#except he's the eternal all powerful one. really makes you fucking think.

[eldritch-spouse]

I love the idea of Zizz becoming obsessed with a lucid dreamer.

She talks to him about things she's too afraid to talk to other people about, rants about how tiresome her work is, and doing stupid shit while they wander a dreamscape she makes. Sometimes she fucks him if he doesn't take on a human appearance (realizing she's a monsterfucker). She thinks he is nothing more than a random figment formed from their dreams, enjoying these moments that will be gone by the morning.

Zizz keeps getting drawn to her, the more time he spends, the harder he falls for her.

[Aaah, this is a cute idea. Reader is ambiguous.]

The first night, you didn't know what was happening.

There was a presence in your dream, you felt it as soon as it invaded the sanctity of your slumber. A thick shadow lurking in the halls of the manor you spent so long visualizing during waking hours just so you could bring it into your dreams.

Curiosity led you to follow that strange pull. You didn't consciously manifest anything or anyone yet, so what could it be that your brain cooked up on its own?

It seemed to be wandering, and the closer you got to it, the louder these slow thumps could be heard, footsteps making aged wooden floorboards creak in protest. The parts of your dream where this thing dwelled seemed to become somehow more vivid than the ones you created, as if it were breathing life into them. Your curious search becomes a frantic chase when you catch the outline of something massive turning the corner.

Was the manor this complex? Were there these many halls?

No, you remember it being smaller. Is it... Changing its location? Changing your dream? This has to be the product of your sudden distraction. Yes, that's it.

You remember the way you stopped breathing when you opened a door, only to see him pass by.

What you can only describe as a giant demonic entity, with pallid, ash-like skin and a great veil over its horned face. A thin tail that ended in a crescent shape swaying lazily behind a masculine inhuman figure.

Between the shock and fear, you could only watch it trudge to another division, uncaring of your presence.

Your lungs start working again, on the first desperate gasp-

You wake up.

The second time, he laughed.

Some time had passed.

You never truly felt all that comfortable in your own dreamscapes after that odd encounter and, strangely, even if you remembered the sight of that demonoid so clearly, manifesting him was proving itself to be harder than expected.

You felt like you needed to bring him back, if only because his appearance left more questions than answers, and that encounter begged some clarifications.

The versions you did manage to create always seemed oddly deformed, as if you were a novice at this.

Tonight, you were dedicating your time to making him reappear, which led you to a mostly white space devoid of features beyond a floor, and the several copies of the entity you are failing to put together.

Some are discolored. Others have too many horns, the one in the corner is... Melting? The latest keeps disappearing and popping up in random spots. None of them are behaving at all, just standing there like mockeries of statues.

They feel so fake, so paper-like, cheap imitations of something that felt so powerful and perfect! Like there really was another person in your dream...

You're getting frustrated.

It's a pointless effort born out of a spook.

After what feels like an eternity of populating an endless landscape with grotesque reflections, you simply sit down and watch them fail miserably at existing.

Except... A new one emerges from the back of a swaying, greenish copy.

It looks around, tensing, as if perturbed by something, then casts its gaze to the clones surrounding it.

You didn't make that one. Not willingly. It's... It's too perfect, he looks exactly like the demon you saw, down to a T! Even the little glowing blob on his head, that's him! That's... Him. The real one. Oh fuck.

Horrified yet oddly gleeful, you simply stay very still and watch everything unfold.

The giant demon begins exploring once more, touching the flawed versions of himself he comes across. The ones that seem to particularly disturb him are waved at, and with the simple gesture, disappear entirely. Although you cannot see his face, his tail swats quickly behind the monster's body, it's clear he's at least amused by what he's seeing.

One second he's moving to the nearest malformed abomination, the next you blink and he's standing still, fixed on you. There's no doubt he's spotted you sitting cross-legged like an idiot, you bet you stick out like a sore thumb.

It felt like hours passed in that silent locking of stares. This time, you remember to breathe. But your mouth certainly won't open. And he doesn't utter a word either, resuming his perusing.

Finally, he spots the one whose clothes keep flickering in and out of place. You don't know why it's like that, and it embarrasses you. Your brain can guess the general body type and coloration of the demon given he doesn't cover all that much, but it has no way of knowing what his genitals look like, so your mind is visibly cycling through possibilities.

Seeing himself naked, with a variety of ridiculous genital equipment, the entity invading your dream starts to shake slightly.

You fear you might have greatly offended him without meaning to, but then, this sound starts bouncing off non-existent walls until it reaches you.

A melodic sort of chuckling that fills you with some unknown lulling tingle, rising into amused, helpless belly laughter, cackling. His head throws back and his shoulders quake. It's the only thing you can focus on, a voice so clear and so distinct, something you've never heard before. How incredible.

Well... At least he finds it funny? Good, that's. Good. You guess.

When the noise dies down, you find him looking at you again.

The flustered tightening of your belly is probably what woke you up.

The third time, he spoke to you.

It must not have been more than a week.

You think he's lurking around more often, because you're starting to pick up on the way his presence alters the spaces around him, makes them feel all the more immersive.

This time, you were creating a garden, picking the flowers you'll put in a variety of plots.

When you head to the little gazebo in the center, you find that not only has it increased twofold in size, he is sitting at the table you placed there.

The demon seems calm, legs spread, one hand resting on the table, the other holding his covered head as he watches you freeze.

Your first instinct is to turn back and pretend he's not there, to walk away, maybe try shoving him out of the dreamscape. But do you really want to?

" Stay. " He beckons, the moment you take a step back.

" Who are you? " Is instantly shot back.

The monster leans back on his seat, the clawed hand previously resting rises, and with a snap, day turns into night, a brilliant sky with millions of stars and swirling cool hues.

It's nothing short of gorgeous.

At this point, you think he has more control of your dream than you.

As if to prove that, the chair opposing him slides back, and he tips his head towards it, waving.

" I like your dreams. " The demon starts. " You're interesting. "

" ... Thank you? " Because what else are you supposed to say.

" Sit. " He beckons again. " Talk to me tonight. "

You didn't believe it.

Didn't believe who he said he was.

How he managed to enter your dreams.

Didn't believe that someone like him could ever find you worth any time.

You chalked it up to total madness, and took the entire conversation as a humorous game, laughing when it seemed as if he was getting almost enamored with you.

After an admittedly delightful night sharing drinks he had conjured for the two of you, Zizz sighs and tells you that it's time for you to wake up.

You're about to ask how he would know such when he leans forward to gently tip the glass up to your lips, and the richness of your favorite drink is the last thing you feel before it all fades away.

Tonight, he offered to take you into one of his dreamscapes.

A smile in his words and a shine to the soft paw he extended your way convinced you to accept the offer.

Maybe the way he purred and whispered your name like a prayer should have been warning enough that you were playing a dangerous game.

It's been hours. A day? Too long. Longer than you've ever been dreaming for. Tracking time is harder in a location you have no control over.

This is a very beautiful royal mansion, and you've been having lots of fun spending time with Zizz in it and all...

But you'd like to wake up.

It's not happening. You can't bring yourself out of the lucid dream. You... You're stuck.

When a quiet moment falls between the two of you, a small hand taps the supposed demonlord's arm.

" Zizz? "

" Mmm? "

There's a gulp. " ... I need to wake up. "

Seconds bleed into what must have been a minute of complete silence.

Until his palm lands on your head and he affectionately combs over your hair, leading you forward beside him as you're about to enter his dreamscape's bedroom.

Claws tighten on the skin of your scalp.

" Don't be silly. "

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hii! Can we get a fic with how would it like to be if the reader was basically douma same personality appearence etc. With Alastor? I REALLY WANT TO SEE HOW IT WOULD GO.

Oh my fucking god. This Duo— it’s this duo and Discord with Alastor, I think would mesh well! Haha! Anyway! I am definitely trying this out, thank you, loves! Hope you enjoy!

Alastor- Rainbow Irises

Ah… a cannibalistic murderous cult has rolled into the Pride Ring. Alastor isn’t surprised when he hears over the new Overlord being the Eternal Paradise Cult leader. He’s heard worse

Though… her eyes are a mesmerising rainbow. A gorgeous, colourful, almost hypnotic swirl of multiple colours and the way she has presented herself to the Pride Ring… menacing yet elegant and cool-headed. Dressed like a fancy old-fashioned Japanese woman and wielding golden sharp fans

You’re an entire walking-talking red flag of a person. Speaking smooth and doting to everybody you meet but raising your fangs to their neck. You’re possibly even worse than Valentino. You trick everybody into thinking you’re polite and considerate and playful but you have a VERY ugly monster under those rainbow eyes

You have that charisma and friendliness Alastor uses regularly, coming off as upbeat and you greets all the Overlords politely but the proclaims you make… the way you eat other sinner demons with no problem and even brag about putting heads of decapitated men in pots. You have everybody in the room’s spines shivering in both disgust and intimidation at how you’re like

Alastor respects the way you establish yourself and getting his full respect is hard. You are intimidating, you are menacing, it’s a sign of how strong you actually are. The second strongest Overlord in Hell’s history(right behind Alastor). You regularly loom over Alastor and enjoy sweet-talking him

Alastor can recognise when a psychopath is talking so he never falls for your tricks nor your innocent act. You’re dangerous and twisted, specifically targeting and only eating men, hence you’re only-men member cult. He won’t let you even try take a finger off him

Alastor is basically our Shinobu, except Al doesn’t beat on us

Alastor doesn’t like you just touching him. You’ll reach out and touch him, solely to annoy him. He isn’t scared of you but he can tell why the other Overlords are so tense around you… you’re the most perfect cult leader, a inviting aura and a sensual voice that screams illusionary safety

Alastor has to hold his breath around you. When you’re angry, you turn ice cold and you don’t mind making the air too frozen for anybody to breathe in. So, he is quite careful with you. Juggling inbetween cold treatment and warm treatment, he feels like he is handling a spoiled brat when he talks to you

Alastor ignores the ‘gifts’ you make or get him. The lotus ice statues are wonderful but he knows what you’re trying to do… he may compliment your work but he won’t let you talk him into anything

But that doesn’t mean, Alastor doesn’t find your work nor your power impressive. He is very impressed and he rewards you for all you’ve done with your little cult and rising up to the rank to being the second strongest Overlord ever known in Hell. It’s a grand feat that he will clap to

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Aren’t you even a little bit worried about me, Lord Alastor~?”

“Darling. Kindly do not touch—“

“You don’t know how dreadfully worried I was. Since you all are cherished comrades of mine. I’d be heartbroken if I lost any of my comrades~”

Alastor finds your Japanese voice and language irresistible in a way, since it reflects your English and ‘nature’ very well but once again… he won’t fall for how often you say you like him. He knows people like you, he’s one of them. He’ll just commend what you’ve done as a Pride Ring Overlord

Alastor HATES the ‘Lord Alastor’ nickname you give him and always address him under… yeah. You give it to every other Overlord, he isn’t the only one who is called ‘Lord’ but it feels so condescending and in reality, it is…

“Silence, my dear. The adults are speaking… now, calm down that temper of yours. We don’t need anymore aircon in this room”

[bluejay757]

Lets talk about Simon and Betty

spoilers for episode 8

So a lot of people are throwing around some strong accusations about their relationship, some I can see where they're coming from, and a lot are really reaching.

As for the ones that I think are reaching, a lot of people are saying that Simon and Betty were a professor/student dynamic, except they weren't. Simon wasn't teaching a class he was a guest lecturer, and Betty, having read his work was interested. She was excited to meet him because she liked his research. Simon was constantly mocked in his field, if you actually read the newspaper clippings from "I remember you" you'll see that even after he found the enchiridion, he was made fun of. People were literally laughing at him and throwing things at him while he was giving his lecture. Betty likely was mocked too, it makes sense she was so excited to meet him, because this was her chance to meet one of the few people that actually shared her interest. She did not yet have a crush on him at that point in time.

I think after she got to know Simon on a personal level her fascination of him changed, as she no longer viewed him as a "celebrity" (I use that term loosely for a lack of a better word, I can't imagine his books sold that many copies, what with him being a laughing stock and him being genuinely surprised that Betty had read his work), but rather a colleague and equal. She even said that after their trip together she had grown to admire him as a person, so it's not like she had any kind of feelings for him prior to that. Now that's not to say her feelings towards him were completely normal, but there definitely wasn't a power imbalance between them.

A lot of people are saying Simon was selfish for making her stay behind, but he didn't make her. She chose to stay behind. She could have still gone on that trip, and continued to write to him and talk to him on the phone, but she chose to stay with him and go on different adventures. You're forgetting that Simon and Betty went on expeditions together all the time, it's not like she gave up her career for him, that would be a whole different story, but she made the decision to continue working in her field alongside him.

Also Simon couldn't have gone on that trip if he did want to because he wasn't offered to go, who ever it was that gave Betty that opportunity, wasn't anticipating on her bringing a friend, he also didn't have anything with him but like his wallet and keys you can't seriously expect him to go to another country with no luggage, no plane ticket, no money, no nothing. A whole part of Fionna's character arc is realizing that life's not a fairy tale, she was expecting something out of a romance novel and got a story straight from reality. Realistically the two options were for Betty to stay or to leave Simon. And I don't think her giving up her trip to Australia was a sacrifice, because there were other trips and opportunities after that, she traded that one trip for an entire lifetime of them, (or at least it would have been if war didn't break out)

And if you're gonna call Betty impulsive, call her impulsive because she went on a trip around the world with a man she had never met, not because she walked through a creek barefoot lmfao.

I'm not saying that Simon and Betty were perfect but there are other reasons to criticize them.

As for the actual problems with there relationship, none of them are their fault. Betty going literally crazy trying to bring Simon back was because of Magic Man and Patience fucking with her brain, a human being cannot handle the amount of magic she was given and it drove her to insanity. And Simon now, with risking everything to bring her back, she's literally fused with a chaos god and is going to live for eternity in that state, did you ever think maybe he wants to get her out of that for her sake? That maybe he wants closure and to say goodbye? Since he never got that chance. No it's not healthy for Simon to drive himself as far as he did to bring her back, but Jesus fucking Christ can you blame him for not wanting his fiance to suffer for literal eternity? They don't need to break up, they need therapy. I don't think their relationship pre-mushroom war was unhealthy, and I don't think it ever would have been unhealthy without Betty becoming Magic Betty.

Their relationship flaws are more so their own individual flaws that have bled into their relationship as opposed to ones caused by the relationship itself, that's an important distinction you have to see.

[cuubism]

part 3 of hob encountering dream outside their meetings (except there are 4 total parts now, lol)

--

Something, Hob thinks, somewhere between his third and fourth glass of whiskey, is terribly wrong.

In another life, he thinks, he would have wandered home drunk, morose, aimless, bereft of his strange patron—Dream—and sure he’d screwed it up. If you come, we must be friends. Well, there’s your answer, Hob.

In this life…

Dream gave his word. And… he is so serious, he is so austere, Hob does not think he is the type to break a promise.

I hope you’re alright out there, he thinks as he gets home to his flat, drunk, but not as much as he really wants to be.

Where is he, anyway? Why wouldn’t he show?

Despair over the matter tries to swamp him, but Hob pushes it aside. Dream. He has his name. Maybe he can find him?

He had never tried in the years since their happenstance meeting during the war. Had wanted to, on and off, but had respected his friend’s wishes on the matter. He had a promise to meet again, after all. That was enough for now. They had eternity.

Tomorrow he can go to the library. Maybe he’ll be able to find something in all those books of history and mythology, if his stranger is a god, like to appear there.

It’s a chance.

--

For days Hob studies, and mulls, and finds very little. His friend’s name is too common a word to easily search, and likewise too obscure to find in any mythology texts. Hob makes little progress, but he thinks on him more and more. Dream is in his mind like a waking nightmare; Hob keeps going back to his little shy smile on their parting outside the cafe.

He wouldn’t just not show up. He wouldn’t.

And then, several weeks into this obsessive spiral, Hob dreams of him.

--

Hob is sitting across from his friend, the setting vague, dark, he can’t make it out. Dream is cross-legged in a meditative pose, a loose robe draped around him, and he looks… gaunt. Tired. Hob remembers looking like that himself, during the darker periods of his life, but he would never have expected Dream to break his marble composure.

“Hob,” he says, with some surprise. Blinks starry, dark eyes. “You have been thinking on me very intently, indeed.”

“Of course,” Hob says. Wants to reach out to him but senses, somehow, that it wouldn’t be possible. “Where—”

“Time is brief,” interrupts Dream. Hob is not certain he even heard Hob speak; perhaps whatever this is is a one-way transmission, a message. “My power is contained; this is but a spare moment of luck and coincidence. I owe you much for breaking my vow to you—”

You don’t, Hob thinks, you don’t—

“—But instead I must make a request. As… friends.” He speaks the word as something still unfamiliar and rare. “Find Alex Burgess. Find me. Anything you desire, if it is in my power, in return.”

What an absolutely bizarre way of asking for help. Then again, it is his old stranger speaking. Hob should expect no less.

What kind of mess has he gotten himself into that kept him away from their meeting? What kind of mess could such a being get into?

“I will,” Hob swears. “I will. I won’t leave you alone.”

His friend’s gaze bores into his, glittering like the night sky.

“Hob,” he says, voice resonant and echoing, “be cautious.”

--

Hob wakes, tacky with sweat, shivers running up his spine. Dream, he thinks, scrubbing a hand through the mess of his hair. Dreams. Fuck. Was it real? It must have been. Dreams.

In the manner of dreams, much of the detail is hazing out, leaving only the strange echo of his friend’s voice, his starry eyes, a name to find, and a warning:

Be cautious.

Yeah, fuck that.

Dream never asks for help, at least not from Hob, though Hob privately doubts he asks for it from anyone. He hardly even shares mundane details of his life. Whatever scrape he’s gotten into now, it must be monumentally terrible to push him to do so.

Hob won’t leave him there.

Alex Burgess, his friend had said. That’s not much, but it’s a start.

--

Hob had found nothing using Dream’s name, but once he has Alex Burgess’s, it’s shockingly easy. He puts the pieces together in less than a week, and finds himself stewing in anger as a result. How had nobody done anything? Granted, nobody knew who his friend was, but as far as he’s managed to gather, plenty of people had seen him over the years. Nobody had stepped up?

Maybe, deep down, Hob is truly just angry with himself. He should have done something. Somehow, someway. For fuck’s sake, Hob had seen his stranger in 1915, less than a year—if the rumors are to be believed—before he disappeared. 

Shouldn’t he have known? Somehow? Some time before their scheduled meeting?

Nothing for it now. Nothing for it but to get him back.

--

For lack of very much ability to make a plan without blueprints or inside knowledge, Hob ends up throwing caution to the wind and simply breaking into the manor. Fuck those people. Hob has killed men before and he will again, and he doesn’t expect to feel sorry about it.

These are not innocent men, after all. And neither is Hob.

But he does heed Dream’s warning to some extent, only out of concern for Dream himself. Hob cannot afford to get knocked out or killed—temporary though it may be—when he has someone to rescue. 

To that effect, he leashes his fury long enough to break into the Burgess manor via a side door, rather than simply breaking down the front door as he’d really like to; he holds his anger by the collar long enough to catch a passing guard around the throat and demand, in a terse whisper, where the door to the basement is, and then knock the guard out and shove him into a coat closet; he tempers his rage long enough to crack open the basement door with a key stolen from the guard’s belt, to creep down the stone steps, to step out into the cavernous room. 

And then—

—it’s impossible for Hob to hold back his anger then.

But his instincts don’t let him slow long enough to taste it. Hob has not been a soldier for a long time, but the instincts—the instincts never disappear.

He knocks out one guard with the butt of his gun before the man can even grab his own weapon, then he levels it at the other, whose hands vacillate between surrender and fight. 

“I would think very hard about what you’re about to do,” Hob growls, and clicks back the hammer on his revolver.

Apparently, whatever unbridled fury the guard sees in Hob’s eyes is more frightening than the punishment his employer will dish out. He raises his hands in surrender, dropping his gun. 

Hob stalks over to him and, though the man raises a hand and shouts, “Wait!”, knocks him out cold as well. 

He grits his teeth, forcibly loosening his grip on the gun, and then, only then, does he let himself turn properly to Dream.

And his heart fucking… breaks.

Hob’s old stranger has always been a regal person. No matter the era, no matter how grimy the White Horse was when they met, no matter on what street Hob ran into him—he has always carried himself like royalty.

He still does, now, but by God is Burgess trying to break him of it.

Dream sits cross-legged in the same meditative pose as in Hob’s dream, but this time he is unclothed. Hob doubts that he subscribes to the same strict notions of modesty as human society, but that doesn’t mean it’s not still a violation.

Worse still is the cage. Small, tight, exposed on all sides—his friend is such a private person, Hob hadn’t even gotten a name out of him for five hundred years. This is— this is—

It makes him so incredibly angry.

Dream stares at him with wide eyes. He looks from Hob to the downed guards and back, his muscles tense, spine still rigid. He looks… malnourished, and Hob wonders if it’s truly due to lack of food, or more to lack of freedom.

“Hob Gadling,” he finally murmurs, voice muffled through the glass. “You received my message. I was not certain I’d managed enough power to get it through. I had but a short dream in which to try.”

“Yes.” Hob strides across the room to him quickly, steps and voice echoing strangely in the crypt-like, musty cellar. “I heard you.”

“And you came.”

Hob huffs, crouching down by the glass cage, examining it for rivets or seals or anything that could be cracked open. “No need to sound so surprised.”

“You are angry,” says Dream, watching him intently, delicate hands balanced on delicate knees.

“Yeah, not at you, though.” Hob groans in frustration. “Any way to break this thing open other than shooting at it?”

“Break the circle.” He points to the ring of symbols on the floor. “And I will be able to help you.”

Hob drags the sole of his shoe viciously through the paint. It’s so gratifying to watch it scrape off. Dream shudders, eyes falling shut, and then goes taut, each muscle in relief. Strength comes back to him, power shimmers over his skin. Hob lays a hand on the glass and finds it humming at higher and higher frequency, like the air inside is vibrating, suffused with power it can’t contain.

He jumps back just in time.

The glass shatters into a thousand pieces with a high ringing sound and a flash of bright light. Hob covers his eyes.

When he opens them again, Dream is delicately climbing out of the metal frame of the sphere, his power returned, each step measured and controlled. He looks more otherworldly than Hob’s ever seen him, hair standing on end, his gaze sharp and predatory. But his eyes soften when they land on Hob.

Hob rushes over to offer his arm, and Dream grips it for balance as he picks his way through the glass. Once he’s on safer ground, Hob offers him his coat, and Dream wraps it around his bare shoulders, eyes sparkling with a tiny smile like he finds Hob’s attempts at chivalry amusing.

“Are you okay?” Hob asks, then shakes his head. “Stupid question. What do you need, my friend?”

“I am free,” says Dream. Under his usual stoicism there is a hint of awe. “You have done more than enough, Hob. I thank you.”

“At least let me help you get out of here,” Hob says. He’s still worried that Dream might be hurt, or weakened from his imprisonment, even if he’s standing on his own feet now. “Can get you something to eat, or…?”

Dream looks into the distance, as if seeing, or hearing something Hob can’t. “I’m afraid I have much to attend to. My realm calls me. I have been away a long time.”

Because he’s been imprisoned for a long time. Jesus Christ.

Hob doubts he’ll be able to convince Dream to stay, or rest or anything else. His friend is stubborn, and too proud for such things, he thinks. “Still. If you need help with anything…”

“I require my tools,” Dream says, and Hob straightens up. “But I would not task you with such a thing. They are no longer in this manor and I fear there may be danger involved in retrieving them.”

Hey, Hob thinks, with some indignation. I can handle some danger, thanks very much.

“But first, I have other business to attend to,” Dream continues. His eyes flick upward at the sleeping manor inhabitants on the floors above. “You will face no resistance in leaving.” He turns his gaze briefly to Hob, eyes softening in gratitude. “Fare well, Hob. I shall not forget this.”

Then he turns to go, darkness swirling around him.

“Wait!” Hob grabs his arm. Dream looks down at his hand, but doesn’t pull away. “Will you come back? I— I want to make sure you’re alright.”

Dream’s lips tip up in a half smile. “I will be alright once I have returned to my realm, and regathered my tools. But. Very well. I will come to see you, once I have finished that business. Thank you, Hob.”

And then he’s gone from under Hob’s hand, gone into the night, and Hob sighs, alone in the quiet basement. But really, he shouldn’t have expected anything else.

[shut-up-rabert]

This makes me so so soooo fucking angry I can’t be tamed. These people will fall to any level to make my religion look bad. Fucking shameless.

Now that some of my anger is out, lets get into this:

Shree Laxmi wasn’t given to gods, she isn’t a goddamn cattle animal like Kamdhenu, and the demons and gods respected her wishes as a supposed human being to choose either side. She chose devas, not because she was partial against the asuras, but because a) she’s the universal mother, she knows everything that goes on, including which side has bad intentions and which one will use her powers for the good, and b) she chose to be with her eternal Lover/Husband Shree Narayan, and since he was on the deva’s side (aka the good side), she was with them by default.

The fact that literal demons had more respect for her than our secular writer over here, *sigh*

The elixer was given to gods because it was to restore their powers? Like, you know, the ones that were taken away from them? Why the frick would the lord allow Demons to have elixir when he knows they don’t have any good intents? They are literally evil, and protecting against evil is like god’s whole job ffs🤦🏻‍♀️

Literally no one in Mahabharata except Shree Krishna is purely good, get that through your fucking thick skulls. That’s the entire point, you learn what you do from Ramayan and what not to do from Mahabharat. And the Hidamba Mata’s (aka the Danvi whose name you didn’t bother researching, great work 👍🏼) backstory is never discussed in detail, neither is Ghatotkach. For all you know, the pregnancy could have been hidden from him, atleast that’s what their first meeting shows. So if you plan on demonising sex, you proved no motive here.

“Ohh, Ravan never did anything wrong, bas kidnap hi to kiya tha akeli nari ka.” Is such a sad argument tbh, y’all literally see no issue with kidnapping and terrifying a women over your own sister’s lose character? What a shame. “He never touched her.” Social distancing se kidnap kiya tha kya bhenchod? He never touched her sexually you mean, not because he was a saint of a man, but because he was a verified rapist with a blue check. He had raped his own to be niece in law and was cursed by his nephew that raping another woman would lead to his death. He literally threatened to cook Devi Sita and eat her up if she didn’t submit. Another reason he didn’t touch her was because if he had touched her, It would be Jankiayan instead of Ramayan because she would fucking kill him before you all can blink.

“He humiliated her on more than one occasion” is a very sneaky way to say two occasions so that the number can be inflated, eh?

The first occasion: Calling her names so that she will submit herself to agni out of spite and emerge unharmed, which literally everyone condemned, including the loyal brother Lakshman who rebelled against his own brother (for whose wake he would pick up a sword against everyone , mind you) because he dared disrespect a woman like Maa Sita, and even Hanumanji who’s Shri Ram’s biggest, and I mean biggest devotee. Literally no one stood by Sita’s humiliation, and it was later revealed by Shri Ram that the act was staged by the him so that she can have an excuse to perform agni pravesh so that no lecherous person would dare point a finger at her in future. Even the shlokas say he did it so that no one would suspect his wife’s character. And before you say Shri Ram was “saving face”, one of his plus points as mentioned is that he doesn’t lie throughout the entire story, so think again. Y’all really think he spent the entire story worrying for her safety only to insult her in the end?

You think Seeta would have anyone humiliate her once and give them a chance for a second humiliation? Ohhh you dead wrong!

Second occasion: Shree Raghuvar sending Maa Sita to exile, which is a very infamously known interpolation denounced by many. So he only “insulted” her once and that too in a staged act. One of the shlokas he uses to coax his peers after agni pariksha is that a woman like her can never be denounced by him, and like I said, he never lies, sooo…… :P

Shree Ram decietfully killed Bali because Bali was a foe who could not be fought face to face? Do you even Know the story of Bali? Do you know he was such a bad guy he literally took his brother’s wife like she was property? Ugh, I can’t.

Guru Drona didn’t accept Eklavya not because he was “Tribal”, but because he had promised his loyalty to the Bharatvansh Clan. Had even Shree Krishna gone to him asking for training, he would have refused. Eklavya’s tribal background was never discussed in this context.

(Also sidenote to my followers but isn’t it funny how despite Eklavya having to lose his thumb Guru Drona’s boon to Arjun wasn’t fulfilled because he still couldn’t surpass Bhagwaan Ramchandra as the greatest bowman? Khaya piya kuchh nahi, paap sar chadhaya barah aana XD)

I mean, God really out to set a limit to hypocrisy now because the more I see these people the more I disagree with Modiji ki Hypocrisy ki seema hai. Agar hai bhi to ye namune kaise long jump krke laanhg rhe h unhe, oof.

[buckysmischief]

shadow of mine [2/2]

druig x f!reader

wc: 3.4k

summary: druig was getting bored of babylon, he was ready to take on more adventures. but the shadows in his mind led him down a path, one he never dared to speak out loud (except for maybe to kingo)

an: another thank you to @stuckonjbbarnes, i wouldn't know what to do without you 🩵

masterlist | part one

1523 AD

It had been almost 200 years since Druig had seen you. Not even a glimpse. He had started to wonder if something had happened to you, if he had somehow fucked up with you too.

Not that he considered what happened at Tenochtitlan a fuck up, but after being alone for two years he started to feel some of the ramifications of his actions.

Alone wasn’t the right word, Druig had been surrounded by the hundreds of people he saved from themselves. Isolated, that’s what he was. He wasn’t quite sure how to handle the situation he created. He stepped in more than he ever had with the humans, but he felt it was best to live in the shadows for a while.

Two years without the Eternals was one thing, the break was truly needed. But two years without you? It certainly wasn’t ideal, not anymore. There were so many things he wanted to know, getting to know more about you was what he was looking forward to the most. Druig had done his best not to create his own narrative about you, which was extremely difficult when he’s only had two conversations with you in the last 2,000 years.

Instead, though, he started to wonder what all he didn’t know. What was being kept from him. Not confronting Ajak took more self control than he knew he had, unfortunately he couldn’t control his irritability. Once all the Deviants were gone he didn’t have it in him to care about anyone else’s grand plan, and he was done listening to someone who wasn’t being honest with him or anyone else. 

“Are you going to be in everyone’s head this whole time or should I come back another time?” You stood behind him, a flower crown in hand.

Druig was so out of it he never even noticed you were there.

He turned around and smiled for the first time in what felt like centuries. “Is that for me?”

“I don’t just go around making these for everyone.” Just like the last one, it fit him perfectly. “Did you miss me?”

He grabbed your hands and brought them to his face, needing a way to know you were real. “It felt like I lost my shadow.”

You smirked at him, “A bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“No.” That’s exactly what it felt like. You were always there, following him everywhere he went. A part of him, but not really. Always slipping through his fingers.. “Dramatic would be blowing in like the wind and disappearing just as easily.”

He let go of you but kept you close, debating to himself if he should enjoy the moment or jump straight to the questions he’s kept to himself all these years. 

“So I was thinking, I know you must have about a million questions,” could you read his mind too?, “what’s stopping you from picking my brain yourself?”

He had thought about that a lot after you left the last time and he always came to the same conclusion, “I don’t know you as well as I wish I did, but you’re special to me. I’m not sure I could ever use my powers on you.”

You flashed him a devilish grin, “What if I asked nicely?”

He rolled his eyes, accepting then and there that you were going to be a handful. “Alright, next question. I’m assuming you’re also an Eternal?”

“Yes.”

“What’s your special power? Show me.” He hoped to start out with something fun, not too serious. There was plenty of time to get into that.

You gave him a quick smile before disappearing and reappearing behind him. He turned to face you and you were gone again, sinking into the darkness, making a game out of it.

Druig watched you emerge from several different places before finally realizing how you were doing so. “So I was spot on when calling you a shadow? And you called me dramatic.”

You rolled your eyes as you walked back to him. “Yes, well, I couldn’t just admit you were right so easily could I? That wouldn’t have been fun.”

If he had to narrow down the second he knew he was a goner, it would have been right then. He had no business falling for someone who easily could have been a figment of his imagination. What if it was really Mahd Wy’ry? No, Druig refused to even entertain that idea. He could smell you, touch you, taste you. Theoretically that is. There was no way you weren’t real.

He pulled you closer to him again, intertwining his fingers with yours, and began to walk to the river.  “Not to ruin the mood, but did you find anything out? About why we were separated?”

The look of frustration on your face gave him his answer before you even started to speak. Is that why you were back so soon? Because you hadn’t found anything? Was it just another thing Arishem decided because he could? “I can’t find out without drawing too much attention to myself. But in my search I found another Eternal who has his own agenda but is willing to help me find answers.”

“His?” Druig’s jaw tensed. He’d never been the jealous type, but the thought of someone spending all their time with you while held on to the mere moments he got was unsettling at best. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle, “You’re welcome to join us, take on a new adventure.”

“Now’s not the right time.” The thought of leaving with you had crossed his mind a time or two since he last saw you, but he couldn’t just abandon his people now. It didn’t feel right, not yet. “But one day I’d love to travel the galaxy with you. Get lost in the cosmos together.”

Druig thought about that often too, anything that involved spending more time with you. Truth be told he was jealous that he couldn’t remember what his lives were like with you, just another thing Arishem took from him.

By the time the two of you had made it to the river the sun began to set and Druig only had one more question to ask before he moved onto the more personal ones. “How did you find me? It couldn’t have been easy.”

You sat down on a log and pulled Druig down to do the same, to relax and enjoy the sunset. “I have a million memories of us watching the sunset together, none of them are as beautiful as this one.” It wasn’t until the sun had disappeared below the horizon that you answered his question, no matter how cliche the answer was. 

“I felt you. Once I left the planet I was assigned to I followed that feeling until I landed here. It took me some time to track you down in Babylon, but not much. I wish I would have told you everything then, it’s not like I have many more answers now than I had before.” 

Druig didn’t quite know how to respond to that. On one hand he was upset the way you handled it. The way you came and went for centuries without saying anything, he thought he made everything up at one point. He might not have had answers but at least he’d have you.

On the other hand, he knew you were only doing what you thought was best. It’s not like being separated from someone you were designed for, someone you didn’t know even existed until one random day was a situation that was easily prepared for. 

At the end of the day, Druig was just thankful you found him at all. He never let himself wonder what it would be like if you didn’t.

“We have each other now, or at least until you have to leave. Which is..?” As much as he hated it, he knew it was coming.

You pouted and looked down at your feet, not having the heart to look him in the eyes. “I have until morning. We have a lead on where another group of Eternals is, apparently they haven’t heard anything from Arishem in over 5,000 years. Hopefully one of them knows something.”

Instead of dwelling on the few hours he had left with you, Druig brought you back to camp. He wanted to create as many memories he could with you since neither had any idea when you’d be back.

He introduced you to the few people that were still awake, they had a fire going and invited you to hear about how Druig saved them from themselves. While you listened, he went to grab dinner for the two of you. 

What he saw when he returned had caught him off guard. Not really what he saw, but more of how it made him feel. The way the fire hit your features just right, the way your laugh filled the air, how easily you seemed to fit in.. it filled Druig with a happiness he never knew before until then.

“You’re absolutely breathtaking, you know that?” He asked after you excused yourself from the group, not giving you time to answer. “Come with me.”

The two of you spent the rest of the night telling each other all there was to know about each other. About how when you started getting your memories back your team was convinced it was Mahd Wy’ry and instead of wiping your memories, they took pity on you and let you leave the planet. 

You told him about how you began to resent your powers at one point. Hiding in the shadows was all fun and games until you learned about the dark things the people on your planet did to each other and you could do nothing about it. In return, Druig told you that was also a struggle of his and played a big part in him leaving.

What he didn’t tell you was that it was your last visit that made him really start to doubt Arishem and gave him the strength to start doing what he thought was best for the people of this planet. Or at least a small portion of them.

By the time the sun started to rise Druig was really starting to talk himself into leaving with you, but he didn’t. He had to have some self control when it came to you or else he might accidentally lose himself.

“Hopefully the next time we see each other I’ll have more answers.” You stood in front of him and tried not to cry. So badly you wanted to stay but your search for answers, the time you lost, it had to mean something. 

He titled your head to look you in the eyes, both of you lingering on each other's lips a little too long in the process. “As long as you come back to me.”

You started to disappear into the shadows, but Druig wasn’t ready. He had to do one more thing before you left.

“Yn! Wait!” He called out, hoping you’d reappear. 

“I’m still here.” You whispered behind him. Desperately trying to keep your tears from rolling down your face.

Druig didn’t say a word, he didn’t have to. He turned around and opened his arms and you quickly jumped into them. Time felt like it slowed down. His hand gently rubbed the small of your back while you wrapped your arms around his neck, neither of you wanting to let go.

You pulled away enough to look at him in the eyes again, getting one last look before you had to go.

“Kiss me.” It was all he needed to say for you to close the gap between you two again, pressing your lips to his.

After what felt like centuries and no time at all, Druig no longer felt you in his arms. You were still in the forest, though, he still felt you there. He stayed in that spot until he knew you were gone, regretting not leaving with you when he had the chance.

2023

“It’s been weeks,” Makkari signed, “we haven’t heard from any of them. It’s like… they’ve disappeared.” 

It had been almost just as long since the emergence, since Ikaris tried to kill him. It was selfish of him, he knew it was, but all he could think about was you and where you were. How long it would take to find each other again. His friends, his family, were missing and all he could think about was you.

“Arishem.” Thena said out loud what he had been thinking the whole time. “We have to go back.”

Just as Druig was about to agree with her, again for the most selfish of reasons, he began to feel a familiar pull. It was different from all the other times, it felt wrong. Whatever it was, Thena felt it too. She conjured her weapons and waited. He wanted to suggest she back down but it was Thena, that would never happen.

“I felt it too.” Makarri signed. Druig was less confident it was you then, none of the others have felt you before.

“What?” He didn’t have to act confused, he genuinely was. 

Thena and Makkari walked closer to the flickers of light that appeared at the end of the corridor. Druig couldn’t move from where he was sitting, he couldn’t think. He felt the pull become stronger, his senses were blown.

Just then, a small troll was spat out from the light. Druig tried to focus as he mumbled something about drunk teleporting.

“Um..” Thena began, but was rudely interrupted. 

“Hang on, hang on.” The troll cleared his throat and began to introduce whoever was stepping through next, “Behond, the royal Prince of Titan…”

“Enough Pip!” Another voice shouted, pushing the man and troll out of the way. “Eros’ ego is big enough and I promise you none of them care.”

Druig jumped from his seat, earning quick and confused looks from both Makkari and Thena. 

“Hey, you.” You smirked at him, not knowing what else to say. Not in front of the others.

“You know these people, Druig?” Thena asked, weapons still in her hands.

He never took his eyes off of you, “I don’t know who the fuck the lads are, but this is Yn.” It came out a little more harsh than he meant it, or maybe he did. With everything else that was going on that was the icing on his world ending cake. 

Thena and Makarri looked even more confused than they were before. They knew better than to push Druig for answers when he looked as serious as he did.

Eros and Pip stood behind you, they knew exactly who everyone was and what events had unfolded in the weeks prior. It turned out yours and Eros’ interests were more aligned than they had thought.

“So this is who you’ve been traveling with?” Druig thought to you, “A pretty boy and a drunken troll?” He tried his best not to come off jealous but he was doing a terrible job.

“You say that like there’s not two beautiful women behind you that you’ve been traveling with.” 

He didn’t have to read your mind to know nothing had ever happened, but to finally see the man who had been helping you… using his powers to tell them to jump out of the Domo felt like the right thing to do.

“So you must be the famous Druig!” Eros went to shake his hand but was ignored. “Yn never shuts up about you.”

He hated to admit it, even to himself, that that statement had put him more at ease. “Talk about me a lot do you?” 

“More than you have obviously.”

“Kingo knows. He even made a movie about it.”

That’s when Makkari got in the middle of you two, “Enough with the telepathy! Who are these people? How do you know her?”

Druig explained everything to them. Well, everything he knew. Makkari felt so sorry for you both, though she finally understood why he was the first to lose faith in Arishem. 

Thena finally disarmed herself, if Druig said they weren’t threats then she trusted him. She looked to you a moment before asking, “So did you find anything out or were you just checking to see if Druig was alive?”

He watched you carefully, looking for any sign that you had found some answers. If you had then that would mean all of the time away from each other would have been worth it.

“Both actually.” You smiled, almost forgetting why you were even there. “We were on our way to Earth when Eros saw strange activities going on, not long after that I didn’t feel you anymore. I thought the worst. Looking more into it we realized the emergence had started-”

“You knew about the emergence and never said anything?” Druig interrupted.

“Your takeaways are the worst, you know that? I thought you died.” You shot back angrily. “Like I was trying to say.. I found out about it through my research and my memories. It’s why I believe Arishem separated us, we always found out just before they happened and tried stopping them. We came close to succeeding the last time, obviously Arishem didn’t like it then and definitely doesn’t appreciate it now if taking your friends is any indication. Congratulations by the way, I wish I could have been there.”

“You would be proud to know he almost put Tiamut to sleep,” signed Makkari, “until Ikaris tried to kill him.” 

Druig winced at the memory, relieved that you weren’t there to see that. He could tell that you were proud of him but also slightly put off about the almost dying part. He stepped closer to you and pulled at your wrist, “I’m sure you two can handle these lads, there’s a few things Yn and I need to discuss in private.”

He pulled you out of the corridor and down a hallway, finally choosing a room that was far enough away from the others.

The last time he saw you was in 1523, you didn’t check in a single time. He wanted to look in your mind for himself to see what all you’ve been up to more than he ever had before, find any reason he could to validate how upset he was. 

Druig wasn’t even sure he knew why he was upset. A mix between not seeing you for so long, his regret of not going with you, everything that had to do with the emergence, Eros’ existence. He just really didn’t like that guy.

“I’m so glad you’re alive.” All of those feelings were gone the moment your arms wrapped around him. “I’m sorry it took so long, we ran into a bit of trouble..”

“No, no. Don’t apologize,” he pressed his forehead to yours, “just tell me this is done. Promise me you’ll stay with me this time, no more leaving.”

You pulled back from him, giving yourself a clear view of his face. “You’re stuck with me for all eternity I’m afraid.”

He knew they were on a mission and his friends were quite possibly in more danger than they’ve ever been in before, but all he could think about was leaving it all behind. To find some corner of the universe where you and him could just exist together without another soul around. He deserved a chance to create his own memories with you, you deserved a chance to have your own set of memories from this lifetime. Arishem had taken enough, Druig didn’t want him taking any more.

No matter how badly he wanted to follow through with that plan, running away together, he couldn’t do that to his family. “After we find the others, I think we should find somewhere to call home. A place that doesn’t need protection, that isn’t incubating a Celestial. Just me and you.”

He didn’t know just how ready you were for that reality, how ready you were for it to be just you and him.

You parroted his words back to him, leading him back the way you came. “Just me and you.”

[ac-liveblogs]

So if you want a real answer for went wrong in Boruto let me explain.

Boruto is pretty much written by people who really don't like Naruto as a series because it goes out of its way to shit on the Naruto series (taking away Naruto and Sasuke's power-ups at the first chance which basically reverted them to beginning of Naruto, Naruto and Sasuke). The editor for Boruto is apparently a simp for Sadara. They just really don't like Naruto as a series because:

He's apparently just a missing dad but you probably knew this already.

Absolutely no respect for Naruto characters whatsoever.

They hate ninjas because everything is now aliens and machinery in Boruto. Also, a lot of retconning Naruto stuff to be oh aliens are the reason this exists.

Orochimaru is just there and no one remembers he's not to be trusted.

There's apparently a dimension where one of the villains just has multiple ten-tails clones in there and its weird.

So yeah... I don't even want to know what the fuck happened. The kicker is that Kishimoto, from what I've heard has not been that active in Boruto. His editor pretty much runs the show is what I have heard a lot.

The most I've seen of Boruto was the movie, where Naruto being an absent parent was solved because Boruto just didn't realise how cool his dad was... I think. I just kinda left that movie gobsmacked. Don't you see how cool your dad is Boruto. And also 'jutsu in a can' is illegal in the Chuunin exams for some reason? Literally why, they're a tool you can use...

Thanks for the response, I appreciate the insight. I can see how some of these problems might have come around, like trying to balance Naruto and Sasuke's absolutely absurd power levels against literally any kind of threat, or coming up with an enemy for Konoha to fight that wouldn't leave a black mark on Naruto's reign as Hokage... and the inherent issue of 'no one is watching this for the new characters, they want to see the old ones, but this isn't about them' you'll inevitably get with a next-gen sequel.

No one watched Boruto the movie for Boruto. No one.

But like... why make a next-gen sequel for Naruto of all series? I get why from a 'we want money' sense, but I feel they could've just animated the light novels or fillers into eternity and people would've been happier with those.

"Here's 40 episodes of Kakashi and Itachi in ANBU" or something, I don't know. I'd watch 10 episodes of Sasori's descent into absolute madness.

Maybe the reason they went "ALIENS" is because of Kishimoto's failed sci-fi manga? But it's weird he's hands off given I thought he took over the manga from someone else...

Btw, to add onto what the anon that sent the I gave up on Boruto ask, its a bigger problem than it being the typical female characters don't matter still in Boruto. Its that no one matters in Boruto except Boruto and Kiwaki. Everyone else just gets shit on. Like imagine the old Naruto is x fanfics but actually made real. That's Boruto. He's got everything and he's the bestest and specialest boy.

:/ That sucks. Why bother forcing so many pairings to produce kids if you don't even wanna use 'em. Sasuke didn't deserve this. But also, how are you simultaneously a simp for Sarada and don't really use her? Just shove her in stupid outfits and call it a day...?

I still don't know anything about Kawaki!? He's a moon boy too, right? It feels so weird to neglect the rest of Boruto's team, though. What's the point.

Boruto does really feel like an edgy OC. He's got Byakugan+1 AND Sasuke is his teacher... honestly, Sasuke as a mentor to Naruto's kid is cute in theory, except for the part where he's also a deadbeat dad to a whole other child (his own).

I couldn't help reading TBV thinking "...why didn't they just do this kind of plot with Naruto himself or something". Though I guess they kind of? Did? With Road To Ninja? The opposite direction?

Btw, unless I'm mistaken I don't think Naruto actually forgave Orochimaru. I think he just forgot because Kishimoto forgot about a lot of what happened in part 1 of Naruto except Sasuke imo.

Incredible.

[madonnamadeofasphalt]

Hands down my favourite Polish legend is that of sir Jan Twardowski, IRL the court medium of king Zygmunt August in mid-16th century.

Now, the story (or at least the version of it I've first read and therefore is canon in my head) goes that sir Twardowski made a pretty sweet deal with the demon Mephistopheles: the demon granted him immortality and nearly unlimited magical powers and the only catch was that Twardowski could never travel to Rome. The moment he would step his foot in Rome, his soul would belong to the demon.

Twardowski was a messy bitch and, after securing himself a cushy job at the royal court (by helping the king talk to the dead queen), basically started using his powers just to do stupid shit and show off. He had the demon build him a house made of solid gold. He carried a whip made of sand. He turned water into vodka at parties. Most famously, instead of a horse, he rode around on a giant fucking rooster, just because he could. And he did it all while spending his days and nights on a massive pub crawl through Kraków, getting drunker than you could possibly imagine (presumably he magicked away the hangovers).

Eventually, Mephistopheles got him on the dumbest technicality possible: there was a tavern in Kraków called "Rome" and the stupid bitch went to drink there, not even realizing its name until it was too late. The demon caught him immediately and started carrying him up to hell, which in this legend's cosmology apparently is, for some reason, located in outer space.

Twardowski, still drunk as shit, started panicking on the way up and began to pray to Virgin Mary for help. Mary looked at him and was like "alright, man, you did make a literal deal with the devil, so you do deserve some kinda punishment but you didn't really do anything evil with your demonic powers, so I don't think you're in the eternal damnation territory" and she chased the demon away right as they were passing the Moon.

Mephistopheles dropped Twardowski, and from then on, he lives on the Moon, awaiting the Judgement Day with his immortality and his magical powers, and no one to show them off to except his stupid giant rooster who's also there for some reason.

And that is the Polish version of both Dr. Faustus and the Bunny on the Moon.

[softesttangerines]

So i saw this beautiful fanart by @amikothegreat and it gave me some Goblin: The Lonely and Great God flashbacks so here's a Mishanks Goblin au!

At the tender age of thirteen, Mihawk is to become a king after being the last of his kin alive, with no other adult to take responsibility. The Dracules and the Akagamis were to be related by the union of the little king, Mihawk, and general Shanks' youngest sister. Army general Shanks made quite a name for himself as the ruthless, conquering and much feared general who protected his land fiercely and leads his army to victory in their current war. With the king’s advisor being from the clan opposing the Akagamis and the fear that the Akagamis would gain reign soon, he made sure to fill the little king’s head with propaganda. It's being said that the general is worshipped among the people, he's considered a god, more respected than the king, how blasphemous! As Shanks and his army march back to the capital, the news of a coup planned by the Akagamis is spread and instead of being celebrated for his victory, Shanks and his whole family, including his sister, the to be queen are being labeled as traitors and their death was demanded. The no longer future queen dies under the little king's order who’s pressured by his advisors. Shanks dies by his own sword, the one offered to him as a gift from the king before heading to the war, planted in his chest and is cursed to live eternally wandering the world as a punishment for all the lives he took in the war, while being granted powers to help people as his atonement with his only hope being the prophecy of a goblin’s bride appearing one day to take off the sword from his chest and finally send him to the afterlife.

· 

Shanks has been wandering the earth for 930 years now, relocating everytime his face starts raising questions about his lack of aging. Through almost a century, he has gathered quite a fortune to live comfortably. This time he’s back to the first mansion his fortune brought him. Thanks to Luffy's (The latest server from the Monkey D. family that has being serving him since the beginning of his immortal journey and the only humans to know of his nature) incompetence, he ended up sharing his house with a roommate, another paranormal as well. What a joy, he has to deal with another entity that can ogle at the sword hanging off of him. Except the grim-reaper he share the place with was very much antisocial, minds his own business and a bit gloomy (just like you’d imagine a grim-reaper). The only interactions are mostly snide remarks about Shanks' hazardous ways of living which are totally understandable when the grim-reaper is very tidy. Few nights a week, they sit together in front of tv and share drinks. They sometimes go grocery shopping together. Shanks makes fun of the reaper's dark closet and the way he sleeps with his arms over his chest like some Lord Dracula. The reaper often makes fun Shanks' predicament being stuck in the world to which the red head counters by reminding the reaper that himself is dead and stuck here too because he's most likely a criminal. Overall, having him as a roommate isn’t really that bad, it's fun to have company, he guesses.

.

The thing about becoming a grim-reaper means you have committed an atrocity in your past life that you wont be able to remember and your punishment is accompanying people to the afterlife until you remember your sin when you finish your years of duty (which could take centuries).

Mihawk doesnt even remember his name, but the rest of the reapers call him Hawkeyes, courtesy of crocodile, otherwise everyone would be called a "reaper" which would be confusing. He sometimes has nightmares in which he sees fragments of a past life, youthful faces, someone with his eyes but much, much younger, a babe really. He thinks it must be him from the life he fucked up. In his nightmares, he also sees frequently the unmovable sword that's stuck in his roommate's chest.

And since he moved here, new fragments started appearing and glimpses of red hair flying in the wind plague his dreams along the sword. Mihawk was never bothered by his dreams, but he hates that whatever fucked up shit he's done in the past is obviously related to his roommate and the sword that's keeping him stuck in this world.

.

A kiss from a grim-reaper would grant a regular human a flash of their past life that both the concerned person and the reaper could witness. He stopped hooking up with people for that reason mostly. It has always been a hassle to experience other people's memories and them taking a second to realize what just happened which always kills a boner, especially when the life aint very pleasant.

Now he knows he cant jump Shanks out of nowhere and start an impromptu make-out session, especially since he's 100% sure that what hey'd both discover would not be pleasant.

He wants more than anything to help Shanks but he's not ready for Shanks to start loathing him just yet.

.

A goblin's bride is what's supposed to stop the goblin’s suffering. A destined lover that would appear at one point, and who's love would be so strong, they'd be able to pull the sword from its place and release the goblin from his misery. Following the prophecy, Shanks and the rest of the paranormal world (he's quite the famous case) always thought it would be a human female. By the time he figures that the only one that could pull it out is the one that put it there in the first place, it's too late. He has already lashed out on Mihawk for ruining his life and his whole family's. The reaper made sure to disappear from his eyes, the least he can do is to not show his face when he cant even offer his death since he's already dead.

[lady-lazagna]

Top 5 Tsubasa Ships

PFFFFFFT god dammit I'm known too well

Tsubasa x Madina

The oc ship takes the cake here obviously. You just don't understand these two were BUILT for each other, they're SOULMATES😭😤💯 Very chill, very mutually adoring of each other, very autistic, very obnoxious couple to be around by blader standards (though those standards are very low in a romance-less show). Metal Mayhem romance is coming I swear to god, y'all are gonna find it DISGUSTING.

Tsubasa x Kyoya

I don't think I'd thought of this one too much until I watched Fusion, and BOY you can see why! Trying to gain a mutual understanding of each other, Tsubasa proving to Kyoya that he truly does believe in the blader's spirit, Kyoya seeing Tsubasa lay dead on the ground after his battle thinking "I SEE you now". They're the two "no-nonsense serious grumpy frowny face" people of the group, but together they're smirking gayly and sniping at each other like a pair of homosexuals. They tease each other all the time and they are ALWAYS holding onto each other. The clingy Kyoya agenda is alive.

Tsubasa x Ryuga

Now, I don't necessarily ship these two in a typical relationship light like I do with most other ships (except for in my sims 4 world lmao), but I do think that the concept of these two being into each other provides a lot of interesting ideas. The fact that, despite claiming to not care about anything other than his eternal enemy Gingka, Ryuga still flies his ass all the way to Italy to give Tsubasa a little fucked up therapy session at the behest of a mountain goat is very interesting to me. It provides some angsty "why me?" scenarios, because really, why Tsubasa? Doji could've made anyone else fight Ryuga in Battle Bladers, anyone else who fought him could've (and should've) obtained the dark power, and Ryuga could've not bothered with him and gone straight to Gingka in Italy. All in all, the fact that they keep meeting in these frustrating, confusing scenarios, with building tension and annoyance at each other's existence is something I'd love to exploit.

Tsubasa x Jack

Jack is canonically infatuated with Tsubasa and Tsubasa is so very confused as to why. I think they'd make a great odd couple (as well as being the prettiest damn couple you ever did see) with a stone-faced, serious Tsoobs and the kooky fucked up one with a concerning amount of body paint. They share ideals in the importance of elegance and perfected technique, though Jack wants to see it more in other people for inspiration, whereas Tsubasa only needs to see it in himself. Ironically, I think Jack would inspire Tsubasa to be less refined and instead just go with the flow of what he's feeling.

Tsubasa x Benkei

SUMMERSHIPPING OR BURGERSUMMERSHIPPING SOMEONE HELP ME WITH THIS. In Shogun Steel they are the embarrassingly in love dads, and in the Metal series they are the embarrassingly in love teens. Benkei bakes him heart cookies while Tsubasa leaves wreaths of flowers at his door. Benkei loves loudly but bashfully, while Tsubasa loves quietly yet confidently. And they both feel inferior as people due to the events of Fury! :D A whole lot of potential there.

As a bonus, here's a list of people I think would have crushes/romantic tension with Tsubasa without actually shipping them: Gingka, Madoka, Hyoma, Tobio, Teru, Daxiang, Zhouxing, Julian, Sophie, Zeo (he has some issues he needs to work out), Johannes :D

[birb-boyo]

HOW DID THE CHAIN MEET IN YOUR STEVEN UNIVERSE AU???

HOW DID TIME BECOME…TIME?!

ARE THE GODDESSES THE DIAMONDS? AND IF THEY ARE ARE THEY LIKE THE DIAMONDS IN THE SHOW???

WHAT IS RAVIO?? IS HE LIKE- A GEM THAT WAS CUT FROM THE SAME CRUST/KINDERGARTEN AS LEGEND???

TELL ME ABOUT IT SAHDE

OKAY

HELLO(I just got from my nap, sorry for the wait)

FOR THE FIRST QUESTION

All heroes, instead of having a triforce, they have a shard of First’s gem, also called the Shards of Courage. These shards are made of basically just Light because that was Hylia’s parting gift, to make his shards shine brighter than the morning sky. Ask the chain, except Sky, they fucking hate it. It’s Sky’s nightlight by the way. It’s like a naturally made flash bang. It’s an activation thing, so it’s not always there.

I don’t know why I explained that last part but whatever.

I actually haven’t thought about how they met, but I suppose we could stick with the iconic dream montage. Like, they all pass out randomly and suddenly First is talking to them like, “Hyrule needs her heroes to assemble and-“ blah blah blah

A lot of them probably ignore him, but some days later, when they all end up through a portal, surrounded by each other with their bright ass shards, they definitely believe the magic dream man.

SECOND QUESTION

Time is a fusion between Fierce and Mask

I should also clarify that Majora and Fierce were never masks, their gems were put in stasis. Skull Kid and Mask were able to gem those gems out of stasis(I didn’t think about how yet) and I guess the final fight was like a Pokemon fight and I love that idea so much but it’s also so stupid-

SO WHAY HAD HAPPENED WAS, AFTER THE BIG TERMINA FIASCO,

Mask and Fierce were going to part ways, but Fierce has been in stasis for so long, he knew that the surface had changed. Not only that, but being in stasis for so long made him weak. It made Majora and Fierce weaker than they used to be.

So Mask, still in a existential crisis, was like “we can be travelers together then” because mask didn’t want to seem like he used Fierce (even though he kinda did) so he offered to be travelers together with Fierce.

My boy Fierce took that “together” the wrong way and kinda forced Mask to fuse with him.

THEN BOOM, TIME EXISTS

Mask is kind of shaken like, “What the fuck?”

Fierce is kinda like, “Isn’t this what you meant?”

Mask is like, “No!” Mask then uses they mirror shield. “I mean…”

So now they’ve been fused for a good while. They also just feel safer inside the fusion because they know that if one fumbles, the other has their back.

I also have a feeling that no gem truly knows what it means to be married, so when marriage was proposed to Time, he was kinda just-🧍🏼‍♂️

Then Malon(I’m keeping her human…hylian) explained it sort of like, “Marriage is like promising to be best friends forever-“

“Then me and Fierce are married?”

“NO-“

THIRD QUESTION

I would give the Goddesses Diamonds. Nayru gets Blue, Farore gets Yellow, Din gets White, Hylia gets Pink.

Hylia gets pink because she is all over the place. But she is actually shattered too. She shattered herself after First got shattered so her shards(Shards of Wisdom) could be beside First’s for all eternity. You know Demise’s hating ass shards(Shards of Power) are also there, tearing shit up🥰🥰🥰

The other diamonds, Nayru, Farore, and Din, just monitor what the shard wielders are doing and making sure Hyrule doesn’t fall in on itself.

FORTH QUESTION

Yes, Ravio was born in the same Kindergarten as Legend. The same hole too. He was made after Legend though and came out “deformed”. Physically, Ravio doesn’t look really deformed, but other amethysts disagree. He’s skinnier and weaker and far more in the mind(smarter) than he should be.

That being said, my boy did not have fun while trying to serve his diamond. So he ran away. He attempted many times to run away, in turn, he was kind of tortured by his “siblings”. Don’t worry, there’s no crack, but other amethyst would forgive and forget in a solid three human years, but Ravio? Those nights are engraved into him gem.

In order to truly escape, he had the help of an opal(Hilda) they kinda just hang out together until they find another amethyst(Legend) on earth and started spying on him and WOW ANOTHER GAME INCOMING

Kinda dropped backstory there whoopsie😅

@the-cucco-nuggie :D

[ddelline]

wip wednesday

blurb | I have nothing 2 say except here is writing from a time before ch236 was released, featuring actual goyuu, so pls savor it (and if yr not someone who checks chapter leaks, I’m happy for u, and pls savor yr happiness)

premise | part 2 of time!loop fic, featuring culling game!goyuu. a bit short, but that’s where we are atm

“Yūji,” warns Satoru.

“Sensei,” replies Yūji. All things considered, he’s remarkably settled, caging Satoru’s lap between his thighs, with the solid mass of him pressing Satoru into the ground. He’s got one palm flat against the dusty floorboards, the other still knuckling Satoru’s shoulder.

“This isn’t going to go the way you think,” says Satoru. It’s not hyperbole, nor is it a lie: whatever it is Yūji thinks, or wants—what Satoru wants; this isn’t going anywhere either of them thinks. Satoru, all that he is and isn’t, is wedged stuck somewhere between a rock and a hard place, with the rock being the inability to live on in a single timeline, and the hard place being an inability to stay alive. Yūji might not remember that countless iterations of Satoru’s been KO’d every which way from Sunday; might not be aware that time as a concept is a fucking lie, a sham. But Satoru does.

This isn’t going to go the way anyone thinks.

Yūji tilts his head. He hums. He eases insistent fingers from the tight clench they’ve fisted Satoru’s jacket in, loosening until he drops his arm. He settles it across the flat span of Satoru’s thigh. Satoru swallows against the urge to abandon sense, caution and thought. “To be fair, sensei, nothing’s going the way I think lately. I’m still alive though. I think that counts for something.”

“You—” begins Satoru. He cuts himself off. The knee jerk instinct—something which he typically never allows himself to follow—to redistribute his own weight and lift the hand which he’d had steadied into the floor at his back, lay it as a mirror atop the straining fabric of Yūji’s thigh, is something he isn’t quite sure why he allows now. There is the faintest echo of a pulse thudding against his palm, and the most miniscule of rippling in Yūji’s muscles, the cords of his quadriceps wavering and shifting with each breath.

Yūji reaches up towards Satoru’s face. Satoru stays put, Six Eyes mapping and contouring his every move, though his eyes remain closed, as they’re wont to do. “Can I?” he asks.

Satoru inclines his head. Yūji digs the tip of his index finger beneath Satoru’s blindfold and tugs it down.

If Satoru were more inclined to go along with society’s conventions, rules and regulations; if he weren’t stuck in a seemingly endless temporospatial reset, apparently destined to eternally live and relive his own worst hits (and his enemies’ greatest); if he’d been born a little less interested in power, and some peoples’ inherent ability to surprise him—there are countless what-ifs and if-onlys, and all of them apply to Satoru.

He’s just never given much of a damn.

Which is why, upon a quiet, not quite-intentional “oh” escaping Yūji as he makes eye contact with Satoru—Satoru who reckons he does his best to not squint into the bright light of indoor dusk, and whose hair promptly spills a mess across his forehead and into his lashes—well, Satoru is less inclined to breathe and consider his actions. He holds Yūji’s gaze, allows for the moment to hang between them; to take shape.

This isn’t going to go the way either of them thinks.

Yūji surges forward, crashing into Satoru by way of a mess of chapped lips and sharp teeth. The precarious balancing Satoru’s done to maintain them both upright and steady is offset as Yūji pitches forward. There are one and two ways to keep them upright, but really, what’s the point? Satoru snaps up and fists a hand in Yūji’s jacket and pulls him down. As they sink down, he tilts his jaw and opens his mouth, welcomes Yūji in wholly, guides his inexperience right and licks into his mouth. It’s filthy, too wet for what it is, but Satoru can’t bring himself to mind any part of it. 

Yūji huffs against Satoru’s lips. His hips twitch, the hard length of his dick lining up against Satoru’s own. Satoru hums.

[gasha40k]

Recently I’ve been trying to focus on getting through my incomprehensibly massive amount of unpainted models, so here’s another quick little painting update.

Missile launcher bro thinks he’s part of the team meanwhile it’s a completely illegal model

Our first little squad of Berzerkers is coming into shape! I’ve got a bit more painting to do before this squad is done, but everyone’s got their trim, at the very least. Most of them also have red, which, when combined with the brass trim and the black primer, technically counts as battle-ready, since it is 3 different colors. Does this mean I can put them on the tabletop and play with them? Not without feeling ashamed of myself for never painting, no!

Brother Kardon the Eternal, veteran of the Long War, possibly over 10,000 years old. So old and presumably powerful that he could easily be a Chaos Lord if he wanted to, but is so dedicated to killing at all times that he can’t be fucked to actually lead anything

Wally is one of my better minis, I think. He’s a tame but distinct kitbash and a fun way to pay homage to the ugly ass past of the World Eaters. He’s also one of the better painted models that I own. This, I think, is for two reasons: I changed how I use washes, and I started thinning my paints more.

Firstly, I finally ditched the fucking Nuln Oil. The new formula is garbage and doesn’t look good on anything except for metal. Deeply disappointing! But being left with no go-to wash left me wanting, so I’ve made the switch to Agrax Earthshade. Agrax Earthshade is magic. With almost every one of my models, I’ve been finishing their base colors and then promptly slathering them in mildly thinned Agrax Earthshade. Once it dries and stains the mini, I take a small amount of the base color and fill in the broader surfaces, brightening them and cleaning up messier spots where the wash had dried. This makes the recesses a lot darker while maintaining the cleaner look on the armor panels, and that contrast generates a very serviceable illusion of depth without having to bother with highlights.

You can also experience a glow up like this, all you need is a cape, trust me

Color-wise, I tried to paint Kardon as close as close possible to the original Wally model. For example, his Mark of Khorne belt buckle (that’s cute) is brass and his belt is red, just like the old model. His backpack is mostly red, with the… wing-connector thingies being brass. And while it’s hard to see in the reference image, Wally’s right kneepad has a silver Mark of Khorne on it. Kardon noticeably lacks kneepads, having a MK6 torso and legs. To maintain that cool little splash of silver, I moved it onto the Khornate emblem that Kardon uses to pin his cloak to his shoulders. Most of that shit is meaningless, I just felt like talking about my decisions because I thought they were cool if I’m real.

The Raijin’s targets rarely foresee the Interceptor’s attacks as it stalks its prey from low orbit before diving from the highest heavens to strike. Once its locked in, it moves so swiftly that quarry aware enough to catch a glimpse of the plane see nothing more than a few red falling stars before they’re annihilated.

Anyways, enough about Kardon and his friends. Here’s an update on my Interceptor. This thing has taken so much goddamn paint and, frankly, doesn’t look super great, but once I’m done brightening and highlighting the panels, I think it’ll look great. I think the golden guns are really good and funny, because that’s so unnecessary, they’re fucking aircraft guns. It feels very 40k, like, of course they’d make their plane guns golden. I’m really satisfied with the Raijin, as well, and I wish aircraft were better so I could actually use it.

As a closing thought, I’d love to, one day, do a big ass 4000pts game with a full aircraft layer transpiring. Multiple gunships and Interceptors dogfighting, occasionally dipping from the chaos in the sky to raze the surface with earthshaking strafing runs. Would be cool.

[gurugirl]

Halloween / Super Dark - BEWARE

Summary: This one shot contains the edited out parts for the ghost!Harry piece I wrote. It's a sort of behind the scenes with extra bits you didn't get to read the first time. I tried to make this as cohesive as possible so if seems anything feels out of order or is repetitive, just know I tried - these bits were pulled from the original one-shot and this is the result. 2.1k words

A/n & Warning: This is just debauchery and twisted sickness. Please do not read this if you don’t like or are bothered by descriptions of non-con smut, blood, descriptions of murder, sacrificial ritual murder, evil spirits and possession - and generally, I’d suggest not reading at all bc this is super dark and contains all the edited out parts of the Halloween One Shot that I felt were going to be too much for most readers - but for those who asked - good fucking luck 🖤☠️🖤

Note: If you're tagged in this it's because you wanted to be tagged in everything (and/or specifically asked to be tagged in my Halloween one shot) - don't feel obligated to read it or share it if you aren't into this kind of thing. It won't hurt my feelings one bit. Proceed with caution.

Harry had called on darkness in exchange for eternal life as a spirit of the night, evil and powerful enough to continue bringing harm and terror to people even in death. He didn’t care if that meant he would need to murder himself and his entire family. To spend an eternity as an evil spirit who could manipulate humans and bring their souls with him was to him, the perfect way to spend perpetuity. He just didn’t realize that the catch was that his eternity would be spent in his childhood home. He would not be able to leave the perimeter of the property.

Luckily for him, humans would still come to the house to visit the supposed evil spirits that haunted it. The house was quite the attraction. Especially during Halloween. Sometimes Harry would appear to them before killing them. Other times he’d just stop their hearts or snap their necks to make it clean. Now, if they ventured into the basement, well, that was another thing altogether and Harry wasn’t liable for the way they died at the hands of the vengeful ghosts that lived down there. Most of the time Harry would let them leave. Many people who broke into the house weren’t worth keeping around. Though, it turned out, that murdering a person and capturing their soul to keep in the house with him for all time wasn’t the best way to make friends. None of the spirits really wanted much to do with him. He had to force encounters with them if he wanted company.

It also didn’t help that Harry would occasionally have sex with his victims before killing them, or even after death once their being had turned into a spirit. They rarely consented and this usually just made them retreat further into the shadows. But how else would he get laid if he didn’t force a few people to have sex with him? He always tried to make sure they enjoyed it at least. But he did love the struggle. Humans tended to be easier to coerce than ghosts.

Harry just didn’t care. When Harry was alive, he was obsessed with murder, the dead, demonic sacrifice, sexual deviancy, and he longed to live forever. Ever since he was young there was something wrong with him. His parents couldn’t understand why he was so different from his sister and brother but Harry thinks it’s just because he was born evil. Which is why his pact with Angra was his logical next step. Angra is like the Holy Spirit, but opposite. The evil version of the Holy Spirit that would answer the call of those wanting to be filled with his presence.

Harry had killed countless stray animals and murdered four people before finally killing his family and himself on the morning of Halloween 54 years earlier. The murdering of his family and himself was a sacrifice to Angra in exchange for his eternal life. And Angra gave him exactly what he wanted, well, except for the part where he was bound to his home. But it wasn’t so bad. Harry still got what he wanted. Plenty of humans came his way with whom he could do as he pleased.

However, Harry did become lonely. He longed for a little companionship. Someone who wouldn’t be able to hide from him. Someone that would be his. So he began the ritual of calling on an eternal mate. He didn’t know who Angra would choose for him but he knew to trust Angra no matter what.

And when she arrived to his home the evening before Halloween it was perfect. Harry knew she was the one Angra had sent. A beautiful young woman, someone who would be dearly missed by loved ones. She was perfect.

He watched her look around the house, set up a small area to sit and perhaps sleep the night. He stood behind her as she took a picture of herself. He found it curious that she snacked on crackers and read a book. Normally people entering the house would search through everything until they got spooked enough to leave. Usually they were free to go but often enough Harry would take their life, or lure them into his bed and then take their life.

But she sat on cushions and read a book on the eve of Halloween. A curious girl, he thought. And when she pulled out her dildo (which she sadly never got to use that night) and turned on a porno he felt himself draw closer. She was more than perfect. Coming to a haunted house to masturbate, when most would already be running for the hills (or try to).

He watched her remove her pants and listened to her soft moans and when she removed her panties Harry could no longer wait to make contact.

When he appeared in his physical form, startling her, he noted right away her hesitance to run away from him. She waited a moment longer than was normal. She found him alluring as well and Harry was so excited to get her into his bed and make her his for all time.

The chase was more for Harry’s amusement than anything. He enjoyed watching her struggle and the fear that poured out of her essence fed his spirit and he was able to use that to take control of her. She wasn’t that hard. She didn’t put up much of a fight if he’s honest. And the way she so easily let him put his tongue on her pussy made him even stronger. Her humanity was slowly seeping away and his spirit dined on hers. The more he drank her down, the more her life force slipped into the ether.

The ritual of creating an eternal mate consisted of more than just murder. It was required that the ghost come inside of her during sex. That the death of the sacrifice happen on the anniversary of his own death.

The spirit would need the blood of the sacrifice in his system and then as the sacrifice was breathing her last breath, his essence would be released into hers. He bit her twice and ingested her blood, once on the neck and once on her labia. After her death he used the broken skin on her neck to drink more and to secure her strength into his soul.

The blood of the sacrifice would enter the spirit’s ghostly body and allow the ritual to commence. She had no choice. He had called to her. He didn’t know who Angra would choose, but he was quite happy with the selection.

She was soft and warm. Her throat was delicate around his thick cock and he held himself back from choking her to death on his length. He knew he needed to follow protocol so he had to pull her off of him before he got carried away. Maybe he'd try that with a different human another time, one that would be fed to the spirits below the house after he was done.

And when he finally impaled the tender flesh of her cunt with his engorged cock he knew she was his then. His purposeful plunge was sharp and painful. He needed his cockhead to get as deep inside of her as possible. He wanted to punch into her cervix and damage her insides. But just a little. Only because he was absolutely depraved and loved the idea of fucking her as she was in pain but also making her moan with the feel of his cock splitting her down the middle and bruising her insides.

And she liked it, so he went harder and increased the pressure on her neck. Her lovely cries and attempts at gasps for air made him smile. She couldn't get enough oxygen to her lungs but it only intensified her pleasure. Sure she felt the ache and they way her insides were being wrecked and torn, but she was going to come around his big dick because he was rubbing into everything inside of her walls that mattered, stuffing her full of himself, all the while, pressing into her clit at each stiff thrust.

Her slick walls were coating his long dick and when he backed away just enough to get a look at himself submerging into her he saw the blood from her labia, and probably blood from her insides getting rearranged. He was large, and especially as a ghost he could outdo any living being in size and stamina. He dipped back in and grunted at the sight of her pussy lips parting, red and swollen, aching, dripping. The sound of slick around his dick and the creak of the old box spring underneath could be heard throughout the house.

When she began to clench around him and tremble, her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Her lips had began to turn purple from the lack of oxygen and she came around his dick in a gushing burst. She couldn't cry out or moan like she normally would from such an intense orgasm, not with Harry choking her, crushing her throat. But she cracked a smile as her mouth hung open in ecstasy. She was done for.

Harry moaned at the feeling of his cock getting squeezed as she pulsed in her orgasm. Her tight hole getting utterly destroyed by his cock hammering away into her. And when she stilled as her life began to falter, he could no longer hold back from pouring himself into her. The time had come.

When he released himself into her as he held her down by the neck and drew her life into his being she rattled and grunted her last breath just as her orgasm was completed.

And now she was his. She would wake in her new form and be confused at first, which was normal, but this time, she would realize she belonged to him and she’d make a good companion.

As was always the case after taking a human’s life, there was the obligatory cleanup. The basement was where all the human remains and leftover items were hidden. Behind a damp wall, in the dark, so the other spirits could nourish themselves on human flesh. It would only take a few days, but all that would be left of her would be bones and hair.

The dark, bricked basement was a place of chaos. Harry didn’t need to worry for himself going down there. Spirits would flee once they realized he was descending the stairs. They’d hide in walls and corners, behind beams and columns. It was the living that needed to be concerned.

Sometimes a person would sneak into the house and make the unfortunate decision to go into the basement. Harry could not be responsible for what happened to any being that chose to go down there. He let them do as they pleased in the basement, as a way to have some control, seeing that the whole house was Harry’s domain. The souls he took over the years had little say or freewill, except when it came to haunting the basement. A soul that was brutally murdered in life tends to be very angry in death. So the sprits that dwelled below the house were out for revenge. Destruction.

Putting her lifeless body into the wall, Harry turned to see only a few souls peeking out of their hiding spots, “Her body is all yours. Her soul is mine, though, and she’ll be with me on the upper levels once she is reborn.”

Harry set up her pallet and placed her necklace down on the spot he found her. Now it would only take a day for her spirit to come back to him. He couldn’t wait for her to be his once and for all.

~~

Waking up, she felt off. Felt a bit spacy. The house looked different to her but her rational sense told her that she was just waking from a deep sleep. Her attempt to leave the house was unsuccessful. She immediately looked for another way to leave but deep down she knew something else was at play. And when she saw him her spirit knew she belonged to him.

She was a ghost like him. A spirit that would dwell in this house for eternity, bonded to Harry and forever his companion. Her sudden trust and understanding went beyond her own logic. But she accepted her fate to be with the man who called for her soul and desired her presence with him. The pair sunk into the shadows of the house together and haunted the living that came into their domain. Y/n and Harry would now work as a team and anyone that entered would be lucky to exit with their life.

If you made it this far and enjoyed - you're a trooper. Thank you for sticking with it. Happy Halloween!

Main Masterlist

Tags: @victoria-styles @0oolookitsme @prettythingsworld @angel-akxo @harrysficreblog @indierockgirrl @daphnesutton @mellie-harry @michellekstyles @ssaama @angelqueen99 @sombrioinvernoemveneza @golden-hoax @a-strange-familiar @reveriehs @yousunshineyoutempter @the-gardener-31 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @dancinsunflowerkiwi @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @harrys-foxy @dirtytissuebox @closureesny @lhharrylilpumpkin @evelynlarue @chaptersleftunwritten @anothermannharry

[rosaren2498]

Encouragement From Unsurprising Places

This is a sequel to my story ‘Nightmare or Memory’ and I have two others written already; they will be posted soon, likely later today (it’s almost 1 in the morning where I am.)

I made 4 posts that started with what I wanted out of a Dark!Dream x Reader fic that pretty much just became what I wanted out of a Dream x Reader fic so... here it is. There will be some minor differences but this and the others are what I want. It’s self-indulgent as fuck and if you don’t like it, don’t read it.

This is also on my Ao3, as will be the other two, in case you prefer Ao3 (like I do)

Warnings: Reader has Anxiety, Mentioned Trauma?

---

You absentmindedly wiped down the bar, gaze blank in that spaced-out sort of way. You couldn't stop thinking about the coat that was hanging in your closet, couldn't stop thinking about twin stars in place of eyes. You jumped when a hand tapped lightly on the bar, head jerking up and eyes wide. You relaxed when you saw Hob.

"Alright, what's going on with you? You've been distracted all week and you've been wiping down the same spot for almost twenty minutes."

You couldn't help the warmth you felt in your chest at seeing his concern, even as your face lightly flushed in embarrassment; you'd never had a better friend than Hob Gadling. "Something happened a few days ago, something kind of strange, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it."

Hob's eyebrows raised and he leaned against the bar, giving you that look that never failed to make you spill every secret; how does he do that?

Your eyes darted around, but The New Inn was mostly empty now and no one was going to overhear you; it was almost closing time. Your eyes flicked back to Hob and you sighed softly, tossing the towel you'd been using onto the bartop. You placed your hands down, spread apart, leaning against the bar like Hob.

"I had a nightmare, that one I've been having since I got out?" Hob gives a brief nod, expression twisting slightly at the reminder of your trauma. "Well... it didn't end like it always does. It got to the point where Dr. Maxwell was about to, rather eagerly, defile me and I closed my eyes, but then... I heard this voice. It was unlike anything I'd ever heard before, like a rolling storm, like black velvet; deep and soothing even as it sounded angry. When I opened my eyes, Dr. Maxwell was gone, but someone else was standing there. He was... the most beautiful being I've ever seen in my entire life, and given how long I've lived, that's saying something."

You gave a slight huff of laughter that quickly trailed off as you stared down at the bar again, expression puzzled. "He undid my restraints and gave me his coat to cover myself, seeing as I had no clothes on. He showed... concern, I think? It was a little difficult to tell; he seemed pretty stoic, except for the little smile he got on his face when I talked about you. I swear, it changed his entire face, made him light up like the stars in his eyes; it was breathtaking, really. He asked about the nightmare, and I explained that it wasn't really a nightmare, more of a memory." You blinked and shook your head, looking back at Hob, who had a curious expression on his face.

"He tell you who he was?" He paused for a moment, then gave a confused smile. "Why'd you talk about me?"

You bit your bottom lip before sighing. "He's the younger brother of this woman I know, the one I told you about, Teleute? When he told me who he was, I nearly panicked. Teleute and her family are very old and very powerful beings, instrumental to the continued existence of the very universe, in fact. I've met a couple of her siblings, some I could go the rest of eternity without ever having to see or interact with ever again,

"But there are, or were, three I'd never met: her brothers. One is missing, or rather, he left their family several hundred years ago, and hasn't been heard from since; they don't talk about him. The second is the eldest of the family, and I don't particularly want to meet him; I'm a little too worried I'd get myself in a lot of trouble by punching him in his stupid, hooded face. The third... well, he's Teleute's oldest, younger brother, and the second most powerful of their family. I talked to him about you because he was surprised that I knew about him when he told me who he was. I mentioned that, while I did know some of his siblings, we also shared a common friend," you casually pointed a finger at Hob, "you."

Hob frowned, clearly confused, and opened his mouth. "I don't-"

You cut him off by waving your hand. "You might know him as Morpheus, or... Dream? About 5'10", wild hair that's dark as a raven's feather, pale as a corpse? Never smiles except with tiny little micro-expressions?" You didn't mention the rosebud color of his lips, or how utterly ethereal he looked; they weren't normal details to mention.

Hob blinked, startled. "You know Dream?"

You huffed another brief laugh. "As I said, I only met him a week ago. Anyways, he said that particular nightmare wouldn't bother me and then, before I could even respond, did this thing that made his voice echo in the room and in my head, and I woke up... wearing the coat he lent me."

Hob looked even more surprised- if that was possible- and more intrigued. "You woke up wearing his coat?"

You nodded. "It's still sitting in my closet. I... as tempted as I am to wear it- it's really comfortable- it feels kind of wrong? I'd like to return it to him and thank him again, but I don't know how to reach out to him. I'm not even sure I want to. Knowing his family hasn't really done me much good, beyond my friendship with his elder sister." You don't mention how Dream's scent is still on the coat, nor how you can't help but react to it; you can't really explain it anyways.

"I can let him know you want to talk to him when I see him next. We aren't just meeting every century anymore, which is great. Usually, it's at least bi-weekly, but sometimes he gets a little too busy with his function and it's once a month."

You paused, giving the offer, genuine that it was, its due thought. Part of you wanted to accept; you wanted to return the Dream Lord's coat and see him again. However, part of you wanted to refuse; you wanted to hold onto the coat as long as possible and now have him come looking for it.

"I'm... not sure that's a good idea. I don't actually know if he intentionally left the coat with him or if I somehow took it with me when I woke. One would actually be... really sweet, and the other would be very bad."

Hob eyed you before giving a small shrug and a smile. "If you say so. Just let me know if you change your mind."

---

The only reason finding Teleute wasn't difficult was because she tended to know when someone wanted (or needed) to speak with her. So, when you were approached by a dark-haired, dark-eyed, and dark-skinned woman with a beautiful smile and an ankh necklace, you weren't bothered, nor surprised.

"How are you, Teleute? How's your family?"

"I'm good. The family is... mostly the same. Del misses you."

You laughed lightly. "I miss her too. It's been a while since I've seen her."

You were both quiet for a moment as you stepped into a building, unseen. You stood back as Teleute performed her function, and then you were off again. You chewed on your bottom lip as you tried to figure out how to bring up what you wished to discuss; you were so busy staring at the ground that you missed how her smile faltered at your pensive expression.

"You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

You lifted your blank gaze from the sidewalk, giving her a small smile. "I know. I guess I'm just trying to figure out how to word it... You're aware of what happened to me a couple of centuries ago?"

Teleute's smile dimmed, but she nodded

"Well, ever since I escaped, I've had horrid nightmares. They've never really left me alone, ya know? That is... until bout a week and a half ago. I was in one of the nightmares that tend to reoccur the most frequently, and it was interrupted... by your little brother, Dream."

She seemed startled, but neither of you could speak for a moment as she collected and guided another soul to her realm. When she was done, you didn't give her much of a chance to actually respond, barreling through just to get it all out.

"He stopped the nightmare in its tracks even going so far as to undo the restraints and lending me his coat to cover up with. Here's what gets me though: after he introduced himself- and I provided a bit of information about myself since I recognized who he was by name- he promised that that particular nightmare wouldn't trouble me anymore and then ended it. But here's the real kicker; I woke up wearing his coat."

It was clear that Teleute was stunned, as she remained silent for a few minutes, likely thinking things over. "Has he bothered you about the coat?"

You shook your head. "I haven't heard from him since."

Teleute smiled. "Well, then it's more than likely you didn't drag it with you into the Waking; he meant for you to still have it on."

Your shoulders relaxed minutely at her assurance, but your eyebrows furrowed. "Why though?"

She waited until after guiding another soul to her realm before she answered, a teasing smile on her lips. "Maybe, he wants to see you again? Dream rarely enjoys interacting with others, but I wouldn't exactly be surprised if leaving his coat behind was simply an excuse to see you again."

You frowned slightly as you thought it over; everything Hob and Teleute had told you about the Dream Lord made the idea sound... accurate; you almost laughed, but it felt like you were missing something important. "So I should tell Hob to let him know I'd like to see him?"

She smiled wider. "If that's what you want. You don't have to seek him out, you know."

"I feel like if I don't seek him out, he'll seek me out. And... maybe I want to see him again too. Even if I would like to keep the coat; as I told Hob, it's very comfortable."

Teleute laughed and you smiled in return, continuing to walk with her for a little while longer, before splitting from her. When you were far enough away, you pulled out your phone and texted Hob, letting him know it was okay to tell the Dream Lord that you wanted to meet up.

A few days later, Hob finally texted you back with a time and a place- four o'clock at a park not far from your flat- to meet up with the Dream Lord. You bit your lip as you debated with yourself, staring into your closet. Something in you said to wear the coat to the meeting spot; you could always exchange it for something else when he showed up.

Mind made up after a few more minutes of internal debate, you slipped the dark coat over your navy blue blouse; you enjoyed how it was long enough to fall to your feet, covering your jean-covered legs as well. You didn't button it, but you did drape another coat- one of your own- over your arm. You did your best to tame your hair, which really wasn't all that difficult, and left your flat.

Upon arriving at the park, you noticed it was mostly empty; normally, this would unnerve or unsettle you, but not today. You started to stroll around the park as you waited for him to show, taking deep breaths of the cold air; polluted or not, it was better than stale air that tasted of blood.

Abruptly, you could feel eyes on you and you stopped, dropping the coat that had been in your arms. There was a presence at your back, causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand at attention; it was powerful and would usually be terrifying, but you could recognize it. Then you heard his voice again.

"You accept my claim, then."

A shiver rolled down your spine at his voice, even as you frowned in confusion; what claim? Before you could respond, sand was whirling around you, blocking your vision. When you could see again, the Dream Lord was standing in front of you, unfathomably dark eyes staring into yours; you knew, without a doubt, that you weren't in the Waking anymore.

[aquanthis]

can I hear about Adelia. I think that’s the name your night elf mage. please

YES ABSOLUTELY!!! ADELIA MY BELOVED!!! oh there's a lot wrong with her. a lot. there are many layers to this little mage good lird. look at her

^ seb's art ofc

i hope you like weird girls because that's all she's got!

Archmage Adelia Starweaver, Eternal Magus

ok the general info like usual: she's an arcane mage, an archmage, and she wields aluneth. she's a bisexual nonbinary woman and a complete disaster. she's a whirlwind of a woman and i'm absolutely obsessed w/ her.

personality-wise, adelia is a pile of masks so high that she doesn't really know who she is underneath them all anymore. she tries desperately to fit in and to pretend like nothing hurts or phases her, when in actuality every mean word clings to her like cobwebs. she puts on an act of being bubbly and loud and brash, trying to get people to like her, but the other people around her actually just can't stand her and think she's annoying. she's very much the "you could pour hot soup in my lap on purpose and i would apologize to you" type except it would be her laughing it off with a big smile and going to clean it up herself and never speaking of it again. this is how she copes. she's so normal lol <3

her childhood was fucked because her mother died shortly after adelia's younger sibling was born, and her dad basically put everything into trying to control adelia and "make her mom proud" or whatever. he tried to force her into druidism, and adelia was, uh. Not Happy! her autistic ass did not do well in druid school. the other students hated her guts and also made fun of her for the situation with her dad and that's when she picked up her Annoying Mask.

anyway, she was obsessed with stories about illidan. like, OBSESSED. special interest level obsessed. she felt validated and vindicated by illidan's rejection of druidism to become a mage, and she began studying magic in secret, all while disappointing her father and her teacher. despite the fact that illidan's life should've, by all means, been a cautionary tale, she did NOT take it as such, and look up to/aspired to be like him. she took the brunt of her father's anger/pressure/abuse, inadvertently protecting her younger sibling for the most part.

so! that was her life up until the draenei landed on azeroth. when the draenei came to darnassus, adelia met paleri (who avid grims oc fans will recognize as aemara's wife!) and they became fast friends. aemara had just disappeared to join the alliance military, and paleri was left aimless and lost, feeling like she couldn't protect her people as a simple engineer and wanted to become a paladin. adelia became determined to help her (had a bit of a crush on her too) and very quickly convinced paleri to go exploring with her. they left darnassus together, paleri determined to become a paladin and adelia determined to become a mage.

the funny thing about adelia, see, is that she's incredibly powerful. as in, her magic is like raw magic energy itself, unwieldy and volatile and unpredictable and dangerous. she has largely unparalleled skill at actually conjuring up the magic, to the point of eventually allowing her to become an archmage, but she's so fucking bad at controlling it. she's like a bomb about to go off at any given moment. so, when she and paleri go wandering together, there are a lot of. Incidents. lol

their journey takes them from burning crusade up to legion, all the while they made names for themselves as wandering mercenaries or minor heroes. and then, in legion, they join up with their respective class halls, pretty much go their separate ways, and begin climbing the ranks (surprisingly quickly).

adelia gets some bad flashbacks to childhood in the mage class hall. everyone fucking hates her. she doesn't know how to not be annoying because that's the mask she's used for so long so she just keeps up with it. khadgar is the only one who really tolerates her but even then he brushes her off (at first. they're kind of friends now). HOWEVER. when they're seeking champions to hunt down the artifacts, she gets chosen to hunt down aluneth. is this a little bit of a plot to get her killed? yes! but also she is the mage champion with the strongest ability with arcane magic, to a point that they can't just ignore her. so off she goes to hunt down the most volatile staff ever to exist lol

the aluneth questline goes as planned and everything and she picks up the staff. but it immediately starts berating her, as aluneth does. constantly. and at first she laughs it off like she always does, but after a while of the constant snide comments and contempt, she starts crying while trying to laugh it off, and aluneth suddenly gets slapped in the face. because, huh? what? this cringy loser girl who picked up the damn staff actually has feelings?

so it goes a little easier on her. just a little. and over time, aluneth starts to grow a bit of possessive attachment to her. a sort of "you're the only one who is strong enough to wield me so that means you're mine and i have to protect you" relationship. and at one point, adelia gets in a fight with her sort of nemesis (raquesis, one of august's ocs, a frost mage!) and is just kind of letting raquesis beat the shit out of her because adelia doesn't really have much fight in her when someone's being mean to her, and as she's about to pass out, aluneth fucking possesses her. and defeats raquesis on the spot. to save adelia.

it's like. all of the sudden, aluneth—this being made of pure, volatile arcane energy, that up until now was seemingly incapable of feelings other than contempt and pride—protects her. not for itself, but for her. no one has ever protected her before. she wakes up on the beach beaten half to death but alive and aluneth makes some smug comment like "you know, you can't rely on me to save you from everything" and adelia just starts wailing and hugging the staff as if it'll do anything.

she loves her fucked up magic staff :')

anyway uh she's still obsessive about illidan in legion so it's really funny that she's there when he's revived in the nighthold. she has some moments in the stuff i wrote about aquanthis in nighthold and it's all really fun. she's so silly. but yeah she's all starstruck by him

OH ALSO she ends up dating illidan's adopted daughter without knowing that and finds out later and it's REALLY FUNNY. adelia fidgeting like "can i meet him can i meet him can i meet him" trying to be so normal about meeting her hero. she meets him and he's like 😬 LMAO he does not like her. unfortunately

after legion she's just kinda, Around. when she's needed. she meets her little sibling again at some point and it's wild but that's something seb and i haven't developed too much so i don't wanna talk about it :P

to give you an idea of how silly she is, here's an excerpt from the gul'dan fight lol

my silly <3

anyway ermmmm it's 5 am and that's as much as my brain can spit out rn but just know she's a disaster bisexual and i want to pick her up by the waist and spin her around. my bestie