mrs-monaghan · 3 days ago
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I’ve seen a lot of talk about how JK loves Jimin in the show, many have pointed out all the things he says and does for Jimin. But what does Jimin do for JK? How did we see him love Jk in the show because I’m struggling to see it and hate that.
You mean apart from claiming him?
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Coz anon, letting the world know a person is yours kinda goes to show Jimin loves the hell out of JK... hard enough to announce to everyone, but okay. If u want us to look at a few instances then we shall...
I gotta say though, not seeing how Jimin loves JK is wild. But, let's proceed.
I personally still can't get over Jimin waxing himself for JK. Its giving, amazing boyfriend who knows what his man likes 😏
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I'm sorry but that is so gay
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Alright anon. To really start us off, is the reason why AYS exists in the first place.
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We saw JK missing Jimin here and Jimin missing JK here. So Jimin doing this did not surprise me at all. I mean, we all remember he's it done before in 2019, so he's a grand gestures type of boyfriend. Wbk 😍🥺 I mean, man did say he would travel to the moon for JK. Literally.
So yeah, that's Jimin for ya. The guy who you can't seem to see just how much he loves JK 🤦🏽‍♀️ Moving on... so they decided to play RPS
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Jimin wins and what does he do?
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That's right. The rule of the game is to pick what you want first and eat that. But no, Mimi knows his baby loves to eat so even though he won, he finds out first what JK wants.
They play again, Jimin wins and once again,
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He offers JK first.
Makes you wonder what the point of this game is atp 😂😂 but Jimin will always put his man first and that's on fax. Cue editors pointing it out for you anon;
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Still you missed it... smh.
Next.
When he allowed a probably tired JK to rest on his shoulder.
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How cute was that? It reminded me of this:
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Jimin doesn't love JK you say? Let's continue ☺
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JK is special. We've known this for years. Jimin has always given JK that special treatment and has never even tried to hide it.
This post would feel incomplete if we didn't talk about their none existent hyung/dongsaeng dynamic.
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Not me going into bedroom territory and cackling at the fact that JK probably loves to rile up top Jimin. 🤭🤭
Ahem. Moving on swiftly 😌 to this other sweet moment.
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i.e Jimin giving up his seat for JK.
And you who is reading this saying that aint a big deal... umm, I beg to differ??? They were filming something that was gonna be viewed by millions so of course one wants to look their best. And JK knew this which is why he asked Jimin about his best side in the first place. So yeah, this was a very sweet thing Jimin did for JK.
Jimin is a really nice person. You know? Like, Jikook aside, this dude is the real deal.
Anygays,
Jimin supporting JK's music. Standing next to you especially 😂 but I also loved when he sang hate you. That was awesome. And don't forget SEVEN too.
Last but definitely not least (due to maximum image space) Right in the beginning anon, the show opens with Jimin being super worried about JK's voice.
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Jimin is not even subtle with how he treats and loves and dotes on JK.
I'm struggling to see it and I hate that.
Anon I can't believe you. Struggling? With Jimin of all people? Just for that I'll be coming back with a part 2. Hope these moments ring some bells for ya
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duelistkingdom · 3 days ago
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the worst part is i can't even say he's wrong. they certainly did figure out how to contribute the city by joining the wrgp. but like. this is one of those things where it literally does not make sense. this is insane levels of logic. "we're not sure how to contribute to the city. we think entering a magic the gathering tournament will help." like. imagine saying that fr when your parents ask what you're going to do after you graduate college. "idk. thought i'd play card games and figure it out, man"
#yugioh 5ds#yusei fudo#anya rewatches yugioh 5ds sub#i'm cackling over this#like dude you FUCKIN SAVED THE CITY#ushio calling this out too with like ''uhm. you guys kinda saved the city? you don't have to prove anything?''#and they never fully answer why they feel they have to prove something#they just do#arguably this implies an insane level of overachieving from yusei crow and jack#since they're not satisfied with JUST saving the city#but like. it does kinda suck that neither crow nor jack got to move on from playing card games with this set up?#yusei moves on to working on the moment - that works SO MUCH with this statement#and their statements made here#i suppose if you take jack's ''the team that wins will have glory'' statement at face value him continuing to do dueling also makes sense#but it also DOESN'T because like. he ALREADY HAD glory. he's the fuckin former king#this tournament changes nothing. he continues on as if he's still trying to reach it#and it just. there's a lot with jack's writing this season i WILL NOT get into#but oh my god jack atlas is a woman to me the way she was mishandled#and crow's... a lot of it falls so fuckin flat#the three boys were ROBBED but also yusei fully never gets to ever reclaim being a teenager#he ends the series forced into a role he never once indicated he wanted#following the footsteps of his father who he never once indicated he wanted to follow the footsteps of#yusei's character suffers because the show never bothers to address this constant hero complex he has#it's never confronted in any MEANINGFUL way like atem and judai's were#atem's hero complex cost him everything in the waking the dragons arc for example#and judai's led him straight down the path of becoming the supreme king#but for yusei? it's never like. deconstructed. ever.#and it feels like suuuuch a missed moment to go hey yusei. you do not have to be the hero of the city. you are a teenage boy.#what you have done for the city IS ENOUGH you do not owe your life to everyone
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kyokutsu-sama · 2 days ago
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Headcanons
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
"What do they do to get your attention?" Part.2
Characthers: Gyomei, Tomioka, Obanai
A/n- As promised and because I was chosen, here it is. I hope you like it✨️😊
(I'm sorry if it seemed a little short but I was out of ideas🥲)
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
Gyomei:
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He's a cutie. A big cutie bear, in fact❤️ He's not only a gentle giant, but he can also be a clingy and needy giant. But there are situations that make him a little frustrated, especially those in which he can't have your attention like he always likes to have. An example of this is when you're in a meeting with Master Ubuyashiki and you both have to be silent and show him respect. Sometimes Gyomei just wants to hold your hand out of habit, but at the same time he wants to remain serious and professional. When you go on a mission and he's alone, he ends up crying because he misses you and also because he's a little afraid that something might happen to you. But when he hears your beautiful voice calling him, his heart feels lighter. When you're supervising the training of the newbies of demon slayer corps, he comes over to where you are and puts a hand on top of your head or his forearm on your shoulders. When you're talking to someone and he wants to join in the conversation, he'll hold your hand and give you a few kisses on the back. He'll also put his arm around your waist a lot or run his fingers through your hair discreetly when you're with the other Hashiras. If you two argued for some reason (which I highly doubt because it's impossible to be mad at this big boy), he will cry twice as much and follow you around the house trying to sort things out. Hugs from behind are also the kind of thing he does to get your attention and how can you resist when those huge arms are keeping you protected and loved. Man, I'm crying right along with him after writing this (he so cute I can't🤏🥹)
Tomioka :
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Because he is so calm and discreet, it is sometimes difficult to tell when he wants to say something or when he wants your attention. He may not seem like it, but he loves to be well taken care of and given your attention. And sometimes he even becomes a bit clingy because of it. When you are both at the hashiras meeting, you are his only companion and so he likes to hold your hand or give it a light squeeze so that you can look at him for just a moment. If he is sure no one is looking he may also gently run his hand over your face or play with the ends of your hair. This works as a calming effect on his heart. He sometimes feels lonely because of his depression and when he sees you talking to someone else, he will come closer and give you a little smile or just put his hand on your waist. He likes to talk to you, to have your attention, to feel the warmth of your hands when you hold his. When you are doing something and are too focused on it and he needs a little cuddle, he will slowly come up behind you and hug you, resting his head on your shoulder. You've already memorized when he needs attention. Whenever he appears out of nowhere and hugs you without explanation or holds your hand just because, just give him attention. He needs it. Tomioka is someone who needs a lot of affection and you are everything to him. That's why he will always turn to you for everything. He trusts you a lot.
Obanai :
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Mysterious and quiet, just like Tomioka, Obanai is also difficult to read at times. Knowing what he is thinking is not an easy task. But when the need is strong, he ends up giving in and giving you signs of it. Many times, when the hashiras gather with the master and you two don't have a chance to talk, you can feel the kaburamaru crawling from his shoulders to yours and you look at the little snake. And not only will it do that, but it will also use its tiny teeth to give small bites in your skin to try to shake off your composure a little, and you can't help but chuckle a little at the trickery, coming from the intelligent animal. And when it is not the little snake calling your attention, it is his hands holding yours and playing with your fingers. Not every day will he use physical touch to get your attention, for example, there are days when he feels more "shy" and will just look at you with soft and loving eyes. These looks often occur when you are talking to someone and are not paying attention to him or when you are supervising training. These looks can also contain a bit of jealousy, especially if you are talking to another man. When the urge gets stronger than he wants, he not only looks at you, but his hand automatically goes to hold yours or hug your waist. When you're both alone, he likes to lay his head on your lap so you can caress his hair. And if you do, he'll love you even more.
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thestrangesthell · 1 day ago
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"Let's get married on your favourite holiday."
"Will you marry me on Halloween?"
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"That's in two days!"
I re-watched Beetlejuice Beetlejuice (casually, this time) and ended up slowly descending down another theory stairwell.
Rory's pathetic proposal uncovers a previously-unknown (though unsurprising) fact about Lydia:
Halloween is her favourite holiday.
While this detail comes as a shock to absolutely no one, it triggered a brand-new headcanon to emergency land straight into my brain.
Beetlejuice Beetlejuice could have been set at literally any time of year. The season has very little impact on the plot (with the exception of adding to the overall atmosphere and aesthetic). The main driving force is a few comedic gags with the Shrink Heads, Trick-or-Treaters and sets up the plot device for Astrid to fall head-first into Jeremy's trap.
Why does that matter?
Well, let's talk "psychic" connections.
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Now, whether you believe Betelgeuse truly has a "psychic connection" with Lydia or not, it's fair to say the man is 100% spying on her.
Black and white motifs appear throughout the movie, insinuating a persistent presence of Betelgeuse. The first time we see this is during the Ghost House footage. A painting can be seen on the back wall and, in the night-vision camera, appears to be black and white stripes (or wiggles - if we're going to get really specific).
Again, we see black and white stripes on the man in the audience (whom Lydia "mistakes" for Betelgeuse) and later with the clown costume kid at Astrid's school.
Lydia also outrightly says:
"I feel this [his] presence."
There's not much more I can say here to convince you that Betelgeuse is an omni-present false protagonist.
The long and short of this point is that Betelgeuse is constantly checking up on Lydia. Whether it's to make her see him, sense him, miss him - it's all a part of his plan. The key thing is that he is able to do it.
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Now, let's jump back to Rory's shit attempt at a proposal.
In this scene, Rory specifies Halloween is Lydia's favourite holiday. If we consider that fact that Betelgeuse is omni-present, he learns this too (although I'd place a lot of money on the fact he already knew and/or assumed this).
Now, let's jump in the line again, but this time, to the scene where Lydia summons Betelgeuse.
"I can't believe I'm doing this..."
After confirming that Lydia's daughter "is screwed," Betelgeuse bargains with Lydia for something in return in exchange for his help.
No where in this scene does Betelgeuse suggest or directly insinuate marriage. He simply asks for a way "to get away from her [Delores] permanently."
This could range from any number of things from Lydia's help putting a stop to Delores' plans to an outright exorcism.
It's Lydia who assumes that marriage is what he is after.
But look at him. He isn't going to complain. The man is delighted.
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Anyway.
My point is that Betelgeuse must know that Lydia is engaged. Rather than make it awkward for her, he lets her make the call as to whether or not marriage is on the table.
Although I'm sure he also knows she's not exactly enthralled by the prospect of marrying Rory.
Now, let's cut to the wedding itself.
"If I don't do it now, I'm never gonna do it!"
I can't help but wonder, was Lydia talking about marriage in general, her marriage to Rory, or her marriage to Betelgeuse here.
(Side note: I headcanon that Lydia never got married. Not even to Richard. But that's a post for another day...)
After making make Rory make a fool of himself (say that three times fast), Betelgeuse sets the scene. He knows time isn't on their side, (yet still sings 90% of MacArthur Park like a lovesick idiot) and does some very specific things that round off my entire point:
He changes Lydia's original dress to something more of Lydia's taste. We know he was present while Lydia and Rory talked wedding plans in Charle's study, so we can assume he also saw what Rory ordered in from Soho.
He pulls out a lipsynch/floatation number à la Jump In The Line (which Lydia begs the Maitlands to do in the 1988 movie).
He gives her his literal heart.
And (most important to my point), he "crashes" Lydia and Rory's wedding to make sure it still takes place on her favourite holiday.
The wedding in Beetlejuice (1988) is as romantic as it is slow and steadily paced. That is to say, it's a complete shit show.
Betelgeuse is a manic mess of pleaseletmeoutintothelivingworldpleasepleaseplease and rushes everything in order to get his freedom. The idiot even forgets to have a ring at hand...or, ya know...finger.
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Another sidenote: While I (personally) DO believe he has some type of strong feeling for Lydia in the first movie, he clearly wants his freedom more than a wife. He's been hurt by love before and literally snorts at the idea that he has to get married in order to get out "for good."
So...why is Halloween so important?
It's a day that's special and meaningful to Lydia.
And Betelgeuse is trying to make the wedding special and meaningful to her.
With a dress she would love, a song, floating in the air with her, calling her "one of the loves of my [his] life", taking it slow, throwing in a cheeky head spin to keep it strange and unusual - doing it all on Halloween.
He pulls out every single stop to make it as perfect as he possibly can.
Plus, if my headcanon that Lydia has never gotten married is true, the least Betelgeuse can do is embarrass Rory even further and make his attempt look even more pathetic.
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So...yeah. Halloween was more than just a spooky setting. In my heart, anyway.
Happy Halloween 🎃
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alvojake · 1 day ago
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Hate Me, Please | J.WY
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「prompt」 : nothing else to tell you 「pairing」 : wooyoung x fem!reader 「word count」 : 1.2k
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「synopsis」 : wooyoung, following his father's words, packed to leave even as you tried to figure out why. he didn't want you to chase after him like he knew you would so he did the only thing he could think of, make you hate him. yet he didn't know that you could never hate him, no matter what he did.
「genre」 : angst
「warnings」 : cussing, crying, mentions of threats, wooyoung's dad is kind of a dick, lmk if I missed anything!!
「notes」 : wow... there's just one more day of angstober left, guys. this has been a long and angsty road, but I have to admit I enjoyed it. I feel like it was refreshing to write something a little different than your regular kinktober... anywho tomorrow is the final day, and I'm a little sad that it's ending, but I'll be back on my normal agenda soon. ALSO there is another Halloween special that is coming out tomorrow, so keep an eye out for that!!
masterlist ─ navi. ─ angstober list
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Walking into your and Wooyoung’s apartment, you were met with the sound of loud rustling. Tossing your keys to the side, you quickly slipped off your shoes and made your way to your bedroom, where the noise was coming from. Looking into the room, you find your boyfriend tossing things from the closet onto the bed.
“Woo…” you called out to the male softly as you noticed the large luggage bag on the bed filled almost to the brim with his things. Seeing all of this could only make you think of one thing: that he was leaving, and it made your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach.
Wooyoung hadn’t heard a thing you said to him, far too occupied in his own mind to pay attention to the outside world. Until he turned around and found you standing in the doorway, staring at him with shocked and confused eyes.
He cursed under his breath; you weren’t supposed to be home until after he was gone. Averting his gaze, Wooyoung moved over to the bed and started folding more of the clothes to stick in his suitcase. Not saying a single word to you, which only made you feel more confused.
“Wooyoung, what’s going on?” Your voice shook slightly as you walked up to him, but he didn’t pay you any mind.
He wanted to have this all done before you got home so he wouldn’t have to see this look of heartbreak and confusion on your face. The last thing he wanted to do was leave you and everything you had built together behind, but he wasn’t left with much of a choice. His father had threatened your life if he didn’t listen, and he knew that his father would stick to his word, so he had to go.
Sure, he could have sat down with you and explained everything, but he knew you. You have tried to talk him out of it, saying that there were ways that he could get around this or even take you with him, and he knew that it would work because he always gave in to what you wanted. However, this time, he couldn’t. He also knew that you would go looking for him if he just up and disappeared, so he did the only thing he could think of to prevent that.
To make you hate him.
“I’m leaving. What does it look like?” His voice was cold. He spared you a single glance, and he instantly regretted seeing the hurt in your eyes.
“What?” You were hurt and confused, but by far more confused than anything; why had he decided to leave all of a sudden? Did something happen? You had so many questions you wanted to ask, but none of them would leave your tongue as you watched him continue to pack.
“I said I’m leaving. What about that do you not get?” He glared at you, and you took a small step back, completely bewildered by his behavior. "Now, if you’re just going to stand there asking stupid questions, then leave.”
Tears started to brim in your eyes, but you bit your lip, refusing to let them fall. You tried to think of any logical thing that you’ve done that would make him act like this, but you were coming up blank. Yet something about this didn’t seem right; it felt off.
That’s when something Wooyoung’s brother had said the other day clicked in your head.
‘Dad’s getting impatient. How much longer do you think you can push this off?’
He had been talking to Wooyoung in the office when you happened to walk up and overhear. You didn’t pay it any mind because his dad has always been on Wooyoung’s ass about certain things, which of course, you found mildly annoying, but what could you do?
“Does this have to do with your dad?” Your question made him freeze for a split second, and you knew you had your answer even if he wouldn’t say it out loud.
Wooyoung swallowed thickly, trying his best to keep his composure as he packed. How could you have known? Did you happen to overhear something one day? He started to rack his brain for any plausible cause of you finding out that he hadn’t even noticed you walking up to him.
“Wooyoung…” You called out to him, reaching for his arm but stopped short when you heard sniffles. The sound alone made your heartbreak, but when he turned with teary eyes, it completely shattered your soul.
“Why couldn’t you just let me make you hate me?” He asked, tears starting to fall from the corner of his eyes as he stared at you. He then turned and sat down on the bed, burying his face in his hands to hide the tears.
“Oh, my love, even if you were to leave like that, I would never hate you.” You spoke softly as you moved to stand in front of him, hand reaching out to lay on his shoulder, “I love you far too much to ever hate you.”
You didn’t even have a chance to react when he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him and burying his face in your stomach. There were no words spoken as you let him cry, trying to fight back your own tears as you ran your fingers through his hair.
After a few moments, you licked your lips and asked the dreaded question, “When do you leave?”
“My flight leaves tonight.” His voice was muffled against your skin as he didn’t move an inch, scared to let you go.
Silence filled the room once more as you mindlessly ran your fingers through his hair while trying to keep your composure. You tried to think of any possible solution that would get him out of leaving, but knowing how his father is, that wasn’t an option. Then you thought about possibly going with him, but it wasn’t like you could just up and leave your job on such short notice without repercussions.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, maybe a year at most.” Wooyoung pulled away just a smidge to look up at you, his eyes bloodshot from crying, and tear streaks stained his cheeks. You reached down, cupping his face in your hands and wiping away any of the stray tears with a small, sad smile.
“I’ll wait for you," you told him confidently, and he opened his mouth to object, but you wouldn’t let him. "You could be gone for a month, six months, a year, or even five years, and I would still wait for you, Wooyoung.”
Your words struck him deeply, and more tears started to pool in his eyes as he stared up at you, wondering where he ever got lucky enough to find someone like you. He didn’t deserve you or your time, but you were more than willing to give all of your time if it meant he would still come back home to you.
Maybe his initial plan didn’t go as he thought it would, but he would much rather have this outcome than anything else. Even if it meant he had to say goodbye for a little while, he knew that you would be there waiting for him with open arms when he finally came back home.
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@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work
𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴ�� ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱ��ɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.
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Text
What Lies Beyond Fear
Summary:
Dream decides to visit Hob a day earlier than their agreed appointment.
He learns about modern-day Halloween traditions, and what it means to have nothing to fear.
Word Count: 4,635
Notes (more at the end):
For All Hallows Sadman 2024 hosted by @mr-sadman 🎃
Prompt: Trick or Treat
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Dream ducks under fake cobwebs hanging on trees and sidesteps around a candy stall as he makes his way to The New Inn. He could, of course, have just appeared on its doorstep, but he finds that he likes the walk, as it reminds him of the first time he took the path. The first time he had seen Hob again after more than a century.
The late afternoon sun casts a warm glow on the pub as Dream draws closer, and he sees a poster on its wall advertising an upcoming Halloween party tomorrow. Drinks would be at a discounted price if one were to attend in costume.
“My friend!”
Dream turns his gaze away from the poster to look at Hob, already approaching him from the other side of the open doorway.
“You're here early,” Hob smiles when he reaches him. “I'm not complaining, though.”
Dream finds that it is easy to return the smile. It always is now. With Hob.
“I simply took your advice and accepted more help with my work from Lucienne and Matthew. They all but pushed me out of my own castle when I said I wanted to visit you a day earlier than what we agreed on.”
Hob beams at him, and it makes something warm bloom in Dream’s chest. “Well, I should remember to thank them later. Wanna come inside, then?” he nods to the interior of the pub.
Dream nods, and Hob leads the way inside to their usual table, talking about how the Halloween party was a spontaneous idea that only came about less than a week ago.
Dream keeps his eyes on Hob the entire time, not wanting to miss a moment of it. His feet have memorised the way to their table, and so he is free to give his full attention to his friend.
He has grown rather fond of Hob's face this century; the way his eyes light up when telling a story, how he gestures with his hands more as his excitement grows, as if his body couldn't possibly contain all the happiness he is feeling, the way his eyebrows lift and his lips quirk up in a smile when Dream says something he finds surprising. That was what he endeavoured to see today, why he surprised Hob with his unannounced visit. Needless to say, the reality of it is even better than his expectations.
“Is Halloween also celebrated as a romantic event nowadays?” Dream asks curiously as they sit across from each other.
“What? No, why?” Hob furrows his eyebrows.
“I see the daydreams of your patrons. A handful of them are hoping to ask someone as their date to your gathering tomorrow. They have romantic intentions.”
“Oh!” Hob chuckles. “No, humans just do that. Ask someone to be their date to parties as an excuse to spend time together.”
Dream tilts his head a fraction to the side. “I am not certain I understand the need for such an excuse. Would it not be simpler to ask to spend time together regardless of gatherings?”
“Well, you know,” Hob looks down and picks up the round cardboard coaster, tapping the side idly on the table. “Sometimes it's scary to ask that, especially if you don't know what the other person likes to do. It's easier to invite them to a party, where there's already something to do.”
“Ooh Professor G! I didn’t know you’d bring a date!” a young lady wearing a witch’s cape and hat playfully says.
Hob chuckles good-naturedly. “Ah no, this is Dream. My—”
“Date. Yes. I am Hob’s date this evening.” Dream smiles at Hob.
Dream blinks himself out of Hob’s daydream. He always makes an effort to respect the privacy of his friend’s thoughts, but that particular one was so sharp and sudden that it caught him off-guard.
Curious. Hob daydreams of people mistaking him as his date. And him confirming it with a smile. That does not make sense. It would imply that Hob has romantic feelings for him. And why would he, when he has lived among humans for nearly seven centuries and experienced all their warmth and joviality?
Before this century they had only had six meetings, none of which had lasted a full day. Surely Hob would not prefer the cold aloofness of him compared to all the interesting humans within his reach in his daily life.
“Dream? Are you alright?” Hob’s eyebrows knit together in concern.
Dream focuses on his friend once more. “Yes. I was merely… pondering.”
“A penny for your thoughts, then?” Hob’s expression is open, encouraging. As he has always been after Dream told him the reason behind his absence in 1989.
Dream could ask. About Hob’s daydream. It is normal for friends to ask questions.
“I hope my sudden appearance has not intruded on any prior plans.”
Hob raises an eyebrow. “That’s what you were thinking about?”
Dream glances down. It is also normal for friends to be considerate of another’s time. And much more acceptable than inquiring upon one’s private thoughts.
“Don’t worry about that, mate, I’m always glad to see you. I have to chaperone a friend’s kids later tonight for trick-or-treat, but until then we can just be here. Unless you wanna chaperone with me.”
Dream looks at Hob again, trying to discern if he correctly interpreted the hopefulness in that last remark.
“You don’t have to, of course,” Hob says hurriedly. He clears his throat. “The kids’ parents are my colleagues, and they have to attend a seminar tonight so they asked if I could chaperone their kids since they live nearby.” He looks at his watch. “That’s in a little over two hours from now, though. We have plenty of time.”
Dream wants to point out that that is not nearly enough time. That they spend several hours together in their weekly meetings, sometimes until late into the night when Dream remembers that immortal though he is, Hob’s body still needs sleep. At which point they would continue their conversations in the Dreaming, lounging in the couches in the library or under the shades of trees in Fiddler’s Green.
Therefore, no. Two hours is not plenty of time.
“Dream? Is it really bothering you?” The concern has returned in Hob’s eyes.
“I am merely puzzled by these new human traditions. In times past, when this festival had varying names, it was often associated with bonfires and commemoration of the dead. Plastic spiders and masked children asking for sweets are all quite new to me.”
“Ah, yeah, it was a bit surreal to me at first too,” Hob reminisces. “But it’s nice to see an old solemn festival evolve into something that makes people more cheerful, you know? There’s something beautiful in seeing happiness around you.”
Dream keeps his gaze on Hob, on the curve of his lips and the crinkle in the corners of his eyes when he smiles. The same man who had sat across from him talking about chimneys and playing cards and handkerchiefs with raw wonder in his voice.
Dream returns the smile. “Indeed. Perhaps I can learn more about Halloween in this century. If your offer to chaperone with you still stands.”
“Of course,” Hob says immediately, his face brightening in a way that further convinces Dream he made the right choice by proposing to extend their meeting past two meager hours. “Oh I forgot to get us food, sorry. Give me a moment.” He turns and calls the attention of one of his staff.
“You are aware that I do not need food.”
“Yeah, but you enjoy it,” Hob winks at him before turning to the waiter. “I’d like a strawberry scone and my usual coffee, and a blueberry muffin and hot chocolate for my friend.” He turns to Dream for confirmation.
“It appears you know me well,” Dream concedes.
Hob grins at him and thanks the waiter who promptly passes their order on to the kitchen.
They talk, as they always do in their meetings. Hob listens with rapt attention while Dream tells him of his work in his realm, and Dream wonders if Hob is aware that his own stories of how his week had gone captivate Dream in much the same way.  
Dream thinks it is because he is the Prince of Stories that Hob’s tales have such an effect on him, no matter how mundane they may seem. It is not until Hob asks if he wants to have another cup of hot chocolate that Dream realises it is quite the opposite; Hob sees him beyond his function, and wishes to spend time with him simply because they are friends. It is not something that he is overly familiar with. Spending time with a friend. He has far more experience being the Lord of Dreams. Although it appears that he finds more pleasure in being a friend. With Hob.
Two hours fly by quickly—as Dream had known they would—and Hob says that he should get dressed before picking up the kids at their house.
“Is there a dress code for Halloween?” Dream furrows his eyebrows.
“Of course. Costumes.” Hob grins. “Even the chaperones get dressed up here every year. Wanna come upstairs? You can read in the living room while I change.”
They vacate their table and go upstairs to Hob’s flat as they had done many times before. The motions are so familiar that the situation almost feels domestic. And Dream wonders if Hob feels it, too.
“Right then, make yourself at home,” Hob says easily when they reach his living room.
“Do you say this to all your friends? Offer your home as theirs?” Dream trails his fingers along the books on Hob’s coffee table. The stack is higher now than when he first came here. He sits down on the couch to peruse the titles along the spines, and finds that the books are those he had expressed a preference to in their previous meetings.
Hob falters in his step and stops walking. “Oh, um, I haven’t really invited anyone else over since I moved here. I’ve got all these things from my past lying around, like that vase from the 1800s, and that music box from 1902. And other things that would be more difficult to pass off as part of an art collection. It’s just easier if I don’t need to worry about explaining them.”
Dream glances around, realising what Hob means. He has decorated his home to have pieces of the different lives he had lived, has chosen to keep things from his past that he holds close to his heart and doesn’t want to forget.
And Dream is sitting among them.
Dream should say something. Friends express appreciation to each other, he recently learned. He should tell Hob how honoured he feels to be allowed to see all this, to share the same space as Hob’s most cherished memories. Hob should know about the blooming warmth in Dream’s chest, about how perhaps this place is beginning to feel like home to him as well.
“You should get changed.”
Hob blinks. “Ah, right. Won’t be long. There’s some food in the fridge if you want any.” He disappears into his bedroom.
Dream sighs. It seems that he is far more articulate as the Prince of Stories than he is as a friend.
He picks up a book from the top of the stack—a fantasy novel he had begun to read at a previous visit—and continues to read where he had left off, idly wondering how humans learned to express themselves through words.
Several minutes pass before he hears Hob’s voice again.
“That’s everything, I think. I considered an eye patch but I don't wanna be walking around at night with just one eye, especially since I'm chaperoning.”
Dream glances up from his book and sees Hob wearing black leather boots that nearly come up to his knees, brown trousers, a loose white v-neck shirt tucked in, and a long black coat with gold accents at the collar and cuffs. Around his waist is a wide brown leather belt affixed with a scabbard and a gun holster, holding a cutlass and a pistol, respectively. Both of which are evidently made of plastic.
Preoccupied as he had been with his sentiments about Hob and his home, Dream had not stopped to wonder what Hob’s costume might be. He wears it well. His padded thighs and broad shoulders carry the clothes splendidly, and there is a glimpse of chest hair from beneath the low neckline.
“Don't laugh at me,” Hob warns playfully.
Dream blinks and lifts his gaze to his friend's eyes.
“I've got a fake sword and I'm not afraid to use it.”
“You are a pirate.” The past several minutes have not returned eloquence to Dream.
“Yep. That pirate show’s still stuck in my head.”
“That does not look like the ensemble of Edward Teach.”
“Because I'm not wearing that much leather,” Hob says pointedly. “Otherwise I'll be sweating in half an hour.”
Dream huffs out a chuckle. “Am I correct to assume that friends wear matching costumes on Halloween?”
“Sometimes, yeah. Why?”
Dream closes his eyes and conjures the image in his mind. The black leather boots, the black shirt tucked loosely in black trousers, the low neckline mostly covered by the black scarf tied neatly around his neck. The ring on his left index and little fingers, inlaid with rubies. The rapier hanging by the black belt around his hips.
He opens his eyes and stands up, neatly returning the book to the coffee table.
Hob is staring at him with his mouth open, his eyes running over every detail of Dream's clothing as if intending to imprint them in his memory.
Dream smiles in satisfaction at Hob's reaction. “I do like the Gentleman Pirate’s attire but I have a preference for black. I do not think he would mind the colour change.”
Hob blinks and meets his gaze. “You… Is that a real sword?”
Dream glances down at it and waves his hand to change it into plastic. “Not anymore.”
Hob chuckles, seeming to shake himself out of a trance. “Why a pirate, too?”
“I want everyone to know we are together.”
The smile melts off Hob’s face and he swallows, eyes flicking down to Dream’s mouth.
Hob surges forward to press their lips together, his hands cupping Dream's face—
Dream nearly gasps as he closes the walls around Hob's daydream. It is even more vivid than the last.
It is rare for him to manifest a heart in his human form. He finds no point to it, and oftentimes it simply slips his mind to form one.
Yet now it thuds inside his ribcage, every beat echoing in his ears like a measure of a song saying Yes, I want that. Now.
Dream swallows and puts his hands behind his back, gripping his wrist in order to prevent himself from grabbing at Hob and pushing him against his shelf of memorabilia, imprinting another memory into his mind and body that he shan't soon forget.
Dream looks at the door and takes a steadying breath. “Shall we go, then? I do not wish to make you late for the children.” And they will be quite late indeed if Dream were to fulfill their daydreams now.
“Oh, right, yeah. Let's go.”
The air outside is refreshing, calming Dream’s heart into a more even rhythm and clearing his mind.
They pass by other children and adults wearing costumes, some carrying plastic jack-o'-lanterns with candy inside.
Dream listens to Hob talk about more of the city's Halloween traditions, wondering why he had not noticed Hob’s feelings for him before. Why he had not noticed his own.
Hob puts a protective arm out in front of Dream when a motorcycle speeds past, as if Dream could be harmed by such things. They continue on walking, with Hob talking about the unfortunate lack of sidewalks before moving on to more positive things like the free candy tonight at The New Inn for trick-or-treaters and regular customers alike.
Dream watches the light of the setting sun reflect in Hob’s eyes, remembering the first instance of Hob protecting him, all those centuries ago. He had not seen Hob's daydreams then, but he felt them at the corner of his mind. And before he could be tempted to confirm if they wanted the same thing at that moment, he cut their meeting short. He did not wish to risk Hob’s life—immortal he may be—just for the sake of his own fleeting urges.
Now there is no risk of hurt or capture for either of them. Perhaps, instead of wondering why he did not notice such feelings after his return many months ago, it is more important to wonder what he will do next. Now that he knows.
They reach the house of Hob’s friends, and pleasantries are exchanged with introductions. The kids, Noah and Oliver, know Hob as their parents’ friend from the times that they all went to The New Inn. The boys dressed as their favourite superheroes—Batman and Superman, as Hob helpfully whispers to him—and they immediately adore the pirate costumes that Hob and Dream are wearing.
After their parents remind them to get along with other kids and listen to their chaperones, the boys excitedly run ahead to wait for them on the street, bouncing on their heels as they wait for the grown-ups to finish their conversations.
Hob's friends mention an upcoming holiday trip, and Dream is struck by the realisation that the spouses look at each other in much the same way that Hob looks at him.
He tenses and waits for fear to set in. He has had lovers in the past, and their relationships ended in ruin. He will not—must not—allow the same thing to happen between him and Hob.
Dream is so lost in his thoughts that he barely registers when the farewells happen and they join the kids.
They walk down the streets and Noah teases his younger brother about being scared of the older kids’ costumes of ghosts and ghouls.
“I'm not scared!” Oliver says indignantly in his high voice.
Dream feels a small hand grasp his. He looks down and sees the boy’s green eyes looking at him in concern.
“You're quiet, Mister Dream. Are you scared?” Oliver is still holding his hand reassuringly.
Dream glances at Hob and sees that his friend is smiling fondly at him. Those warm brown eyes that welcomed him without question even after he had stormed out of their meeting and was absent in the next. The gaze that belongs to the man who never doubted that he would return and built a new place for him to return to.
“No,” Dream answers Oliver without looking away from Hob. “I am not scared.”
“Hurry, Oli!” Noah calls out from a few paces ahead. “Mum says we're not allowed to separate!”
Oliver lets go of Dream’s hand and runs to his brother.
“Oi!” Hob calls after him. “Your mum also said not to separate from us!”
The boys give no indication that they heard Hob, and instead approach the nearest house to ring the doorbell.
Hob chuckles and shakes his head as he turns to Dream. “You're really okay with doing this?”
“I am. These children tonight have loud daydreams of their favourite sweets and eating them while in their costumes. It is good to see them fulfill that happiness. I had… forgotten. How much every little daydream matters.” Dream looks around at the little superheroes and princesses and fairies walking around the street, and he feels himself smile.
When he turns back to his friend, Hob is watching him with a smile of his own.
“It's good to see you happy,” Hob says with such sincere softness that makes something like yearning twinge in Dream’s chest.
“Mister Hob! Mister Dream! Let's go!” Oliver is holding his brother's hand and is excitedly waving for them to continue walking.
They meet some of Hob's neighbours along the way and get compliments on their costumes, and Hob invites them to tomorrow’s Halloween party at The New Inn.
Plastic pumpkin baskets get filled, and eventually Noah and Oliver grow tired of walking and sit on a bench to peruse their hoard.
Hob goes to buy refreshments at a food stall nearby while Dream stays to guard the kids, standing a few steps away from the bench and looking around with interest at the jack-o'-lanterns that have now been lit all over the park.
“That's a lot of candy you got.” An unfamiliar kid’s voice catches Dream’s attention.
He turns to see that three teenage boys have approached Noah and Oliver, wearing shiny robot costumes that look particularly expensive.
“Yeah…” Oliver says timidly and protectively hugs his pumpkin basket close to his chest.
“Now, that's not nice,” says the tallest kid. “Didn't your mum teach you to share?” He reaches for Oliver's basket—
Noah stands up and squares his shoulders, looking up at the older kids. “Didn't your mums teach you not to steal?”
The tall kid sneers and steps forward, and in that moment Dream bends the shadows and appears directly behind the bench, facing them.
“The night is still young, children. And reward is only sweet when it is earned,” Dream says evenly, his eyes black pools with bright stars in the center.
The older kids stare at him in horror and stumble all over themselves in their haste to run away.
“They left,” Oliver says in awe, watching the kids turn and disappear around a corner.
“It must have been your brother's bravery that daunted them.” Dream blinks and his eyes are once more blue.
“Daunted…” Noah furrows his eyebrows in thought and turns to Dream. “That means scared, right?”
“Indeed,” Dream smiles. “It appears you are smart as well. You make for an excellent Batman.”
Noah beams. Then he gets a chocolate bar from the depths of his basket. “For you, Mister Dream!”
Dream looks down in surprise at the offering in the child’s open palm. “But you worked for it. It is yours.”
“Our mum did teach us how to share,” Noah grins. “With friends.” He holds his palm higher.
Dream is rendered speechless. He does not need air but for a few moments he feels short of breath. Then he smiles and takes the chocolate bar. “Thank you, Noah.”
Hob arrives carrying big cups of fruit shakes in a paper bag. “Everyone alright?” He begins to distribute the cups.
“Yes!” Oliver exclaims, showing his full basket. “Let’s get back home and share these with mum and dad!”
The fruit drinks seem to have replenished the children's energy, and they jog and bounce along the sidewalk on the way back to their house.
Their parents have returned and have already prepared dinner for them. Oliver regales them with the tale of how his brother defended them from bullies, and as a reward they are allowed to have some of their candy before dinner.
Farewells are exchanged, and Hob and Dream make their way back to The New Inn.
“I saw what you did, you know,” Hob says as they leisurely walk under the light of streetlamps. “I can't believe you scared those kids like that,” he chuckles.
“Hm?” Dream hums with feigned innocence. “Noah did not want to give them treats. So I gave them a trick instead. Is that not how this holiday works?”
Hob laughs, a bright sound that makes Dream continually grateful for this night. “Not exactly, no.”
“Then I suppose I should stay longer so that I might learn more.”
“Well, you know I'll never complain about that. We can stay at the pub or in my flat, wherever you like. Could make us some dinner too, if you want.”
“I was thinking about a longer duration than that.”
“We’ll go to the Dreaming afterwards? Yeah, of course.”
Dream stops walking and Hob follows suit, looking at him questioningly.
“Hob Gadling. Will you do me the honour of being my date to The New Inn’s Halloween party?”
Hob’s lips part and a tinge of scarlet colours his cheeks.
Dream smiles. “You arranged for the party to happen tomorrow, on the day you were expecting me to visit. Am I wrong to assume you wanted me there?”
“No,” Hob says quickly. “I did want you there. I do. It's just… Date? How'd you mean…?”
“I mean,” Dream takes a step forward, making the blush on Hob's face even more prominent. “That I have romantic intentions and wish to be the priority of your attentions tomorrow. If you would be amenable.”
“What— Yes!” Hob laughs again, relief and delight evident in his voice. “How… How long have you… felt that way?” His gaze is vulnerable, hopeful.
“I confess I do not know,” Dream glances down for a moment. “But I know how I feel now. And if you feel the same…” He takes another step forward and transports them both back to Hob’s flat. “I have some plans in mind.”
Hob gasps in surprise at the sudden teleportation and stumbles backwards into his shelf of memorabilia, rattling some of the objects.
A smile curves Dream's lips, a coil of hunger beginning to awaken within him.
“What… Plans?” Hob blinks, pupils dilating at what he saw in Dream's expression.
Dream reaches up and slowly undoes his scarf. Hob’s gaze drops to his neck and follows every movement of his fingers.
Dream tosses the scarf to the floor, revealing the low neckline of his shirt showing much of his pale chest and collarbones.
“God almighty,” Hob breathes, and his tongue runs across his bottom lip.
Hob's daydreams wash over Dream, loud and colourful and vivid that Dream feels nearly intoxicated with them.
Dream takes a breath and steps forward, placing one hand on the shelf beside Hob’s head to steady himself. His friend's eyes widen as Dream leans in close enough that their noses are almost touching.
“I can taste your daydreams, Hob,” Dream's voice almost wavers, his restraint hanging by the barest threads of his willpower. “I should like to taste the reality of them.”
Hob swallows, and a trembling exhale escapes him. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then thinks better of it and simply cups Dream's face in his hands and presses their lips together.
Hob's lips are impossibly soft, and his calloused hands a comforting warmth around Dream as one slides down the back of his neck to pull him closer.
Dream places his hands on Hob’s waist and licks at the seam of his mouth, eliciting a moan as Hob's tongue eagerly meets his. He deftly unbuckles Hob’s belt, dropping it to the ground along with the plastic weapons in its holsters.
Hob fumbles around Dream’s belt with trembling fingers, tossing it to the ground as well and kicking it out of the way as they stumble across the corridor to his bedroom, Hob’s coat falling off his shoulders in their journey.
“Please tell me this isn't a trick,” Hob pants against his lips as he opens the bedroom door and they pour through the doorway.
“Not at all,” Dream feels himself to be equally breathless and a fond playful smile curves his lips. “I should like to have you as a treat. If you will have me.”
Hob captures Dream's mouth again in response, dragging him over to the bed as he blindly pushes the door close.
Down at the busy pub, customers enjoy the free candy and new Halloween decorations, as well as the songs playing from the jukebox that drown out any sound that might be coming from the owner’s flat above.
---
Notes:
The whole idea of Dream thinking about his feelings for Hob while they're walking around outside is inspired by this fic written by @beatnikfreakiswriting <3 I had read it shortly before starting to write this fic. It's a lovely and adorable read!
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(All Hallows Sadman 2024 Masterpost)
(Masterlist)
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taki118 · 3 days ago
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Yakuza Fiance Manga Comparison ep 4
Ok I'll be honest this ep, I got a LOT of issues with this ep, I don't know what they were thinking with what was cut. So here it is everything the anime missed. Warning these are fan translations cause I'm lazy.
Ok so here at the opening we have something that isn't so much something missed as something changed
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after Kirishima introduces himself in the manga he makes a comment that's probably the first hint of jealousy, with Shouma appearing rather annoyed or uninterested in him. In the anime they have Kirishima call back to the stupid scene they added into ep 2 (which is a whole ass rant by itself)
The conversation goes fairly the same except this bit of the conversation is cut
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First of all we loose out on another good Shouma face which the anime has been denying you. But we also just get more back and forth that more smoothly leads into Shouma questioning who Kirishima is following and makes the audience really wonder if Kirishima is being truthful in what he says to Yoshino.
The rest of the conversation goes about the same in the manga. The anime however does skip this
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Explaining why Yoshino was running down. Like I kinda get it but also I kinda don't.
The rest of the scene again goes pretty accurately to the manga but the expressions do not really work in the anime particularly when Yoshino tells Kirishima off
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He just looks so much more surprised here than in the anime, like you can't tell its his buffering face.
So the scene with Yoshino seeing Shouma off its almost the same and in some ways it is but the issue being the way they shot it, its mmmmm less dynamic I think thats the best word. Especially this bit
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I dunno I think the anime just can't get Shouma's expressions right at all.
Anyway the anime cuts out a pretty important scene. I won't put it all here cause it's a legit full scene but Yoshino is talking to Shouma about summer vacation and his plans, and planning her own trip to Osaka adding in that she'll bring Kirishima.
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This scene is where she realizes she and Kirishima haven't really spoken in a while leads into where the anime starts back up. First of all you loose out on some fun character work with these two showing more of their dynamic that the anime just barely touches on. But more importantly second of all this teases an important arc in the story thats to come laying the ground work for later.
Also the train scene is a lot longer in the manga
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Obviously I can't show it all but it really shows how crowded the train is but also brings up the convo with Shouma earlier in the chapter. Also for some reason the anime has Yoshino note that Kirishima smells nice but doesn't have her thinking its his detergent or something which is just a bad character beat to miss.
So the idea of the class scene is the same but once again we loose out on context and Yoshino thoughts in the anime. Like they really condense her thoughts but they leave this out
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The anime just says the search is unhelpful (without really anytime to read what she looked at) But the manga gives context as to why. Another thing the anime does that I think is a bad move his have Kirishima slow down rights before looking at Yoshino when she turns. In the manga he's already standing there looking her way it just gives him a more ominous feeling that the scene is missing.
So the confrontation scene with Kirishima in her room is pretty spot on, though I don't know if its the translators or not but the wording for Kirishima when explaining having the girls he meets up with getting guys to "cheat" on him is not as kind to him. In the manga its more clearly NTR play but the anime or at least the subtitles it makes it sound like prostitution which isn't what he does with them.
The rest of the scene though is fine. Again not as dynamically shot but the dialogue is pretty one to one. Though again the expressions are just a little off.
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He looks far more lovestruck in the manga than the anime.
Also this was cut cause of course it was it's a call back to the start of things and sets up the trip.
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So this is the part that really hurts. I fucking love the Yoshino is sick chapters, it's one of my favorite tropes and this is really a turning point for the pair.
Anyway it starts out ok the dialogue in the morning is cut down but gets the right information across so really no complaints the issues begin after.
First off they cut this scene
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Where Yoshino feels herself getting worse and showing Kirishima doting. Also shows how much she has to rely on him.
So Kirishima at school is fine, and I actually really like the way the anime does the scene at the brothel. In the manga you can kinda tell he's trying to rush things and is being impatient but the speed talking and him moving around in the anime really gets across he's trying to get this over with.
The bigger issue comes after at Yoshino room. In the anime he rings the bell once then just goes straight to lock picking.
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In the manga he rings a few times, waits then sends her text explaining himself THEN goes to pick the lock. Its not a lot but it's enough to show that he's respecting her rules and only breaking it because its an emergency.
Again the scene of him finding her is a lot shorter in the anime compared to the manga. We see him go through the house and shut off a faucet that was dripping and he looks just more concerned in the manga.
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He also talks to her more which I think is a nice touch. The rest of the scene and into the car is fine, nothing really lost but this is where I get really pissed.
Now there is a chance (a very very small one but still a chance) that this scene I'm going to talk about wasn't cut just reordered (in the dumbest way possible) and will be used in the next ep. I mean I doubt it but it is possible. Anyway Yoshino wakes up the next day without a fever and to Kirishima beside her.
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Like a LOT happens in these pages they just decided to not use (maybe) from Yoshino apologizing for all the trouble she caused to Kirishima explaining he moved them to the corner of the room because it was the best area to keep watch over her. This bit really gives a lot. But this is really a sad loss (maybe again they coulda done something dumb and we will get it just not in the right order)
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Anyway Kirishima explains he can't sleep if theres another person in the room which is important for later. This leads into a great scene where Yoshino offers to watch over him while he sleeps as a thank you which leads to this
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Kirishima brushes it off saying he'll work hard to get her to kill him and she offers him a meal and a bath that he accepts. All this THEN leads into the conversation with Renji over the phone
So the thing about the animes version of this scene is it leaves a VERY important part out, again in a way that makes the conversation feel disjointed so after Kirishima says she sees him as a stalker and before Renji says she resembles him in the strangest ways we get this in the manga.
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This informs the reader about a VERY important part of Yoshino's personality, that shes highly adaptable in both a positive and negative way. This information helps to make sense of her actions both prior and going forward and is just super upsetting to loose. Its a very important part of her character and would be incredibly hard to pick up on in the manga if this scene was gone but near impossible to get if one only viewed the anime.
Anyway the manga chapter ends not with Shouma doing ANOTHER out of character ominous stare that doesn't serve to add anything to the scene or story. (Renji and Kirishima are acting sketchy with or without him there to look) but with this cute bit
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Overall ep 4 is by the most disappointing in terms of adaptation so far. Meaning I am in this for the long haul for sure.
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musedeluce · 5 hours ago
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Petnames? Eh....
What if you don't generally call them petnames, instead just calling them by their names? What thoughts might they have, regarding your name, and their own?
A/N: Brought to you because I don't generally like pet names. Personally, for me, calling people by their names is special, and pet-names feel generic XD. There are times they don't, but that's generally how I feel. Nicknames are lovely though lol
(By name, I mean whatever the person goes by, of course)
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Xavier
To be quite honest, he doesn't really think about it. He's just happy to be talking and doing things with you. He himself doesn't really call you any cute names, at least not with any regularity.
Additionally, every time you his name he feels like he's exactly where he's supposed to be, a sense of belonging he's missed for a long time. He really loves it when you call his name.
Someone may point it out, however. It's not something that bothers him, but he's ever so curious... He'll just ask you.
"Do you not like petnames? Is that why you never call me any?" his eyes are wide with innocence, and somewhat pleading. (Don't let this fool you he knows exactly what he's doing.)
It may have bothered him a little more than he thought...any and all endearments from you, he'll desire. He's a bit greedy that way, and at the core of it is just him wanting to be with you and experience things with you, especially new things.
You can pull his own trick on him, and he'll fall for it.
Eyes wide, looking a touch sad - "Do you...not like when I say your name?"
He'll never be bothered by it ever again, and he's somewhat learned to ignore things that others point out about your relationship, as long as you're both content together, nothing else matters.
Xavier loves to call you by your name as well, it feels like something he's waited to do for so long. Finally, you're here, you'll respond.
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Sylus
Legit actually bothers him (but not in a detrimental way), but he'd never come right out and say. Usually he's quite open and direct, but not about this. As he often calls you sweetie and kitten, he's wondering why you don't respond in kind, sarcastically or otherwise.
As it so happens, he tries to get you to call him pet names, starting off small and eventually evolving into full on, well thought out plans where he tries his absolute hardest, but he's so sneaky about it. (He thinks)
Considering his first attempt was just to stare at you really intensely after he called you sweetie like he usually does, you catch on that something is going on.
Attempts range from asking you questions like "What do bees make?" and then responding when you answer as if you had actually called him that, asking you to read romantic passages out loud to him (Which is how he found out he likes to have you read to him just in general), having the twins or Mephisto "gather intel," and having undercover missions require acting of the romantic sort, petnames -required-
This is of course, the perfect opportunity to mess with him. Call Luke and Kieran "Darling" jokingly. Mephisto is now and forever "pretty bird"
Then of course, call him one when he's not really paying attention and then act as if nothing happened. He will mentally crash out (in a good way, and maintain outward composure)
Eventually though, you'll have to explain, smirking while you do.
"I'm exercising a privilege I have, of course. I'm the only one who calls you by your name, Sylus."
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Zayne
Not one to make a big deal about things. Call him whatever you want, and if that doesn't include pet names, so be it.
Though, when you dropped "Doctor" and instead started to call him "Zayne" he felt joyous. It was a sign of your relationship getting closer as the both of you reconnected.
He's playful and bold with you, and likes to try to provoke reactions where you say his name in different ways. Of course not in an obvious fashion, as he's stoic and calm, so his playfulness might not be super obvious to people.
"To decide between hotpot or stir fry, let's play rock, paper, scissors. Which one do you want to be?"
"Hot pot!"
"Alright, let's get that then. And perhaps go for a walk together after." Very often, its things like this that show his playfulness and desire to have fun with you.
"Zayne" the laugh in your voice delights him. "You bought every flavor of special cupcake?"
"Zayne, you should rest." Your concern makes him feel warm.
It might end up that you ask him about it, yourself. "Zayne, do you mind that I don't call you pet names? It seems like its something expected? If you want, I can try to use them more."
"Why would I mind? I like my name. I especially like my name on your lips." The smirk on his face is small, but obvious. " Besides, every relationship is different, so what is expected in one case won't be applicable in another."
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Rafayel
He doesn't care that you don't call him any pet names. Why would he? You can call him whatever you want, he'll respond. But, he will be curious.
Especially since he sometimes calls you "cutie." and you don't seem to mind...but he'll want to be sure, and approach in a somewhat roundabout way. Not asking straight out why you never use them. Instead, he'll start by directly asking you about something adjacent.
"Does it bother you when I call you cutie? I'm perfectly happy to stop if it does, Darling."
"As for me, I wouldn't mind a cute moniker from you!" Aha! His main goal all along. Now, once you explain, he'll be perfectly satisfied regarding this matter.
"Oh, it doesn't bother me. I would tell you if it did. Petnames just aren't my thing. I like calling you "Rafayel" because it's your name. It's you!" You smile at him, and his ears start to turn red.
He's so fun to tease, the back and forth banter is the best, and this is something you can totally use.
"Cutie~" and you hand him a clementine and watch as he processes this ridiculous joke as you peel your own.
Whenever he hears you call his name, he loves it of course, but he also is filled with a sense of happy relief.
He also loves to say your name, filled with a sense of curiosity. He's always interested in you, and wants to know every detail from what you ate for dinner to your most guarded secrets. That curiosity extends to the world around him, something he wants to learn more about and experience, especially with you.
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mj-iza-writer · 23 hours ago
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Whumptober Day 30
Recovery - Hospital Bed - Holding Back Tears - "What have I done?"
Warning amputation... quadruple amputation.
Quiet moans left Whumpee's lips as Caretaker adjusted them to a sitting position and tucked pillows around them to keep them sitting up.
"How are you feeling this morning?", Caretaker sat down in a chair next to the bed, "did you sleep well?"
"S-still sore from the procedures", Whumpee whispered, "I still feel them", Whumpee's eyes began to water.
Caretaker reached for a tissue, and dotted at Whumpee's eyes.
"I know" Caretaker sighed, they looked down at what was left of Whumpee's arms and legs. They had been removed by a madman with a power saw. After their rescue, doctors had to go in and correct the amputated limbs, making the stubs even shorter.
"Is it okay if I apply the medicine ointment now for you?", Caretaker smiled weakly, "I know those phantom pains are horrible. Would a little massage help you?"
Whumpee shook as they tried not to cry, they nodded to let Caretaker start.
"Here take a drink first my dear", Caretaker reached for a cup and placed the straw to Whumpee's lips.
Whumpee took small sips, they felt their was a knot in their throat.
Caretaker set the cup down and cupped Whumpee's cheek.
"You don't have to hold back tears in front of me.... you know that right? You have every right to cry, scream, and be angry. What that person did to you... what they took from you... I understand. You are uncomfortable and trying to be brave, but you don't have to do that, not any more."
Whumpee huffed a few times, trying to contain themself. They looked down over themself. Their missing arms and legs. Just stumps.
"Wh... why did this happen... who does this to someone?", Whumpee whispered, "please Caretaker. Help me understand?"
Caretaker looked over them, "I know you are use to me being the fix all the problems person. I unfortunately don't think I can fix this with just talking, and I don't think I have the words that can even start explaining how sorry I am that this happened to you. The guilt I feel that I wasn't their to protect you. I'm so sorry."
Whumpee sniffled a little.
"Can I, can I have a hug", Whumpee whispered.
"Yes you can absolutely have a hug", Caretaker stood from their chair and leaned over the bed, "you know you can always have hugs."
Caretaker lifted Whumpee up and pulled them close.
"I'm here for you. I will help you to the best of my abilities", Caretaker cuddled Whumpee, "I promise you."
Whumpee nodded. They buried their face into Caretaker's shoulder and started to cry.
Caretaker gently ran their hand up and down Whumpee's back.
After a few minutes Whumpee looked up.
"H-how am I supposed to live like this. The doctors already said prosthetics wouldn't work for me. I can't even correctly ride in the car."
Caretaker nodded, "well, in a few days, we will receive a harness seatbelt. This will be able to be installed into any cars you ride in. It will keep you safe", Caretaker started to lay Whumpee back down, "for everything you can't do... you have me to help you. Oh, and you will get a few nurses to help you as well. You'll have one every other day."
Caretaker started to massage the ointment on, "after this and breakfast, what would you like to do? We have some free time today."
"I don't know", Whumpee watched them, "I don't have a lot of energy right now."
"Well I get that. We can have a low energy day if you like. How about we find a series to watch. I'll order some snacks and drinks; we can cuddle if you like", Caretaker smiled.
"I don't know if I can stay awake long enough to watch movies", Whumpee started to get upset again.
Caretaker looked at them with concern, "hey", they whispered.
"I'm sorry", Whumpee sobbed, "I don't... I don't mean to be mean, but..."
"Whumpee you don't have to feel bad or anything. If you are not feeling up to it, that's fine. I'm just talking out loud for if you wanted to do something", Caretaker smiled, "we don't have to do anything at all if you don't want to. I will quite literally sit beside you all day and keep you company or climb in that hospital bed to cuddle with you if you want me to. Anything you want."
Whumpee sniffled a little, causing Caretaker to grab another tissue.
"Cuddles would be nice", Whumpee hiccuped from crying.
"Yeah, we can cuddle. I'll get breakfast in you, then you can pick where we will cuddle", Caretaker smiled, "do you want me to read to you?"
"No", Whumpee looked down, "can we just talk? Like we use to."
"Yes absolutely", Caretaker nodded.
Caretaker laid Whumpee into their bed. Then climbed in with them.
"Alright scoochie, scooch", Caretaker joked as they squeezed in. Whumpee's bed had guard rails on the side so they wouldn't roll out. This made their bed a little snug.
They laid on their side and hugged Whumpee close to them.
One hand wrapped around Whumpee in a hug. Caretaker played with Whumpee's hair with their other hand.
"What do you want to talk about?", Caretaker smiled, they leaned in and placed a gentle kiss to Whumpee's forehead, "I'm all ears."
"Anything except for the amputation", Whumpee sighed, "but I might warn you. I may fall asleep."
"That's fine", Caretaker chuckled, "you need your rest. I may fall asleep as well. We can have a sleep day today."
Caretaker thought for a few moments.
"Ah, I know. That writer you like.. they are coming out with a new book, and I've already pre-ordered it for us", Caretaker smiled, "while you were resting in the hospital I went ahead and read the series as quickly as I could to get an idea of what was going on. I am completely caught up, and I understand why you enjoy the series."
Whumpee's eyes twinkled, "you did?"
"Yes we still have a month or so until it ships to us, but we can read it together if you like" Caretaker smiled, "or if you want, I'll help flip the pages for you while you read. I'll read it after you're done. Whichever you want."
"That would be fun to read it together", Whumpee smiled.
Caretaker grinned, that was the first smile since the accident.
Caretaker watched as Whumpee's eyes closed and opened again.
"I think you are getting tired", Caretaker sat up for a blanket.
"I think so to", Whumpee smiled weakly as Caretaker pulled the blanket up and covered them both.
"I think I am too", Caretaker yawned back, "do you want your bed back, or do you want me to stay here?"
"Please, will you stay with me", Whumpee pleaded.
"Yes of course I will" Caretaker went back to playing with Whumpee's hair, "I'll stay right here for as long as you need me to... I promise."
Whumpee nodded.
Caretaker left another gentle kiss on Whumpee's forehead when they finally fell asleep.
'I'm so sorry', Caretaker thought to themself as they cupped Whumpee's cheek, 'you have been through something I would never wish on anyone. You are being so brave, but I know you Whumpee. You are so scared. Even a little ashamed. You are always so self-conscious.'
Caretaker lovingly watched them sleep.
"I love you so much", Caretaker whispered, causing Whumpee sleepily smile.
Caretaker leaned up one last time to kiss Whumpee's forehead.
"I promise... everything is alright."
Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.
@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived
@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid
@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz
@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13
@notpeppermint @cyborg0109
@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots
@whumpbump @everythingsscary
@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr
@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee
@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems
@lavndvrr @ivymyers
@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas
@lumpofsand @watermeezer
@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains
@3-2-whump @risk606
@electrons2006 @paperprinxe
@whumprince @kaz-of-crows
@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94
@sausages-things @ragin-cajun-fangirl
@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud
@valravnthefrenchie @glennemerald
@jasperthecapser @does-directions
@deafeninglittlecrown @jumpywhumpywriter
@blackbirdsinatrenchcoat @mylifeisonthebookshelf
@thenormalestever @whatwhump
@galatic-worm
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macabr3-barbi3 · 2 days ago
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Tethered- RadioApple (Hair Pulling)
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WE'RE SO CLOSE TO THE END EVERYONE
Once again a huge thank you to all of the wives @fraugwinska @hazelfoureyes @minkdelovely @synamartia @sugoi-writes for letting me be part of this- I've had such a fun time getting into the prompts and getting to know everyone, y'all are so cool and talented and I'm happy to have been included 🥹
Come check out Syn's beautiful Masterlist for the event RIGHT HERE and see the other tasty stuff that everyone has cooked up over the course of the month! And make sure to come back on the 31st for the 6-way prompt 🦆
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Summary: after an argument, Lucifer tries to walk away- Alastor reaches out to grab his shoulder and instead gets a handful of hair instead. Lucifer is into it Tags: hair pulling, inappropriate erections, dry humping
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Lucifer’s first mistake was leaving his hat back in his bedroom. And he was still kicking himself for it- he didn’t have the height it gave him, and his hair would be at the mercy of wind in the garden if not for the product he had thrown into it this morning, something new that made his hair feel stiff and unclean. And of course, as soon as he stepped outside for some fresh air after another conversation with his excitable daughter about how Heaven was a sack of shit and no one should even want to go there, who should follow him but that fucking bellhop?
“Good afternoon, your Majesty! Fancy meeting you out here.”
“Fancy my ass,” Lucifer mumbled. “When you follow someone you tend to end up at the places they go. What do you want?” But he knew already- Alastor was itching for a fight, for some of their usual banter that may or may not evolve into one of them swinging on the other, just to see how much they could fuck one another up before Charlie or Vaggie stumbled upon them and made them stop. And normally he would be in the mood for it- something about seeing Alastor’s chest heaving with anger, his face flushed with embarrassment when Lucifer landed a zinger, was addictive, and he normally couldn’t get enough of it.
“Oh, just out for some air! With all the acid rain lately it does seem to be in short supply, hm?” And wow, how original, a joke about his height. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with Alastor acting like a child desperate for attention today though, so he didn’t respond verbally and instead just continued walking, sighing internally when Alastor merely kept up his pace. “Come now, sire, surely you won’t deny a subject the costless gift of conversation!” And when Lucifer continues to ignore him, acid slips into his tone- “You’d think you might at least try to do one thing right as our ruler, after all.”
Lucifer whips around, wings exploding from his back as he turns to face the sinner- his rage fades when he sees how eager Alastor is for it, eyes tracing the lines of his wings with obvious excitement. He lets them fold again. “I’m really not in the mood, Alastor,” he says, figuring that matching energy was the only way to get him out of his hair. “Why don’t you be a good little overlord and go fuck off somewhere else?” He turns on his heel to continue his walk, hopefully without his new tall, creepy shadow, and misses whatever insult Alastor throws his way as he tries to escape.
And then there’s sudden, electrical pleasure that rips down his spine, the shock of it so sudden that a moan tumbles from his lips, forgetting where he was and who he was with. It fades after a few short seconds, and reality comes back to him; he was in the garden. With Alastor. Who… had a fucking hand in his hair in an attempt to yank him backwards. The grip he has is tight and unyielding, and when Lucifer tries to turn his head back to glare at the demon, the hand comes with, tightening strands of his hair across the claws and forcing him to still if he didn’t want another embarrassing noise to come out. 
“Let. Go.” He says as calmly as he can, but he can feel the prick of his claws against his palms as his brain wars with his body about whether he was more angry or turned on.
Alastor is quiet for a moment, the silence making Lucifer nervous. “What was that?” He finally asks, his voice strained, and Lucifer starts to shake his head before the action pulls at his hair again, biting back another sound of pleasure.
“It was nothing. Let me go, get your hands off me.”
“I’m fucking trying,” Alastor hisses, and yanks his hand back- Lucifer comes with it, a pathetic whine escaping him as he stumbles backwards into Alastor’s chest. “I’m stuck. What is this repulsive, sticky substance in your hair?”
“It’s fucking hairgel,” Lucifer snaps, bringing his hands up to try and pry the demon’s fingers from his head as he turns to glare at him as gently as he can, without risking any further pulling of his blonde locks. “Of course that fucking bob of yours is natural, but some of us have to put effort into fucking looking good, jackass.”
“Hold still,” the demon snarls, and this time when he tries to jerk his hand out of Lucifer’s hair the tug against his scalp makes him fall forward and to his knees, white-hot desire shooting through his veins and making his legs weak.
He’s hard- embarrassingly so, the heavy weight of it straining his slacks at his unexpected response to the stimulus he was being subjected to. He needed to do something to get out of this situation, before something even more mortifying happened like coming in his pants, or worse- Alastor noticing.
Of course, as his luck would have it, the worst case scenario is the one that he’s been thrust into. There’s a soft “oh!” of understanding from Alastor as he looks down at the king on his knees, and Lucifer’s heart sank. Here would come the humiliation, begot of a bodily response he hadn’t known about, could never have predicted. Charlie would be terribly disappointed when he was forced to dispose of Alastor after this, but desperate times and all that-
“What do we have here?” The demon asks with his usual fucking smirk, and Lucifer is going to snark something back at him when he feels the man’s fingers shift in his hair; no longer simply stuck in his strands but purposely gripping a fistfull of it. When he tugs Lucifer’s head back slightly, the pain his scalp sharp, aching, delicious, the king can’t stop the desperate groan that rips free of his throat. “How interesting!”
Lucifer’s about to show him how fucking interesting it was when he tore the overlord’s arm from his body if that was what he needed to do to escape. The way he’s looking down at Lucifer with his dark eyes is making him feel uncomfortably… submissive. Which isn’t something that the King of Hell should be, and is probably why Alastor wanted to keep him on his knees as long as he could. He opens his mouth to retort, to tell Alastor exactly what was going to happen if he didn’t let him go, when there’s suddenly firm, perfect pressure against his strained cock, where Alastor has pressed the sole of his shoe against it. He chokes back a moan, clenching his eyes closed as Alastor smirks above him.
“Something the matter, sire?” He asks with a head tilt, eyes narrowed while he regards Lucifer on his knees. “You look like you have something to say.”
“Oh, I’ve got a lot to say to you right now, mother fuuuuuck-” The word collapses when Alastor applies pressure at both points of contact with Lucifer’s body- the hand in his hair yanks hard, Lucifer’s head angled almost painfully back, and Alastor’s shoe shifts and provides just enough friction that he can’t stop the roll of his hips against it. His brain is flooded with chemicals that course through his body, make him want to beg for more- he tries to bite his tongue against the pleas that threaten to spill forth but the effort is futile. “Oh, God-”
Alastor chuckles, just out of Lucifer’s line of sight with how far his head is being held back. “There’s no need for honorifics,” he says softly. “Though I suppose I could be persuaded to be generous with you, provided you can ask for what you want.” There’s no static to his whisper, just something akin to a promise in his tone, and for once he’s patient as he waits for a response- not goading the king into answering by insulting him or spewing bullshit. Lucifer debates on what he would be losing out if he does what Alastor is implying and begs. And fuck, it’s humiliating to be held like this and spoken down to and still feel his cock throb with need but now that he’s here with an iron grip in his hair and pressure against his erection- what did he have to lose by saying ‘please’? 
If, down the line, Alastor tried to hold it against him? He would cross that bridge when he got to it.
He’s not even fully sure what he’s asking for when he opens his mouth- more pressure against his cock? A firmer hold in his hair? To be let go? Whatever it is that Alastor is going to grant him, Lucifer was ready for it. “Please,” he breathes out quietly, and only has to wait a moment before he’s being gently tugged forward, Alastor’s foot moving so that Lucifer now straddles his ankle.
The grip in his hair does loosen, and he’s able to tilt forward enough to see Alastor’s face again- his smile is softer, his eyes half-lidded and dark and not a trace of his usual maliciousness to be seen. He pets his finger gently across Lucifer’s scalp, and he resists the urge to simply rut against the man’s leg when the sensation of it still sparks pleasure through his body. It takes him a moment to realize that they’ve moved- no longer in the middle of the garden, but in a dark, quiet room where Alastor takes a seat against the navy velvet of a wide couch.
Alastor notices the inquisitive look and scoffs. “As though I would risk allowing anyone else the chance to see you like this. This,” he says softly, raking his claws gently along the nape of Lucifer’s neck, making him unconsciously grind into the firm surface under him, “is for my eyes alone.”
His face flames. “Don’t make it sound like something it’s not,” Lucifer mutters. “You just like seeing the King of Hell on his knees for you.”
“Nothing wrong with that when you’re getting something out of it as well, yes?” Lucifer is quiet, and Alastor’s chuckle echoes in the room. “And if the position doesn’t agree with you, you’re more than welcome to relocate.” He pats his thigh with his free hand, and Lucifer hesitates only a moment before standing on his shaky legs and straddling Alastor’s leg, one knee dangerously close to the apex of Alastor’s legs, the hand that had been in his hair waiting patiently nearby to help position him. This felt… different. Not necessarily bad different, but this close to Alastor he was hyper-aware of how much smaller he was than the other demon, and that feeling of submissiveness returns, not entirely unwelcome now with the change in circumstances.
“Let’s begin, shall we?” Alastor slides his fingers back into Lucifer’s hair- too soft at first, but then he gets the pressure back, strands pulling tightly between the demon’s fingers, and Lucifer doesn’t bother trying to hold the sound he makes back now that they’re alone in a secluded space. His cock aches, hard and wanting, the friction from his own slacks against Alastor’s leg somehow both perfect and not enough. 
He sets a steady push and pull with his grip on Lucifer’s hair- pulling sharply and then easing up in even intervals, a pattern that Lucifer finds himself replicating with the movement of his hips. He thinks he should probably say something, but no words feel adequate- for once Alastor was quiet, no quips or barbed comments that fell from his smiling lips. He simply watches Lucifer rock on his thigh and takes in the noises he makes with a sigh.
A particularly sharp yank on his hair has his hands flying up to find purchase on something, his fingers ending up tangled in fur and digging into Alastor’s chest. The demon’s breath hitches, his own free hand coming up to settle on Lucifer’s hip and press his claws into the soft flesh under the king’s clothing. He uses that to help guide Lucifer’s movements, cock rubbing almost painfully against the fabric of Alastor’s pants but fuck, it’s too good to stop or slow down.
Alastor guides his head so their faces are mere inches apart- Lucifer thinks for one incredulous moment that he’s going to kiss him. But no, he just maintains eye contact and his cocky smirk while Lucifer grows more desperate, no longer any rhythm to the frantic fucking of his cock against Alastor’s leg. It’s debasing and humiliating, but the hand in his hair tethers him to the moment, reminding him of who he is and who he’s with.
That’s the thought that has him spilling, that it’s the untouchable Radio Demon himself allowing Lucifer to use him for his pleasure, in a place below the king that he usually seemed determined to displace at every opportunity. “Fuck, Alastor,” he chokes out as he comes, pulses of hot release that soak through his pants and drip messy into the lap of the demon under him; at the sound of it his head is wrenched back, claws breaking through the skin of his hip as Alastor’s grip tightens drastically. Tears slip from his eyes at the multifaceted pain-turned-pleasure, and the moment oozes languidly from something passionate and desperate to soft and quiet- words he never thought he would associate from an encounter with Alastor.
When he tries to lift his head up, Alastor doesn’t relent. “Fuck, let go,” Lucifer whines. It still feels too good, his cock twitching at the ache of his scalp, but even with his angelic stamina less than a minute was far too soon to go again. He doesn’t budge, and Lucifer can’t move his head to see what the problem is so he starts shuffling around in an attempt to dislodge himself from Alastor’s grasp, and-
Well. That was an impressive erection pressed against him.
Alastor does release his head now, as well as the hand on his hip, and then Lucifer can get a good look at him- his eyes are wide and frantic, hungry as he looks at Lucifer, and his smile is strained- a bead of blood drops from his teeth where he had bitten his lip. They stare at each other for a moment, the air between them tense with anticipation and Alastor’s lips parting to speak- 
“Do you want some help with that?” Lucifer asks, breaking the softness of the moment before he can think better of it with a flick of his eyes into Alastor’s lap, and there’s a screech of feedback that fills the room, Alastor’s pupils clicking to dials before he’s suddenly unmoored. Alastor simply vanishes, dissolving into shadows beneath him, and without the solid form to rest his weight on Lucifer falls off the couch onto the floor.
“Mother fucker,” he hisses, elbows stinging from how hard he had landed, and when the darkness lifts from the room to reveal one of the hotel’s various offices Lucifer knows that Alastor has gone.
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vicsy · 7 hours ago
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maxiel demon hunter au | 4.3 k | M happy halloween! I'm excited to share this little titbit with you. I hope to make this into an entire fic one day (have a title picked out already!) and crafting this universe brings me so much joy. I was really looking to sharing something spooky with all of you. <3 tw for mild body horror | set in the same universe as this fic
This time, they take Daniel's eyes.
It's the sounds that catch up to Daniel first, like whiplash. Dulled squelching, then wet splattering — one, two, three; splat, splat, splat. Daniel is weirdly comforted by counting. It serves as a fitting substitute to the vacuum that eats up the screams, the stuttering gasps of air riddled with desperation. Missing one eye, Daniel watches himself scream inaudibly, blood pouring down his face, his neck, soaking his torn and tattered clothes.
He is but a mere spectator to a leading man in his own torture chamber.
The hard flooring digs into his knees but the ache in them is phantom. Daniel's here and there, tormented and helpless, driven to the brink of passing out and forced to endure a twisted spectacle. A hand, cold as ice, cradles his bloodied cheek, tender. Tilts his head up from where he's kneeling, shackled to the floor, his wrists rubber raw. Here, tenderness is a perpetual deceit. The figure standing by the other him is indistinguishable, a moving black ink stain with many arms and sharp angles. Daniel knows him. It's why he doesn't hold his breath for what comes next.
Pressure on his face, no, not his but it is Daniel. One finger pulls down his eyelid, the other digs into the corner of his eye like a fish hook. Daniel imagines a scoop treating him as a tub of ice cream. It's hysterical. He must still be screaming. His brain must be shutting down. Pain does that, eventually.
It takes time, the remaining eye. Pressure builds in agonizing waves; his vision blanks out but Daniel is watching from afar, out of body, bound and motionless, drenched in animalistic fear. Pulled out of the socket, meticulously and with a caricature of care, Daniel follows the optic nerve still attached to his eye stretching up, up, further up until it snaps like a string. He must be screaming louder. He must be dying. But Daniel hangs on.
In the hollow spaces where his most prolific weapon used to be, blood pools and then overflows, a crimson waterfall marring his flesh. The floor beneath him is slippery, sticky; Daniel feels the blood on his hands but when he glances down, they're clean. It's not right. None of this is. They took his eyes.
He won't know an enemy from a friend; a clean soul from a wretched one.
Laughter. It fills out the void. Fingernails scratching the chalkboard, that laughter. Daniel knows who it belongs to, that distortion of joy. Shadowy figure standing above him raises four of its hands. Some miss fingers, one looks like a scythe. All of those limbs are covered in Daniel's blood. It glistens, taunting.
Daniel's throat closes up. His eye, held in between bloodied fingers, becomes the sole focus of his attention. He blinks; the other him can't do such a thing anymore. He thrashes in place instead, spitting curses that fall dead on Daniel's ears but he recognizes the shape of them leaving his own lips. That figure — the monster, the demon, the death itself — raises one of its arms, studying Daniel's eye under the yellow light coming off the ceiling. Why is there light?
He can't save himself. He needs to save himself.
They took his eyes. He ripped Daniel's only defense to shreds.
The figure moves again, wobbling and buzzing, then it parts at the top where its head supposedly is. Daniel can't make out its features but he knows. Doesn't he? He knows him well. There's teeth now, startlingly white. Black, viscous saliva drips off the tips. A droplet lands on Daniel's cheek; one of him flinches without moving, the other has his skin melting, sizzling, exposing the bone. Fear becomes a creature of its own. And it wants to escape.
Daniel watches, then, consumed by the opulence of fright, as the being made of shadows and everything unholy pops his eye into its gaping maw and snaps it shut.
In the seconds that stretch into an eternity, Daniel's body gets squeezed and lifted off the floor. All the teeth, the open maw, his own eye staring back at him from the inside, unblinking – brown with a tinge of red. There is a roar and a screech; Daniel faces his disfigured state. Then all is ribs crack under pressure and he breathes in at once.
It consumes him.
When Daniel's eyes fly open, as abruptly as a flock of birds spooked by a stray dog driven by nothing but hunger, Max is the first thing he sees. He leans against the doorframe of Daniel's bedroom, already dressed for the day.
"Why are you on the floor?" Max asks matter-of-factly. He sounds like himself, maybe a bit croaky. Daniel's gotten used to him like this. And it's not the first time Max drops by his room unannounced.
"Uh. Morning yoga?" Lame answer to the shitty start of the day. Is it still morning? Daniel's back doesn't waste any time reminding him of the comfortable mattress he seemingly fell off of during the night. Not like he has that much control over the horrors clinging to him like an ex that can't take a hint. "Shit. Give me five and I'll be good to go. We gotta pop by Alex's first thing, though."
His legs are tangled awkwardly in a thin blanket. Half of it is still draped over his bed. Daniel rubs at his eyes, keeping himself upright. The soft prickle of eyelashes on his fingertips, the spots dancing in his vision — kind of stupid to need reassurance. This shouldn't be that big of a deal. Fighting off a wendigo and getting to keep all your limbs, now that is fucking terrifying. Nightmares are practically in his job description, a walk in the park. But this kind–
"Of course," Max says. He sounds closer than he was moments before. Daniel looks up and spots a helping hand. Ah, his poor dignity.
"Mate, did you sleep in the freezer? Your hands are cold as fuck," Daniel mumbles while Max hauls him up to his feet without much trouble. Huh. Maybe Daniel's just running hotter than usual. Shouldn't be a surprise considering his nighttime adventures.
"It was very tempting to spend the night in there," oof, bitchy. Now that's his Max. He huffs, annoyed and lets go of Daniel. "I had a Red Bull with all the ice we had. We need to buy more on the way back. It's a fucking desert outside."
No fucking wonder.
Daniel sways on his feet a bit, admittedly shaken. Looks down at himself and spots a new stain on a faded Bills t-shirt he slept in. He must be sweaty and gross after a night he had but there's a foreign tackiness, too. Remnants of the horrors conjured in the depths of his subconscious stick to his skin like molasses. Daniel's getting the urge to scrub himself clean with bleach, wiggle out of this weird state. At least for Max's sake.
"Fucking peachy," scratching the back of his head, Daniel pads to the adjoining bathroom. "I'll be out in a tick."
Max's response reaches him as he shuts the door.
"I'll wait in the car, Daniel."
He always does.
Splashing cold water onto his face rewards Daniel with a handful of miraculous minutes where he isn't trapped in the suffocating heat of the summer. A shower would have been ideal but he's running late. Alex would bitch about him not being on time again for the next month or so. Looking himself over in the mirror, Daniel assesses the need to shave sometime soon. It can wait. Sporting a beard isn't all bad. He stares his reflection in the eyes longer than necessary — two normal eyeballs, both intact, same color to them. Brown tinged slightly with red. People barely notice but those who know what to look for are always the ones asking Daniel to remove sunglasses he wears most of the time.
Funnily enough, it's the one thing he forgets in haste on the way out. Daniel never leaves the house without his hunting knife, strapped securely onto his lower back under a billowy t-shirt so nobody calls the cops on him for carrying a scary looking weapon. But, fuck, his shades. The sun shining mercilessly in the cloudless sky will give him a headache soon enough. Daniel curses himself, shielding his eyes from the sunlight with a palm of his hand.
His neighbour walks by on the sidewalk, a tiny dog trotting next to her. Daniel stops just short of the driveway to give her a nod and a slight wave; a cursory motion. She beams back at him and her dog decides to join the interaction by yapping uncontrollably, pulling on the leash. Daniel tells himself to be cool about it but he still tilts his vision sideways out of sheer habit. His eyelids twitch, reacting to the sun blasting from above. Daniel keeps his smile cheerful and his gaze trained on his neighbour. A translucent glow enveloping her shoulders and chest greets Daniel as it did numerous times before. She's perfectly human. The dog, on the other hand… he can't vouch for that creature.
Finally making it to the car, Daniel opens the door and climbs into the driver's seat. It's cool inside. The aircon is doing its magic just fine but the wheel feels like lava to the touch. Thank fuck Max had the car running before Daniel dragged himself outside. He can do with a little less worry, today of all days.
When he turns his head in the direction of the passenger seat, Max looks like he's seeing an army of ghosts.
"Max?" Daniel waits for the other shoe to drop. It's been weeks. His hand finds the hilt of his knife on pure instinct ingrained into his bones. Max remains unmoving, staring ahead through the windshield. His mouth falls open, his lovely lips look chapped. "You alright there, buddy?"
Daniel counts the seconds of uninterrupted silence. Studies the side of Max's face, the sharp line of his jaw. Counts his steadily increasing heartbeat, too, waiting. Max's lips continue to move without a  hint of sound. Daniel's grip on the knife tightens.
Every scrap of thought in his brain comes to a screeching halt. His vision feels like burning. Max slumps forward, his back bowed. That nightmare Daniel went through flares up at the back of his mind, alive and vivid. His breath catches and a lump lodges itself in his throat like a rotten bone.
He can't be out of time. And Max–
Max snaps out of it. With a full body jolt, he reels back and his body hits the side of the door. He's facing Daniel now, chest heaving. Daniel lets go of the knife and pulls his hand forward, almost placating. It's not fear rattling his bones; it's something worse. His eyes twitch involuntarily. Once, twice. Max seemingly deflates.
"No, I felt like– felt like remembering. But no luck," he swipes a palm down the side of his neck, then the back of it. Daniel holds his breath and only allows himself to breathe evenly when Max shrugs, like nothing happened at all, and nods at him, squinting. "Too bright for you today, no?"
"Sure," Daniel responds flatly. Begrudgingly, he makes a show of reaching for a pair of shades he remembers stashing in the glove compartment and Max thoughtfully moves his bare knees out of the away. He's always wearing the shortest of shorts and Daniel really can't blame him. Swampy summer hellscape in the middle of July is drastically different from where Max is originally from. There is irony in that fact, as far as Daniel knows. "Eyes are kinda itchy today."
Light sensitivity, he explained to Max back when they first got to know each other. Truth wrapped in a crisp, white lie. That, and an occasional migraine or two was a small price to pay for the ability to tell souls apart. Daniel had seen some that shone righter than the sun itself; he'd also seen those darker than a thousand nights. The latter taught him the most valuable lessons. Otherwise Daniel wouldn't be still alive and kicking.
They drive through the morning rush and the cacophony of a small town dealing with the worst possible heatwave in the last decade or so. Daniel blasts the aircon heedlessly, secretly asking whatever powers that may be for his engine not to kick the bucket. Max is looking out the window. Daniel steals a couple of glances at him, rightfully concerned, and only catches the back of his head. He almost reaches to smooth Max's hair sticking out from the humidity but thinks better of it and keeps both hands firmly on the wheel. His gaze darts down to Max's pale thigh instead, his fingers drumming a rhythm on it that Daniel can't place. And it bothers him.
"What do we need from Alex?" Max enquires.
We.
"He caught wind of some shady business. Possible sighting near the place where they're repairing the highway. You know, by that one dodgy looking exit?" pure lies. Daniel clears his throat. "Might check it out tonight."
Max hums. They ride the rest of the way in silence. Daniel tries to keep the dread at bay.
For people like Daniel, Alex's coffee and tea shop is a convenient front. For those who live in the blissful ignorance of the supernatural, it's another pleasant establishment to spend your hard-earned money at. Either way, for the last couple of years Daniel's made the best out of his friendship with Alex ever since stumbling to the shop after closing hours, bleeding out and poisoned. Alex kindly saved his life – for free since Daniel was a new customer – and the rest is rapidly evolving history.
Daniel parks in the free spot right by the entrance and kills the engine.
"Wanna head in with me? We could grab a bite after," to his offer, Max makes a noncommittal sound. Daniel's nerves ease up, strangely.
"Not hungry. I'll just walk around," Max fishes his phone out of his pocket, wiggles it in front of Daniel's face, sounding pleased. "I'll keep myself busy."
He promptly exits the car and stops to watch several cars drive by. Daniel follows Max suit. It's easier, if he's being honest with himself, to make these visits by his lonesome. Daniel catches himself missing Max's company from time to time but not this instance. He eyes the broad line of Max's shoulders, the back of his neck. Then convinces himself not to let his gaze slide down and maneuvers between people passing him by.
Walking inside the coffee shop, Daniel's senses gets hit with an amalgamation of enticing smells and monotonous pre-lunch hubbub. The guy behind the main counter is new. Super young and super into flirting with a couple of customers who are way out of his league if Daniel was to judge. He should not pry so publicly but does so anyway, briefly lifting the shades up. The glimmer of the new guy's soul is patchy, purplish but mostly light blue. All clean across the board. Daniel covers his eyes again, then turns on his heels and walks towards the opposite side of the cafe. There, stashed in an artisanal looking corner with a myriad of meticulously stacked wooden shelves, Alex has his hands folded across his chest and his hip propped against the sturdy looking counter. He's giving Daniel a pointed look.
"That's your new guy?" Daniel asks instead of a greeting, pointing back at the counter with his thumb. "Is he–"
"Witchy?" Alex interjects. His smile seems twitchy and he blinks a bit maniacally. "Absolutely. You saw yourself, didn't you? Franco has a long way to go but I can work with that. Though, checking out my recent hires is not why you're here, Daniel. We both know it, so let's get to it."
Daniel places his elbows on the mahogany table separating him and Alex, then slips his shades to the tip of his nose and stares in faux indignation.
"Oh my, Alexander, so forward," he drawls. "No special treatment for little old me?"
Alex levels with him, lips drawn into a thin line.
"Uh-huh," he eyes Daniel with utmost suspicion. "Are you done playing house with a demon?"
Yeah. That.
"Alex, c'mon–"
"You yourself told our good friend Charles not to beat around the bush and deal with a hitchhiker in Pierre's soul with your fancy demon knife," Daniel unglues himself from the counter, turning his back on Alex, exhaling audibly on purpose. Anger is an old friend paying him a new visit but Daniel's hospitality appears lacking. When he turns back around, Alex places his hands in his hips and continues on with his tirade. "You know, the knife? One that, wait, let me remember this correctly. Hm. Right! One that famously sends demons back to the luscious green pastures of hell."
"I don't think they're green," Daniel tries. His attempt at a joke lands limply between the cracks. Alex is not having it.
"Daniel."
He rolls his eyes and cranes his head to beg the painted ceiling for mercy.
"God, you're so testy today."
"I'm just looking out for you," Alex exclaims and then lowers his voice. "You think I wouldn't prefer less funerals?"
Daniel clamps his mouth shut. He looks outside the panoramic window by the entrance and, by design, spots a familiar figure. Max is leaning against his car, bathed in the afternoon sun, tapping on his phone. Next to him, a cat sits on the hood of Daniel's car, languidly swaying its tail around. From where Daniel stands, the cat seems to watch Max keenly.
They made him take an oath, back in the day, official as hell. Daniel swore on some dusty ass book and got a hunter's coin in return. Thing is, folks don't become demon hunters on a sudden whim or because they're craving to spice up their life. Nobody gets dropped into this life willingly. Daniel has learned that lesson the hard way.  
Daniel did a couple of hunts with a guy named Carlos, who came from a long generation of demon hunters. He was a peculiar fella but so damn good at his job. Daniel made sure to stay in touch with him, just in case. Making connections is part of the whole family shebang. Carlos spoke of hunting like it was written in his destiny or whatever, like it was a testament to his skills and his family's legacy. Daniel, on the other hand, felt a gap in that connection. He was just born with funky vision. Otherwise, perfectly mundane.
As long as Daniel had his eyes, he was a valuable asset, a diamond cherry on top. Without his vision, well. Demon hunting doesn't have a pension plan.
He took that oath just for the hell of it. Apart from being outdated and unnecessarily convoluted, it has one golden rule that every hunter, young and old, should follow unequivocally. Daniel abided by it without much thought, up until the ever-present oath came in butting heads with his own set of morals and his gut feeling screaming at him to abandon it at all cost.
"Yeah. I know," Daniel murmurs, switching his attention back to Alex. "Look, I'm taking care of it. It's not all bad, ya know? Just a little more time before I can do my thing. And save a life."
Save himself.
Alex regards him with something akin to pity. Daniel slips his shades off and pockets them away. He can't bring himself to find any solace in the azure hue engulfing Alex from head to toe. And he could do without lectures surrounding his fuck ups.
"I'll be right back," Alex says, finally. He disappears behind the door next to the shelves that have medicinal herbs written on them in intricate cursive.
Daniel lets his eyes rest, shutting them softly.
Then, he remembers.
A summoning circle laid out with bones. Markings older than time itself etched into the stones on the ground soaked in rain. Bile rising up his throat as the smell of sulfur hanging thick in the air hits Daniel and his knees buckle. Eviscerated bodies, dozens of them, their faces burned off; an assortment of limbs strewn all over the circle. And blood. Rivers of it feeding the soil beneath.
He remembers, again — shaking, gripping his knife until his hand went numb. Rain pouring into his eyes. Silence ringing loud, louder than the screams Daniel heard from afar. In the middle of the summoning circle, curled in on himself, a naked body of a man. Pale as death. Daniel's legs leading him forward, his instincts going off like a siren. Kneeling on the ground and ignoring the squelch upon his making impact with the ground; rolling a cold and limp but breathing body onto its back. And then immediately going half-blind.
He broke the oath that night.
The door creaks. Daniel opens his eyes.
"Don't forget," Alex says as he pushes a piece of what looks like parchment paper across the table. Daniel stares at the scribbles written all over. They wouldn't make sense to him, ever, but Alex is a master of his craft. "Skin to skin, then the activation word. Don't mess it up. Took me a week to draw this seal properly. I already feel the build up effect of all the previous ones diminishing. Rapidly. There is only so much my seals can do."
Daniel folds the paper and carefully slides it into the back pocket of the jean shorts he's wearing. He shouldn't delay activating the seal.
"My thanks to you, Alexander, the great seal master," he tries to sound cheerful. Beams with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, then end up dropping the act. Daniel studies the cracks in the table before he manages enough courage to look up at Alex again. "Hey. Can you do me a solid?"
"I'm still in the middle of doing a rather big one for you but sure," Alex sighs, overdramatic. "I'll just add it to your tab."
Daniel chews the inside of his cheek, ruminating. He breathes in, then, lowering the pitch of his voice.
"What's the color of Max's eyes?"
"Max's eyes? Why–" Alex catches himself momentarily. Daniel sees when the full weight of realization sinks into his mind. His eyes soften and he gives Daniel a tight-lipped smile, rolls back his shoulders. He looks aside, to the panoramic window, then back at Daniel. He's talked to Max before, and seen him up close. Daniel knows he's stalling. Solemnly, Alex says: "Blue. Rather pretty."
It fits the picture Daniel had painted in his head. During some sleepless night, it was all he could think about.
"Pretty, huh?" he repeats. Then raps his knuckles on the table, bidding Alex a goodbye. "Thanks, mate. I really owe you one."
"Use protection!" Alex yells loudly after him. Daniel cringes, his shoulder lifting up to his ears. Motherfucker. He catches Alex following up, though more quietly: "And don't die."
That's the plan. Easy on paper, impossible in the long run. Daniel could really use the odds being stacked in his favor.
Outside, the air feels thick. Daniel tries to will his lungs to expand but it's a hopeless ordeal. He puts his shades back on, shrinking in on himself in defeat. The paper seal stashed in his pocket feels like it's going to leave a burn mark on his ass. Maybe Alex did something to it on purpose. Daniel could really use a laugh now.
Instead, he thinks of how he's going to covertly press a new seal onto the designated spot on the back of Max's neck, same place he'd placed many that came before. There ought to be some scarring. Daniel thinks of adding another shackle to the gaps in Max's memory and the other things sealed away by Alex's magic, things way beyond Daniel's comprehension.
He thinks of the time running out; of his own selfishness and want. Thinks he might never find it in himself to let go.
"We can go now?" Max asks without missing a beat as he pushes his body off the car. Daniel's head darts up, his train of thought tearing itself away from the plague of possibilities. "I found a woman who agreed to talk to us. Maybe she knows me."
Daniel's stomach churns.
"Great," he steps in front of Max and digs around in his front pocket. "Wanna drive for a bit?"
He offers up the keys and Max swiftly swipes them from Daniel's hand. Even with a brief contact, there is a hint of cold to the touch.
He knows his way around Max by now. Knows how unintentionally funny he is at times and how picky he's with food. Daniel has gotten used to having Max in his space, keeping him all to himself; driving around the city and looking for answers Daniel already knows but he's too fucking selfish and self-righteous.
For the first time today, Daniel has enough guts to really looks at Max.
There is darkness he cannot escape; eyes he cannot hide from. At times Daniel considers his gift of vision nothing but a fatal curse. With Max, he avoids using it as much as he can allow. Look everywhere but directly into his face. Yet every single time Daniel dares to hope the outcome would be different, dares to hope the seals worked their magic, he's proved painfully wrong. His shades are of no use; Daniel doesn't need to tilt his vision sideways either. Not for Max.
As if filled out with pitch black ink, the eyes darker than the cavernous void always stare back at him.
Daniel blinks and his heart gives a devastating tug.
Shadowy arms, familiar in their wretchedness, caress Max's head, his cheek and his shoulders; wrap around his waist, slide down his thighs and envelop him whole. Some hands miss fingers and one looks like a scythe. Those limbs, they are not covered in blood. Not anymore; not yet. Daniel knows it's temporary.
It always ends in blood. And, for Max, Daniel is willing to spill rivers of it.
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zolass · 10 hours ago
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Oh!!! Uhhh how about OC x bttm! Reader where reader is a much soft spoken/passive guy and OC is the one who teases him a lot? Bonus points if Reader takes a second to process suggestive jokes & is significantly taller than OC (because I've never read a taller bttm b4 LMAO)
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MY MUSE ···─Tease! Rafayel x Taller! bttm Male Reader
Summary: Where you find yourself in the grasps of an famous artist, who simply asked you to be his muse and even paying you for it. But why does it feel like that there's more behind all the teasing from Rafayel. wc: 1.2k
tags: fluff, teasing, taller shy reader (reader is as tall as sylus), nudity, mentions of sex and multiple rounds, (pls tell me if I forgot smt) Note: I'm sorry if you wanted smut with this one, or a different character. Hope it's still enjoyable. But ngl I like the dynamic T_T
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You were sitting at the coast, your shoes dug in the sand as you squatted down. The waves barely missed the tip of your shoes, while you simply stared at the mesmerizing display of the ocean. Your fingers were playing with the sand absentmindedly.
So you didn’t hear the approaching footsteps in the sand, until a hand landed on your shoulder. Looking up surprised, you came face to face with the handsome male that you had been working with for a few months, Rafayel. 
“Hey, beautiful.” Rafayel said, it was a common thing he called you by. At first it was a rather big surprise for you, but it made sense as he hired you as his muse. “Hey Raf,” you greeted him back with a small smile on your lips before you stood up. Now it was Rafayel’s time to look slightly up at you. “I made breakfast and coffee– so the sooner we are there, the more time we have!” Rafayel said, while he grabbed your hand and pulled you along the shore towards the place you call your home since the last few months.
Many would question why you lived with the painter, all the while you’re ‘just a muse’ as some would like to call it. You didn’t have to pay for basically anything, freeloading off of the other. Of course at the beginning you wanted to know why he did it, just as confused as others would be, even going as far as not accepting the payment he gave you. But his words at the beginning simply were “creativity doesn’t wait around, so I have to grasp it while it’s simply there.”
Quickly you found yourself in the open kitchen, with a steaming coffee mug in front of you, and the simple breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. As you were enjoying your breakfast in silence, Rafayel���s eyes were trained on your figure. Tall, even taller than him, soft locks framing your face. Your eyes that always held warmth in them, even when others would say he was annoying and too much when he wanted to paint another piece, you simply sat there in your own bubble, going along with his orders without speaking up about it. 
After the first three days, Rafayel started to relax more, speaking more with you, having conversations while on and off ‘work’, soon he also started to make suggestive jokes, he loved to see the halt in movement of whatever you’re doing, taking a few seconds to take in his words before a beautiful reddish color would adorn your cheeks, that you would try to hide.
Maybe that was it, what made him slowly develop this warmth in his chest whenever he thought of you, was seeing you or was simply close to you. 
The clearing of your throat brought Rafayel out of his thoughts, “You alright Raf? You didn’t touch your breakfast yet,” you asked with concern, lacing your voice. Rafayel couldn’t help the flutter in his stomach because of your concern for him, he quickly cleared his throat before he looked at you with a playful smile on his lips. “Just thinking about something– you know.. I don’t mind looking up at you, but I bet you would look better under me.” 
It took a few seconds for the words to register in your brain, and as they did he watched as your eyes widened and face heated up, adorning your cheeks in a slightly reddish shade. You didn’t know what to say, your mouth opening and closing. A chuckle left Rafayel as he watched your reaction, “Okay if you’re done let’s start,” Rafayel started, as he cleaned up the table. 
As he walked to the empty canvas, he couldn’t help but halt in his movement, a sudden idea in his head. “[name] you said– you would do anything as my muse right?” The sudden question surprised you. But you took a few seconds to think of how you should answer, so after a bit you nodded, before adding a yes. 
Rafayel couldn’t help the giddy feeling in his stomach, it might be rather risky but he decided to do it anyway, who knew if he had the chance ever again. “Then– strip,” he said loud enough for both of you to hear. 
You stared at him wide-eyed, “Pardon?” 
“Only your shirt,” Rafayel quickly added, backing out half way. Yet he wanted to see your slightly toned chest, without a shirt blocking most of the sight. You were still kinda shocked, before you gave a short okay. 
Soon you were seated on a small chair with a translucent cloth layered across your naked torso, your eyes sometimes looking at the concentrated face of Rafayel, his words still lingering in your head, before the silence was interrupted by a young woman with dark brown hair walking in. 
Quickly you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to hide your exposed body, which was clearly a failure. Both of you stared at each other with wide eyes, a rose color dusting the woman's cheeks. 
The clearing of a throat was heard, both your heads focused on Rafayel, yet his expression changed. “Didn’t think you would come by so early..” he said, with a slightly annoyed undertone which surprised you and apparently the woman too, “should I come back some other time-” Rafayel quickly spoke a sharp yes, before his eyes landed back on you.
Shortly after you both were back alone, a blush still coating your cheeks, your one arm trying to hide your chest, while you held yourself on the chair with the other. Suddenly Rafayel stood up and walked towards you, before standing still in front of you.
As he leaned down, you didn’t know what to expect but certainly not, that he would push a strand out of your face, with a charming smile on his lips, “You know darling, I love that you’re so tall– more room for me to leave marks,” he said. It didn’t take long for you to blush in embarrassment, biting your lip.
“Then why don’t you show me?” you asked in a whisper, first you thought he didn’t hear what you said, but instead you heard a chuckle and a hand reached out towards you. Looking at the hand and then at Rafayel, you could see the way he looked at you. Still rather playful but there seemed to be more of a seriousness hiding behind the exterior, “Sure, anything for my mesmerizing darling,” he spoke.
And so you found yourself that day in multiple rounds of passionate sex, different positions, all the while Rafayel fucked you into the mattress and filling your hole with one load after another and the sweet words were uttered from Rafayel’s lips. Lovebites and hickeys littering your skin, while you were held tightly in the other’s arm at the end of the day.
You both watching as the sun slowly dropped below the waves, a kiss was placed on your shoulder, “Like I thought, you look so fucking beautiful beneath me,” Rafayel teased. A chuckle leaving him as you hid your face, before he turned serious, “I want to take you out on a date, [name].” 
It surprised you, but there you were already having slept with the man, so a date couldn’t be that awful right? 
Rafayel waited for your answer, and as you said yes, he couldn’t help but feel oh so giddy. He hugged you close to his chest, “Then we go when you can walk without pain, hm?” and all you did was huff, as your ears also turned red, “sure,” were the only things you uttered before both of you watched the sunset, before you slowly drifted off into a peaceful sleep.
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toothfa-1-ry · 17 hours ago
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Little Miss Diggory
"Is that her?" You whisper as you lean towards the sandy haired boy who was slightly frowing
"Yea" cedric breathed out as he noticed Rita Skeeter and her abomination of a outfit
Your quote un quote bestfriend Cedric diggory was chosen as one of the contestants for the tri wizard competition which lead to being interviewd by a certain witch called Rita Skeeter who had a rather infamous reputation, not the good kind of course
"She seems" your lost for words as you look at her "interesting"
"She's bloody mad, completly lost her marbles" cedric rambles, obviously annoyed as he attempts to block you away from her vision. His light Irish accent suddenly flaring up which only happened when he was uncomfortable
The fact usually kind and sweet cedric diggory was calling someone mad, you knew that whatever you had heard of Rita skeeter before, she must have been worser than her rumours
"Don't make eye contact" he whispered
You nodd, quickly turning your head away but it's too late, Rita skeeter had locked eyes with you and a nasty grin forms on her face when she sees cedric with you
"Yoohoo! Cedric!" She cried out in a patronizing sing song voice as she approaches the both of you
You suddenly feel the urge to cling to your books and hide behind cedric
Cedric grimace before he turns around, putting on a forced awkward smile "Rita... I wish I could say it's a pleasure"
"Oh you naughty boy!" Rita's giggles in a high pitch tone "I'm back here again for another interview, a more casual one of course" she says as she ogles between you and cedric
Cedric notices and comes inbetween you and Rita "well shall we go somewhere else than?"
He seriously did not want Rita skeeter among all people to talk to you, God knows what she might write about you. It was already bad enough that Rita had written about him in such a patronizing way
"Oh no" Rita motions cedric to move away "I want to know, who this is" her eyes widen as he looks at you
Cedric inwardly groans, he whispers "I'm really sorry, i didn't want to get you into this"
You nodd, squeezing his arm which seemed to be the wrong thing to do as Rita Skeeter suddenly gasp and her pen begin writing something down
"Oh my your very pretty" Rita came closer to you, her manicured nails now rest on your shoulders "i bet Mr diggory here thinks your very pretty don't you?" She questions cedric
"I mean- well yes" cedric blurts out, his face rather pink with the suddenly confrontation "but I'm not sure why that's relevant right now"
"What about you sweetheart?" Rita questions you
"Cedric and I are good friends" you manage to mutter put before she cuts you in again
"Good friends? Bestfriends? Whats your name dearie?"
You give a confused look as you nodd slowly "im y/n uh l/n and-"
She cuts you off again
"Well do you fancy him? Is this a friends to lovers sort of thing? Ooh now that's something I like" Rita nodds excitedly as her feather pen moves even faster
You notice Cedrics red face with matched yours aswell "Oh i-"
But neither of you can butt in to say anything
"Tell me, how does it feel that your boyfriend" she points at cedric "is in the triwizard competition? Are you happy? Worried? Scared"
Your face goes bright pink "Oh cedric's not my..."
"Y/n and I are good friends" cedric manages to say from underneath the tint of red which clouded his face
"Oh pish posh!" Rita skeeter exclaims as she hit cedric with a pen which made you sneer slightly "you can tell me anything dear! Now tell me how did the both of you start dating?"
"We're not dating-"
"My my... your quite private aren't you" Rita raises her eyebrows as she purses her lips, obviously annoyed at the lack of intell "no worries, ill just have to make up an interesting story"
"Rita i think that's enough for today" Cedric announces, sensing your uncomfortablness
"Oh! But one last question! One last!"
Exasperated cedric sighs as you brace yourself for whatever the last question it may be
"If you had to rate your experience with your boyfriend" she wiggles her eyebrows "ehm.. how much would you rate him?"
Your face flushes a deep crimson, before you can even manage to squeak out a response cedric cuts it off
"Okay that's it" he grabs your hand and rushes off despite Rita Skeeter's protest
"Would you say that he's a good kisser miss y/n? If you don't answer I'm gonna take that as a yes" you could hear Rita skeeter bellow from down the hallway
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crownmemes · 1 day ago
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Sad Sentences, Vol. 10
(Sad sentences from various sources. Adjust phrasing where needed)
"You know, for a moment this afternoon, I really thought you were going to betray me."
"So this is what it feels like, huh?"
"You know, I wish I had a daughter."
"Whatever punishment you think I deserve, I swear I have already endured it."
"You think I'm dumb, don't you?"
"We're all running from something, I suppose."
"I can't help thinking that somewhere in the universe, there has to be something better than man. There has to be."
"The past's never just the past."
"You really don't care what happens to me in there tonight, do you?"
"My one regret in all of this is never being with you."
"This place just isn't the same anymore."
"When was it that you lost your imagination?"
"I think people have always thought I was strange - or worse: defective."
"I should have known. I should have seen the signs."
"I didn't plan on going out like this."
"There aren't any happy endings nowadays."
"I'd like to tell you everything, but I can't. Not ever.,"
"Everything is not going to be fine! Why does everyone keep saying that?"
"I know you want to help me, but I don't think you can this time."
"I didn't see it coming. You could have been killed, and I didn't see it coming."
"What if I don't want to remember?"
"You broke your promise."
"Where were you when I was still kind?"
"I've never been great at asking for what I want."
"Do you ever think about what could have happened between you and me?"
"Endings are a strange thing. You know it's coming, and yet everything ends."
"I'm sorry about what's going to happen to you."
"I've never felt so helpless in my life."
"Oh well. It's not the first time my heart's been broken."
"You don't think very much of me, do you?"
"I don't think you can go back to the way it was before."
"You can't fall in love with a dream."
"I know, I know - I'm making a pest of myself."
"I miss my friend."
"Please. I need you not to doubt me."
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louisegluck · 2 years ago
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okay but why does it feel like my life is going nowhere
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disposal-blueeee · 4 months ago
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from this thing lolz
ty to @cherry-207 for the idea !! XPP
vargas by zarla-s
#sunny's art#vargas#edgar vargas#vargas zarla#scriabin#zarla s#scriabin vargas#would add shitpost tag too but i made so much effort on these to call it shitpost#this took me like 4 days . it could've taken two but i had to go out most of these days#this is just another “ i forced myself to color this thing just to practice coloring ” piece#went crazy with this one X3#changed pretty much all of my brushes#bye square-shaped brush . i'm gonna miss you#i feel like edgar would actually find this cute tbh#it's perfect for them and they both know it#i know that the actual meme doesn't really look like my artstyle#but this is the first time i draw a face from that angle okay#that's all bye#nevermind i want to rant about something .#okay it's like . everytime i draw edgar i struggle a lot thinking of the clothes i want to draw on him#so i literally took a screenshot of every thing zarla has drawn on him so i can yk . pick something out of there#well on this one drawing she made he had this pretty beige cardigan and i was like okay sure let's get that one#then . was just coloring and when i tried to shade the beige it just looked dirty and ugly#why when other people do it it looks good and when i try to do it it just looks ugly ??!!1!1?!#funny enough this is the third time this happens to me#it also used to happen with gray . i just changed the color of the shading to dark blue and boom fixed#so i had to change it to green . looks better like that anyways#so i'm thinking . does beige look bad on edgar or it's just that i don't know how to shade beige in the first place#( probably second one#i think this is actually all
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