#that will be expanded on later

[sarcasticdolphin]

"Consecration" Todolf Cultverse

Cultverse is basically its own warning at this point. Also Rudolf is unhinged and someone dies. So under the cut.

It’s frustrating, to say the least. Rudolf wants to serve Tod. More than anything, he wants to please him. Consecrating an altar should be a natural thing, something that he does often. And though it is a selfish desire, he wants to be able to offer Tod his seed. It’s rather frustrating to restrain himself, day in and day out. Especially with the teasing little touches of Tod’s more human physical form that set a fire in Rudolf’s blood. How could he not want that?

But either his heretical grandfather had burned any evidence of such rites or they had never been written down to begin with. Rudolf suspects it is some of both. The priests of Tod were very secretive even before the religious reforms that his grandfather had enacted.

He does pray on the subject, beseeching Tod for guidance. For anything. Some hint as to what he must do. For Tod must know well that Rudolf would do anything to please him.

“Master.” Rudolf prays. “Guide me. Please. How might I consecrate an altar? How might I serve you? Please you?” He’s on his bed, Aemilia curled up on his feet even as his head rests on Tod’s thigh and his god’s fingers glide through his hair. 

“Tell you? Where would be the fun in that, my sweet little prophet?” Rudolf’s eyes are carefully closed as ever, but he imagines Tod smiling. For all the god he serves is terrible in every sense of the word, he also has a greater sense of humor than Rudolf had expected.

Still, Rudolf’s lips are ready to form another beseechment when Tod speaks again.

“But it would be cruel to leave you with no recourse, wouldn’t it? So perhaps it would be better that I not tell you, sweet prophet. I’ll show you.”

Images bloom in Rudolf’s eyes.

-----

He’s in a different body, and just a passenger. That’s the first thing Rudolf realizes. The second is the firm grasp that two huge black-cloaked men have on his wrists, rendering it impossible for him to go anywhere, to escape, unless they permit it.

The garb is not something he’s familiar with. He’s barefoot, and wearing rather fine linen pants and a knee length tunic of some sort. And his hair is rather a bit longer than Rudolf’s own.

But he doesn’t have much time to ponder his strange garb, because the next thing he knows he’s being dragged down a set of narrow but familiar steps, and the body is fighting even though Rudolf isn’t. Why had Tod put him in this body? In this boy? Because his form is a more masculine one.

They reach the bottom of the steps that Rudolf knows are those of Mayerling rather quickly, and gaze upon a room that is entirely familiar to Rudolf while still being oddly foreign.

Two braziers throw light and heat across the room, while the depression in the ground is filled with a pale, pearly liquid. The altar though, seems unchanged. Imposing on the dais, and seemingly dwarfing the tiny form that is kneeling before it, head bowed and shrouded by a vast looking-cloak.

Aemilia. For it must be Rudolf’s predecessor that consecrated this altar. The temple was too new for it to be anyone else and none but prophets could consecrate altars to Tod. Some gods might allow priests to do so, but Tod wasn’t one of them. 

It feels odd to see her like this. So human when Rudolf had given her name to the panther that Tod made into his companion. 

She doesn’t move, head still bowed, as the men drag Rudolf to the altar, and the body he inhabits only begins to thrash more. Oh. Oh. Rudolf understands, even as the men bind his uncooperative body in place, even as they bow to Aemilia and depart the way that they had come.

She rises only after what seems half an eternity, flowing to her feet and sitting on the edge of the altar, just beside Rudolf’s waist. Rudolf wants to look at her properly, to see the face of the prophet Tod so obviously thought had served him well. The stained glass rendition of her hadn’t done her justice. But the body he is in flinches in a way Rudolf hates. 

Not that Aemilia seems to mind. She removes one of her black gloves - every bit of her garb, from the thick cloak that seems like it will drown her to the fine glove she removes is black. In fact, even her hair, barely visible beneath the hood of the cloak, is likewise black. The only gaps in the black are her pale skin and paler blue eyes, which seem almost luminous in a way that makes Rudolf want to gaze into them forever.

But it is her touch that is more magical than anything else. Her hand is soft against his cheek, making gentle and smooth circles. It’s relaxing, and she feels like Tod in a way that Rudolf can’t quite put his finger on. It’s like Tod rests beneath her skin. Like she’s made her very body into his temple. Even the sacrifice - for that is what the body he’s in is - relaxes at her touch, seemingly spellbound.

To the extent that Rudolf doesn’t even think the sacrifice notices when the bounds are loosened. He barely does himself, and it’s only because he wants to pull Aemilia closer. To have the essence of Tod that seems to rest beneath her skin against his own.

The first cut is almost painless, and it feels quite small against his leg. Had she cut him by accident? Rudolf hadn’t seen a knife in her hand. But no matter. He wants to pull her closer. Even the sacrifice wants to pull her closer now, and she lets him, drawing them closer until Rudolf can gaze into her pale blue eyes. Are Tod’s eyes the same color? Rudolf imagines she must have gazed upon Tod in a way that he can as of yet only dream about. 

He’s already lightheaded when the second tiny bit of pain comes, this time at Rudolf’s neck. He can feel the blood flowing, and how rapidly it’s leaving his body. Saturating the altar. Oh. Oh. For all there were stories of how Tod’s Cult killed, the deceptive gentleness of Aemilia’s touch and her hidden little knife seemed just as effective.

His vision starts to swim as Aemilia leans down even more, and grants Rudolf the wish he’d barely begun. Her lips are soft and there is something of Tod in them, in her. Something final. Something that Rudolf covets. 

----

His eyes open all too quickly, but Tod is already gone. Aemilia - his panther - is still sitting on his feet. Rudolf gives her an affectionate scratch even as he murmurs a quick prayer of thanks to Tod. He knows what he must do.

[imagine-shenanigans]

thinking about you going up to three broad shouldered men in a bar because your crazy ex/some random creep/etc is following you and you beg them to pretend they know you. You slide into the empty space at the table theyve commandeered and right as the other guy comes up a scary looking big motherfucker with a balaclava and eyeblack slots himself right in next to you. You press yourself into his side when the creep comes up and you call Ghost your boyfriend, and Ghost (as you later learn to call him) grabs your hip possessively, tucking you in closer.

He doesn't let you go, later, when the creep fucks off. Instead, he slips your phone out of your pocket and puts his contact inside. Texts himself and slips it back into your pocket while making eye contact. Blows smoke in your face and snorts when you wave it away, huffing at him and sticking your cute little tongue out at him.

You have fun with the military men that night, Ghost even walks you home to feel safe. You wake up the next day, happy to be safe and sound, and go about your day. Forget all about Ghost for awhile, because he never texts you first.

Weeks later, youre in the middle of your kitchen when he walks in, a copy of your key in his hand. Slots himself in behind you and rests his chin on your head even when you panic and claw at him.

What? He's home now, came home to you, his partner. Just like you wanted, right? You wanted him, now you've got him.

[g-raec]

herobrine

[tizeline]

So I've already established that AU Leo has a tendency to abuse his portaling abilities to just go and explore a bunch of places, including New York, which leads to him stumbling across Run Of The Mill several years before he does in canon. And of course he loves the place, the food's great, the Maze of Death is good for training and he gets to hang out with Hueso! Hueso does not enjoy Leo constantly showing up to bother him when he's trying to work, but it's not like he can just kick him out. This is one of THE Baron Draxum's sons, Hueso is already in trouble with yokai law-enforcement and the last thing he needs is more enemies. (And no, he does not have a soft spot for Leo, what are you talking about)

Anway that's all fine and dandy, until two particular individuals happen to stumble across the restaurant....

Similar to in the show, some time after Donnie's first encounter with the Draxum family, him and April find Hueso's restaurant as well and starts to frequent the place. And considering Leo's a regular, well, it's not long until they happen to visit at the same time and uh-

This happens pretty soon after Donnie first reunites with his brothers, but they've encounteredeach other a couple of times in between then and now, which means that the Drax Trio have had time to come to terms with the fact that Donnie is not planning on joining their team any time soon. And while they want to change that, they realize that for the time being he is currently an enemy. Mikey and Raph are still pretty hesitant to fight him, but Leo and Donnie pretty early on established a "fight each other on sight" dynamic, because of course they did.

All of this is to say, as soon as they lay eyes on each other in the restaurant, they immidietly start duking it out! Hueso understandibly does not appreciate such a ruckus in his fine establishment, so out of respect for Hueso the twins agree to avoid any fighting in the restaurant specifically.

Now, you would think that at least one of them would have the common sense to just avoid the place, but they're both stubborn and petty AF and so Leo and Donnie keep running into each other there! And they do respect the no-fight-rule.... to a certain extent. The rule was specifically for physical fights and says nothing about verbal ones! So every time Leo and Donnie run into each other they keep insulting each other to provoke the other into attacking them, which would lead to that twin getting kicked out and hopefully banned for life!

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: forced relationship, murder of spouse

gn reader

Just thinking about how it would be the most yandere Gojo-thing to do to fight for your hand – knowing no one can beat him – even though you don’t even want him in return.

You’re happy with your man, but along comes Gojo, inviting the poor guy to fight for the right to have you. 

At first, you tell Gojo to fuck off – obviously – but the more imposing and threatening Gojo becomes, the more you understand that he’s serious – that he’ll kill the guy.

And your man is all ready to die for you – so you’re stuck between begging Gojo to have mercy and begging your boyfriend to let you go – that you’d rather he live than lose him.

And Gojo’s just so petty and jealous and grossed out by the lovey-dovey scene that he ends up killing the guy anyway. 

Claiming his win.

[wolfertinger666]

quick doodle of DJ's sister, Jade

[wiredphonez]

fisk undertale...yuor so cool

[tired-biscuit]

18+ MDNI, fem!reader // cw: implied breeding

thinking about getting into a relationship with kiba while you’re still on the pill and the sex being fine, but then getting off of birth control at some point and thus eventually ovulating.

when he catches the scent of it for the first time, he loses every last shred of his composure and sanity in mere seconds. progressively gets all pushy and touchy and almost possessive, even a tad bit rough with you. tries making moves on you because all of a sudden he just wants to call in sick to work so that he can fuck you and breed you throughout the entire night instead — nothing else.

he is unable to keep his hands off of you, quite literally. he keeps on telling you how good you smell — now why is that? — as he presses his nose against the pulse point that’s on your neck and corners you in the kitchen. every inhale he takes is so fucking deep that it makes him feel dizzy and makes his lungs feel like they’re burning. he’s dressed in his work pants but he’s already unbuckling his belt with one hand as he pushes you even further back with the other one; until you’re sitting on top of the counter and have your legs spread open for him because he’s made you do it.

you think he’s just messing with you at first, but when he places his hand on your thigh, there are claws poking into your skin, threatening to dig deep if he isn’t careful. he keeps mumbling something under his breath, always looking down, but you realise that he doesn’t even seem to be acknowledging you — at least not properly, that is.

all that matters is the scent, your scent. it fogs his mind, consumes him entirely. you say his name, patting his cheek with worry, and when he looks up so that he can kiss and lick the inside of your palm, his pupils are blown wide. they’re so huge and unfocused that they make him look uncanny almost.

he’s pussy drunk and he hasn’t even gotten it yet.

[ofswordsandpens]

Okay compiling my most critical opinions on the pjo show so far (episodes 1 & 2)

The Gods' Conflict, Foreshadowing, & Big Three Kids

The show has seemingly dropped a lot of the foreshadowing and threat regarding the gods impending war over the theft of the lightning bolt. In the book, Percy remarks about how the weather's been inexplicably weird and extreme. When he gets to camp everyone is on pins and needles about something and they don't want to talk about it but its still very present. By the time he's claimed as a son of Poseidon and everyone's like "oh fuck" and then Chiron finally explains to Percy that the gods think he's the lightning thief, everything clicks into place for the reader. It all makes sense why everything seems so wrong... because things are wrong. Meanwhile in the show, that doesn't carry through as much, so the reveal of the conflict between the gods and why that's a big deal falls flat in comparison imo.

They dropped/stalled the foreshadowing of the fates and the cutting of the string. They could very well include this in future episodes, and probably will, but I think the timing of it - Percy seeing this before he even knew he was a demigod - again carries some hefty significance and helped set the foreboding tone of things being wrong even from the beginning.

They did drop Zeus's attack on Percy in the minotaur battle completely, which does disappoint me. In the book, its lightning that blasts the car off the road. In the show, Sally seemingly loses control of the car. That change is pretty significant, because it's again losing the power of RR's foreshadowing in the book. The attack on Percy outside the camp borders was a duel attack from Zeus and Hades.

Finally, I don't like the changes they made to Percy's claiming scene, namely, the reaction from the rest of CHB. Percy being a son of Poseidon is a huge deal. When Percy's claimed, the attitude is very much begrudging reverence paired with genuine fear of what it means and what he represents. In the book, Percy is claimed. People gasp. Everyone kneels. Annabeth says, "This is really not good." In the show, Percy is claimed. People... stand there? Annabeth smiles - she's going to get her quest. The only person who has the most outright negative reaction is Luke. I won't go so far to say this is out of character for Annabeth, but it is focusing on an entirely different aspect of her character in the moment, and what the audience gets from Percy's claiming scene here, the tone, is now different from the book. Basically, the reverence and fear don't really carry across to the show, which I think is important.

The phrase "forbidden child" slaps tho.

2. Gabe's Characterization, Sally's Characterization, & Why the Changes do Make a Difference

I'm going to say this with great care: The show has absolutely depicted an abusive relationship between Sally and Gabe. The show has shown Sally to be a strong woman who would do anything for her child. The show has shown Gabe to be a controlling, toxic man.

What they have depicted in the show does not read like the characters and dynamic in the books.

Book Gabe is a violent, menacing drunk. He is so disgusting and vile that monsters avoid him. This is overwhelmingly apparent from the second Percy gets home in the book, even before he is aware of the physical abuse Sally has been facing. Percy has already been dealing with physical abuse from him, amongst other things (edit to be more specific: this is including verbal, emotional, & financial abuse). I've already spoke to it here, in-depth, so I'll try to keep it short but all of this has not been translated accurately to the screen. (Is this to say that a person must be overtly abusive to be abusive? No. But does this character on-screen feel like Smelly Gabe? No.) These things have shaped Percy (and Sally) in very specific ways. As others have mentioned: Percy cannot stand alcohol. He meets Dionysus and is reminded of his step-father. He gets to Tartarus and the air reminds him of Gabe.... The character on screen, while abusive, does not share this presence at all, and that makes a difference.

Edit: To emphasize once more, I am not saying that the show has not depicted a realistic portrayal of abuse. It has (verbal, emotional, & financial so far). It has also distinctly changed the tone and Gabe's presence from the book, to the extent that it no longer feels like the same character and that does have a rippling effect on the dynamics he shares with both Sally and Percy.

3. The Lack of Annabeth

Annabeth in the show is just like... really not as present as she is in the book so far, and I'm just kinda like, why lol?

Annabeth in the books is already way more involved in Percy's life. She was in the infirmary feeding Percy ambrosia after the attack (ulterior quest motives lol), she's the one who lead Percy around camp and re-explained godly parentage to him - and its a moment where she's very sincere with him, and even trying to help him! Instead these moments are given to Chiron and Luke, which I do get the merit of, but still, these were her moments!

Annabeth in the books had already surmised that the gods were fighting, something was stolen, and the something bad was going to happen, all before Percy had even been claimed. And she shared that with him! Again, the loss of foreshadowing and little bonding moments has me :(

I'm a little worried how they're going to deal with her crush on Luke because its pretty central to her character in the books! It helps Luke to manipulate her and also keeps her from admitting he's done something wrong. Also, it was very sweet and funny reading her get flustered - It drove home the point that she was just a kid with a crush that she didn't know how to handle. But in the show Luke spoke to her and I was expecting there to be some sort of reaction to it and there just... wasn't? (This is not something I'm laying at Leah's feet btw! Only the writers/directors!) We're only two episodes in tho so maybe we'll see it some more moving forward.

4. The Minotaur Battle

Again, I've already spoken about this in depth here but !!

The lack of Zeus's lightning strike, them all coming to a standstill and just chatting instead of running for their lives, Grover being awake and just sort of off to the side watching the fight, Sally being like "Promise Me Grover Swear it"... it all just doesn't ring right to me

I wanted more panic, more terror, more urgency. Higher stakes. I wanted Grover unconscious, I wanted to see Percy drag him into camp, and I wanted to see more of Percy's grief alongside his rage. Like the book did.

The pacing in the show here, and just overall, is weird

5. Other Stuff

Mrs. Dodds fight kind of fell flat too. It was honestly too sudden and Percy killing her in the show seemed even more accidental than in the book lol. Like, accidental impalement vs intentional swing of the sword.

They really had show Grover throw Percy to the wolves and not just gaslight him, but low-key have a part in getting him expelled? Not sure how I feel about it tbh.

More New York. I wish we had gotten the part of Percy taking the bus home with Grover included cause like? Him ditching Grover was funny, but it would have been the perfect opportunity to show Percy traveling through New York and establish it has his home. Shots of him looking at the city, walking the streets, interacting with people near his building.. yeah.

More Montauk too tbh. Like more shots of him and Sally on the beach rather than just the cabin.

Nectar and Ambrosia! Unless I missed it, which I might have, why have we still not gotten an onscreen depiction of it yet lmao.

[felidaeng]

mama luigi

[chronicpaingirlie]

there is so much grief in losing things you love to your disability

[dayurno]

robin cross and kevin day parallels actually go so crazy. they both spent their formative years in a basement underground with exy-obsessed captors. they both saw exy as freedom. they both were isolated even within the foxes’ group of outcasts. they were both under andrew’s protection. it cost kevin jean to leave the nest and it cost robin another girl’s life to escape her kidnapper. robin carried her racquet with her to self-soothe and kevin restrings the net of his when he’s anxious. they’re even bird coded

[ccarrot]

Anyways i also think that Chuuya SHOULD NOT be the Port Mafia boss to be totally honest witchu. If his entire experience with the Sheep, and the way he cracked under pressure as the interim leader during cannibalism, and like, THE BEAST EPILOGUE, had anything to say it's that Chuuya's not fit to be the leader of an organization such as that.

Bc Chuuya's good at adapting, he's good at spur of the moment decisions. He's good with battle tactics. We see his actual leadership abilities shine when he's commanding the mafia troops to protect the city during the guild arc. In cannibalism, his plan to rush the ADA with a full frontal attack was a SOLID idea. But he loses his advantage as soon as he hesitates and opens the table for negotiation instead.

BECAUSE Chuuya's not good at playing the long game like Mori or Dazai. He's reactionary and it's his nature to get overwhelmed by his emotions. He takes on too much responsibility but loses focus due to personal reasons. That what happens in 15 where he blows off the Sheep to go on a life changing field trip with Dazai. That's why he was taken out of the picture so easily to go on a life changing field trip with Ranpo in Cannibalism. (Damn maybe this is why he's on a life changing field trip with Fyodor as a vampire currently).

Essentially even though Asagiri has been really tying Chuuya's character with the themes of leadership, we've mostly been shown why he wouldn't be a good fit. Either this plot point will trend towards Chuuya actually learning how to be a good leader OR he won't end up as one. IN ANY CASE what we know abt Chuuya makes me really think that being the Port Mafia's boss is a terrible idea. He's not fit for the role and frankly, I think he'd hate it.

[comradekatara]

“the desert” is katara’s most quietly admirable episode; she manages to guide and protect the rest of the gaang while they are in precarious states under unimaginable pressure and with very few resources. katara’s tireless endurance this episode culminates in her bravery as she risks her own safety to comfort aang in the avatar state.

for an audience upon first viewing, her ability to thrive under pressure here may seem like a surprising departure from the impulsive, reactive, sensitive girl we’ve been accustomed to over the past 1.5 seasons. but sokka’s admission in “the runaway” reframes katara’s behavior in this episode.

we know that while the rest of her family was a mess, katara stepped up and gave them hope. she refused to sink into her grief—to abandon the site of her trauma like hakoda did, to give up like kanna did, or to repress and depersonalize like sokka did. she may have a temper and she may not always think things through, but she is able to communicate her emotions and refuses to cut herself off from feeling and processing her grief and rage, which is more than can be said for her brother.

and upon learning this piece of her history, you realize that her indefatigable, relentless hope and care that she displays in “the desert” is actually a pattern of behavior for her that is being repeated. when all hope seems lost and everyone in her life has abandoned faith, katara finds purpose and meaning in being the glue that holds everyone together, even when she is as grief-stricken and exhausted as the rest of them.

in moments of abject despair, katara guides her loved ones and herself out of there desert, both literally and metaphorically. and that is why she is the narrator and the catalyst and the hero of this story of a revolution that successfully destabilizes an oppressive paradigm in the eleventh hour, because she represents the power and importance of organized resistance when all hope is lost, of refusing to give into despair, of continuing to believe in love even in the bleakest, most desperate circumstances, and envisioning a brighter future even (especially) when no one else can.

[landwriter]

Hi! I hope you feel better soon!

This is a great prompt by @academicblorbo about Hob Gadling being the landlord of the Dead Boys. It has a wonderful fill already by @omgcinnamoncakes but I’d love to see what you come up with for it!

Alternative prompt from me if that doesn’t work for your brain: remember the date between Jenny and Maxine? How about one between Jenny and Esther? Poor Jenny is going to really question her taste in beautiful blonde women 😭

Thank you! I saw ‘landlord’ and ‘decades’ and blacked out. I love Hob having them as tenants. Maybe even before the modern day meeting in Sandman.

The Sandman/Dead Boy Detectives, 2.4k, G Dream/Hob, pre-slash, alternating/outsider POV, found family, a reunion and revelations etc.

---

Hob did not, strictly speaking, have tenants. It was more of a minor haunting. Pun intended.

The small room above the pub and below his flat wasn’t worth charging anyone rent for; when he first bought the building he had put a handsome oak desk in there and some bookshelves before wondering who he was possibly keeping up appearances for. Who was he going to take back upstairs that would stop and say, Wait, can I see your office? So he’d left it as more or less an abandoned room.

When he realized a pair of boys were using it as their clubhouse, he didn’t do anything at first. He saw them quietly coming and going a couple times, disappearing around the corner of the first landing. Brazen things. He meant to call after them, but the shout had died in his throat. He’d been young once. He still remembered the need to get away from it all. It was only when he went to check if they’d been making a mess of the room that he discovered it was still locked.

He’d crouched down and inspected the latch and found no marks at all. Huh, he’d said, and jiggled it again, and been a little more interested in whatever clever way they were getting into it after they disappeared up his stairs. Then he didn’t see them for weeks, and assumed they had gotten bored and stopped.

Until they came back. In the middle of an argument, striding through the pub like they owned it. Hob straightened up as they passed him.

“I cannot believe you broke the mirror.”

“I was in a rush! It’s not my fault you forgot you needed Arcana Incantatum after we arrived at the church. And found the demon.”

“I hardly forgot, I only made the mistake of assuming you would know to pack it by now.”

Hob raised his eyebrows. The boys disappeared into the back hallway. He followed them as they went upstairs, too preoccupied with their drama to notice Hob. They turned onto the landing, still carrying on. Even as they walked through the door. The locked, closed door.

Hob blinked. Then he drew his keys from his pocket and opened the door. The boys were still inside. One of them was pulling a mirror out of a backpack that was several times too small for it. They didn’t even look up, and Hob wondered how he couldn’t possibly have put it together earlier. He cleared his throat.

“Hello, boys.” That caught their attention. Hob grinned. “Seems we’re neighbours.”

---

Edwin abhorred getting involved with the living. He and Charles got along perfectly well on their own. They were a duo. An intrepid pair. Best mates, like Charles often stressed whenever he was about to ask something particularly ridiculous of Edwin. They were solid together. As solid as two ghost boys could be. The living, though, were messy and unpredictable.

Perhaps the most salient fact at present: Charles invariably became attached to them.

“He’s sad, mate. I can see it in his eyes.”

“You said those exact words in ‘94 about a dog. At least ask Hob himself.”

Before you decide to adopt him too.

Hob Gadling, irritatingly, was unobjectionable on every ground Edwin could think of. He had made no imposition upon them. When he found them, he only asked them their business, and then told them he was usually downstairs, or upstairs, if they needed anything they couldn’t procure themselves. He had an interest in rare and old books, as it happened. In explaining this, he had also hinted at being far older than his looks would suggest, which vexed Edwin twice over. He knew his curiosity would not be slaked until he talked to Hob, but then he would be the one getting involved with the living, and Charles would hardly let him forget it.

“Do you think he’s really immortal? Mate’s far too calm. Last week I saw him stop a fight downstairs by stepping right between these huge blokes. He just said something and smiled and they backed right off.” Charles lit up. “Do you reckon he’d teach me how to do that? Conflict de-escalation, innit? I could show him some moves with the cricket bat, I bet. Oh, do you think he’s a cricket fan?”

It was obviously a hopeless case, and since the Dead Boy Detectives never took on hopeless cases, there was only one course of action that remained. Edwin had long since disabused himself of the notion he needed to breathe. He had no beating heart, yet when he was startled, he would find himself clutching his chest. Now, he exhaled slowly through his nose in an entirely superfluous sigh of resignation. “Well, Charles, shall we go talk to him?”

---

When the millennium came around, Hob found himself celebrating it with his accidental tenants. There was something gloriously satisfying about being able to make a toast to the next one and have it taken seriously. He’d asked them if they had something better to do - spectral trouble to get into et cetera - and they both looked at him with almost identical put-upon and incredulous expressions.

Hob had a terrible suspicion they thought they were taking care of him as much as he thought he was taking care of them.

Edwin, with his insatiable curiosity and, deep underneath it, something Hob thought he recognized from himself: a sharp animal ferocity and a refusal to go until he’s good and done, natural laws be damned. Charles, still brightly, painfully alive for a ghost - who should be alive still, by all rights, but nothing of this life was fair - who joked to cover up hurt in a way Hob knew too, and glowed any time Hob turned so much as a kind word to him.

He wondered what they saw when they looked at him.

The year ticked over, and technology kept working. Charles grinned innocently and said he could probably possess the telly and break it that way if Hob wanted?

Hob’s heart twinged. He knew they weren’t his, not to keep, but it seemed that teenagers didn’t change at all over the centuries, even if the boys were only sort of teenagers in the way Hob was only sort of in his thirties. It didn’t change that they’d been punted from the mortal coil before having a chance to grow up, and figure out the kind of men they were, and make their own choices and fuck up and try to be better than their fathers, and everything everyone deserved. Hob had made more than his share of mistakes. They hadn’t been given the chance to make nearly any at all.

So they made toasts to the new millennium, to the detective agency, to themselves, all stuck out of time in different ways and refusing to move on for different reasons, and Hob allowed himself to think of Robyn and privately pretend that they were his all the same.

---

A week later, Hob was reminded of the other universal traits of teenagers when he mentioned his stranger and both boys began to grill him with terrifying alacrity. Before turning to his dating life, like ravening bloody wolves. When Edwin had asked, in a specifically nineteenth century manner that Hob remembered all too well, if Hob had always been unmarried, he’d nearly put his head in his hands.

“It can be hard for me to associate with the living too, you know. For obvious reasons.”

Charles had turned to Edwin and hissed “See? I told you.”

Right in front of him. Nobody had taught them manners.

“Manners, Charles,” replied Edwin loftily. “We will, of course, respect your privacy. A man is entitled to his secrets.”

“You’ll go upstairs and rifle through my personal things, is what you’ll do,” said Hob.

Charles coughed to hide his laugh. Edwin flushed and looked away. Hob snorted, and told them about Eleanor and Robyn. Properly. It was a strange relief. He’d told the story wrong for plausibility’s sake so many times he had been worried he’d forget the truth of it one day.

They had listened, and been remarkably quiet until Charles piped up and offered to set him up with a ‘really fit’ ghost. Hob had roundly shut that down. Woefully, not all explanations were satisfying enough. Charles cornered him again the next morning while he was cleaning the bar.

“No, mate, I still don’t get it.” Hob was about to say he no more wanted to be with someone who couldn’t feel pleasure from his touch than someone who would grow old and be taken from him while he stayed the same, when Charles went on, bafflingly, to ask, “Why don’t you meet your mysterious friend more often than once a century?”

Hob sighed. “Adults are often busy, Charles.” Nevermind that he had begun to wonder the same since the eighteenth century. He’d always just assumed time passed differently for his stranger.

Charles just laughed and perched himself on the bar top. “Ooh, low blow. We’re busy too, you know. Plenty of cases to solve.”

“Really,” said Hob. “You’re busy. Right now.”

Charles waggled his eyebrows.

“Charles, I am not a case,” said Hob, sternly as possible. “I’m not even a ghost. He’s not a ghost. No ghosts.”

“We could investigate. Maybe ghosts are involved. What even is he? Why every hundred years? Is it some sort of Persephone situation?”

Hob bit his lip against shouting I don’t know! I don’t know anything about him! Instead, he tried to smile, and felt it come out as a wince instead. “He’s very private.”

Charles scowled. “Yeah, obviously. You don’t even know his name. He can’t be that good of a friend if he’s too busy to see you more than once a century.”

Hob couldn’t see the expression on his own face, but he saw Charles’ shocked reaction well enough. It was so long ago for him, and still Hob knew at once what Charles saw now: that first time you manage to visibly hurt a grown-up’s feelings, people who seemed too old and too stern to actually feel pain, when you’d been going around kicking at them like a new foal, just to stretch your legs.

“Sorry,” said Charles, instant regret chasing his surprise. He was a good kid.

“It’s alright,” said Hob. He meant it. He looked down at the shining bartop. His hands were restless with the urge to light a cigarette. He gave in. It wasn’t like Charles would be dying of lung cancer any time soon if he decided to follow Hob’s example. “I don’t think he would say he’s very good at being a friend either. Truth is, I’d love to see him more often. But we had an awful fight the last time we met. If he forgives me, I’ll have to ask.”

“Mates always make up,” said Charles earnestly. He was such a good kid.

“I suppose they do.” Charles still looked sorry, and Hob clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey. Thanks for looking out for me, Charles.”

Charles beamed at him. “Always. We’ve got your back, me and Edwin.”

---

Charles couldn’t bloody believe it. Hob’s friend was here. There was nobody else it could be. He and Edwin were watching from a nearby table, pretending to be absorbed in their own conversation. Neither man noticed them. They were too busy looking at each other.

He couldn’t imagine spending more than a century apart from Edwin. The way Hob had talked about him and his stranger over the years, it sometimes seemed like they were best mates too, no matter how little they saw each other. He was dead sure that’s what had Hob looking so gutted when he thought nobody was looking. He had known they would make up, though. Maybe now Hob would be happier.

“Charles, we really ought not eavesdrop,” hissed Edwin. Right as he scooted his chair closer, the cheeky hypocrite. Hob and his friend were talking too quietly to properly hear, their heads bent together. Lots to catch up on, Charles reckoned. A hundred years. He couldn’t stop thinking about the number. It seemed impossible. Funny, he couldn’t imagine that long away from Edwin, but he could imagine spending that long being best mates. There was nobody he’d rather hide from Death with.

Hob’s face was doing something strange as his long-lost friend talked. Then Hob moved and grasped him by the shoulders, so tight that his knuckles stood out in relief. The man said something in low tones and Hob shook his head, and then pulled him in for a hug. The man stiffened and then relaxed, and his arms came up around Hob’s.

Their cheeks both looked wet.

Charles swallowed and it felt suddenly a little like he was choking. He should look away, only he couldn’t.

“They must be great friends,” said Edwin softly.

“Yeah,” he managed to croak. We won’t ever need to have a reunion like this because I’m never going to lose you, mate. I won’t let them take you. It was stuck behind the phantom lump in his phantom throat. His hand, without him telling it to, reached out and grabbed hold of Edwin’s. Edwin squeezed it hard, and Charles knew he didn’t have to make his voice work after all.

Then the man pushed Hob away, but only far enough to grab his face and pull him back again, thumbing over Hob’s cheeks, and beside him, Edwin honest-to-god gasped, and then Charles momentarily forgot how thoughts worked too.

---

It happens thus: in the New Inn, just next door to the White Horse, some 639 years after they first met, Hob Gadling and Dream of the Endless share their first kiss. Neither, if they had bothered to think about it, would have intended to have an audience, but it’s a well-known fact that some kisses cannot wait, and theirs was chief among them, being that it had so much to say, and was so very long overdue.

I missed you, it said, and I came back, it said, and Please don’t go away from me again, and I could not.

And atop them, like blankets, were laid invisible the daydreams of those who saw them, including two long-dead boys, whose dreams were woven from the fresh and unaccounted-for possibilities of Hob kissing his mysterious stranger. Another man, thought Edwin. His best friend, thought Charles. Dream was the only one who could have heeded this, but he did not, because Hob Gadling was holding him tight and daydreaming loudly of this kiss and more, of this today and tonight and tomorrow, ever greedy and ever easily pleased, and Dream could hear nothing at all over their clamouring and comingled joy; the bright gold daydream between the scant space of their bodies that sounded so much like at last.

[rumblecrow]

The Balatro Casino opens, The rules of the cards has been completely obliterated. Tarot cards and Collector cards are used for boosting the ammount of chips people will get. Many comes to compete who will have the highest chips with their money on the line.

One day a massive black holes comes erupting from the very entrance itself, a man in a dapper suit, speak to the Joker who shows him the table. He seems to be alone until the galaxy inside his suits sparkles and his shadows on the floor has risen and spoken as if thousand of disembodied eyes are watching this man make his decission on the card. One eyes speaks helps him to be ready, as the other voices calls him the prophet.

He holds his card, smiles and challenge the bets to be higher than ever before. He laughs betting the very atom of the observeable universe itself, breaking times and spaces as the table demands more and the man is simply too stubborn to lose.

At the finale, only the table and him remains. Multiple planet of Eris has surrounded him simply boosting his flush five. The game ends with a spectacular shatters on the polychrome glass of 4 spades cards. He simply laughs claps his hands as an applause for himself,

As if the very space hears his own satisfactions, the casino has rebuild itself.

He takes his 10 dollars and left to the very same darkness he comes.

----

I think you all should check this post here about the balatro gameplay cause i fucking love it and i got inspired to the a lil writing here, it just so funny to me.