. Perhaps to teach Hob a lesson in impudence or something.

He has not quite made up his mind on what to do when he descends the stairs and finds that his friend is already sat down at the table, waiting for him. He nods at Hob as he walks up to the table and takes a seat.

“Hello, Hob.”

“Hello, Stranger.”

“You see me as a stranger, still?”

His friend seems more amused than offended by the term, which is fortunate for Hob. It would be a personal record to scare him off in less than ten seconds.

“No, ‘course not. I just don’t know what else to call you. You’ve not given me a name, after all.”

Hob smiles, trying not to sound accusatory. Maybe this is what he should be using this unexpected opportunity for — needling information out of the tight-lipped man.

“No, I suppose I have not.” The corner of his friend’s mouth twitches slightly upwards.

“To be fair to you, it seems we get interrupted whenever I do ask the question.” Hob rests his elbows on the table and leans forward slightly. “Were you going to tell me? Last time, before that Lady Johanna barged in?”

“Perhaps,” his friend asks, enigmatically.

“Will you tell me now?”

His friend hesitates, but the question doesn’t seem to have soured his mood too badly, so Hob dares to press on, just a little.

“I’ve called you my Stranger in my head for five hundred years now. Would be nice to have some variety — for the sake of my sanity, you know.”

His sanity went out the window several iterations of this evening ago, but his friend doesn’t need to know that right now. He looks to be fighting some sort of inner battle at the moment, presumably to decide whether he’s going to remain the same cryptic bastard as ever, or if he’s actually going to reveal something about himself for once.

“Morpheus,” he replies after some deliberation. “You may call me Morpheus.”

Hob can’t stop a huge smile from spreading across his face. He hadn’t actually expected to get an answer this easily after all these years. The question of what he is, remains, but one thing at a time.

“Well, Morpheus. Nice to meet you. I’m Hob Gadling, as you know, but nowadays people usually call me Robert Grant.”

“Charmed, I am sure.” Another twitch of his lip. “You are staying here?” his friend asks after a moment, tilting his head slightly to indicate the stairs Hob had descended.

“Only for the evening. I actually don’t live too far away. I’m here all the time, these days, just didn't fancy catching a cab too late at night. There are murderers about, you know.”

“From whom I am sure you have much to fear.”

Was that a joke? Has his friend ever made a joke before?

“Yeah, well. Paid good money for this weskit. Would be a shame to get stabbed through it.”

Hob winks, and the St— Morpheus does another one of those little huffs that aren’t quite laughs, but aren’t not laughs either. This is going well. Perhaps he won’t leave this time.

Hob blinks as he realises he had forgotten his queer predicament for a second there, too caught up in the euphoria of finally squeezing a name out of his friend. Morpheus must have noticed his face fall, because he quirks an eyebrow.

“Something wrong?”

Hob opens his mouth, then hesitates. There’s a selfish part of him that wants to just let this conversation play out, to have a lovely evening with his reluctant friend — for once uninterrupted by cocky playwrights, threatening noblewomen, or Hob putting his foot in his mouth. But an overwhelming part of Hob is quite frankly disturbed by what’s happening to him, and would like some answers.

“Yes, actually. I don’t— I’m not sure how to explain it.” He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “You don’t… feel like something’s wrong? With this evening, I mean?”

Morpheus frowns. “Whatever do you mean?”

“That’s just it. You’ve already looked at me just like that and said those words, no more than an hour ago.”

Hob is doing his best to keep calm, but he can hear a faint note of hysteria creep into his voice, nonetheless.

“I was not here an hour ago.”

“Oh, but you were. You’ve been here four times tonight.”

“You speak in riddles.”

Hob shakes his head. “You’ve told me that, too.” He leans back in his chair and runs a hand through his hair. “Look, I have no idea why, or how, but this evening is repeating itself. Four times, now, you’ve entered this tavern and spoken to me, and thrice you’ve left. I keep waking up in my bed upstairs, only to hear Lushing Lou singing from the street, and a couple of blokes tell this god-awful joke, over and over and over. Then I go downstairs, and we sit down at this table, the same one every time.”

“Lushing Lou, is that what they call her?”

Hob sighs. “You’ve asked me that as well. Can’t help but feel you’re focusing on the wrong details here, mate. What the fuck is going on, Morpheus? Have I been cursed? Am I dreaming?”

Morpheus studies him in silence for a while. “You are not dreaming. I assure you, this is not my doing.”

What is that supposed to mean? Hob wants to ask, but his friend continues talking.

“If you are speaking true, these are troubling tidings.”

“Of course I’m telling the truth! Why would I lie about something this bizarre?”

“Why, indeed.” Morpheus rises from his chair. “Worry not. I shall investigate the matter. I will return shortly.” With a nod to Hob, he sets off towards the exit.

“I— All right.” Hob remains seated, watching his friend leave again. At least this time he’s not cross with Hob.

He exhales wearily as Morpheus disappears out the door. Will this even work, or will he just wake up again in a few seconds? Well. He’s about to find o—

~*~

Hob opens his eyes.

He’s lying in the goddamn, blasted bed again. Or course he is.

“The first I met a cornet was in a regiment of dragoons…”

“Oh, shut up, Lou!” he groans and covers his ears with his hands.

Fuck’s sake. All right. New attempt.

He gets out of bed and walks out the door.

“—says, ‘Are you hunting for rabbi—”

“Quit it with that joke, will you? It’s bloody ancient, and not that funny,” Hob barks at the men in the corridor.

“Oi, what’s your fucking problem?”

Hob doesn’t listen to them. He just heads downstairs and sits down at what’s quickly becoming their table, waiting for Morpheus. He can’t be bothered going out into the rain just to save his friend from speaking to Lou for a few more seconds than necessary.

“Hello, Hob,” Morpheus says as he approaches the table.

Hob gives him a forced smile. He’s getting a bit tired.

“Hi. Again.”

“Again?” his friend asks, sitting down.

Hob sighs, and explains once more.

“I see…” Morpheus rises from his chair. “Worry not. I shall investigate—”

Hob shoots up from his chair. “No! Don’t go!”

His tone must have been too commanding for Morpheus’ liking, because his expression hardens, and he says, “Do not presume to tell me what to do,” and turns on his heel, walking out.

“Great. Fine. Knock yourself out. I’ll see you in a seco—”

~*~

Hob doesn’t open his eyes.

He can’t be fucking arsed to face the by now very familiar sight of the ceiling over the bed in his rented room. He has it more or less memorised by now. The cracked wood of the beams, the spiderweb in the corner. He’s tired of it. He’s tired in general, actually. Time may be resetting itself for everyone else, but, for Hob, it’s been hours.

He sits up and tries not to listen to the song coming in through the window, or the voices of the joking men in the corridor. He needs to think.

There seems to be a pattern to the madness that is this never-ending evening. Morpheus comes in, they talk, he leaves, Hob wakes up. The reset appears to be tied to Morpheus leaving, not to how much time has passed.

So what? Is he supposed to just keep his friend in the tavern forever to break out of this? Is he supposed to do anything at all? What is causing this? Is there some capricious god watching him that he’s meant to appease somehow? What if he leaves? Can he just go? Not meet with Morpheus at all? Would that break the pattern?

He rises. It’s worth a try. He has a million questions, and this experiment will at least answer one of them.

Morpheus should be entering the tavern about now, so Hob doesn’t take the main stairs down to the ground floor, instead opting for the narrow staircase that leads directly out to the back yard, for use for guests seeking to use the shithouse in the middle of the night.

The evening is turning into night as darkness falls over London along with the steady trickle of the rain. Though it’s a Friday night, the weather seems to have chased everyone inside, save a magpie sitting on top of a lamppost, peering down at him. Hob should have brought his coat, but for all he knows, he’ll just wake up in bed the moment he’s out of sight of the tavern, so what’s a bit of rain?

He doesn’t. Huh. All right. Best keep going, test the limits a bit. Perhaps things will reset if he gets too far away, or when Morpheus tires of waiting for him at the tavern and leaves. Or, just maybe, this is such a disruption of the order of things that time will just go on as it’s supposed to, and he can go about his life again.

There’s a small twinge in his heart at the thought of actually getting out this way. If tonight doesn’t repeat after this, Morpheus will think Hob stood him up, and he doesn’t know how to contact him come morning to explain that he didn’t. What if he won’t show up in 1989, thinking that Hob doesn’t want to continue with their arrangement? What if he rescinds the immortality?

Hob shivers, and it has nothing to do with the rain. Fuck, he doesn’t want either of those things. But this has to end, this ain’t no way to live, anyway. If tomorrow finally comes, he’ll just have to do his best to track down Morpheus and explain. He has a name now, that’s a start.

He’s too engrossed in his thoughts as he weaves through the labyrinth of badly lit streets and alleys to pay attention to where he’s heading, nor does he notice the shadows huddling in a doorway until it’s too late. Two men step out into the rain in front of him, and when he stops and glances behind him, there’s a third figure.

“Hullo, mate. Nice evening, innit?” one of the men in front of him says.

The glint of a knife in his hand does not escape Hob. Perfect. Incredible. Just what he needed to cheer him up after all of this. Exactly when did Lady Luck abandon him?

“Not particularly,” he sighs.

“Well, you could make ours better if you hand over any money you happen to have on you,” the second man says.

This is hardly his first mugging. He lives in London, after all, and he’s learned by now that the easiest way to deal with muggers is just giving them what they want and running in the other direction. He’s wealthy enough that he can afford not fighting over what little part of his fortune he carries in his wallet.

Hob puts his hands in his pockets and blanches. There are only the few coins he’s given to Lou a few times now. His actual wallet is in his coat, back at the tavern.

“Sorry, gents. Seems this is all I have on me.”

He tosses the handful of coins to the men in front of him. If there wasn’t a man behind him as well, this would be the point where he ran.

“That’s what they all say. Fancy bloke like you’s got to have a fat wallet hidden somewhere.”

“Left my coat at home,” Hob says, shrugging.

“Mind if I check?” The first man lunges forward, knife drawn.

So that’s how it’s going to be, is it? Hob steps out of the way with ease, earning himself a split second to make a decision. Try to run, fight, or just let them kill him and trust that him “dying” will reset the evening and bring him back to the tavern?

It’s no decision at all, really. He’s getting rather pissed off at his general situation, and he could frankly use the outlet for his frustration that these nice gentlemen have so kindly provided him with. Just ‘cause he’s trying to be a better man these days doesn’t mean he’s a nice one. Certainly not nice enough to put up with the very real pain of getting murdered, even if he knows it’s only temporary.

Having made his decision in a fraction of a second, he brings his knee up into the man’s stomach, using the forward momentum of his body against him to make the impact that much more forceful. The man gasps and stumbles as he gets the breath knocked out of him, and Hob takes the chance to wrest the knife out of his hand and throw it over the brick wall blocking his escape route to one side.

The less knives involved in this, the better. He’s not looking to actually kill these men. He was desperate enough to try his hand at mugging at one point in his life too (after having been a literal bandit, come to think of it). He gets it. Doesn’t mean he won’t defend himself non-lethally though.

He spins out of the way of the second man’s knife, tripping him with a well-positioned leg in the process. Dodging a punch from the third bloke, he brings his fist up to collide with the jaw of the first man, who has recovered enough to try to grapple him from behind.

He hasn’t fought like this in ages. It’s exhilarating, to be quite honest. Gets his blood pumping, allows him to forget the fucked-up last couple of hours he’s had. He lets himself get lost in the rhythm in it, thinking only of tactics, the next couple of moves ahead, how to hit where it will hurt but won’t permanently debilitate.

He manages to get rid of all the knives with only a small scratch to the back of his hand to show for it. One of the men shortly takes off running with what Hob hopes is a wrist that isn’t broken but merely sprained. The next one gives up after Hob sends him shoulder-first into the brick wall, his arm hanging limply by his side. Dislocated, most like. Ouch.

He twirls around to deal with the last one, but before he has a chance to, the man falls to the ground, completely limp. Hob is confused for all of a second, before he realises that there’s a newcomer at the scene. A thin man in dark clothes who is putting a pouch back into his coat pocket. So much for his experiment.

“How’d you find me?” he pants, running a hand through his rain-drenched hair.

“Jessamy saw you leave the tavern.”

“Jessamy?”

“My raven.” Morpheus nods to a black and white bird watching them from atop the wall. “Thank you, Jessamy. You may leave us.”

The bird takes flight and disappears into the night. It must have been the same magpie — well, raven, apparently — that he saw earlier. So his friend can talk to birds, then. Sure, fuck it. Why not?

“Right. Well. You needn’t have come to my defence, I had it in hand.” He winks at Morpheus.

“Clearly.”

The man is actually smiling this time, but it’s not a comforting smile. It looks almost hungry, and when he walks closer to Hob, he thinks his eyes look darker than usual, though that might just be the dim light. Hob swallows.

“So what did you do to the poor bugger this time? Show him more ghosts?”

He looks down at the man at his feet. He seems to be fast asleep, breathing evenly, eyes closed, facial features relaxed. Not at all like Lady Johanna. It looks like there’s a thin layer of sand stuck to the rain-wet skin around his eyes. The magical dust he used on Constantine the last time, then, presumably from that pouch in his coat. The fight has left him in an analytical mindset, taking in every detail that might be relevant.

When he looks up, Morpheus is very close to him. Close enough that he almost takes an instinctive step back, but he holds his ground.

“He is dreaming of better times. The man is haunted by enough ghosts that I thought it unnecessary to add to them.”

“Right.” Hob licks his lips nervously, and Morpheus’ gaze falls to watch the sweep of his tongue.

“You are a very able fighter, yet you were not fighting to kill.”

“No. As you said, this lot must’ve had their share of troubles. They may have jumped me, but I’m not about to add dying to their list of predicaments.”

His friend is still staring at his lips, and Hob tugs on his earlobe, a tad uncomfortable. He’s never seen Morpheus behave like this, and he doesn’t know quite what to make of it. Actually, that’s not completely true. He feels like he’s seen that hungry look in his eyes before. Last time Hob dispatched some ruffians in front of him, in fact. It resembles nothing so much as lust, but it can’t be… Can it?

“You are hurt.” Morpheus’ eyes have moved to Hob’s hand.

“What?” He looks down at the appendage in question, noticing the scrape from the knife along a few bruised knuckles. “This? But a scratch. ‘S not even bleeding anymore.”

Morpheus keeps surprising him. He grabs Hob’s hand gingerly and says, “Nevertheless, allow me.”

He pulls a handkerchief from somewhere — black, of course — and starts bandaging the wound. Hob just stares at him, flabbergasted. This is the first time Morpheus has actually touched him — voluntarily, that is. There was Hob’s foolish attempt to make him stay by grabbing his wrist, but he’s not sure that counts as having even happened after so many resets between then and now.

It feels surreal, that the man who had — or hadn’t, depending on how you look at it — stormed out in tearful fury and told Hob not to touch him not long ago, now stands here, tenderly wrapping Hob’s hand. He’s a fucking mystery, self-contradictory as all hell, and oh so very close.

Hob can’t breathe. At this distance, he can count the long, dark lashes of Morpheus’ eyes, can confirm that yes, there is the barest hint of kohl around them, making them even more striking. Fuck, they’re pretty. Just like the rest of him. But then, Hob has known that Morpheus is an attractive man for five centuries. He’s not blind, nor indifferent to the beauty of men.

He has been able to keep a lid on that attraction for just as long, but with Hob’s blood still rushing from the high of the fight, standing close enough to his friend that he can feel his breath ghosting over his face, more or less holding hands… Well. It’s making it very hard not to do anything stupid.

“There.”

Morpheus finishes the bandage by tying a knot and tucking in the ends of the handkerchief. He doesn’t let go of Hob’s hand.

“There…” Hob whispers.

Morpheus takes a step closer, forcing Hob to stagger backward a little so as not to lose his balance. Then another step. And another, and another, until Hob is backed into the wall of the dark side alley, an awning shielding them from the worst of the rain. Morpheus’ expression is as hungry as ever, almost predatory, like he’s a fox stalking a juicy rabbit. Hob’s heart is beating quick enough to fit that description as he is crowded against the damp bricks, their bodies pressed together.

“Tell me that you do not want this,” he says in a voice as low as to almost be a growl, half asking a question and half commanding.

Hob’s head is spinning, and he can’t tear his eyes from Morpheus’ mouth. Of fucking course he wants this, even after the way the man has acted during the past iterations of the night. He’s just baffled that Morpheus wants it too. By all accounts, this is the last thing his friend should want from him. He doesn’t even want to be friends, for Christ’s sake!

“And make a liar of myself?” Hob breathes. “No, I don’t think so.”

He’s sure Morpheus must feel the truth of Hob’s feelings on the matter straining against the fabric of his trousers where their bodies are making contact. He is as aroused as he is confused. Immensely, that is.

Morpheus surges in and captures Hob’s lips in a forceful kiss that is just this side of too hard, all teeth and tongue. Hob opens up for him immediately, bewildered but enthusiastic. He whines desperately against Morpheus’ lips when the man rolls his hips against Hob’s.

Even through all of the layers of clothing, Hob can feel the matching arousal rub up against his thigh. Bloody hell, he must really have a thing for watching Hob fight people. There’s no other reasonable explanation — not that he’s sure he’d count that as reasonable either, but who’s complaining?

Morpheus’ hands move to the front of Hob’s trousers, and before he knows it, his cock is exposed to the cool summer air, pale fingers wrapped around it. He gasps and fumbles his way beneath the layers of Morpheus’ coat, searching for his fly. Hob’s fingers are not quite as deft with the buttons as those of his friend, but he manages to free Morpheus’ erection from the confines of his trousers in the end, finally, finally, getting his non-bandaged hand on the soft skin of the firm member.

From there on out, Hob is lost in the sensation of Morpheus’ hand working its way up and down his shaft, with Hob giving as good as he gets. Morpheus’ is kissing him like he needs it more than air, which might be true. What does Hob know about the physical needs of non-human supernatural entities, or whatever it is that he is? He’s far from an authority. For example, he’d never have guessed that one such as Morpheus would even be caught dead rutting like a teenager with a human in a dirty back alley, but here they are.

It’s rough, carnal, raw, and graceless — all attributes opposite those he usually associates with his friend — yet it’s perfect, and Hob finds himself tethering on the edge of orgasm far too quickly for his liking under the nimble hands of Morpheus.

When he comes, his cries are muffled against Morpheus’ lips, and the man swallows them down greedily until Hob has to tear himself away to suck in a breath.

“Please,” he pants, “Let me— My mouth…”

He’s having a hard time stringing words together, such is his overwhelming desire to be allowed to get his lips around Morpheus’ cock, but his friend seems to understand well enough, because he turns them around so that it’s his back against the wall, and then shoves Hob down to his knees.

The cobblestones are hard, knobbly, wet, and dirty, making kneeling on them all but comfortable, but Hob doesn’t care. He’s taking Morpheus’ into his mouth, and that makes up for any and all discomfort. His member is long and slender, a perfect match for the rest of the man, and Hob sets to work on it like a starving man presented with a banquet. Morpheus’ hand finds its way into Hob’s hair, a dominating presence guiding his every move — the attitude hardly a surprise to Hob, nor unwelcome.

His friend isn’t a very vocal lover, even with his mouth no longer stopped by Hob’s lips, but, every now and then, Hob’s skillful tongue, well-practised at the art, manages to wring a gasp out of him here, a soft moan there… Hob will take whatever he can get, store every little sound away in his memory forever.

With a groan of pleasure the only warning, Morpheus’ hips snap forward, and Hob’s mouth is flooded with hot seed which he thirstily gulps down, working his friend’s cock through the aftershocks of his climax. Eventually, the hand in Hob’s hair tightens, and he is pulled off Morpheus’ softening prick.

“Hob…” his friend murmurs, looking down at Hob, relaxed and wrecked in a way that he never thought he’d get to hear.

He licks his lips and clears his throat, finding his voice again. “Christ, Morpheus… I—”

“What?”

Hob blinks. “What?” His brain is still playing catch-up with the present.

“How did you—”

Morpheus is suddenly tense again, and there’s a hint of steel in his eyes along with something that strangely enough resembles fear. He tucks himself away.

“This was a mistake.”

“What? No—”

“Goodbye, Hob.”

“No!”

Hob’s heart sinks like a stone in his chest. It’s happening again? Really? After what they just did? Why?!

He grasps desperately for the fabric of Morpheus’ trousers, the hem of his coat — anything he can hold onto to keep him there — but his friend has pulled that pouch out of his pocket, and the next thing he knows, Morpheus is engulfed in a whirlwind of sand. When the wind dies down, he’s gone — the only trace of him the grains of sand between Hob’s fingers where previously there had been fabric.

That’s new.

Hob racks his brain for what he did wrong this time, and, finally, the penny drops. He called him Morpheus. He hadn’t given Hob his name yet this time around. For fuck’s sa—

~*~

Hob opens his eyes.

He closes them again, then tugs a pillow from under his head and buries his face in it. It helps muffle his scream of frustration. And it prevents him from hearing Lou’s singing and the jokesters in the corridor.

Removing the pillow, Hob sighs wearily. He’s getting tired. Not physically, he’s restored to the exact condition he was in before all this started, as evidenced by the scratch on his hand being gone, along with Morpheus’ handkerchief. But mentally? He’s exhausted. It had been late in the evening even before all this, and now it’s been hours of this madness. He just wants to sleep, to rest, to be free of this fucking thing.

He’s not going downstairs. Not again. Not yet, anyway. He’s going to stay here, in bed, maybe even take a nap. Yes. That’s a good idea. Let Morpheus sit and wait for him down at their table. It’s no less than he deserves after leaving Hob on his knees in that alley. Hob hadn’t actually intended to hide anything from him, everything just happened so quickly that there was no time to say, “Oh, by the way, before you wank me off — you’ve told me your name, but you don’t remember that happening.”

It’s a testament to Hob’s exhaustion that he actually manages to fall asleep with all of the questions whirling in his head, but slept he must have, because when he opens his eyes again and lifts his head, he’s feeling groggy and disoriented, and there’s a man in his room who he didn’t hear come in. A tall, thin man with a black coat folded over his arm and a hat in his hand.

“Oh. Hi.” He lets his head fall back against the pillow. “Can’t get rid of you that easily, eh? How’d you find me?”

Morpheus frowns. “You were dreaming. Were you hiding from me?”

Perhaps his dazed state lets him think in a different manner than usual, because something slots into place in Hob’s mind, and he makes the connection that has been tauntingly just out of reach ever since he learned his friend’s name. Morpheus. Sand. Dreams.

He props himself up on his elbow and looks at Morpheus, suddenly wide awake.

“Are you the fucking Sandman?”

His friend cocks an eyebrow, and Hob thinks he sees a small smile play on his lips.

“You are! You’re Morpheus, the god of dreams, and sleep, and whatnot!”

“So, you figured it out.”

“You admit it? That I’m right?”

“In part. I am far older and more powerful than any god, but yes. I am he whom the Romans called Morpheus, and I do have dominion over dreams, and sleep, and whatnot. I am Dream of the Endless.”

There he goes again. Even when the evening is on seemingly endless repeat, his friend finds a way to surprise him every time. A name, a fumble in an alley, a joke… It’s really hard to hold a grudge when he flees Hob’s company, only to come back with something like this, the fickle, charming bastard.

Hob laughs and sits up properly, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Dream, huh? That’s your real name?”

Hob thinks he might like that name more than Morpheus. They both suit him, but Dream feels right, somehow.

“One of them. Perhaps the truest.”

Given his reaction when Hob let slip his name back in that alley, Hob is surprised to hear his friend — Dream — give him this much extra information now. Even back at the tavern when he had explicitly asked for a name, Hob had been given just that, a name — one of many, apparently — and nothing more.

“Hang on,” he says, “Was this some kind of test? Have you been waiting five hundred years for me to figure it out on my own? Is that the reason for all your cryptic half-answers to my questions?”

Dream seems torn between amusement and mild affront. Luckily for Hob, the amusement seems to win out, and his friend sits down on the bed beside him, balancing on the very edge, very prim and proper.

“No. No test.”

“Then why?”

The question seems to stump Dream, and he hesitates for a long moment before saying, “I… suppose I did not think it relevant. We meet so that you may relate your experience, and that I might—” He pauses, and the word learn is unspoken, but Hob hears it, all the same. “Such is the nature of our arrangement.”

Hob weighs his next words carefully. Sure, they can have this conversation all over again, if Dream runs, but he’d rather not go through it all again if it can be avoided. Yet this is something he feels he needs to get off his chest.

“That may be the arrangement, sure, and from your perspective, it makes sense to keep it that way. But… I’m human, Dream. I wasn’t built for immortality—” Dream opens his mouth, and Hob hurries to add, “That doesn’t mean I don’t still want to live! I am still enjoying life, immensely, and I plan to do so indefinitely. What I’m saying is, we humans… We’re made to like constancy. Even the ones that enjoy spending their lives on the move. We meet people, and we latch on to them, so that even if we don’t have a place to call home, we might find one in the friends with whom we take the journey.”

Hob feels like he’s getting dangerously close to rambling, so he pauses to collect his thoughts. Thankfully, Dream doesn’t interrupt him.

“Look,” he continues, after a moment. “Our meetings, to you, may just be a one-way exchange of information. But to me? They’re the constant in this wondrous, ever-changing world that I have been lucky enough to get to experience far longer than most. I have to move around, to stay safe. And, unfortunately, I can’t take my friends with me when I do. I have to move on from them too. It’s against my nature to do so, and yet I keep on doing it.

“The fact that I have this place to return to once every century makes it that much more bearable to live the kind of life I do by necessity. This is home. And you’re part of that. More so than the building.

“I won’t presume to suggest that this is true for you,” Not again, “But I am a human, with human needs, and one of those needs is friendship. I would like to be able to call what we have just that. I want you as my friend, and I won’t seek death if that’s not agreeable to you, but that’s what I’d like, if I had it my way. Which means I want to know you. Your name, what you do, who you are… Things friends know about each other. That’s why I keep asking, keep trying to figure you out.”

Dream is quiet for a long while after Hob finishes speaking, long enough that he starts to worry that he might have offended him even with words so carefully chosen.

“I suppose… It would not be wholly… disagreeable to let you call me friend.”

That’s just about the most meandering and evasive way to agree to friendship that Hob’s ever heard, but it’s a far cry from Dream running away in tears, so he’ll take it.

“Well then. Thank you, my friend.”

Hob grins, and Dream gives him a tentative smile in return — not much more than a twitch of the lips, but it’s definitely there.

“Shall we go downstairs?”

Hob is about to agree, when he realises that he once again lost sight of the whole stuck-in-a-fucking-Sisyphean-nightmare thing. Ah fuck. Well. Let’s try this one more time, then. It would be a shame to lose all this progress if Dream just left at the end of the night and everything reset again.

“Actually, there’s something I need to speak to you about first. And it’s a lot, so I would ask that you make me a promise before I explain it. You’ll see why in a minute.”

“What sort of a promise?” Dream asks with a slight frown.

Hob takes a deep breath. “That you won’t leave until I’m finished explaining.”

Dream’s frown deepens. “Why would I leave?”

“Just— Please. Promise?”

After a moment’s consideration, Dream nods. “Very well.”

“Right. So. Don’t ask me how, or why, but this evening is repeating itself. This is the seventh time we have met tonight, and I’m the only one who seems to remember any of it. It just goes round and round. You visit the tavern, we talk, you leave, I wake up in this bed. Over and over. Thought I was going crazy at first, but it’s real. I can’t figure out how to break the cycle. Tried leaving the tavern myself, but I ended up back here then too. I’m… I’m getting tired, Dream.”

“I see… Why have you not asked for my assistance?”

Dream once again surprises him by immediately accepting what he says, far quicker than last time.

“I have. Twice before. But in order to investigate, you left the tavern, and that’s how it restarts. The moment I’m alone, I wake up in this bed. That’s why I made you promise not to leave. Because if you do, we’ll have to have this conversation all over again, and I’d rather you remembered it, this time. You leave — every time, you leave — and I… I just wish you would stay. Please, just this once. Stay.”

Hob rubs his eyes, weary to the bone now that the excitement of finally figuring out who his friend is has mellowed.

“I… shall stay.”

Dream looks almost concerned, and Hob smiles wanly. “Thank you. So what do we do? How the fuck do we figure this out without you leaving the tavern to do whatever you were going to do?”

“I am not sure. I believe it would behove me to hear a more detailed account of each of these meetings. There may be clues you have overlooked.”

“How am I supposed to tell you about things I haven’t even noticed?”

“You could show me.”

“Show you?”

Dream nods, serious. “Allow me to enter your dreams, and I will be able to access your memories. Then I shall see for myself what has transpired.”

Hob hesitates. His first instinct is to refuse. There are things in his memories he’d rather keep on pretending didn’t happen. This new iteration of their meeting feels like a clean slate of sorts. To expose all of the mistakes he made before this… Then again, there are things Dream ought to know. Deserves to know, in fact, regardless of how he’ll react to learning of them. And Hob does want to put a stop to this madness.

“I— Are you sure? Because you won’t like most of what’s in there. And I mean really, truly, won’t like it.”

“Why?”

“Let’s just say there’s a reason you left. Most of the times it was my fault. If we do this, you have to promise again that you won’t run away just because you get upset.”

Dream scoffs. “I do not run away from things. Nor do I let them upset me.”

Oh really? Seems like this will be a good learning experience in self-awareness for Dream.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Hob nods. “All right then. But first, I’d like to apologise for some of what you’re about to see. I… said some things I shouldn’t have. Made some mistakes. And I’ve learnt from them. So… Just keep that in mind, will you?”

Dream’s brow is furrowed in apprehensive confusion, but he says, “I shall.”

Hob takes a deep breath, trying to steady his sudden nerves. He only just got Dream to agree to some form of friendship. Learning what happened during their past six meetings may very well ruin that. But there’s no turning back now.

“Then let’s do this. You’re probably going to have to put me to sleep with that sand of yours. I don’t think I could fall asleep with you watching me.”

He lies down on the bed again, and Dream retrieves his pouch of sand from his coat pocket.

“Are you ready?”

“No. But fuck it. See you on the other side.”

“Then sleep, Hob Gadling.”

Dream blows a cloud of glittering sand Hob’s way, and the pout of his plump lips is the last sight Hob sees before darkness envelops him.

~*~

Hob opens his eyes.

He can’t have slept more than a few minutes, yet he feels like he’s been dreaming for days. He’s a bit disoriented and vaguely nauseous as he props himself up into a sitting position, leaning his back against the pillows and the headboard of the bed.

Dream is still there, but he’s standing by the door, his back turned to Hob. One of his hands is closed in a fist, resting against the doorpost.

“Not leaving, are you?” Hob says, carefully.

“No. I will not put you through that again.” His voice is calm, measured, but it’s tinted by some emotion Hob has a hard time identifying.

“Are you… All right?”

“Always,” Dream replies, but he does not turn around.

Liar, Hob thinks. Well, that’s to be expected. Hob hadn’t exactly prepared Dream for everything he was going to see in his memories. What they did last time around must’ve come as a bit of a shock. It certainly did for Hob. A pleasant, welcome shock, but a shock nonetheless.

“Any idea what’s going on, then?” Hob asks, eager to steer the subject in the direction of what’s happening to them rather than between them.

Dream straightens up and turns around. Whatever emotions he’s feeling are carefully hidden behind a mask of neutrality.

“There was a… presence. I could feel it throughout your memories, and even now it lingers. Let me just…”

Dream closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. Exhaling, he opens his eyes again, and Hob shudders. They have gone completely black with only star-like pinpricks of light where the pupils should be. He takes a look around the room, and whatever it is he sees appears to infuriate him.

Moving quicker than should be physically possible, he strides across the small room, hand outstretched, and, when he reaches the wall beside the window, there’s a loud thump like a body making impact with a firm surface.

“You!”

Hob is about to ask what’s going on, but in that moment, something — no, someone — materialises in the room, their neck trapped between Dream��s hand and the wall.

“Hello, dear brother. It seems you found me out.”

The person — man or woman, Hob’s not sure. Perhaps both, or neither — is tall and blonde, dressed in a perplexing mix of feminine and masculine clothing. The huge grin on their painted lips is incredibly unsettling.

Hob springs to his feet. “What the f— Who are you?”

“Oh, you know me well, Hob Gadling. Intimately, one might say.”

“Desire!” Dream growls, and the intruder (Desire?) chuckles.

“Calm down, I simply meant that he and I have had such a long and productive partnership over these past five centuries. Your pet human is just chock-full of desire, my darling brother — for life, for pleasure, for you.”

Dream just snarls and tightens his grip around their neck.

“Careful with those nails, Dream. Don’t want to break skin, do we?” they wheeze.

Dream’s expression doesn’t lessen in fury, but his grip lets up just a smidge.

“How did you—”

His gaze drops to their chest, and he lets go of their neck, only to clutch at something that hangs from a cord around it. He yanks at it hard enough that the cord breaks, and when he opens his hand, Hob can see a large stone resting on his palm. It resembles an opal, but the shimmering cloud patterns and specks of light within it move impossibly beneath the surface.

“Father gave you this?”

“Lent it to me. I asked for it under false pretences, naturally.”

“Will someone explain what in the ever-loving fuck is going on here?!” Hob exclaims, running a hand through his hair in lieu of punching a wall.

Dream closes his hand around the opal and tucks it away in a pocket.

“Yes, Desire. Explain yourself.”

Rubbing their neck, Desire laughs. “I don’t know what’s got you both in such a tizzy. It was just a bit of fun. If anything, I was helping you, brother.”

“How does subjecting Hob to this torture constitute helping me?”

“After your last meeting, a century ago, I was dying to see how this one would play out. Oh, don’t look so surprised, Dream. Of course I know what happened last time. You practically invited me over with that wave of desire you felt watching our friend here beat up those thugs. Who would have known that’s what gets you going. Well, I would, of course.”

“Desire.” Dream’s venomous tone carries an unsubtle warning and he glances quickly at Hob, as if he hadn’t already figured that much out on his own.

“Anyway. I thought I’d tag along for this meeting. I had a feeling you would cock it up, and you did. Spectacularly so, I must say. Lucky for you, I had daddy dearest lend me the tools needed to let you try again. And again, and again. It was never Hob who needed to learn from his mistakes, it was you.”

“And how the fuck was he supposed to do that when I was the only one who could remember anything?” Hob asks, anger rising in his chest like hot air.

“Well, if I had done it to my brother, he would have found me out much too quickly. And he did get the memories in the end, didn’t he? I’d say it all worked out rather well, though I must admit I had hoped to get to double digits before being found out.”

“If you are quite finished,” Dream snaps, “I would like you to remove yourself from our presence, post-haste, with the reminder that if I were not forbidden from spilling family blood, your punishment for disturbing me and mine would have been severe.”

Dream using the word mine like that makes Hob’s heart beat a little faster, but his fury still dominates his senses.

“Luckily, I can do whatever I bloody well want,” he says, and promptly headbutts Desire in the nose.

It’s like slamming his head into a tree, and Hob should probably have guessed that trying to cause damage to a being like that would be rather more difficult than hurting a human. Still, he feels something in Desire’s nose crunch at the impact, and when he withdraws, he can see a thin trickle of blood escaping one of their nostrils.

“Ow, what the hell?! Are you going to let a human do that to your favourite sibling, Dream?”

Desire brings a hand to their nose, looking almost surprised when it comes away stained red.

“Sixth favourite, and even that is debatable. Now leave.”

“Fine! Lovely meeting you, Hob. You really must give me head again some time.”

And with that perplexing sentence, they’re gone.

Hob sits down heavily on the bed and rubs his forehead.

“I think I have a concussion.”

“Quite likely. That was incredibly foolhardy of you.”

“That may be true, but it was also very satisfying.”

“Yes, it was rather.”

Concussion notwithstanding, Hob is sure he’s not imagining the smile spreading over Dream’s face as he looks down at him.

“So it’s over, then? Time will stop resetting now?”

“Desire no longer has the means to affect the passage of time.”

Dream pats the pocket that contains the opal.

“That thing? What is it?”

“A very powerful artefact belonging to our father.”

“Your father being…?”

“The anthropomorphic personification of time.”

“Of course.”

Hob almost has to stifle a laugh. If someone had told him five hundred years ago that this would be his life, he’d have recommended them to the nearest exorcist.

“Speaking of which,” Dream says, picking up his coat and putting on his hat, “I shall visit my father at once to return his property. Desire must have told him a pretty tale to make him grant them a loan such as this. He does not usually interfere in or pay attention to our lives.”

“So, you’re leaving?”

Dream hesitates, near imperceptibly, before saying, “I must.”

Hob forces a smile. “Just as long as it doesn’t mean I’ll wake up to Lou singing out of tune. And I’d kill not to have to hear that awful joke again.”

The corner of Dream’s mouth twitches. “No. Time is no longer out of joint.”

Hob ignores the Shakespeare quote and says, “I guess I’ll see you in 1989 then. Shall we say around noon, this time?”

“Very well. Until then.”

“Until then, my friend.”

Hob raises a hand in farewell. It feels almost surreal to think that it’s truly over, that he will have to wait a century to see Dream again.

Dream nods and goes to open the door to the corridor, but he pauses, his hand on the doorknob.

“Even after all that,” Dream says, looking back at Hob over his shoulder, “You would call me friend?”

“Yes. If you’d let me.”

“Not… lover?”

Hob’s heart skips a beat, and he stares at Dream. “I… I wasn’t sure that was still on the table.”

“Nor am I. Time will tell, I suppose.”

And then he walks out the door, leaving Hob gaping like a fish on the bed.

He gets to his feet, debating whether to chase after Dream and do… something. Kiss him? Tell him that yes, he’d like to call him both friend and lover, if he were allowed? Ask to see him earlier than a hundred years from now? He’s not sure, and so he remains standing still in the middle of the room, eyes fixed on the door as if Dream might walk back through it at any moment.

Even so, he’s startled when it opens, and Dream actually does walk back in. Without breaking stride, he pushes Hob up against the wall, cradles his cheeks in his hands, and kisses him. After a split second of surprise, Hob opens up to his tongue and fists his hands in the fabric of Dream’s coat, kissing back hungrily and pulling the man close.

Dream’s hands move into Hob’s hair as he licks into his mouth, tugging slightly as he makes every effort to devour Hob. He pushes a knee between Hob’s legs and rolls their hips together, making Hob gasp against his mouth.

After what might have been seconds or minutes — Hob really isn’t sure — Dream pulls back slightly, dragging a hand down Hob’s cheek and brushing a thumb over his kiss-swollen lips.

“Your memory related only the visual experience. I decided I ought to augment that before I left,” he says, matter-of-factly.

“I— Sure…” Hob replies, breathless.

“I will see you in a century.”

“I’ll count the days.”

Dream smirks. “Fare you well, Hob Gadling.”

“Goodbye, Dream…”

Dream blinks out of existence, and Hob is left alone again.

Leaning his head back against the wall, he tries to catch his breath. He touches his fingers to his lips gingerly, still feeling the phantom touch of Dream’s mouth on them.

A laugh bubbles up within him, and he lets it spill out over his tingling lips. That… That was… That was Dream. The constant surprise in Hob’s life. As he laughs, he’s torn between the residual urge to strangle Desire and the impulse to send them a thank-you card for inadvertently making sure this night ended in a kiss rather than tears.

Christ, 1989 can’t come soon enough.

[half-truths-and-hyperbole-louk]

Louk's Bad Batch rewatch pt 5 !!!

Actually starting tbb now let's gooo!! It's a long ep so this is gonna be a long one so buckle up kids 💕

(edit: I decided it was way too long lmao so I'm breaking it up into 2 parts)

Bad Batch 1x01 (part 1)

fyi my phone is on 66% and I hate that very much

the way the clone wars logo burns into tbb one 👌

Depa Billaba 👑👑👑 AND BABY CALEB MY HEART 😭

"Hey clanka" ~ TECH ILYSM

Tech straight up kicks a droid just bc he can lmao iconic

knife knife knife knife

Crosshair's snow slide 🙌

Grey why are you so moody bro 😂 the regs just hate them sm

Caleb's intro of the batch 😭😍

"We're all ya need!" ~Wrecker @ me

the dad batch adopting Caleb 💕

"Execute order-" YOU SHUT UP RN

remind me why I'm doing this again lmaooo

Crosshair's body language changes a little each time the others say "order 66" and that makes me feel like the chip activates a little more each time he hears it

LIGHTSABER IN THE SNOW 💕

Poor Hunter sounds so scared when he thinks Caleb is going to kill Crosshair 😭 the way his voice changes 💔

Hunter is SUCH a dad omg

Echo translating math for Wrecker 🥺

why is Crosshair still wearing his helmet!! I hate it here

the way Hunter knows Crosshair is looking at him even with his eyes closed 👀

Crosshair with his sassy crossy arms 😂

their faces when they see the lightsaber drop 😭

why does their room smell so bad 💀💀

the board !!! show Anakin !!

LULA 💕

Tech explaining the regs programing, I wanna know if he ever saw Rex's report about Fives 🥲

Wrecker smashing Crosshair in the face with Lula 💀

"You're more machine than man, percentagewise" BRO-

Echo's dramatic sigh count is already up to like 3 lmao

👀 Omega

Palps 🤢

Tech was looking at his datapad and he still somehow noticed that Hunter was distracted

Not the imperial march 😬

Crosshair: "Republic, empire, what's the difference?" Tech: murder ???

Hunter sensing Omega !! It kinda looks like he's counting the footsteps

okay but she's just so tiny 🤲

"What's that?" ~ Wrecker @ Omega💀 bro was with a kid like yesterday and loved him, new kid comes along and he's like 🤔

Tech really scanned her 😂

Hunter with his hands on his knees!!! bending down to her level!!! what if I cried!!! 🥺

Tarkin EW 🤢

all the clones getting food idk why it's so adorable but it is

Wrecker making a scene 💀

"Hopefully not mental, clearly we'd never pass that" relatable

Omega: 😁 the batch: 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨

she really thought they already forgot about her stop it 😭

"I like you" ~ OMEGA MAKES TECH SMILE 👀

aaaaaand Omega's adopted

Echo's so done with them all fr

Crosshair throwing his lunch tray 👌

I wanna see how the fight endeddddd

"I'm staying until he wakes up" 👀 ep 7 foreshadowing

Echo's ptsd 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Omega ptsd baby what did they do to you 💔💔

I want Azi to mention Fives to Echo so bad 🥺

"You owe me 2 credits" they're betting on Echo's survival pls 💀

Echo's sigh count: 5?

can everyone stop roasting Echo for 5 seconds ??? lmao

"Maybe this empire things not so bad after all" WRECKER DO NOT SAY THAT

"Gimme more!" ~ me @ star wars

TARKIN FOR TARGET PRACTICE NEXT PLS

the hand signals 💕

Tech's turn for a piggyback ride

Wrecker calls Tech buddy 🥺🥺

"Wrecker knife!" I'll never get over the lack of need for communication between them Wrecker just tosses it and hopes for the best

Wrecker picking Tech up 🥺🥺

aaaand I'm cutting it off here bc otherwise it's gonna be hella long

tysm to everyone who has been keeping up with these 💕💕💕 y'all are so sweet

I'll be posting part 2 of episode 1 a bit laterrr just to break it up a little hehe

[violetwitch12087]

Could you do the evans reacting to finding out that your pregnant with their child 🤭🤭

UH OF COURSE I CAN THIS IS ACTUALLY A REALLY GOOD IDEA I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS I DID MY BEST

The evans reaction to finding out you're pregnant and its theres

Evan Peters

*you tell him*

IMMEDIATE happiness

Hes shocked and then when you tell him fr a big smile comes across his face and he engulfs you into a hug

Would prob shed some tears or a lot

Kisses you so passionately

Holds you in his arms for HOURS

Tells his parents how happy he is

"evan uhm im pregnant" "wait youre serious?" *Nod* "OMG baby im so happy"

Tate Langdon

Straight panic

Scared he made the anti christ again

Sad because it killed you

You have to comfort him but he just cries and tells you how sorry he is

Honestly maybe would avoid you for a bit bc he hates himself and when he sees you he remembers what he did

After a while when you die and stuff he'll be there for you while you die holding your hand crying and kissing your knuckles

Yall would be fine after but until the apocalypse happens👍

"tate im- im pregnant" "w-what? I- im so sorry its all my fault"

Kit Walka (ik its walker i jst love the way he says it)

Would look down at the test and smile and hug you

"we're gonna have a third little baby here?"

Honestly really, really happy

Kisses you and hugs you swaying side to side

Later on would listen to his favorite music and dance with you before kissing you and putting his hands on your belly

"kit im pregnant" "what?" *Sees test* *big ole smile* "we're gonna have a third little one running around here?" *Nod*

Kyle Spencer (pre death)

Honestly a little concerned/considering it because hes in college and still lives with his mom

Would make it your choice if you want to keep it but if you do we would be there every single step and moment of the way

Honestly after a while of thinking would be so happy to have a little you guys running around

After thinking and accepting it and loving it he would apologize for even considering it and would kiss you and hold you

"kyle i know we're young but i- im pregnant" "wait really?" *Sees test* "i- i dont know what to say i mean i love you i really do and you know that but we're young but if you want to keep it ill be here no matter what baby"

*later on after thinking* "baby im so sorry for everything i said i wanna have a baby with you ive never been happier please forgive me, im so excited to have this journey with you"

How could you say no

Jimmy Darlin (yes ik its darling)

Very very happy

Then his smile starts to fade

Sad because he doesnt want your guy's kid to have his condition

Also sad because his kid is gonna grow up the way he did

You comfort him and tell him its all okay and that you guys wont let anything happen to the kid

Apologies for how he couldnt take you guys out of the freak show and all that jazz

You comfort him and lets jst say like at the end of freak show you and Jimmy live a normal life with your big ole belly and jimmy by your side all the steps of the way

"jimmy omg im pregnant" "really?" *His beautiful smile*

After a bit "im so sorry i couldnt give you and our only kid a normal life i really am" "jimmy i love you we will figure it out and you know we will"

James Patrick March

Genuinely shocked

Didnt even know you and him could have kids since well hes a ghost

But 'miracles' happen

Honestly surprisingly happy to have a little you guy's running around the hotel

"if you need anything i will have someone get it for you my love" he says that and also means that he will have someone that can go outside get you stuff as well

"james im pregnant" "i can procreate?" *Nods* "well, i could never be happier dear"

Kai Anderson

Honestly would probably be nice to you for once like with ally

Happy because there is now a 'messiah'

Wants the kid to lead the cult when he dies

Would be so happy i mean did you see him with ally and their damn kid?

He would start being more gently like he would look at your belly and smile putting his big hand on top of it

I mean he would probably even kiss your head and give you cuddles here and there

I mean how could he not? You're holding the next most precious and important thing in his life or probably the kid is his most precious and important thing

"kai dont get mad but im pregnant, and its yours" *a small smile would come across his face* "really? I honor you as the most loyal in this cult you're holding the next messiah"

Peter Maximoff (wanda vision age)

Honestly shocked

Would be so happy tbh

Would be happy because he would have another probably immature kid that was fast like him

Would probably pull you into a hug and kiss you and would hold you like forever while you guys slept every night

Would go into a frenzy about you needing rest and him stealing your favorite snacks a stuff just to make you happy i mean hes a kleptomaniac

"peter im pregnant" "YES omg were gonna have another speedster here"