#I'd still choose you in our next eternity

[greycaelum]

You sat before the blind date your mother has been begging and demanding you to meet for months. He's the godson of your mother's friend that recently came back from overseas. Something about taking over their family business after some time prompted him to finally settle down in Japan and start his own family.

You finally had enough of her nagging and decided to meet the man and make it clear you're not planning to entertain a relationship. You have no plans of getting married. Ever.

It's such a foreboding thing to say when you're still so young. But there's that gap in your heart that seems to never be filled. It's like a part of you is grieving for something or someone you don't know. It's like you forgot something you never knew in the first place. It's crazy... But it's real.

"Lately I've been having this recurring dream." He started.

Whatever it is that compelled you to listen was long forgotten as you watch his lips weave through his thoughts and for a second it's like you were in that dream.

"And every time I wake up, my heart feels like I lost something I never found yet." He stared at you with deep-seated eyes. His forearms were on the table, a little too serious and a little too solemn for a first meeting. "Then my heart feels so weightless. Like I forget something I shouldn't forget... It's so weightless that it hurts."

You took a sharp breath and exhaled. Finally you mustered the courage to ask.

"Who's in your dreams?"

... The faint breeze and the rustling of trees fill the silence as his deep blue eyes stares at you for a long time.

"You."

Sequel to this; pt. 1

[pretty-lovely-mar]

"Charles, please. Stop running away from me. You know that you can always tell me anything," Edwin says, getting up from his place at his desk.

Charles, who had already started to grab his overcoat and walk out the door, paused for a moment. He whirred around, "No, Edwin. You don't get it, do you? I yelled at you! Just now, after this case because I was annoyed and I got all caught up in it. I yelled at you... I don't do that, 'Win"

He seemed to sag under the weight of his words, momentarily losing his resolve to leave.

"It's okay." Edwin walked over to take his coat and hang it back up. He then walked back and put his hand in Charles' "I don't mind. I know you, Charles, and I know that you didn't mean it." He paused for a moment. He seemed to mull over what he was going to say next. Since his confession on the staircase in Hell, Edwin had begun to choose to be honest more and more often.

"In the spirit of honesty, I must say that I'd let you yell at me or more if it meant we were still together here in our afterlives."

Immediately, Edwin could see it was the wrong thing to have said. He still had some trouble reading Charles, especially when he was in a state of being greatly affected by his own trauma from his life. Crystal had always been better at comforting him and being there for him in that regard, but she wasn't here right now. There was no one for Charles to go to when Edwin inevitable seemed to mess it up.

Charles let go of Edwin's hand and clenched his fists at his sides. "Edwin, no. You can't... If I do something to you..." He trailed off, seemingly unable to finish his thought. Thoughts of his father ran through his head, and his mother's face featured right after.

His mother had stayed with his father for so many years, he had endured his father's actions until he died. He wouldn't wish that upon anyone, especially not Edwin. Never Edwin. And as much as he wished he were sure about the opposite, or that he was certain they weren't qualities that he could inherit, Charles always had that itching thought in the back of his head that he'd turn out just like father, even in his death.

Even though he had seemed like he couldn't quite get the words out, Edwin waited patiently for him to flesh out his thoughts. He took a step closer, to remind Charles that he was there for him.

Finally, he said, "If I ever hurt you, even once, never speak to me again. Tell the Night Nurse to let Death take me, start your own agency, do whatever it takes to get away from me. No matter how sorry I say I am, no matter how many promises I make." Then, quietly, almost like he didn't want him to hear, he added, "I never want you to suffer from me like my mum suffered from my dad."

Silence made the air around them feel heavy and still. Charles took an unnecessary shaky breath and looked away from Edwin. In times where he was vulnerable, Charles hated to look Edwin in the eyes.

"Charles. You will never hurt me. You can't! You don't have a single violent bone in your body. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. You are the best person I know, Charles Rowland, and nothing will ever change that." Edwin enveloped Charles into a hug, slowly so that Charles could move away if he wanted.

Instead, he burrowed into Edwin's neck, lips against a non-existent pulse. He stood there, being held in the agency's doorway for what seemed like forever, and he could've stayed there for another eternity.

Eventually, Edwin released him and held him by the shoulders, as Charles often did for him when he felt overwhelmed. "You're too good to be like your dad, Charles, and I will remind you every day if I have to."

And still, Charles seemed to be too overwhelmed to form words, but he nodded his, closing his eyes, and just allowed himself to lean against Edwin for a while.

Because even though Charles may never fully recover, and he'll never forget that fear, Edwin is there to remind him to not be afraid. After all, he's the best person Edwin knows, so he must be pretty great.

@aspiring-wildfire i saw your post abt edwin and charles' worst fears and something abt it just clicked so thanks for the inspiration :)

[icarustypicalfall]

Dangerously yours

Simon Ghost Riley

summary: "In the depths of his being, he eluded your grip. For the first time in an eternity, he allowed himself to pursue it, to chase after its essence, and to surrender his very core to its consuming power."

warnings: poetic?, sfw, simon is a mysterious man

notes: happy two months to this account!! tysm for everyone who helped me make it this far, ily <3

don't judge this fic, first time writing about our silly ghost, hope it matched his character.. I'd appreciate any advices about him <3

✧･ﾟ: *. ✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･.°•･ﾟﾟ・゜゜・．•

..We lay here for years or for hours,

So long we become the flowers..

The sky was dark, lightning struck through the clouds, and rainfall ensued. Simon nudged your side, urging you to move closer. There was no place where you and he felt more vulnerable and free than this hill, nestled deep in the forest, where the sky and ocean meet. You swung your legs lazily, gazing at the rocks and trees below in the piedmont. A sense of peace washed over you as you let your gaze roam amidst the tempestuous nature.

The ground felt harsh beneath your palms and tender flesh, yet you paid it little attention. It still offered more softness in some ways than the harsh reality that enveloped you and your teammates each day.

Droplets of rain began to pour, and neither Simon nor you moved an inch.

His face remained still, as it always did, concealing a raging war within his soul that only you had caught a glimpse of.

Even after all these years, you still managed to recognize the face beneath that mask. Countless times, you had brushed your fingertips against the tender skin of his face.

No words were needed; you had made a promise before unveiling the true nature hidden within his soul and heart.

Before joining the task force, you never realized the depth of silence's language. It was only after warming up to your cold lieutenant that you truly grasped this reality.

At first, Simon completely ignored you, pushing away that tightening feeling in his chest. He didn't want to form attachments. He yearned for your love more than his next breath, yet he was not prepared for the consequences that came with a relationship. It wasn't death he was afraid of; no, it was the thought of losing you.

He refused to acknowledge his feelings, choosing instead to watch over you from afar like the ghost he was. He observed you, maintaining a distance for his own sake. The mask on his face was a source of gratitude, concealing the chuckles that would arise when you acted smart with the captain or teased Johnny about his accent during dinner. Not to mention the countless pranks you and Gaz had shared, along the desk duty afterwards.

There was something special about you that he couldn't quite grasp. And for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to pursue it, to chase after it, and to let it consume his very being.

Just like when he trained rookies every Tuesday morning with you. You were always ahead, never once late. He admired that about you, along with the many other qualities that made you irresistible in the eyes of the stoic lieutenant.

He barked orders at the rookies, firm and precise, waiting for them to shoot and miss. It happened more than once, and he swore he would lose his mind over these thick-skulled soldiers who couldn't hit, for gid sake, a single unmoving target. You, on the other hand, gracefully moved between the rookies, like a poised zephyr, gently instructing and assisting the nervous ones and helping them avoid the angry man.

You and Simon were different, yet somehow the same mud, fitting together like puzzle pieces.

You were calm; an ocean of tranquility that concealed a past that nothing could erase.

Simon was calm; a dark sky that promised a raging storm to follow.

Simon was the shifting sands, always changing. You, on the other hand, remained constant. A loyal sergeant, "a collected lassie" as Johnny affirmed, "with a witty sense of humor", as Gaz added. Captain Price simply nodded, his gaze shifting from your figure training away from them to the Ghost standing nearby, who murmured softly, finally releasing something he didn't realize he would ever say. "And great eyes."

The captain understood. Years of serving alongside the Ghost had given him some insight into the man, not entirely, mind you, but enough to comprehend what troubled him.

Love, Attraction, Affection...

Words with which Simon was well-acquainted, he comprehended the concept of love, had experienced it, and had been loved in return.

However, it was not until that fateful day in Mexico, when you tended to his wounded abdomen in a safe house, disregarding your own injuries and focusing solely on his, that he truly grasped the profound meaning of the word. As your fingertips skillfully treated his scarred skin, he felt an indescribable sensation, causing goosebumps to rise.

Assuming his hand was on his heart due to a chill, you were unaware that his heartbeats were overpowering him, igniting an intense fire within his body. Embarrassed by this overwhelming surge of emotions, he made every effort to regain his composure, even as his mind raced with thoughts. After you finished patching his stomach, aware that the lieutenant would not say much, you stood up. But a firm grip on your wrist halted your departure, causing you to sit back down as instructed. "wait," he ordered firmly, yet you still felt a certain uncertainty and a faint plea in the word.

He removed his mask, discarding it carelessly. You were already familiar with his face, so it came as no surprise when his fatigued grey eyes met yours. A trickle of blood across his temple caught your attention, prompting a frown to appear on your face. "Are you injured?" you asked, scanning his head for any signs of damage, but finding none. Your hand instinctively reached out to cup his temple, wiping away the trace of blood from a tiny cut. "Here?"

He blinked, releasing a long sigh before taking hold of your hand. Anticipating that he would push it away, you were surprised when he instead brought it to his chest, allowing it to rest gently on the tattered remains of his black shirt, directly above his heart. In a husky whisper, his eyes locked with yours, he uttered, "Here..."

Simon Riley was a mysterious man, but you understood that there were limits to what you needed to know. You did not delve into his past, and he was immensely grateful for your discretion. Through your affection and care, you enveloped him in a love that made him truly comprehend its profound essence. His previous notions of love as a curse, afflicting unfortunate individuals and functioning as a poison that consumed their thoughts before leading them to their demise, were now replaced with a newfound understanding. You made him experience a love unlike any he had encountered before.

Simon's gentle nudge, firmer this time, brought you back to the present. He offered a weary smile, his once dark grey eyes now lighter since the time you began your relationship, meeting your gaze. Sensing his touch on your face, not forceful but enough to capture your attention, you felt his calloused fingers, marked by their service, trace across your cold, rain-kissed cheek. "You are beautiful," he murmured.

You had heard this phrase countless times before, whether from colleagues, friends, or past lovers. Yet, when it rolled off his tongue, it felt different. You nodded, acknowledging the sentiment and allowing it to infuse your soul with peace and affection.

He coughed, fidgeting with his free hand in his pocket. Resting your head on his shoulder, you basked in the warmth that radiated from him, embracing you tightly. Your hand trailed along his knee, lightly patting his wet, dark jeans. Taking a deep breath, you felt the rain wash away your sorrows.

Simon cupped your free hand, delicately sliding a familiar metallic band onto your finger. Your eyes widened in shock as you stared at the man beside you and the exquisite ring adorning your hand. The black diamond shimmered, and you would have wagered it cost more than your monthly paycheck. He smirked, whispering softly as he pressed his lips against your hand, now adorned with the piece of jewelry

"Yes?"

A cry escaped your lips as you tightly embraced him. You knew he smiled, his hand resting gently on your back, providing a comforting pat.

In choosing to spend another chapter of his life with you, he desired nothing more than to be with you for the remainder of this lifetime.

Every part of him felt incomplete, yet he willingly entrusted you with the fragment that he still possessed. He believed that you would vanquish the darkness that plagued his heart, allowing the radiance of love to fill his chest.

Like a gentle butterfly, you landed upon him, kissing his heart and soul, declaring it your eternal abode.

He did not require a metallic band to prove your connection, for you had known it long ago and had been living it ever since.

Nevertheless, he felt an irresistible urge to offer you something, a grateful whisper, a constant reminder, in case he did not return one day, or in case you needed to fend off unwanted attention. He wished to claim you as his own because he was dangerously yours.

MASTERPOST

𓆩♡𓆪 kindly like and rebelog 𓆩♡𓆪

[dragon-kazansky]

Symphony of dreams

Morpheus x Female Reader

Death has one more gift for Dream. A friend. A human who will deny death and live forever. Finding the claim amusing, Dream agrees to meet with this man every hundred years to see if he still wishes to live. You had faith in this man.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Warnings: First couple meet-ups are straight from the episode. Then Dream brings you along. Have fun passing through the centuries with your husband 🤭

Chapter Seven - Hob

☆☆☆

1389

The first time Morpheus met Hob, he was with his sister. He had long hair back then. It was around that time he met you. He had left you in The Dreaming to meet with his dear sister, Death.

She had something she wanted to show him.

"Was the girl not enough?"

Death smiles.

"You will come to love her, I promise. No, this is someone different. While I granted your companion immortality so she may spend eternity with you," Dream rolled his eyes, "this case is different."

They head inside the tavern.

He was sitting at a table. Morpheus could hear him quite clearly.

"Look, I've seen death. I lost half my village to the Black Death. I fought under Buckingham in Burgundy. It's not like I don't know what death is. Death is... stupid."

Morpheus was intrigued.

"Novody has to die. The only reason people die is... is 'cause everyone does it. You all just go along with it. But not me. I've made up my mind. I'm not going to die."

The other men at the table laugh at him.

"Hobs, death comes for every man."

"You don't know that."

Dream looks at his sister.

"I might get lucky. There's always a first time."

Or second, in this case. Death had already given you such a gift so he would never be alone. How silly.

"There's so much to do, so many things to see. Women to swive. Ale to drink. People to drink with."

"Why would any sensible creature crave an eternity of this?" Dream asks Death.

"You could find out."

"How?"

I could grant him his wish."

He knew it. Another you. Perfect.

"Do that, and he will be begging for death within a century." Dream says, amused. He was waiting for you to grow board in his realm, if he was honest.

"This will prove very interesting," Death smiles.

They both look at Hob.

"Are you gonna tell him, or should I?" She asks.

"I shall." Dream smiles slightly.

Morpheus appraiches the table. Leaves him to it. This was going to be very interesting indeed.

"Did I hear you say you have no intention of ever dying?" Dream asks the human.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's right."

"Then you must tell me what's it like. Let us meet here again, Robert Gadling. In this tavern of the White Horse in 100 years."

Dream looks up at his sister. She nods. He nods back.

"A hundred years' time, on this day?" Hob asks. Dream nods. "I will see you in the year of our Lord 1489, then." Hob smiles.

Dream walks away with a small smile.

Robert watches him go, confused.

☆☆☆

1489

"How did you know... that I'd still be here?" Hob asks, looking at the man he saw a hundred years ago. "Who are you? A wizard? A Saint? A demon?"

Dream looked at the other man.

"Have I made a bargain with the devil?"

"No."

"Then why aren't I dead long since?" Hob asks. "Is this kind of a game?"

"No game." Morpheus says, slightly amused. What he had with you had been a game of sorts. You won. In less than a hundred years in fact.

"But why? Who are you? Why are you here?"

"I'm here because I'm interested." Morpheus tells him.

"In me?"

"In your experience."

"What do I have to do?"

"Nothing. You love your life as you choose. Then, on this day, every 100 years, we will meet."

"Because you want to know what it's like."

A moment passes between them as Hob starts to understand.

"All right. I'll tell you what it's like."

Dream leans in slightly. He is so sure this man will beg for death.

"It's fucking brilliant."

That was unexpected.

"It's all changing."

"In what way?" Dream asks.

"Uh... Chimneys. Not having your eyes watering all the time from the smoke. And now we have these little cloth pieces for tour nose. In the old days, we just used our sleeves."

A man grunts from the next table over. He just lost a card game.

"Oh. And playing cards."

"What will you people think of next?" Dream says, not sounding too enthusiastic. He can almost hear your excitement, though.

"With any luck, something to get rid of fleas."

"But what have you been doing for the last hundred years?" Morpheus asks.

"Um... Same as before. Soldiering, mainly. A little banditry here and there if I couldn't find a war. Uh, but now, I've started in a new trade. It's called printing."

Morpheus looks at him. He's amused. "So you still want to live?"

"Oh, yes."

Dream stands. He looks at Hob.

"A hundred years then?"

"Oh, yes." Robert nods.

Morpheus leaves.

"You never told me who you are."

Dream does not answer.

☆☆☆

1589

"Who is he?" You ask. Your arm is looped with your husband's as you enter the tavern. It's been a while since you walked among the Waking World.

"A human who has no desire to die. Unless, of course, he has changed his mind this time."

"He is immortal?"

"Granted the same gift you were by my sister. You were given to me so I could love. This man is here so I can hear his experience."

You smile at Dream softly. "I see."

The pair of you pass a table where two men sit, one young than the other. He appears to be an admirer of the older gentleman. You only catch a glimpse of their conversation as you pass. Art and dreams.

It seems your husband heard too.

"My friend!"

You both look up to see a man sitting a table full of food. You look at Dream, who nods at you and takes you over to the table. He pulls out a chair for you and you sit down.

"Hello," the man says, looking at you.

"Hello."

Morpheus takes a seat beside you while the other man, who you presume is Hob, pours some wine.

"I didn't realise you were bringing a plus one."

"This is my wife," Morpheus states.

Hob looks surprised, yet amused. "Is that so?"

You offer him a smile in return.

"You've had good fortune, I take it?" Morpheus asks, getting straight to business.

"The gods have smiled on me as they smile on all England where no man is slave or bonds man."

Hob offers Dream some food. Dream doesn't take it.

"Let's see. Last we spoke, I was working for Billy Caxton. Made some gold from that. Put it to work in Henry Tudor's shipyards. I made a small pile. Then I went north for a year or so, came back as my son. Done that twice now."

Hob requests more wine from the girl nearby.

"When fat Henry had gone for the monasteries, I bought my estates, and a healthy gift of gold to the Crown saw to... a knighthood!"

You look between Morpheus and Hob. Your husband's expression does not change. He just sits there listening.

"That's not all. Here." Hob pulls out a framed painting. "My fair Eleanor and little Robyn. My first son born in over 200 years on this Earth, that I know of."

Hob chuckles softly. "It's funny. This is what I always dreamed Heaven would be like. Way back. It's safe to walk the streets. Enough food. Good wine. Life is so rich."

"God's wounds! If only I could write like you." You hear from behind you. To glance over your shoulder to see those two men you passed earlier.

The younger man is now standing and seemingly reciting a part of a play.

Dream is watching him.

You watch your husband quietly as you listen to man recite the play. People cheer when he finishes.

"I would give anything to have your gifts. To give dreams that would live long after I'm dead," the young man says to the other. "I would bargain like your Faustuas for that boon."

You smile softly.

He inspires to give others dreams. Now you understood why Dream was watching so intently.

"Who is he?" Morpheus asks, turning back to Hob.

"His name is Will Shaxberd. Acts a bit. Wrote a play." Hob explains.

"Is he good?"

"No, he's crap. Now, that chap next to him with the broken leg, he is a good playwright." Hob sees that Morpheus' attention is on the other table. "Anyway, I've saved the best bit for last. The Queen herself slept at my house this summer. That was expensive."

Morpheus holds his hand slightly to stop Hob from speaking. He then placed it on your shoulder as he rose from his chair. You watched him walk over to the other table. Morpheus began to speak with the other man, taking him away.

You turn back to Hob. He watches your husband walk away. You rise from the chair, his eyes flicker to you.

"Who is he?" He asks.

You simply smile and take your leave.

Until next time then.

☆☆☆

1689

You sit beside your husband, holding his hand. He smiles as you talk softly to him. He had grown his hair out again, and you were admiring how handsome he looked.

A ruckus had you turning away from him and looking up. Hob had been brought in looking worse for wear.

A hundred years ago, he had a fortune. Now he was without it.

"I knew you'd be here." Hob gulps from a goblet on the table and stuff his face with the food Morpheus had arranged for him. "Do you know how hungry a man can get? If he doesn't die, but he doesn't eat."

You glance up at Dream quietly. He's watching Hob.

"I lost it all. My land. My gold. My Eleanor. She died in childbirth. The baby, too."

You drop your gaze to the table. You couldn't even imagine losing Morpheus. You'd be beyond lost without him beside you.

"My boy, Robyn, died in a tavern brawl when he was 20. I didn't go out much after that. They tried to drown me as a witch. I'd lived there 40 years, overconfident. I got out with my skin a little more. And then it got worse. And worse and... worse. I've hated every second of the last 80 years, every bloody second, you know that?"

You look at Hob, still silently. Your husband gave nothing away beside you. You found yourself squeezing his arm a little bit for comfort.

"So do you still wish to live?" Dream asks.

Hob looks up at him, tears in his eyes. "Are you crazy?"

For a moment, Morpheus wonders. Has he finally changed his mind?

"Death is a mug's game. I got so much to love for," Hob says.

Morpheus' expression changes subtly. He looks... fascinated. Amused. Just slightly enough for you pick up on.

You smile softly.

Hob winks at you with a grin of his own.

All the while, you're all oblivious to the man upstairs sketching away.

☆☆☆

1789

"I heard something funny the other week," Hob says, sitting across from your husband. You were sitting between them at the small table.

"Bloke said to me, he said, 'If only the French nobles had played cricket with their men the way we do, they'd never have had this trouble.' You know, first the colonies, now France. You ask me, this country will be next for a revolution."

You listen to him talk.

"I've been salting my money away all over the world. Firet sign of trouble, I'll be out of here like that. In the meantime... I'm in the shipping business." Hob smiles proudly.

He had really come into himself again. Hob explains the business he's doing. You and Morpheus listen to him quietly. You narrow your eyes slightly as he explains. What they do does not sit right with you.

"Slavery?" You ask.

"It's a poor thing for one man to enslave another," Dream says, looking right at Hob.

Hob looks between you both. "It's just how it's done."

"I suggest you find yourself a different line of business, Robert Gadling," Morpheus says.

"You're giving me advice?" Hob sounds surprised. "After 400 years?"

"I would take it," you suggest. Hob glances at you.

"What happened to 'live your life as you choose?'" He asks.

"The choice is yours." Morpheus states. "But would you take that choice away from others?"

"I will consider your advice."

You smile at Hob. He looks pleased when he sees your approval. Your husband does not give him much, so when you show your approval, Hob takes it.

"I saw a production of King Lear yesterday," Hob changes the subject. "Mrs. Siddons as Gonreil. The idiots had given it a happy ending."

"That will not last. The great stories will always return to their original forms," Morpheus tells him.

"That lad, Will Shakespeare. He turned out to be a half-decent playwright after all." Hob smiles.

You glance at your husband with a small smile. Morpheus glances at you and then returns his gaze back to Hob.

"You made some kind of deal with him, didn't you?"

"Perhaps."

"What kind of deal? His soul?"

"Nothing so crude."

Hob chuckles. "Four hundred years now, I've been meeting you here, and there is so much I still don't know. Who are you? Truly? What's your name?"

Morpheus stares at him for a few moments. You almost think he's going to answer when someone comes down the steps and stands in front of your table.

The woman wears a long cloak, the hood pulled down.

"I might ask both of you that same question, gentlemen," she says. "Please, please, do not trouble yourselves to rise."

Two men join her.

"These are Michael and Tobias. Smugglers by trade. Although, they're only too glad to augment their earnings by slotting throats. If you move, they'll slit yours."

You glance at the two rugged men.

"They tell of a tale in these London parts that the Devil and the Wanderkng Jew meet once every century in a tavern."

Your companions glance at each other as she speaks. The woman then pulls out a sketch, dated a century ago.

"Is that meant to be me?" Hob asks. "Oh, I look terrible. You look worse," he jokes with Morpheus. You chuckle softly.

"You return to this pub every 100 years, striking bargains with men, sharing gifts, immortality, which you will now share with me." She says, looking right at your husband.

You feel your jaw clench slightly.

Jealously was not a colour you were used to.

"Well, have you nothing to say?"

"I am no Devil," Dream says.

"And I'm not Jewish," Hob adds.

"Fine. What manner of creatures are you then?" She asks.

"Who wants to know?" Hob asks back.

"I'm Lady Johanna Constantine. You will both follow me, sirs. My coach is without. I can see there is much you can tell me. So much I can learn."

"No."

You glance at your husband. He is staring at her with his ever stoic expression. He is so calm, so unworried.

You do not worry either. You know he will not let anything happen to either you or Hob.

"No, I think not."

Johanna allows the two henchmen forward with their knives drawn. You can not help but look to your husband in slight concern. One knife is pointed at Morpheus, the other right at Hob.

"Get up," one of them says.

The next moment, Hob throw tea up into one of their faces and smashes the cup into the head of the other.

Morpheus watches him. He does not move except to reach for your hand.

As Hob moves over to Constantine, she draws a knife of her own at him. Morpheus let's go of your hand and stands.

"Wait."

You watch as he pulls sand from his pocket and blows it at Constantine. She drops her knife and falls to her knees, muttering away. "No, not you. I'm sorry."

"What did you do to her?" Hob asks, inspecting her.

"She has old ghosts that I've shown to her." Morpheus explains.

Hob looks at him, thoughts clearly running through his head.

"You need not have come to my defence," Morpheus says to him.

"Clearly." Hob smiles. "Stull, I didn't want to be drinking alone here in 100 years' time."

Morpheus cracks a smile.

"I don't suppose you care to find another pub tonight?" Hob asks.

"She may have told others about our meeting. It will not be safe for you."

"I'm perfectly safe. I can't die, remember?" Hob grins.

"Aye. But you can be hurt or captured," Morpheus reminds him. "We must be cautious."

"Always."

You join your husband at his side and reach for his hand. Morpheus looks at you. He brings your hand up to his lips and kisses it softly.

Hob watches you both quietly.

You smile and lean in closer to your husband's side.

"A hundred years then?" Hob asks softly.

"A hundred years," Morpheus confirms. He then gently pulls you along to exit the pub.

Hob leaves in the other direction.

☆☆☆

1889

Morpheus has you on his arm as you both walked down the street. You were stopped outside of the pub by a young lady. She didn't seem to take much notice of you as she spoke to your husband, but Hob called her off you both when he came over. You followed Hob inside.

"Sorry about Lushing Lou."

"Lushing Lou. Is that what they call her?" Dream asks. You were all sitting down now.

"Well, in here, they call her 'The Hospital.'"

"Why?"

"Because she's in 'em a great deal, and becauses she's sent so many men into 'em." Hob explains. "No idea what her real name is."

"Lousie Baldwin. Her father was in the British army. Her cousin raped, impregnated and deserted her when she was just a child." Morpheus told him.

"How do you know all that?" Hob asks, looking at him.

"Your cup is empty. You need more wine," Morpheus dodges the question.

"You knew Lady Johanna. You know Lushkng Lou. You know everyone, don't you?" Hob points at him.

"We saw her again, you know."

"Who? Lady Johanna?"

"She undertook a task for me and succeeded admirably, I might add."

"That might be the only thing I've learned after 500 years," Hob says softly. "People are almost always better than you think they are. Not me, though. Stille the same as ever."

You chuckle softly.

"I think perhaps you've changed," Morpheus says with a slight smile.

"Well, I may have learnt a bit from my mistakes. But, uh... doesn't seem to stop me from making them."

Morpheus smiles slightly.

"I think ita you that's changed," Hob points out.

Morpheus stops smiling. "How so?"

"I think I know why we still meet here, century ayer century." Hob leans forward and his seat. You glance at your husband curiously. "It's not because you want to see whether or not km ready to seek death. I don't think I'll ever seek death. By now, you know that about me."

You look between the two curiously. Dream's expression has changed slightly.

"So, I think you're here for something else."

"And what might that be?" Morpheus asks him.

"Friendship," Hob says simply. "I think you're lonely."

"You dare..." Your husband speaks with a light warning tone. His aura has definitely shifted. You watch him carefully.

"No, look, I'm not saying-"

"You... dare suggest one such as I might need your companionship."

"Yes. Yes, I do."

Morpheus stands. "Then I shall take my leave of you and prove you wrong."

Hob stands. Before he can do anything Morpheus takes your hand and leaves the pub. You say nothing as you follow him, feeling bad for Hob.

You had assumed yourself that they were friends.

Morpheus leads you down the street, rsin now pouring down. Hob exits the pub and follows you.

"I'll tell you what, I'll be here in 100 years' time." Hob calls out. "If you're here then too, it'll be because we're friends. No other reason, right?'

Morpheus pays him no attention. He keeps hold of your hand as he marches away.

You dare not speak about what happened.

☆☆☆

1989

Hob arrives in the pub. He orders a drink and sits down. He is so sure Dream will show up. He's bound to come in with you on his arm. You and your cheerful smile, and your brooding husband.

Friends. They were friends even if Dream denied it. Maybe Hob will even get your names this time around.

He waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Neither you nor Dream come through the door. Hob wonders if Morpheus really meant what he said last time.

This was him proving he was wrong.

Robert feels a fool.

Meanwhile, the king of dreams is locked up in a glass prison down in a basement. And you are trapped in a long slumber, unable to wake without your husband.

Hob has no idea how his friend's are suffering. He is left to think their friendship is over.

☆☆☆

Which brings us to today. The New Inn. Unfortunately, the old pub has been closed down for a while. Supposedly it was going to be flats. All those years suddenly gone in the blink of an eye.

However, you had seen the sign on the fence. A smile on your face. You follow the direction it was leading to.

This new place was nice. You could definitely get used to meeting here. Perhaps more than once a century. You head inside and look around. He wasn't hard to find. You smile when your eyes land on Robert Gadling. He was working on some papers in front of him.

Slowly, you walk over to his table. You cough gently into your fist. Hob raises his head.

He smiles and stands up.

"It's you."

You nod. "It's me."

He looks behind you, searching. You know who he is looking for. You smile and get his attention back on you.

"He's on his way."

That's all Hob needed to hear. He gestures to the chair opposite him. You sit down and smile. He orders you a drink.

"I was worried when neither of you came last time," he confesses.

"We are sorry about that. There was a complication."

Hob seems to understand.

You talk with him for a while, waiting for your husband to arrive. You hope all went well with his sister. Hob does most of the talking between you, but you know he's saving the good stories for when Morpheus arrives.

A familiar hand settles on your shoulder and you smile. He is here.

"You're late," Hob says, smiling at the man behind you.

Morpheus chuckles softly. "It seems I owe you an apology. I've always heard it impolite to keep one's friends waiting."

You chuckle.

Morpheus pulls out the chair beside you and sits down. He takes your hand in his and Hob calls for more drinks.

You watch your husband as he listens to his friend. You smile.

Your Morpheus was back.

Happy wasn't enough to describe how that made you feel. He squeezed your hand gently. Everything was okay.

☆☆☆

@missdreamofendless - @mischievousvillainy - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy - @emarich7 - @lollipopsandlandmines - @mouth-whore -

[my-own-walker]

the jpm angst i'd like would have to be something about the reader leaving him ORRRRR james ( or the reader ) cheating? idk just some ideas!! <3

Not Strong Enough

note: sorry this took a sec! i am So Sleepy all the time rn

warnings: angst, talks of death and dying, feeling trapped in a relationship, JPM abandonment issues, sad themes of breaking up/leaving someone

+++

In the midst of life, we are in death. We see all who pass into the dwelling of death, never believing that we too, one day, will follow. We will all go with them and we have no control over when it may happen. But in special cases, we do.

We make small and big decisions every day that prolong our lives. We eat and drink because we choose to live. There are rules against driving under the influence and certain drugs because we want to live. Entire studies are done trying to find the secret to the longest life possible. We, at any time, have the power to make ourselves follow the others into the shadowy realm of death, yet we don't.

Why? It's uncertainty. We don't know what comes next. Life is far too precious to simply throw away, right? No one knows what comes next. Or if anything comes next. But I did.

I did. At least for the ghosts of the Hotel Cortez. The long-term residents, as they sometimes called themselves. They got to live on. And for some time, it gave me a strange sense of home.

When James and I began our relationship, he kept me on a short leash. I knew the truth all along. He was dead, eternally living in his state, bound to the very place he built. It seemed lonely. He wanted me to be in the hotel as much as humanly possible so that I could be with him. I moved into his suite.

All of this, though, to get me used to the place. I was kept from seeing the world so that I wouldn't miss it when he decided to finally kill me. Bound to him forever. Mates until our souls float off.

I knew what death would be for me. And I wanted so badly to do it for him. I loved him so much that I was willing to decide to shuffle off this mortal coil and into the forever purgatory of the hotel. But it simply became too much to bear. For, I had a family. A life before James. A love for meadows and trees and fresh-picked tulips. Running my hands along sun-bathed painted wood and cute wild animals.

In my time away from the hotel, that is where I would go. Anywhere with nature, untouched by man, touched by the beauty of flora and fauna staking their claim.

I couldn't make that decision. I couldn't die for him. I was not strong enough to be able to live, but not fully. See the world but through musty windows and the stories of passing guests.

James and I had dinner together every night. I sat across from him and dreamed of our life together. That began to fade, though. Rationality kicked in. The rose-colored glasses I had been seeing him through shattered. He loved me, but he wanted to control me. It was too much to bear.

+

I looked at him through the flames of the candles in the center of the table. He was looking down, eyes focused intensely on the task at hand. His brow was furrowed. He held a cigarette between his teeth and his silver lighter in his hand. It reflected the flickering lights of the flames onto the ceiling as he wielded it.

It made me sad to think that this would be the last time I would be doing this with him. I still loved him. But it made me even more sad to remember why it all had to stop. James took his first drag and puffed the smoke up into the air.

'You look unwell, dear,' he spoke, looking at me through his brow. 'Is everything alright?'

'Not exactly,' I muttered, casting my gaze down.

'Whatever is the matter?' he pried, sitting forward slightly in his chair.

'I'm not entirely sure how to say this,' I began, 'but, I'll be forthright with it. This is no longer working for me, James.'

'What isn't working for you?' he asked in reply.

'This,' I gestured grandly. 'All of this. I know what you want from me, and I love you, I do. But, I can't live like this. I need to leave.'

A dark expression came over his face. Then, one of sadness. He sat back in his chair and looked down at the table, flipping his lighter in his fingers, then tapping the table with it.

'I know you can make me stay,' I continued. 'You make this problem go away by killing me right now, but that's not what I want. And I have to trust that you'll respect my wishes.' I wasn't scared of him. He had told me time and time again that he only wanted what was best for me.

James looked like he was weighing his options. He didn't speak for a while, didn't even look up to meet my eyes.

'You are the love of my life, Y/N,' he said, finally. His voice cracked, and when he looked up at me, there were tears in his eyes. 'You cannot leave me.'

I stood and walked to his side of the table. James' eyes tracked me as I walked across the space. I stood just next to him, looking down at his crying form. I had never seen him like this. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around his head and pulled him into my chest. It was an embrace we both needed.

He sniffled into me, burying his head into my dress.

'My love,' I cooed.

'I know what I need to do, but I can't do it,' he cried.

My stomach dropped. His intent was to kill me. My mind raced with ideas of ways to escape without him finding me. I separated myself from him and began to back away calmly.

'I need to let you go,' he uttered up at me. He stood and smoothed the front of his suit, then rubbed his eyes. 'I don't know why I am the way I am.

'Wh-what?' I stammered, steeling myself where I was standing. Was this a trick?

He stepped toward me and placed a hand on my cheek. 'I have a sick need to kill, and a sick need to control people. I love you too much to hurt you,' he explained lowly. 'I can't condemn you to a life like mine.'

Tears sprang to my eyes. I couldn't believe what was happening. I wanted him. I wanted to be with him and love him forever. But that simply wasn't in the cards for the dead man and the girl who loved life and living.

'James,' I whispered. He pulled me into a tight embrace. The cradling kind that enveloped me in his warmth. 'I'm sorry,' I spoke into his chest.

'There is no need for apologies, dearest. I understand,' he murmured. He pulled back and held me at arm's length, taking me in one last time. 'Go.' He placed a kiss on my forehead and let go of me.

'I love you,' I said before turning away to walk out.

'I love you too,' he replied, his voice breaking yet again. 'And, Y/N?' I spun on my heel to face him. 'Don't ever come back here. I won't be able to control myself. Just, don't forget about me.'

I didn't answer. instead, I walked out of his suite's door, into the hallway, then into the elevator, and out of the lobby. As I stepped into the sunlight, I couldn't help but feel like I made the right decision. But a nagging feeling missed James more than I could handle.

+++

Don't you love when I wax poetic in my posts? I get so silly goofy talking about life and death all deep-like. LOLZ

[butmakeitgayblog]

Can you write awtr and break our hearts over and over again with Clarke knowing full well what she signed up for when she chooses to be Lexa’s wife? Did Lexa ever wish that she could spare Clarke the heartache of becoming an eventual widow? 💔

Of course she did 🥺

From the beginning it was always Lexa who assumes this thing between them is finite.

That's basically how the proposal comes about.

Because earlier in the day when she'd been talking to Gus and he had brought up the subject of Clarke, their conversation had come to a rather acrimonious end because she already knew everything he was trying to say. And so when she meets Clarke at the diner and they share a salad (her choice) and a shake (Clarke's 😏🙄), it's with every intention to get everything out on the table. They've had a great summer together but things are winding down now and she knows what part of their story has to come to next.

Except... When she asks when Clarke is planning on heading back to school, says she hopes she hasn't been dragging her feet with it because she's heard that grad classes fill up fast, Clarke just smiles and looks at her like she's gone crazy because, "Lex, I'm not going back."

Which is insane. Because of course she is. Because she's worked too hard to just give up now. Because she'd thought Clarke was over this self sabotaging act and gotten serious about what she wants in life. And, ok yes they've been slacking on her early studies the last couple of weeks what with all of The Sex, but it's not like Clarke will actually be behind when she gets there—

It takes Clarke roughly 4 sighs and sitting through the tirade with a level of patience she generally doesn't possess to get Lexa to shush up long enough to explain, "I'm not quitting, baby, I'll go back eventually. But I've already talked to my advisor and gotten everything in order... I'm taking a year long break from school. I'm staying here with you."

Dismay is Lexa's first reaction. Because how can Clarke say that and still be looking at her so lovingly?

Feeling sick to her stomach is her second reaction, though to be fair that might in part have to do with the half quart of milkshake she'd just ingested.

Crying, wanting to cry. That is her third reaction. Because Clarke can't do this. She can't throw away everything she's worked for just for h— Just for this.

But Clarke, stubborn and exasperatingly bullheaded Clarke apparently has very much thought out how she wants her life to go. So she sits Lexa down at 'their' table at Gus's and tells her in no uncertain terms what she plans.

"I want to marry you. I'd do it tonight if I could, but I'm fairly sure that's unrealistic. But whatever you decide, whenever you decide, I need you to know that I want this with you. The sooner, the better," she says with zero hesitation. And it's such a surreal moment for Lexa.

This girl who Lexa had spent the better part of her life pining over on so many of her loneliest days, the girl who'd eternally felt so far out of reach and who'd never give Lexa the time of day, is telling her she wants her. That she wants to be with her for as long as she can have her, in sickness and in health, however long of each that may be. Telling her that it wouldn't matter if they had a day together or a year, or ten years, or twenty more after that waiting for them down the line. That she'd still want to marry her. Right here, right now. Telling her that marriage and commitment isn't about getting a 'good' or 'bad' deal out of things because she knows by those standards, she'd always be fighting a losing battle. But for her, being with Lexa, it's about wanting to be bonded to her forever. To put in the work of loving and caring for her right up until the... Till the end...

Nothing else in the world matters. Everything else feels so small compared to them. And even when faced with the reality that if they do this, if Lexa says yes and that she will be a widow within a year, Clarke doesn't seem to have to think at all about her answer.

"I know what it means. And it doesn't change anything for me. I know what I want, Lexa... I want you."

And for Clarke, it really is that simple.

Lexa never had a chance of arguing with that.

[nefkyo]

This is a wip of a personal project. Please note the tags before reading:

dream smp lore, post Doomsday era, implied character death, implied suicide, necromancy, crimeboys mope around in Limbo, mild description of a panic attack, mild description of body horror, miscommunication, tntduo is real, tntduo family who cheered, avian Quackity, ram Tubbo, Quackity is trans because I believe he can do anything

this is for @werenotacoupleyesyouare.

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

Faint footsteps echo towards him. He's back from his light jog in the tunnel that loops into itself. He heard him get frustrated fifteen minutes ago but didn't say anything. "Hi again" he says. Even in Limbo, Tommy comes back after arguing with him, sits down next to him and gives him the silent treatment. But at least he's sat down. Does nothing he says ever sting enough? No, never enough. Nothing is ever enough to drive him away, far away enough. Not even a kind invitation to never return. "I have to tell you something about the Overworld, Will." Tommy starts, only to be cut off as usual. "I've already told you, I don't want to know whatever you have to say when you start off like that." "It's really big." Tommy looks up at him, or at least in his general direction, and for a brief moment he sees a sort of pity gloss over those blank orbs. It irks him. "I *really* don't want to know, then." he groans.

"But- How are you not even a little bit curious?"

"With the way you're looking at me, I'd rather keep whatever dignity I have left through ignorant bliss."

"H- That's nothing like you."

"Yeah, well, maybe I've changed."

"You have."

He quickly diverts his eyes back towards the train tracks. Still, cold, unforgivingly grey and dirty. "Will you tell me anyway if I say no?" Wilbur asks, he has before, and he shakes his head, he has before. "Good. Because you told me that it's a secret you were told to take to the grave." he continues. Tommy perks up then, "See?" he says, a knowing smile "That's why I should be able to tell someone else that secret now, especially you!" "You know that's not how the saying is supposed to be interpreted. It doesn't matter how important it could be, Toms," he mumbles into the pitch black horizon, "once you tell me, what would I be left to do about it? I'm dead, we're dead. I'd just spend eternity asking you why you didn't keep your mouth shut." "Yeah, but--" "Just forget about it." Tommy makes a series of noises out of frustration and then stands up, arms crossed, as he starts wandering around again. Wilbur is starting to get tired of watching him do this every time, especially with the way he phases through the shadows of the platform like nothing. "That's such bullshit! How am I supposed to forget?" "By talking about something else?" "No! It's- If anything, it's the evil shit you've been saying lately that makes it harder to choose!" "I haven't said anything necessarily "evil" lately." Wilbur shrugs, angering the blond again. It doesn't take much. "You're constantly praising Dream!" he exclaims, "you praise him, the bastard who took our lands and killed me when I tried to avenge you!" "You weren't avenging me Tommy, we both know you were in Pandora's Box to mock him and avenge yourself." Wilbur corrects him as if he'd seen the whole scene himself. He hasn't, but he got the crude details narrowed down. "Besides, if he's got this necromancy thing down, you have to give him some credit." "Well he probably fucking doesn't, it's been three months! I feel it on my skin!" "Yeah, I know." "And he has not revived me, the green bitch, so my point still stands! A-And you wouldn't feel the same about him if I told you The Thing!" Tommy defends, but once again, Wilbur refuses to hear whatever The Thing. "I'm just saying, if Dream has all this arcane power at his fingertips, then I see him in a new light. I'd be honored to pick his brain at this time." "You would NOT." Tommy groans, but he sits back down.

"...Is The Thing going to make me angry?" he asks suddenly. Tommy nods, his eyes would light up with surprise if there was any life behind them. "Probably." "Is it going to make me hate Dream like before?" "Maybe. Not directly, at least." Wilbur thinks about it for a hard, long minute before he answers. "Fine, tell me." he sighs. Tommy seems to make some mental gymnastics beforehand, then, when he feels ready, he speaks. "I know you and Quackity were dating during Pogtopia, he told me. And... He laid an egg a few days after you died."

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

Wilbur is stunned into silence, frozen in place as the information makes its way to his brain. Not the first part of the information, of course, who cares about that. "Are you..." he stammers, "...Are you serious?" "Yeah, uh... Yours, obviously. The egg." Tommy shrugs, but this is not a casual matter at all. "I promised Big Q I wouldn't tell anyone you were the father, but you should know. She was doing ok the last time I saw her, she looks like you." "She? I-It hatched, the egg hatched?" "Yeah." "Is she healthy?" he asks, his voice constricts in his throat, and Tommy just nods quietly. It takes him a long time to accept that information. He repeats it under his breath, over and over. "A daughter. I have a daughter." he whispers, and Tommy just stares ahead as usual. Tommy touches the back of his head uncomfortably, where the gash that killed him sits in its crimson glory. "Quackity told her about you, showed her pictures of L'Manberg and everything, but... Y'know, more in a symbolic way, she probably doesn't actually know anything." "So..." he hesitates. It's like someone just tossed his brain onto the train tracks. "...So that whole story you told me about Quackity starting that project, the casino, that was a lie then?" "Oh no, I didn't lie about that. He really was building a casino last I saw him." Tommy says. "He called it Las Nevadas." "Yeah, he.. He told me that's what he would've called it." his voice dies out. Wilbur thinks about Quackity, what he could look like now. Their daughter, their daughter must be a little lady now. Does he make her play in the casino? Does she deal cards with him? "When *did* you guys start dating anyway? Like, before the elections or during Pogtopia?" Tommy breaks his thought patterns suddenly. "Because I'll remind you, *you* were the one saying not to fraternize with other candidates at the votes and I will never let you live it down." "Shut up," Wilbur sighs in response, and he knows he would usually smile at this kind of tease, but he doesn't. Even if the images of those times still make something bloom in him. "We started dating *during* Pogtopia, after the festival fiasco. We'd watch over Tubbo together, console each other, as usual. It just felt different that time around." he mutters.

"Dude, ew. Tubbo was unconscious and you were kissing in there?!"

"No- No no no, what? We didn't kiss in his room, we just- we talked about it, our feelings. *Then*, after he recovered, we kissed. Completely separate occasion."

"Right. I'm gonna believe that for the sake of my sanity."

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

So Tommy is now stuck answering whatever Wilbur may ask about her, about this kid nobody has ever seen more than once or twice. But when he's voluntarily about to tell him her name, Wilbur orders him not to. "Are you sure?" Tommy says, but he's already moved on to other questions.

"Does she have brown eyes?"

"I don't know, I only saw her while she was sleeping."

"So how could you tell if she was healthy if she wasn't awake?"

"Well, Quackity would've probably said if she was sick with something."

"Did she ever chirp like a duckling?"

"She did a few times."

His baby girl, nuzzled in the arms of her father, chirping in her sleep. He can't picture her, but he wants to. "Does he miss me?" he asks suddenly. "Quackity. Does he miss me?" "Well... I think he did. He was skittish of other people, he didn't really want to talk about you much. He didn't even want Phil seeing her." "Phil doesn't know about her?" Wilbur jumps up a little, and Tommy tilts his head slightly. "I think he's seen her at least once. He doesn't know that she's yours, Quackity didn't tell him." "Why?" Wilbur asks, but then he stops and thinks about it. Of course.

There's another stretch of silence. Wilbur sighs heavily and thinks on how everyone knows about a child that he can't even picture. "Do you... Do you think that I could've been a good father?" he asks with wishful thinking on his tongue. "Yeah, you wish! You couldn't even keep yourself alive, man." Tommy chimes with another tease. But after staring out into the dark for another long few minutes, he shrugs. "Maybe. Maybe you could've been." "Ouch." Wilbur smirks briefly then, only then. They're both contemplating a thousand different thoughts a minute.

"Would I have gotten to see her if I'd lived?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Did he hate me when I...?"

"Oh yeah, a lot." he nods. "He screamed a lot, then he went quiet and didn't say anything about you again." he actually turns to look at him - in his general direction at least - and with a voice below a whisper, with that same, angering pity in his eyes all over again, "Why didn't you tell him?" he asks. "I get that you didn't tell me what you were going to do, but him? Why didn't you tell him if you loved him so much?" he feels the faint taste of bile, just for a split second, before he replies with a very weak excuse. "Because I knew that if I did..." He sighs. Now he sees why he and Tommy keep secrets from each other, why they don't want to hurt each other with the truth. "...I knew that he'd never let me die. He would've done anything to keep me alive, and my brain was so set on it, so sure that I *needed* to die. He would've gotten in my way, just like you always did. And I couldn't do that to him, to you, to anyone else."

He remembers it. The night he had a breakdown so violent he almost told him his plans, thinking he was about to die from rabies anyway. In the dark, damp tunnels, pain stinging in his trembling arm, bite marks and blood and a sensory overload. Quackity held him up and looked at him with eyes of horror and repressed despair and kept telling him "It's ok, it's gonna be ok, it was just a wolf," while disinfecting the wound, pressing hard on the gauze. He looked at him and said "Q, I'm so sorry, I--" but before he could find the word that came after that "I", he froze. He couldn't tell him. So he said "I'm scared", which wasn't really a lie, and Quackity held him through that too.

Wilbur sighs as he snaps himself out of it. "Could you tell him that I'm sorry?" he mumbles. "If Dream finally decides to stop playing games and bring me back to life?" Tommy asks "Sure. But how would I let you know what he said?" "I don't need to know." Wilbur replies quickly, then, after a pause, his brother nods. "Ok."

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

A week, maybe a month, maybe an hour later, a train came to the station and actually stopped. Wilbur was sleeping on the floor as usual when the screech of gears and wheels halting startled him awake. He looked up, at the opening doors, at the bright lights inside the car, and he felt this faint rise in his stomach, this feeling that told him exactly where the train was headed. And he must admit, he got excited. A tall, long figure stepped out, a blank face in a dark green cloak walked past him and grabbed Tommy, whose blind eyes darted around in confusion. "Wilbur?" he said, he spoke and Wilbur said "Toms?" with the same tone. "Wilbur, I think he's taking me back!" he exclaims, but he doesn't sound happy at all. "That's ok, I'm right behin--" he tries to stand up as he says it, but a force he can't explain, a pull keeps him seated. He can't go, of course he can't go. He doesn't deserve to go. So he starts again, trying to use that same voice of enthusiasm. "That's great Tommy, that's great! Be careful out there, don't come back here too soon!" he tries to joke, but Tommy doesn't seem glad to hear his voice so far away, to not *see* him when they're just a step from each other. The tall figure keeps a thin hand on the back of Tommy's head. "Will, I'll find a way to make you come back too!" "Don't do that, Tommy, don't try that!" he warns, but Tommy doesn't seem to be listening anymore already. The train doors start closing, one by one, now Tommy isn't even looking around anymore, he's frozen, catatonic. That's when Wilbur realizes, "TOMMY! You didn't tell me her name! Tommy! Tell me her name!" he screams, his voice rasps and the figure, the long, tall, white face in a dark green cloak puts a finger to his mouth to shush him, though it has no lips of its own. "TOMMY, HER NAME!" he begs, he feels as heavy as the day he died. Tommy mouths something, his lips quiver and make a word but the shrill of the metal doors makes it unintelligible. Then, the train departs. Wilbur feels a gust of wind, of life, trailing behind those giant tin cans that just took his brother back to the land of the living. And then it's gone.

All that's left is an empty train station. Nothing but dust on the track, and the echo of the train's wheels as it leaves the tunnel. Wilbur is alone again. That's what makes it hurt the most, really—he was right there! He had a chance, even the smallest, slimiest chance in hell, that he could've seen his own kid. That he could've kept Tommy safe with him too. Now it's gone. All that he has left is to wait, once again, for the wheels that will bring them all back together. Time is never kind to souls that refuse to move on. Wilbur has lost track, how long has he been here? That's another thing he should've asked him, isn't it ? He can think about a moment in time, remember something about himself on the surface and use it as a measurement, but those memories are all slowly fading away. Maybe that's for the best, he can't keep thinking about the people he knows, can't look back if he wants to move forward, so he waits. He waits, he waits, he waits. One day is another, and another, and another.

The train comes again. This time he's not weighed down by anything, by anyone, but he doesn't want to get on. The long, tall figure with a blank face in dark green cloak walks out, dragging from the scruff a pathetic, limp soul. He throws him out onto the pavement, a ghost that looks exactly like him. They stare at each other and they feel so terrified of the other. They can't tell who is more person, but now there's this twisted realization in both of them, that they're not the original. He tries to say anything to him, but he can't, and he doesn't either. And once they're done stalling, trading places, the figure begins to drag him in. "Wait, wait! H-he's part of me, let me get him!" he protests, but the figure doesn't let him. Some things must be sacrificed. The ghost sits in his place and looks at him with neon blue tears brimming in his eyes. As the doors close, he knows he has the other's mission now, just not what it is. He stares into the mirror image of himself, his face hollowed out from burn scars along his cheeks. It's the same in everything other than that. The way he sits, the way he slumps. He frowns, but he's not mad, really. It's just a part of him that will carry out this burden. It'll have to, whether he likes it or not. The train rumbles to a start again, he waves at himself, he waves back faintly but starts sobbing loudly soon after, almost louder than the train's screams. There's this understanding between them that they are not the same person, they could never have been, and this switch was bound to happen, whether the other thought he'd done enough up there or not. So, cheers to the other guy. Everything goes dark as they enter the tunnel, darker than death has been so far. The figure puts a thin hand on his back and he hates it, he hates it so much.

Time passes incredibly fast, all at once, faster than Limbo, faster than life. He feels vertigo pull his body in all directions, pulling his neck backwards, his chest forward, his back up, his legs down. For the first time in such a very long time, pressure enters his body. His body has depth. He sees a light, ironic, oh so ironic that he wants to go towards it but instead feels himself being pulled away from it. He fights the current, the figure stares, unaffected. He pushes through the barrier, the train shakes and rattles and screeches. He doesn't dare look.

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

The cold, dewy air of an April's early morning fills his lungs. Lungs, he has those. He has to get used to that feeling again before he opens his eyes. His head spins, his whole body hurts like hell. Air shudders out of him violently, like a spring has just jumpstarted the valves in his system and now he's feeling the reebot. He tries to move his arms and legs, and he succeeds, but the pain that shoots through his body makes it hard to enjoy the discovery. Every joint and bone screams at him, every suture. Suture? He lifts his hand, tentatively, carefully to his eye. Stitches. Along his wrists, the creases of his fingers, his legs, his ankles. He's been pieced back together into a single string of flesh. By who? He knows who. He doesn't care, for now. For now he's alive. He groans, and for the first time in over a decade he hears his voice without echo, he can feel heat around him, his nerves are full of blood. His body aches in places that he didn't even know could hurt, but maybe he's never been more glad. And he's laying in front of a small altar, a memorial to his name, literally. Strangely enough he can still read, and his name is written at the bottom of the marble. There are drapes of the old L'Manberg flag hanging unceremoniously over his date of birth, flowers - mostly wilted - have been left beside pictures of him. And a single, still lit lantern sits near his boots. His boots? It's strange, but he's almost certain this isn't how he was dressed when he died. He uses the flat marble surface to hoist himself up again, the weight of his own body might make him throw up if he thinks about it too hard. He glances all around. Everything is empty, quiet—like a museum. Except it's not, this looks more like a rocky pit overgrown with nature. He groans aloud, the pain is excruciating but he tries to focus on the sights around him. His body wants to shut down once more, but despite the overwhelming weight of the world that's bearing down on him, he can't let his mind slip away again. He must keep going. He stands up, head bobbing slightly. This doesn't feel like any afterlife or secondary plane, it feels like the Overworld. It just *feels* like it. He stares up, he looks as far as he can squint, at the hills of exposed rock covered in dew and moss. These are ruins alright. He wants to laugh, but he just sneers. Someone built him a memorial over the ruins of what he destroyed, it's like making a plaque for the potted plant that fell on the pavement and made a crack, except the potted plant was him, and the crack was more of an abysmal crater. He squints at the ruins in front of him, everything is still and silent. Not one sound but the wind. Not one person but himself. It's all here in front of him, in this broken down splinter of what used to be L'Manberg. There's a sense of finality in the air, but it's not sad, it feels like an ending. He feels the air chill his breath and the cold ground underneath his feet. But it's a different feeling from what he was experiencing when he was dead.

Not anymore, apparently.

He hears those footsteps behind him, hurrying, running on stone and wood. Two, no, three people, and at least one other creature. He turns around in time to find himself smiling at a horrified Tommy, a very drained, jittery Tommy, with a blue sheep on a leash, and then Tubbo and... An Enderman in a suit. Tommy walks towards him carefully, maybe a little cathartically, like one walks up to a heaving rabbit they just shot with an arrow. "Oh, you fuck." "Hello again." he says, and he can't help laugh at his little audience. Tommy is looking *at* him, and he's cussing him out, it's just like the old times. Nothing's changed! Well, besides everything else. "Hi Wilbur!" Tubbo waves from the back of this posse - when did he get so tall?! "Is... is this real?" he asks, breaking the teethering tension. "Yeah. Where's Ghostbur?" Tommy asks back, and he can't answer that. He was expecting anything, a 'Welcome back', a clear indicator that he was anywhere near missed, but instead he's asked where the other guy is. The better version, he imagines. "Oh, he's... He took my place in Limbo." the words just sort of slip out of him. "He WHAT?? How do we get him back??" "I-I don't know, I just got here! I'm back." he shrugs as he speaks, like this was supposed to be obvious. He's still taking everything in, glancing at the blue sheep and the enderman, still mostly paying attention to the sound of his breathing and the feeling of the solid ground underneath his feet. So *real.* "You're supposed to act at least a little bit happy to see me." he mutters. "W-We are." Tommy forces out, but he doesn't want to move towards him any further. "So why aren't you coming here? Hey, it's me! It's me, man!" "I-I didn't think you'd-- trade places with him. I thought you'd be all in one piece together. I didn't even have a ghost, why'd you split?!" "I-I don't know." and Wilbur really doesn't know, but it feels weird not to lie anymore. "Tommy, we just got him back, can you guys not complain about each other already?" Tubbo chimes in, sliding past Tommy to walk over and hug Wilbur. It's an instant regret. It feels strange, uncomfortable, irritating like a stubble rash. But Tubbo's heart is in the right place, so he lets him. He instigated it anyway. Then the sheep tries to sniff his leg. "Oh god don't tell me I have to hug the sheep as well" was not a thought, or sentence in general, that Wilbur ever thought he'd hear himself saying, but thankfully he doesn't have to. "That's Friend," Tubbo says as he steps back "Ghostbur befriended it and we- we thought he'd be here, so we were gonna take it to him." he hears a faint and shy "and I'm Ranboo..." from behind Tommy. "Yeah that's Ranboo. They're here too." Tubbo nods, taking Friend's leash to hand it over to the creature. "...Charmed." Wilbur says, a little too focused on the other matters at hand and, quite frankly, a little unsure whether he can look them in the eyes or not.

"Y'know, you look like you haven't aged." he tells Tubbo as they accompany his out of the caved in rock. "Really? I reckon I actually look different, like, my horns came in, fuckin' finally. Didn't you notice?" he asks when he puts his head down to show him. A set of horns, already scratched in. "I mean, yeah, I did. Looking good." "Thanks bossman." "It's just... I thought you'd be... Older, older than... This." Tommy and Tubbo share a glance, then look back at him. "How long have I been dead?" he has to ask the two. He has to ask before he starts moving his legs in any direction and he doesn't stop, it's getting hard to sit still. "About a year and a half." Tommy says something finally. "A year?! A year and a half??" he spits out. "A fuckin' lot's happened, Will, and I need you to promise that you're not gonna say some weird shit about Dream being cool or--" but Wilbur is too busy laughing incredulously at how little time has passed since he died. "A year and a half, are you kidding?? I was dead for thirteen and a half years, Tommy!" "I- No, Will. You weren't dead that long, it's just a Limbo thing."

He stares at them both, his smile evaporating, his breath catching. "No, there's no way. I feel so... I feel jaded, jaded and stuffy, Tommy!" There's no way he was only gone for so little time, it's impossible. He could swear on his life that he was alone for so much longer, there's no way his own memory could deceive him like this. But Tommy looks almost the same as when they last saw each other in Limbo, Tubbo's just a little taller than before. It's the landscape, that's what really changed. He can feel the rushing of wind from nearby cracks in the stone, he can feel the need to look through them. "I mean, no offense, you look older than you're supposed to be..." Tubbo says, cocking his head slightly. "Did you know you've got white hair?" "I got white hair too, after I was revived." Tommy points out. Wilbur hasn't even had the chance to think about a mirror, he's just wandering off, staring out into the sky, the blooming dawn. If he's not thirteen years older, then his daughter, who's out there somewhere, isn't a teenager. She might still need him. Quackity might still need him. His soles find a step and he stares down at a sea of glass. If regret needed a preview, it would look like what's underneath it. "Is this L'Manberg?"

[twig-tea]

4, 10, 14

ohoooo this is a kind one

4. Long Term Pining

Now. This is very kind of you. You know how I feel about pining. Here's a list of faves in which the pining is significant in length and significant within the story; I'm going to put these in order of length of time. Please notice that we're starting in high numbers, because my men know how to pine (and I probably even missed some because my men do be pining):

La Pluie (Patts: 7 years)

Our Dating Sim (Lee Wan and Ki Tae: 7 years)

Cornered Mouse Dreams of Cheese (Wataru: 7 years + years the film spans)

Old Fashioned Cupcake (Togawa: ~8 years)

His (Shun and Nagisa: ~8 years?)

Lovely Writer (Nubsib: (~8 years?)

Minato's Laundromat (Shin: 10 years)

Tokyo in April Is....(Ren and Kazuma: 10 years)

My DNA Says Love you (WenWen: 10 years)

The Warp Effect (Army: 10 years)

Cherry Blossoms After Winter (Tae Sung: ~12 years)

The Untamed (Lan Zhan: 15 years)

Your Name Engraved Herein (Jia Han and Birdy: 33 years)

Something In My Room (Phat: ~40 years)

I Feel You Linger in the Air (Yai: ~60 years/a lifetime? if we count the book as canon, two lifetimes)

Dear Doctor I'm Coming for Soul (Tuapee: ~130ish years [~30 years + additional lifetimes, has to wait 100 years or something like that before they can be in the same reincarnation cycle so I'm assuming that holds])

Midnight Museum (Khatha: ~200+ years)

Guardian (Shen Wei: 10,000+ literal years)

[Ones I wasn't sure of length on offhand so I might be wrong that they're too short for the above list--anyone feel free to let me know if you do: Bad Buddy, Kabe Koji, You're My Sky. Also mentioning Eternal Yesterday here because we see Mitsuru at the end after 5 years still pining but it's implied he'll never stop for the rest of his life]

A couple of bonus GL additions (because the girls be pining too):

Fragrance of the First Flower (~15 years)

Legend of Yunze (~1000 Years)

10. Bodyguard

I answered this once, so I'll go for a GL this time:

You Yi and Yan Wei in Couple of Mirrors. Assassin as bodyguard is only extra if people aren't trying to kill you. You Yi is saved so many times by Yan Wei that I don't care whether it's strictly canon. Also, LOOK AT THEM

I know I keep choosing censored Chinese outings for this prompt but honestly is anyone doing it like them???? My other option was going to be PingXie from The Lost Tomb series. Listen, I did enjoy Where Your Eyes Linger, Never Let Me Go and KinnPorsche, but I'd argue the bodyguards in all of those series were not particularly good bodyguards lol

14. Sunshine/Sunshine

There are some wonderful sunshines in BL! I think all of my faves have been written about so I'm just going to throw the first five that came to mind here and try not to think about the ones I'm definitely missing:

Daisy and Intouch from Secret Crush on You

Mork and Tawan from My Ride

Cake and See Eiw from My Only 12%

Key and Chen from Boys' Lockdown

Aki and Haru from Let's Eat Together Aki and Haru

+bonus GL

Pearl and Alex from Pearl Next Door

Link to the original ask game post!

[dream-meister-translations]

FLUTTERING FLOWERS ASAHI - VOICE COLLECTION

━

"The scars of war are slowly fading away. People can enjoy festivals without worry again. Peace is the most precious thing."

"The annual festival is here! Let's work together to make it a memorable event for all!"

"Why don't you take a rest here? I've prepared some cold sweets, let's split them in half."

"There's no doubt that this year's Hundred Flowers Festival will be even more lively than usual. I am a little worried about my performance though…"

"Listen to the sounds of festival music! Everyone is smiling and having fun together!"

"It's a waste of time to sleep. Even more so when you are near me. I want to enjoy the scenery all day!"

"Forget everything else right now. Just for this moment…Would you take my hand?"

"I have to work hard to make this festival a success."

"Dancing in the evening, lured in by the night breeze, it sounds wonderful. Let's go! The festival has just begun!"

"There are a lot of people here, so I'm gonna need you to stay as close to me as you can today."

"It was a pleasure touring with you. If I could do it again next year…No, it's too soon to tell."

"Tamayura seemed interested in the Hundred Flowers Festival. He asked me to tell him a story about it when I get back."

"Shiranui and I had a lively conversation about what kinds of floats and stalls would make people the most happy."

"During this time of year, requests for festivals increase and Mikage disappears as soon as he senses any sign of work."

"I got a gift from a guy in town. He said he was grateful to us for putting this festival together. Those words alone fill me with joy."

"I will do everything in my power as a member of Eternal Flower to not bring shame upon the guild. First and foremost: The Hundred Flowers Festival must be a success!"

"When Heath-dono and I first practiced together, I was speechless…"

"Heath-dono is a kind-hearted person. No matter how much I stumble over my lines."

"I was impressed by Heath-dono's willingness to learn all about our culture."

"Come to think of it, Heath-dono had a hard time handling chopsticks and brushes at first…I wonder if he has gotten used to it now?"

"Many people visit the Eternal Flower Guild, I am sure that every single one of them must remember Aoi-sama's existence."

"The other day, Aoi-sama took time out of his busy schedule to accompany me to the rehearsal for the play. I would like to thank him, but what would be the best way?"

"Aoi-sama asks me to speak in a more informal tone, but…As expected, I am afraid."

"Hmm, the sweet treats in that stall are the kind Aoi-sama likes. We should all share them!"

"I thought I'd gotten used to standing this close to you, but when I look into your eyes, my heart beats relentlessly."

"Ha, did I get something on my face? I ate a lot of food at all the stalls. I need to be careful to keep in shape."

"Let's go to your favorite stall. I want you to have a good time today, to thank you for all your hard work."

"I can't help but wish that the present time would last just a little longer… I feel like a child again."

"Shaved ice tastes better when it's so hot out……No, I think it's because I'm eating it with you."

"Do you want a taste of my shaved ice? Go ahead, try it. It's sweet just like fruit."

"I know it will melt if I eat it too slowly, but it's a pity to finish it."

"With my diet and training I don't get to eat this sort of thing often. I really want to savor it."

"I'm not sure why you're letting me choose what mask you wear. It's nerve-wracking, but it's a pleasure."

"Well, how about this mask? It's similar to mine, but the color is warmer just like you."

"Oh, I knew it would look good on you. It's very pretty…I think…"

"Now, I'm going to string on the mask, so please stay still."

"That was real close. If you aim a little higher on the target, I think you'll get the angle just right."

"I'm pretty good at these kinds of games. If there's any prizes you want, I'd be happy to help."

"You wanna know how I hit the target so accurately? It's…Hard to explain in words…"

"Here, I'll help you. Maybe you'll get a feel for what I'm talking about."

"I'm glad you have forgiven me, but on the other hand I still feel guilt in my heart…"

"I'm so sorry, I got carried away visiting stalls. Lean on me and take a rest."

"You want to go out together? And you got me a gift? This is the best day of my life."

"Your feelings have been well received. Both my hands are full, so I'll refrain from taking any more gifts."

"How did you know what I like? I'm a little embarrassed, but also flattered. I'll take it gratefully."

"I'm sure someone else will like it."

━

AOI : "I can count on you, Asahi. Your honest personality will surely open the hearts of the people." ASAHI : "I never thought I would recieve such kind words of appreciation from Aoi-sama! I'll remember them forever in my heart!"

━

ASAHI : "I've been wondering about it for a few minutes now, but why are you staring at my arm?" HEATH : "Tio told me that muscles can talk to each other, so I'm using you as a reference."

━

ASAHI : "Tio, why don't you take a little breather? Having fun is one of the best parts of a festival. We can do a ring toss or target practice or all sorts of things!" TIO : "All right! Let's prove our stunning muscles will get the best results!"

[bells-of-black-sunday]

"W-What?" The shock is palpable; eyes wide, brows raised, his lips parted in an expression of pure shock at Tarhos' inquiry, such a thing is not how a God should be addressing their high priest. His foot nearly slips on the carpet as he steps back - catching himself on a nearby table, the bird unable to tear his gaze away, it feels like all too natural a question and yet, something he should have never heard be uttered by Tarhos' lips. Haruko glances away to instead focus on the vast stretch of desert outside of their temple, their home; only the best was given to the Ascended and the Bull had always been ready to share it with his favorite bird. Still - he was aghast and blushing fiercely at the sudden confession,

"How--how can you even say such things,on an evening you are meant to choose another as your bride?" He lifts a finger, a feeble attempt to stop the Bull's next words, and he gives up a confession of his own. "You have consumed my thoughts since the moment I met you - you've taken my soul, my thoughts, my heart and - and you could not be content with that? Do you understand that Azir would have our heads for this?" Implying he's already agreeing to Tarhos' proclamation, granted it's obvious with how he holds himself so suddenly - confidence deflated into something soft and malleable. "Why would you pain me with such a decision?" - league verse, idc I want priest Haru

In Love And War | Accepting

The god warrior almost chuckled at the way the bird nearly tripped over something as simple as a confession, he knew they both felt it. The way they'd longingly stare at each other while resting, how they care for each other far more than any priest and their god should. There was something undeniable about the way their lips met under the moonlight spilling secrets only the stars could keep, the bull wanted no other being to consume his heart like the way the vastaya had.

Yet his bemused expression waned the more Haru spoke until it deflated completely, his ears falling under the weight of his jewelry completely until he finally spoke again.

"Haruko... Azir could exile us for all I care. I'd rather be tortured for eternity than spend another night without you, though marrying another that doesn't own my heart would be equivalent to such a fate would it not?" He hesitantly took a step forward taking the bird's hand in his bringing it up to kiss his knuckles. He wouldn't know how to live without this. Feeling his soft skin against his fur and inhaling the perfumes that always lingered, this is who he wanted to spend all of eternity with, no one else.

The empire would never be so cruel as to deny him such a fate, would it not? "I want to wed you whether anyone approves of it or not. I want to care for you as much as you do me, please let me." The sands of Shurima faded as the first of morning light hit his scales and he hissed shifting to bury his face further into his lover in a feeble attempt to stop the light from waking him too much.

Oh how cruel nature was to wake them both from such a lovely dream...

[se-hace-camino]

an ounce of vulnerability

While coming down from a 10hr long acid trip I tried my best to go to sleep and instead my mind's eye spelled it out as clear as day that my heart was still very much wrapped up in the ambiguously sapphic situationship all lesbians find themselves in during their teenage years.

Funny enough next time I would see said ambiguously sapphic friend, I ended up getting too drunk, getting overly competitive, breaking 1.5 of my own teeth and thus ruining the plans we had made to have dinner after not having seen one another in 3yrs.

The next morning, I bandage my face up and walk the 3mi to her place. When I get there I almost lose my nerve to ring the doorbell but I finally work up the courage. When she opens the door the look of concern was immediately upon her and with an outstretched hand she almost reaches for my face but stops just shy of contact and instead scans a careful gaze over my features. She invites me upstairs and introduces me to her boyfriend. It hurt but due more to my own lack of candor.

The years following my broken teeth and broken heart, I give dating men a shot. It was very much the same attitude I approached college with, and in similar fashion I'd say I passed heterosexuality with a "C" I learned that while I am capable of loving a man it came with an oftentimes burdensome feeling of a chore.

Come pandemic times and I learn that there really is only so much sex can do to maintain a relationship when the world is crumbling all around. Worse yet my dreams become infiltrated by the stress and anxiety of waking life and lo and behold she's the one I'm trying to get to and be with in my apocalyptic nightmares--at this point I haven't spoken to or seen her in maybe 4yrs. I would become especially upset at my mind for choosing to pine over a shadow of person vs my own mother who was fighting cancer at the time. What the actual fuck.

Fast forward to 2022, I came out to myself, close friends and family, unfortunately my mother passed but I got to share my truth before she transitioned. I'm writing a lot about everything and I made peace with the fact that I was pining after a fleeting memory of an old flame. And what do you know, guess who invites me to their small intimate wedding after having no contact for 5yrs. What little footing I had quickly fell from underneath me. 3 weeks later I showed up very late to the reception and stayed for the last hour. She married the guy I met after i broke my teeth.

She text me a couple of weeks later and asks to hang out. We have to reschedule a few times but the day before Halloween we meet up to kick the soccer ball around just like when we 1st started getting to know each other. We talk and eat, it feels like no time has passed at all, like we had just picked up an old routine. But at some point there's a lull that lasts a little too long and the transition between the songs seemed eternal--I almost formed the words "you know I was in love with you right?" but I can't do it so instead I just tell her about how my mom passed.

Fortunately I had plans later that night so I had an excuse to cut our reunion short. We made plans to meet again but its been a good 7 months and we keep missing each other, maybe its for the best. That day I found out that some things are better left unsaid.

[astralscholar1811]

Hellbreaker: Chapter 4

It was a week of what should've been glorious freedom.

Instead it, was a literal living hell.

I carried Victor everywhere I went, but unfortunately, he's a baby, so he cries...a lot. This is good for drawing the attention of the things we've grown to eating (mainly other weaker demons, or demons caught in whatever trap I can scrape together), but sneaking past larger hordes of demons who toss fire at literally anything that moves is near impossible when one of them snorts too loud, and Victor's big blue eyes start shimmering...

I wouldn't give him up for anything, though.

Even as pieces of my torso were torn free by violent windstorms blown down from Lust, or Gluttony's Hive scouts boiling up from beneath our feet and forcing us to move again, I still found myself protecting Victor with all I had.

Really wish I could get out of here.

Sitting in an abandoned slaughterhouse, skimming pieces of not-yet-rotted meat from our last kill, I thought about all the ways I could try and escape. Legends of those select few demons who managed to get so powerful they could move wherever they pleased roiled amongst us at the factory, and the possibility of "anywhere but here" was enough to get some of us whipped for daydreaming.

Some demons became Dealmakers, making and collecting on contracts from mortals in the world so they could possess their eternal souls down here. Abaddon was one of the greatest Dealmakers to ever un-live, made his princedom entirely off of the sheets of parchment that sealed the fate of so many before and after him. They could travel wherever they saw an opportunity, or were summoned, but I was certainly not noticeable enough to be summoned by any mortal cult.

I certainly couldn't become one of those Dealmakers, too many have failed because there was a loophole that allowed their clients to control them for eternity. You had to be DAMN clever to be a good Dealmaker, something I am not.

Rumors used to be whispered that there were great steel colossi out beyond the limits of even the most savage demons, those so large and so powerful that they could bore holes through the dimensions, but simply chose not to...those rumors and legends terrify me.

The thought of a construct to grand, that it chooses to stay in this place because that allows it to do whatever it wants to do, staying just to give us nightmares about the destruction one could cause.

Truly demonic.

But how in Hell could I escape Hell? Hell's supposed to be below the other dimensions, maybe if I just kept going up? Nothing's ever reached the Ember Ceiling because of the Felgeists (Giant, fire breathing bats that actually LIVE up there), and any who've tried were snatched up in their giant talons and hoisted away into their nests...

...what happens next, I didn't have time to think about. I heard hoofsteps of a larger demon, and decided I'd overstayed my welcome in this old meathouse.

Taking Victor in my arms, I hauled a torn leg of flesh out of there with us, slipping through a crack in the boards that the place was made out of.

[casspurrjoybell-22]

Dream Eater - Chapter 17 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

I wake up from a dream and I smile.

It was a good dream, though I can't remember the details.

It had something to do with Dante and a cake and maybe a dog.

It doesn't matter because it didn't mean anything and it was all mine.

I roll over and press myself closer to Damien's back, wrapping my arms around his waist and giving him a light squeeze.

Early morning light spills in through the bedroom windows and the comforting sounds of the city drift up from the streets below.

We're home, in our apartment, on Earth.

After Astoreth healed me, I came to lying in the snow, stretched full-length with Damien at my side and my hand clasped in his.

Dante knelt beside us crying like we'd broken their heart.

Which, I learned, we momentarily had.

When they found us by the stone arch, Door closed and Astoreth gone, they'd thought we were dead.

It seemed like we were, too.

Then I woke up and a moment later, Damien did as well.

I hadn't felt any different, as far as I could tell and Damien said he didn't either.

Except that when he tried to use demonic power, nothing happened.

I was terrified he'd resent me for it, eventually, for choosing a human soul but if anything, he seemed overjoyed.

"You don't miss it?" I'd asked.

"Being able to summon fiery swords and pop between realities whenever you please?"

He grinned.

"Not at all. Do you miss having to eat people's dreams?"

I shook my head.

"No but that was never cool to begin with."

Somehow, though I don't remember hearing her speak, Astoreth had told me that the three natures of my soul were now one.

Each part had joined to create a single whole but while I was no longer a dream-eater and I'd never been much of a Celestial, I was still a Key and always would be and now Damien's soul was inextricably linked to mine.

Astoreth said that we would always seek one another, drawn by a force stronger than magnetism or gravity and that we were each now a part of a greater whole.

"What if I'm reborn as like, a toad or an eel or something?" I wondered and Damien had laughed.

"Then I hope I'm a toad or an eel too."

Dante offered to make us both sex-demons and told us we'd be able to feed off one another for all eternity but of course, we'd have to die first and we've both had enough of that for the moment.

We kept their offer as a distant backup option, just in case.

For now, we're happy to live and love as mere mortals and to savor each beautiful, precious, fragile moment as it comes and goes.

As for Dante, they decided to remain in Carnâk for now.

They said they were still having fun there and enjoying the artistic adoration.

Also, they'd bonded with Oran on the battlefield and the relationship had bloomed.

Apparently, seeing Dante in full battle-mode was like watching a violent ballet and Oran had been hooked.

I was sorry I hadn't gotten to see it.

Sometimes, when I just want see them, I wish Dante wasn't currently living in another dimension but Oran brings them to visit often enough that I hardly have time to miss them and Damien keeps me busy in more ways than one.

I hug him to me now and wonder at the strange machinations of fate.

Not that long ago I wanted nothing more than to get away from him and never look back.

Now I literally wouldn't be complete without him.

He wakes up and rolls over to face me, his features lit with a now, familiar look of wonder and delight.

It's the same look he has every morning when he wakes up next to me, like he can't quite believe his eyes.

"Good morning, beautiful boy," he says, kissing me lightly.

"I don't think you can call someone born a hundred years ago a boy," I say, smiling.

"Your passport says you're twenty-one," he replies.

"Barely old enough to drink."

It's amazing what money can buy these days.

Damien has us both fixed up with all the documents we need to live legit and above-board.

"That didn't stop you from getting me drunk last night," I say.

It didn't quite leave me with a hangover but it was enough that I don't remember exactly what happened, except that at some point I was up against a wall and then on the floor and then... I blush as memory returns and he grins.

"Thinking of something good?" he asks.

"You wish," I retort but blush harder when he slides a hand beneath the sheets and finds me hard.

"I do love mornings..."

At this point, he hardly needs Dante.

He's becoming a sex-demon all on his own.

Speaking of Dante, that night we celebrate the opening of Damien's latest architectural triumph... a gallery dedicated to their work.

I do my best to hide in the shadows and not draw attention to the fact that I'm featured in many of the examples on display.

Dante and Oran are here for the event and Dante finds me before long.

"Still happy, little bird?" they ask and I smile.

"Yes. I'm still happy."

"That was a ballsy choice you made. I don't know if I could've done it. Not after everything I've seen."

"That's why I made it," I say.

"I've seen a lot, some through my own eyes but mostly through other people's dreams. I know what grief and sorrow and loss and hate and fear look like. One thing I didn't see a lot of was happiness. But I saw it in those months I was living here with Damien, before Azael found us again. That's what I wanted more of, a happiness that's not just mine but his too."

"Well, I hope you enjoy it for a long time," they say.

"But when you get tired, just say so and we can be demons together again... all three of us."

I squint at them and they hold up their hands.

"Not like that... I just mean in general."

"Maybe someday, Dante," I laugh.

"Or maybe not. Maybe we'll just grow old together and die and see what comes next."

Dante makes a face.

"Listen up, little bird... you make me cry again and I'll fucking kill you myself and then I'll bring you back as my own personal demon and keep you in a gilded cage for the rest of eternity, safe and sound where I can see you and paint you whenever I want. Of course, I'll have to bring Damien too..."

It seems like they've given this a little too much thought already, so I distract them by asking about Oran.

Apparently, he has amazing stamina, both in bed and on the battlefield, which for Dante is sometimes the same thing.

I let my mind wander when the details get to be a bit too much and before I know it the evening is over and we're saying goodbye once again.

After an overly drawn-out farewell, Dante and Oran are gone.

The world seems a little more empty without them and I hope they get tired of Carnâk and come home to stay soon.

Later, Damien and I return to our apartment.

I feel deliciously tired... not exhausted, not drained of energy and needing someone else's nightmares to keep me alive... just pleasantly weary and ready for sleep.

Damien has other ideas.

"I have something for you," he says, walking me back until my legs hit the edge of the bed and I fall over.

"You've already given me that three times today," I say, though I'm not really complaining.

"Not like this," he says.

"Close your eyes and don't freak out."

"Uh..." I frown but do as he asks.

I feel him take my wrists in his hands and then something soft closes around them with a click.

I open my eyes and see that he's chained me to the bed with a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs.

"If you don't want to, I'll take them off," he says quickly, looking nervous.

I tug at them experimentally and frown.

"You realize the last time you had these on me I thought you were gonna kill me, right?"

"These aren't the same ones. I bought these myself."

'Oh, great. What a relief.' I roll my eyes.

"At least tell me you bought them online, where no one could see your face."

He doesn't answer and he still looks really nervous and I give in.

"All right... have your way with me then."

The slow grin that breaks over his face makes me shiver.

"Oh, I intend to. That night, when I put those cuffs on you, I really was just afraid you were going to hurt yourself if you got up too fast. But when I looked back on that memory it became an obsession and I've been dreaming of it ever since."

"I never saw that in your dreams," I scoff.

He gives me a crooked smile.

"It's not a nightmare. Sometimes I'm not even asleep."

"You're a demon," I say, laughing.

Maybe Dante will be getting their wish sooner than they think, after all.

~The End~

[musezieren]

General: 2, 8, 9

Story: 3, 4, 5

Romance: 2, 6, 7

Baldur's Gate Headcanons

GENERAL

2. Do the other companions have special comments or reactions upon recruiting your Tav?

Gale: "Oh wonderful. A SORCERER, please try to not blow us up with some wild magic!" (<-beloved idiot who sometimes does not see his hypocrisy)

Astarion: "Oh lovely... another spell slinger... at least he has nice horns... good to hold onto~"

Lae'Zel: "Are these Teethlings the most prominent race in this realm? They are everywhere!"

Shadowheart: "Huh? Memory loss? Interesting..."

Karlach: "HA! Welcome to our group of fucked up individuals!!"

Wyll: "It is always good to have one more person joining the fight for the good... or to get brain worms out of your head, HAHA!"

8. What do they say when the Player Character asks them to stay in camp? How about when the Player Character asks them to come adventuring again?

"You want me to stay? Are you sure? Leaving me unsupervized is not always a good idea" he said with a wink and a grin. "Okay, okay, I'll stay and play with scratch. But NO big battles without me, okay?"

"Finally! I thought I'd go insane with boredom!"

9. Does your Tav have any escalating conflicts with one of the other companions, like Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s knife-fight?

Not really... he has a slight falling out with Karlach after meeting Gortash. Sirius is obsessed with trying to give anyone and everyone a chance of redemption... Karlach isn't happy with that in the case of Gortash. He comes to side with her... but it reminds him of the fact that he'd probably be better off dead and tortured for eternity too :,)

STORY

3. How do they react to Astarion biting the Player Character?

"Next time try to be a bit more quiet about it, okay? Also, Astarion, what do they taste like?"

4. How do they react to the Player Character letting Abdirak whip them?

Good "performance":

"I wanted to be jealous, but that was a nice sight so... hope you had fun~"

Bad performance:

"You shouldn't do things you don't want to, you know?"

5. How do they react to the Player Character taking their first tadpole power?

"That was fucking stupid. We are trying to get rid of these shitty things that eat our brains and you are shoving in more..."

2. Does your Tav need to be flirted with to start the romance, or will they approach the PC themselves if approval is high enough?

Flirting, or hidden flirting. Just showing a lot of care for him. If not clearly being flirted with, but high approval and making a lot of comments that could be taken either way, he would probably approach them by Act 2 with actual feelings.

One could have sex scenes with him before, triggering no romance or even locking themselves out of it with the wrong dialogue.

6. How do they react to the player character breaking up with them, or choosing another character over them?

In the case of choosing a different character: Heartbroken if it was romantic and they acted in love until then. Then his approval will go down HARD, and he would probably be much colder to them for quite a while. To open his heart to someone is difficult, to abuse it? Unforgivable.

Breaking up: Still heartbroken, but he understands that feelings can not be forced and sometimes change. He'd still be a bit distant for a while, but no approval loss.

7. What questions can Zethino ask the PC about Tav in the Love Test?

"Poor boy without a home or childhood... tell me, what do you think his youth was like?"

Sweet, the horrors of the future far away

He was born a monster enjoying carnage and chaos

He probably had no childhood, he just spawned into existence at the beginning of this adventure

"A question about the past is followed by the present. What is currently ruling his mind?"

Me

The Tadpole

That coming to Baldur's Gate means to face a past he fears and controls him.

"Well, well... like a flower in all it's states... what future do you think is waiting for him?"

Death

Finding a place to call home

A really nice dinner I'll take him to later ;) "

[adalheidisme]

An open letter (12)

A little story time: So yesterday, as a requirement for the renewal of my contract at work, a drug test was needed, and I commuted for an hour for the test and, at the same time, went to my doctor for my checkup because I don't feel good after more than 3 years of my surgery. And a night before, my boyfriend messaged me that he'd go to the same place as me to process or get the papers for his motorcycle, and we talked about meeting there. Fast forward: I went to my doctor, and I was 14th in line, and his secretary told me that he'd be available at 2 p.m., so I decided to get my drug test done first. And as I was waiting for the result, my love met me there, and we waited for several hours. Then, while we're waiting for my result, we ate our lunch first, his treat, and went for a stroll to kill time. Then, at 1 p.m., we already went to the clinic and waited for my doctor to arrive. Just as we thought he would be there at exactly 2 p.m., he arrived an hour later😩 I was done by 4:30 p.m., and before we went home, we bought snacks first for ourselves on our way and for our family as well, and that's his treat again, even my fare, he shouldered all of that. Despite not having much, he still paid for almost everything. I made sure that next time, I'd be the one to pay. I'm not that person who wanted my man to be constantly paying and providing everything for me. I believe that a relationship takes two for it to work. If he provides now, I'll provide next time. After all, we're partners.

To continue, I needed to stop at a bank to withdraw cash first, and he still drove me home right after. We had dinner at home, and we had a night of laughter with my family. Then we just had "us time" for a while; we talked, we laughed, we hugged, we kissed, we made sure that we felt loved, and then after, he went home. We exchanged chats later that evening, talking about how our day went and a bunch of other stuff too. Then we called it a day after exchanging good night's and I love you's, we slept.

After a whole day of being together with this man, I realized how lucky I am to have him.

He had a game that afternoon and had to go to their church later that evening, but he chose to stay and patiently waited for me. I didn't hear any complaints from him; instead, he made sure that I was okay the whole day by constantly asking me if I was fine. He then told me that he'd just make it to church at 5 a.m. this day. Though I do not encourage him to choose me over God because, in our relationship, we should put God before anything and everything else. He told me he just needed to make it up for me, and then just this morning, he texted me that their mass just recently ended and that he was already at home.

To be honest, I don't feel tired when I'm with him, despite the exhausting day we went through. I just felt how tired I was when I was already in bed. I know the moment when we're already at home that he was really exhausted; just by looking into his eyes, I know how tired he was, and he still manages to have some time with me right after. That was so sweet, and I felt guilty as well🥺 I promise I'll make it up to him soon🥰 Just to add, there was also this drunk man who's eyeing me the whole time inside the car, and I whispered it to him, and little did I know he's also aware of it. He then told me he'd talk to him, but I stopped him before he could. The whole trip went fine, though.

Again, yesterday, he showed me how responsible and caring he is; he treated me the way I was craving to be treated. He's willing to sacrifice for love🥺 He's so handsome in all ways.

I really can't express how thankful I am that I met this person. God knows how grateful I am that I have him in my life❣️

My love, ayat ko, I love you eternally ♥️✨

- Alétheia

[sassykattery]

Harsh Reality, Pt. 5

Welcome to the second part of the finale of "Harsh Reality." I've decided I'd be willing to make a taglist for those who want to be tagged when I upload updates to the story, so if you would, go to my masterlist and comment that you would like to be tagged and I will be happy to add you to the list. Anyway, let's get to the story!

CW: MC is afab and uses she/her pronouns. MC is poly. Mentions of injuries to reader.

Characters: Lucifer, Diavolo, MC='you', Satan, mentions of Solomon, Simeon

Themes: LuciferxMC, DiavoloxMC, angst, hurt, comfort

Minors and ageless blogs DNI

18+ only

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Enjoy~

------

It was the early hours of the morning, and most of the Devildom was still asleep when Lucifer made his way into your castle suite, where you and Diavolo were. He found Diavolo staring down at you, mindlessly brushing a thumb over your jaw, still cradling you.

Lucifer sat next to Diavolo, next to where your head was, and sighed. He scanned your frame, also noting how your presence was barely there, he couldn't feel you like normally did. His pact mark with you didn't burn internally in your presence like it always did. He could barely detect your pulse, breaths as light as feathers.

"I will still love her no matter what she chooses," Diavolo said, finally responding to one of Lucifer's earlier questions from the colosseum. "But I want to offer her the option, nonetheless. I had been considering this for a while, a long while. But there is always so much going on, there never seems to be a right time."

Lucifer pondered his words, but had another question for the prince, as well as himself:

"I can't help but wonder, about her humanity, her soul. Would we still be enamored with her?"

Diavolo tilted his head and finally tore his gaze away from your form to look at Lucifer. "As for her soul, imagine being in her shoes. We are soulless beings of carnal desires, embodiments of sin, and she takes the physical, mental, and emotional punishments of being around us, yet she loves us all the same. I find the idea of the demoness she could be to be rather intriguing, and I would love her all the same, if not more for such a sacrifice on her part."

It was an uncomfortable thought for Lucifer. He never wanted to be a demon, never intending to be where he currently was, but that wasn't the point. Would she be genuinely happy? Maybe so, if it was a choice. He did not have one, and he wondered if you would eventually regret such a decision. But it would be a mistake to think he wasn't also wanting to be selfish, because being a demon would guarantee your eternal life, and that was something he desired for you, but would never ask it because your humanity was worth cherishing as well. However, he knew your soul would ascend, and he would never hold you again after your death, lest you fell to the Devildom.

"Share your thoughts, Lucifer," Diavolo said, sensing the wheels turning in his friend's head.

"I can't deny that I also want her to choose immortality, but I wonder if she wouldn't regret her decision after a few hundred years. Though, that is how choices work, you live with the consequences," Lucifer mused.

"We would make sure that she's never left wanting, for anything, and do our best to remind her every day that we are eternally grateful for her in our lives," Diavolo murmured, looking down at you again.

For the first time since the incident, you moved on your own. Your head turned, very slowly and not much at all, as if you were asleep. They watched as your fingers twitched and your back moved just ever so slightly in the prince's embrace. The two demons shared a quick glance and went back to watching you. But that was the last of your movements, and you were still again, however you felt a bit more alive now, so they felt somewhat relaxed, but only a little.

Both demons sat in silence, watching you merely exist. All their love, time, physical resources tied up into one little human.

Breaking the silence, Lucifer spoke, "Satan said he would come by to check on her later in the morning. I would tell you to get some rest, but I doubt you will."

"I will remain here, but if you'd like you may certainly stay or use any of the beds in the castle," Diavolo replied. Lucifer reclined against the headboard, trying to at least shut his eyes and rest if sleep would not come.

-

Satan knocked on the bedroom door, but heard no reply, so he walked in to quite the loving sight:

Diavolo and Lucifer were sitting next to each other on the bed, almost shoulder-to-shoulder, both reclined against the headboard and asleep. You were draped across both their laps on your side; your head and shoulders in Lucifer's, hips and rear in Diavolo's. It was almost as if they had to compromise who got to hold you, and the answer was clearly both.

Satan frowned. That is not how she needs to be laying in order to heal, he thought. Not one to miss an opportunity, he walked over to his eldest brother and shoved Lucifer's shoulder, rudely jolting him awake and looking haphazard at Satan. He glared at the younger sibling and looked over to Diavolo, gently rocking his shoulder.

Diavolo stirred and quickly woke up to Satan's demands.

"She cannot lie like that," Satan said.

In unison, they asked, "Why not?"

"It's not conducive for healing, so move her to lay on her back, and I'll work to rewrap her bandages," he ordered. The other two demons frowned and did as they were asked.

Lucifer left to go sit in one of the armchairs next to the window, so he wasn't in the way. Diavolo remained at your side, watching Satan's precise movements of unwrapping your bandage.

"Actually, she probably ought to be cleaned up before I go too much further-" he caught the glare of both your boyfriends. "Yes, that means I need to bathe her-" he tried to say before Lucifer cut him off.

"Nonsense, I'll take care of that-"

"Satan can do it," Diavolo cut Lucifer off this time. "We need to let him do his job." Satan looked at Lucifer expectantly and received a huff in reply.

Satan picked you up gingerly and brought you to the bathroom. He gently undressed you, grimacing at the bruises and lacerations that still laced your body, and ran a warm bath. Setting you down into it, he worked on cleaning you up. Though, Satan did find himself in awe of you. Likely, none of his brothers had such an intimate experience with you, except maybe Lucifer, and he hoped when you heard about this upon waking up, you wouldn't be too embarrassed or upset. Truly, in Satan's eyes, you had nothing to be embarrassed about, because you were beautiful in all ways. He didn't look at you in a perverted sexual way, but one of admiration and deep connection, trust and a deeper kind of love that was fortified through care tasks.

Once satisfied, he pulled you from the tub and dried you off. It was challenging to wash and dry the equivalent of a human ragdoll; however, it came in handy to have the strength of a thousand armies. Barbatos brought new clothes for you and helped Satan to dress you again. While Satan was bathing you, Barbatos had also cleared your bloodied bed, so you'd have clean blankets and sheets to enjoy.

Satan carried you back into your bedroom, and laid you in the middle, head resting on a pillow. He worked quickly to dress your wounds again, also checking on your broken leg. "Hmm, I suppose I need to make a cast for this. I'll have to get the materials for it," Satan pondered out loud.

"Take Barbatos with you and he'll purchase whatever you need," Diavolo replied. He sat himself next to you once more.

"She'll need this concoction Solomon made for her, to help with the pain," Satan said, handing a bottle to Lucifer from his med kit. Lucifer instantly raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Solomon may not cook very well, but he can get medicine right, most of the time," Satan replied, slightly hesitating at the end. "Simeon got called to the Celestial Realm but said he would return as soon as possible when I told him what happened."

"Thank you, Satan," Diavolo called out softly. Satan nodded and left the room to find Barbatos for cast materials. Lucifer left the armchair to join you two on the other side, running his hand through your hair.

Diavolo and Lucifer shared a glance and continued to watch over you.

-

Where am I? you thought.

"You're unconscious, we are in your mind," a voice replied. It was bodyless, nowhere but simultaneously everywhere.

In your mind's eye, you couldn't see anything, but you felt as though you were in a room, somewhere familiar. You felt bodyless as well, not exactly existing but you were certainly aware of your sense of self.

"I have questions for you," the voice called out.

What are they?

"Are you happy with your life?" it asked.

Mulling it over, surely the number of times you have almost died since arriving in the Devildom has far surpassed the number of times when you were back in the human world, so that wasn't great. However, you never felt surer of yourself and your purpose in life than being in the Devildom, with your chosen family that you loved most dearly. Flashes of your loved ones came to mind, and it wasn't hard to give your answer.

I am.

"Do you know what lies before you, now?"

No. What is it?

"A choice is to be made, at your hand. I am here to present to you your options and answer your questions, should you want to know," it answered.

What is the decision I have to make?

"It is in regard to your soul. The sake of your soul is currently hanging in the air, waiting to be left intact, or stolen."

What do you mean?

"The choice you have to make is whether or not you want to keep your soul."

Okay, what if I keep my soul?

"You shall ascend to the Celestial Realm after your humanly death, and become one of heaven's finest angels, a seraph, one of glory and radiating pure holy light and serving as the right hand of Michael himself."

And if I give it away?

"You shall be reborn and reign as the Devildom's fiercest Avatars, that which of competing in strength and ability with the eldest of the Avatars."

Why are you telling me this?

"It would be a shame for you not to know you have another option than the one that is currently being laid out for you by two particular demons." It paused for several moments as you considered its words.

"Good luck, and I'm sorry," it added.

A vortex then tore through the space you resided in, sucking you in just to spit you back out into streamline consciousness.

-

"Mm," you mumbled.

Shooting red hot pain flared up your leg, and it caused you to jolt, eyes flying open and gasping.

"Darling, darling, I need you to drink this," Diavolo tried to tell you, but it was hard to hear over the pounding heartbeat in your ears. He turned your head and pressed a bottle lip to your mouth. You tried to fight him because your vision was still blurry, but Lucifer then held you in place as they fed Solomon's pain reliever down your throat. Once it was completely gone, they released you, and you tried to sit up, which ended with you falling back into the mattress.

It was like watching an injured animal struggle, how you thrashed to tried to sit up and move on your own, but it felt as though someone tied a thousand lead weights to your body. Lucifer finally took your head into his hands and forced you to look at him.

"Dove, please stop moving, you need to be still," he pleaded. "Or at least let us help you," he added.

Nodding, you tried to speak, only to be met with nothing more than a whisper, and you clutched your throat. Your boyfriends shared a pained look and returned their attention to you.

"Help me sit up," you whispered. Both demons hoisted you up so that your back was against the headboard, and you seethed and hissed as your broken leg drug up the bed, feeling the soreness in your torso.

With heavy, ragged breaths, you looked at your surroundings. You were in your castle suite. Diavolo sat next to you on your left, and Lucifer was kneeling onto the mattress on your right. They both looked at you with concern, unsure of whether to hug you or let you be.

"What happened?" you rasped.

"What do you remember?" Diavolo asked, fighting the urge to pull you into his arms now that you were awake.

"The colosseum, three demons assaulting me. They broke my leg and choked me out," you whispered. Immediately, you shucked off the covers and saw your mangled leg wrapped in a bloody bandage. It hurt just to even look at it.

"Darling..." Diavolo trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"We took care of those demons, they'll never bother you again," Lucifer said, trying to redirect your thoughts.

Hot tears spilled over your cheeks. The memories were flooding back, and you could remember screaming out for help when two of the demons held you down while the third snapped your tibia before your very eyes but help never came. You were all you had in those final moments before the third reached up to your neck and put you into a sleeper hold, so they could stop your screaming and escape.

Diavolo grasped your hand closest to him and held it in both of his. The warmth was welcoming, but it couldn't stop the horrors that kept replaying in your head.

Lucifer gave Diavolo a knowing look and nodded.

"MC," Diavolo said, now very serious, and it caused you to immediately look up into his piercing golden eyes. "I need to ask you something, something very important. I'm going to make you an offer, and I need you to carefully consider what it is I'm asking. Can you do that for me?"

Slowly nodding, you whispered, "I'm listening."

"Would you want to become a demon?"

Thanks for reading~ <3

Post made by sassykattery. Do not repost. Likes and reblogs appreciated.

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