#Shamelessly plugs links

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

Oh do not seek to know what lies Behind these mild and patient eyes For I have seen the demons power And even let the monster run In certain unforgotten hours

The fire that sleeps within the blood Can waken to a burning flood That sweeps away whatever moves Before the wordless killers eyes

Shiro's time as Champion lives rent free in my head but the show said you get crumbs and nothing more

[arttsuka]

how am i only jusr now noticing your banner it's so fucking cool

Thanks :)

I'm assuming 'banner' is the 'header image'? That dragon right? Probably... either that or I'm embarrassing myself as usual (edit: ok it was the dragon yay)

[nothosword]

✢⁎. INTERVIEW.

What has led you to where you are today?

“Hm? I’m lookin’ for someone.”

Fergus wakes himself up by popping his neck. He’s been waiting for his interviewer for so long that he allowed his eyelids to flutter and his back to slump against one of the office chairs. He looks less than presentable, but that’s just how he is–able to find a carefree spirit in even the most tense of situations.

Said interviewer prods him for more, the line drawn across their forehead clearly dissatisfied with the blonde’s answer. He thought it was perfectly reasonable, but he isn’t in charge here, now is he? He sits up.

“What, you want more? Alright, alright, just quiet down, ‘kay?” One of his hands pecks at the air to emphasize speaking in a low voice. He’s got a bit of crud in his eyes that he neglects to wipe away. “I was thinking about having a nap after this.”

The man is not the least bit sympathetic to how his demeanor is received. He wears that devil-may-care smirk like a hood pulled over one’s face in a Silessian winter. Because he needs it. Without his charm, Fergus would freeze to death in a pit of his own hatred. The urge to explain reminds him that there is spite laden in every smile, hatred laced in every word about his past. 

“Name’s Fergus, in case you don’t already know. See this here?” He pulls at the strap around his scabbard until it comes loose, then unhooks it from his midsection to show the official. After a small click, a curved sword is drawn. “Get a good look at it. Yeah, real fancy sword I’ve got. The thing is: only my father’s sons can take it from its sheath. Don’t ask me how it works.”

For even if he knew, he wouldn’t care. As far as Fergus is concerned, the man who made this blade doesn’t deserve something so precious attached to his lineage. He deserves the dirt, the dogs. He makes the free knight bite the inside of his cheek just thinking about him, unearths from him only the black soot of disgust. And yet Fergus took the sword. He made a deal with his half-brother, promising not to show his face around Conote or Agustria so as to avoid an inheritance dispute. ‘All I want are two things,’ he had said, ‘proof of who I am, and proof of what I’ve done.’ The former is the sword, which has helped him on his quest to discover where his predecessor went and how he lived.

And ironically enough, forced him into the same kind of life.

“I heard a rumor that he died, but I wouldn’t put it past the old son of a brigand to have faked that so he could get away-”

His interviewer cuts him off to ask plainly what he thinks of his father, since Fergus appears so driven by his existence.

“Mm? Yeah, I don’t quite like him… Back home, people are hospitable and kind to each other. I just can’t forgive someone who would take advantage of that, you know?”

‘Home’ is where mother lies, lonely without a son or husband. ‘Home’ is by the sea, where the smell of salt wafts through an open marketplace glittering with seafaring goods. ‘Home’ is being rebuilt–saved by the efforts of Fergus and Prince Leaf. His sword in the Claus’ cause was his way of repaying ‘home’ for all that it did for him. Conote is ‘home.’ 

What do you believe are your greatest strengths? Your greatest weaknesses?

“I’m not too bad in a fight, even got the scars to prove it.” Fergus’ good mood returns like the morning sun when the question changes. And boy does he shine. He fishes through his pocket for something, eyes taking on a softer edge now that he can talk about how cool he is.

“Check this out,” he continues, producing a pin. It features a wyvern & pegasus, and the two holy spears crossed in its center, “It’s proof that I had a hand in the liberation of Northern Thracia. It keeps me out of trouble.” It is also the latter half of his deal. Every word he speaks about it is true.

“Let’s see… What else…” he taps his thigh as he thinks, “I’m the type to jump in and get things done, and I don’t look too bad, either.” Something seems to pull on the corner of his lips. Fergus’ smile grows uncontrollably wide as he thinks back to that fledgeling knight. She was hilarious. He imagines she’s out there having fun, hopefully not getting two-timed like his mom. “As for flaws…”

The pin enters the palm of his hand and receives a few taps from his index. “I stick my nose where it doesn’t belong. Before I met the prince, I was up and ready to leave Thracia. I’m also only personally motivated, and hard to tie down to boot.”

All marks of your standard self-righteous sellsword. Hopefully, nothing the interviewer hasn’t already seen.

If a story were to be written about your life, what role would you play?

Fergus nearly barks. This one has him thinking. As he drifts into a state of self-reflection, he half-chucks to himself. These people have probably stumped a lot of folks with a question like this.

“Mm, probably the guy that got mixed up in everything.”

It takes him a moment until he finally nods and confirms his own answer, but it becomes one he’s satisfied with. A sense of cheekiness works its way into his expression as he stands, arms crossed and face beaming still.

“It’s not exactly the nicest thing to admit, but I met Prince Leif in what you’d call ‘captivity.’” Air-quotes on ‘captivity.’ Fergus prefers the term to ‘prison.’

“I fight fights that aren’t mine, get involved where I shouldn’t–Man would my story be cleaner if I just kept to myself, but I’m not that kinda guy, and you can’t win ‘em all when it comes to life’s lots.” He shrugs. He’s right, and he knows it. Things got hairy at times, back in the Liberation Army, but he managed unscathed. The few sacrifices they did have to make don’t bother him–perhaps not as much as they should. He feels as though he’s always been of the mind that everyone has agency over their own life. If someone decides to waste it, that’s their own prerogative. Hell, there was even once a moment in which he was about to sacrifice himself for the young lord and little lass. He sighs nostalgically as the moment passes him by. Things would’ve turned out far differently if he met anyone but Leif.

“So yeah, just the dude who blew in outta nowhere, and will probably blow back into nowhere once I’m done. Glad to be here!”

[unspuncreature]

and if you’re NOT in the mood to commission me, you can also support me ☕️ here ☕️ (and get wild about anakin and obi-wan in the comment, should you feel so inclined 😌)

[rachymarie]

Anyone else relatively young still but dealing with an aggressive silver streak taking over the hair and don't wanna be stuck doomed to dyeing they hair for the next 20+ years to look younger/fit in etc??

Dad once started teasing me for calling me granny and I was like you are a sexist pig. I am a silver vixen (sans the money, send help*)

[glitchy-mai]

"It's all because of Spark, you know. As long as you have that, you can live forever."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.

A big ol' celebratory congrats to @kazehita for their stellar game! ✨️

They worked super hard on this game, and it turned out absolutely gorgeous. Imma shamelessly plug it now, hehe.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.

I absolutely adore this game!! Kaze and the lovely folks that helped this game come to be did such a great job. The message this game gave me is honestly really comforting, "The end is unavoidable, so enjoy the time you have instead of losing yourself avoiding it." In a time where so many bad things feel unavoidable, it's nice to have that reminder to just enjoy what life has to offer.

The writing, art, and music are all so beautiful! I also love how events are randomized and luck based, as it really helps that feeling of life being random, you don't know what to expect!

Go play it!! It's available right now on itch.io. Here is the link:

[catwalkvivi]

Hi I'm here to shamelessly plug the Pokémon fic I've been writing to feed my hyperfixation with this cover art I drew for it

It's a sequel fic to the Jirachi movie, where a Flygon is sent thousands of years into the future when Jirachi wakes up again. It's 3 chapters in so far, with more coming soon~

I always struggled with narrative writing, so this is a project to practice that. Between that and English not being my native language I can't guarantee it's any good but I'm putting a lot of effort into it, I'd appreciate it if anyone gave it a shot :3

(if the link doesn't work, I'm also catwalkvivi on ao3 so you should be able to find me there)

Cheers!! ❤🌟

[pelideswhore]

timeline

@a-chaotic-dumbass @nysus-temple here it is!! also tagging @godsofhumanity because you said something about calydonian boar hunt which i mention ever so briefly. the links will take you to fics i have written about the aforementioned occurrence since i will shamelessly take any chance to plug my writing.

Telamon (22) kills his younger half-brother, so both he and Peleus (19) are exiled by their father. Peleus is taken in by his uncle and marries his cousin. He eventually joins the Calydonian Boar Hunt, and accidentally kills his uncle/father-in-law, resulting in his fleeing for a second time. In this second exile he is accused of attempted infidelity by the King’s wife, whom he shunned. The news reaches his own wife, who kills herself, leaving the throne of Pthia to him. The King chases Peleus for revenge, organizing an attack on him by centaurs on Mount Pelion. Chiron aids Peleus and saves his life. This whole fiasco takes 9 years to unfold.

Peleus’ (28) success during the Boar Hunt results in his marriage to Thetis. A year after the wedding, he joins Jason on the Argo. Thetis gives birth to 6 boys before Achilles is born but they all die in infancy.

Priam (27) and Hecuba (25) introduce Paris (0) into the world and almost immediately abandon him into the wild. So far they’ve had Hector (8), his sister (7), Deiphobus (5) and the twins Cassandra and Helenus (4)

4 years later, Achilles (0) is born and dunked in the Styx; Thetis then leaves Peleus (34).

Phoenix (35) gets exiled and comes Phthia because Peleus (35) is his friend, Achilles (1) is living with his dad, he and childless Phoenix bond.

Patroclus (8) kills his playmate over losing a game of petteia; his father sends him away, Peleus (40) empathizes and takes him in, Patroclus and Achilles (5) meet for the first time (ROUGH SEAS)

Menelaus (16) and Agamemnon (21) seek asylum in Sparta, Clytemnestra (14) is immediately infatuated by Agamemnon, Helen (14) not so much. Castor and Pollux (14) are interested in the stories they have to tell.

Agamemnon (22) leaves Sparta to overthrow Aegisthus (20) in Mycenae; he (23) returns to ask for Clytemnestra’s (16) hand in marriage but she’s already married. He kills Tantalus and son (<1) and gets engaged to her (BLOOD-RED HANDS).

Helen (16) gets kidnapped by Theseus about a month later, the Dioscuri (16) bring her back; Clytemnestra (16) and Agamemnon’s (23) wedding gets pulled forward despite the mourning period out of fear for Clytemnestra’s wellbeing and because she is displaying symptoms of pregnancy. Peleus (43) leaves Achilles (9) and Patroclus (12) to go on a military expedition to Troy with Hercules and Telamon (46). When he returns it’s all he talks about and Achilles becomes obsessed with the idea of Troy. Podarkes/Priam (40) earns his epithet when his father (65) gets killed, Hector (21) has his first experiences with war. Telamon takes Priam’s sister as a concubine and she births Teucer, Ajax is 14 at the time.

Helen (18) gets wed off to Menelaus (20). Odysseus (22) marries Penelope (20), Agamemnon (25) and Clytemnestra (18) already have Iphigenia (1) and she’s heavily pregnant (OLIVE TREE)

Achilles (11) gets sent to Charon as a method of education, by now he and Patroclus (14) are inseparable.

Achilles (13) comes back home from Charon and teaches Patroclus everything he learned.

Helen (25) leaves Sparta with Paris (22) (WATCH THE STARS COLLAPSE), Hector (30) freaks out (GATES OF TROY); Achilles (18) impregnates Deidamia (17); Odysseus (29), Agamemnon (32), and Menelaus (27) come and get him for war (SKYROS); Penelope (27) is left alone with Telemachus (1) (CRAZY FOR YOU) and Orestes (10) and Pylades (12) are sent to Sparta to stay with Hermione (6) for her protection.

Achilles (18) goes to Phthia, his father (52) gives him gifts and weapons, Achilles takes Patroclus (21) and Phoenix (52) with him (SAY YOU REMEMBER ME). At Aulis, Iphigenia (11) is brought in as a supposed bride for Achilles, but she is sacrificed (WEDDING ALTARS AND SACRIFICIAL SHRINES). Electra (10) and Chrysothemis (4) are now alone with their mother.

Achilles (25) kills Andromache’s (35) family and she flees to Troy, where she remeets Hector (37) whom she knows from 29 years prior. They get married and a year later Andromache gives birth to Scamandrius/Astyanax.

[hatesaltrat]

Folks, I’d like to tell you about this amazing place I got to spend some time at last weekend called Warriors2US. I am just flattered to no end that I was invited to be there and I can’t wait to go back. It is privately funded, no tax money or grants of any kind are used. If you can, please donate to them.

There is an incredible lodge that sleeps up to 18. A well stocked kitchen has everything you need to cook a fine meal with whatever groceries you bring and there’s no lack of spices and condiments if you forgot a little something. There is a total of 4 bedrooms, 1 of which is completely ADA compliant and the other 3 are upstairs with bunk beds.

From the seats on the back deck you can see the fire pit and shooting range beyond. There’s plenty of firewood to fuel a focal point while sipping libations and telling tales. It sits on 200 acres of private forest with hunting, fishing, and hiking just waiting for all Military personnel, Veterans, and/or First Responders. There is no cost to the guests.

There’s a fine grill downstairs in the garage just waiting to be used. Near the grill is a freezer full of meat that has been donated to the cause. There are some interesting games available for use too.

With more donations they are planning to build another structure so they can relocate the screen print shop from the small shed to its own space near some open office space where there will be classes for everything from CHL’s to resume building, and advisory seminars for Veterans trying to adjust to civilian life and job seeking skills. I am going to be trying to do some fund raising for them while seeking out some volunteer VA advocates. There’s a few of us planning a trip or 2 next year to donate some time helping to build a chapel in the woods and a few other various projects they need help with. We will eventually be building a wood shop complete with a mini-mill. I haven’t felt this passionately about a cause in a long time. I will be shamelessly plugging this retreat often and doing what I can to contribute to them.

Please check out the link and if you’re a Vet who wants to spend some time with family or a group of Warriors reach out to them directly to schedule some time out there.

And as always-

REMEMBER EVERYONE DEPLOYED

🇺🇸

[tsukimefuku]

Am I jumping up and down like an overly excited kid?

Yes, yes I am.

Lemme just shamelessly plug friend’s work: this and other merch made by @kusakabesimp can be found at their store! Link here: https://www.tiktok.com/@theanimeworkshop

Over there, you can find a lot of JJK merch made by hand, and yes, it does ship internationally 🙂‍↕️ you should definitely check it out!

-

Thank you SO MUCH for the gifts, Sean 🥹 I’m literally speechless kajdksdhsjd. This gavel is ABSOLUTELY going be on a stand for display. It is now one of my proudest possessions (and it shall be dubbed “my precious” 🙂‍↕️). You’re incredibly resourceful, talented and on top of it all, a sweetheart, ily 💜 (no take backsies on the compliments or the virtual tackle hug, incoming)

[reshirfuse]

While everyone is complaining and grossed out by the minecraft movie trailer, i will shamelessly plug in my favorite minecraft derived game Vintage story. Minecraft but it's Totally different it loves its players and adds a lot of customization and has way more attention to detail. I'll just drop the trailer link cause it tells a lot in a little time

[lady-riel]

I just discovered azris is a thing like 30 seconds ago thanks to your blog

WHAT IS GOING ON?!?!

oh you sweet baby child. Your world is about to light up like Eris doing fireplay with Azriel's wings.

okay first on the agenda, some of my fave azris fics.

our bodies, possessed by light by @iftheshoef1tz

I'll Be Yours (Even If I Can't Tell Anyone) by @leafsandstarlight

What Lies Inside by @ofduskanddreams (they have tons of other azris fics on AO3 and they're all incredible)

A Court of Flames and Shadows by flamesandshadows on AO3 (idk who this is on Tumblr, but I'll link it if someone lets me know)

Burning Shadows by @withmychainzon (a WIP but 1000% worth it)

Care Less More by @melonsfantasyworld (also a WIP and also definitely worth it)

and a special honorable mention to @fieldofdaisiies who writes lots of incredible azris ficlets and is currently in the middle of an amazing fic A Court of Covert Desire

next up is art

this painting and also this painting by @krem-does-stuff (everything krem makes is absolutely fucking breathtaking)

this drawing from azris week by elizianna.the.one on insta

this drawing from @naariel

This drawing of Eris which isn't azris but lives rent free in my head by Castleintheskky. If you put it together with this gem of Azriel by @highladyvanserra then abracadabra you magically get azris.

and lastly I'll shamelessly plug myself

All my incorrect azris quotes

The Fight on AO3 (completed fic)

pls reblog with any great azris stuff I missed

[prokopetz]

I have a pinned post for my games in development, but it doesn't really describe what they're about, and apparently this is something we're doing today, so:

My games in development, in rough order of priority:

(Note: all of these have public playtest drafts behind the links.)

Eat God

A game about weird little anarchist muppets with reality-warping powers themed after classic Looney Tunes gags wandering around a classic sword-and-sorcery fantasy setting stirring up trouble. Roughly 50% character creation rules by volume, with provisions for randomising every part of it; the linked draft, above, includes an online character generator if you want to play with it. The mechanics are a sort of elaborated spiritual successor to Costume Fairy Adventures, a game whose development I headed up about a decade ago.

Current status: actively writing, hopefully zeroing in on a feature-complete playtest draft within the next month or two.

Tiny Frog Wizards

One of my customarily literal titles, this is a game where you play as wizards who are tiny frogs. Features elaborate semi-freeform rules for casting spells, lots of big stupid random tables for when spells go off the rails, and absolutely no mechanics for anything that isn't casting a spell; it's a very focused sort of game. Narratively, it's a game about being an overpowered little twerp sticking your nose into other people's problems and offering solutions no-one asked for. Portions of the rules crib shamelessly from @jennamoran's Nobilis 3rd Edition, for which I offer acknowledgement but no apologies.

Current status: development of the text has been set aside for the moment to work on visual identity, with an eye toward crowdfunding an expanded hardcover edition later in the year.

Space Gerbils

A tactical mecha combat game with a very silly twist: the entirety of the tactical positioning occurs inside the mecha, because the game's premise is basically "what if instead of the Big Reveal at the end of Metroid (1986) being that Samus Aran is secretly a girl, Samus Aran was secretly 3–5 small gerbil-like creatures operating a person-size mech suit?" Players engage in positional jockeying and resource management to determine which stations they're crewing within the suit, which is boiled down to a single roll of the dice to determine what happens outside the suit. Includes papercraft minifigs.

Current status: essentially feature-complete, apart from some character creation options and a planned random mission generator; this will likely be the next game I crowdfund after Tiny Frog Wizards.

Indie RPG Prompt Generator [working title]

Essentially a joke that got out of hand, this is a big set of random tables of common indie RPG tropes that you can roll on to generate a description of a hypothetical game, complete with specific rules toys and setting beats. I probably could have finished this up already, but I decided to include examples of each rolled element, which turned into this big hairy research project I'm not able to give adequate attention to right now. If you've got a game of your own that you think would be a good fit for a presently unfilled example slot, please, let me know!

Current status: plugging away at it in bits and pieces as I'm able.

Three Raccoons in a Trenchcoat

This is an anthology consisting of three minigames: the eponymous Three Raccoons in a Trenchcoat, which is self-explanatory; Unfamiliar, in which you play as uncooperative wizards' familiars; and System Crash, in which you play as malfunctioning robots. More a series of formal experiments in character creation and group composition than proper full-featured games, all share the same core mechanics, with milieu-specific addons of varying practicality; for example, System Crash has specific rules for which senses each player is allowed to use when asking the GM for information, because it's completely possible to have a group in which only one of the robots can see. Large portions of Unfamiliar were later re-used in Eat God, above.

Current status: I have a list of notes as long as your arm on planned changes to integrate into the text, and I'm confident I'll get around to doing so one of these years.

Gone to Hell

Literally a Doom (2016) pastiche as a Belonging Outside Belonging game, which is just as silly an idea as it sounds; grown out of an earlier 24-hour RPG called Doomguy. The central conceit is that there's only a single player character, with players taking turns assuming the role of the Slayer, while everyone else takes ownership of the various hostile factions comprising the game's conspiratorial twelve-car pileup of a plot. Lots of pontificating about the implicit power structures of tabletop RPG groups. This one probably needs a full rewrite in order to lend a bit more formal structure to the "one player character, many GMs" conceit than out-of-the-box BOB offers.

Current status: I have not looked at this game in three years, which is actually a really long time for me.

Rotate Bird

Another of my "is this a formal experiment or a real game" titles, this one revolves around constructing characters out of abstract symbols, which are interpreted during play to retroactively define what your character is actually capable of doing. Even the title seen above is an interpretive approximation; strictly speaking, the game is called 🔄🐦. Possibly the most shitposty game I've ever written, which is saying something, but based on playtest feedback it seems functional.

Current status: the only reason this is listed as lower in priority than Gone to Hell is because I genuinely don't know what to do with it. It's probably publishable, with some cleanup editing and graphic design, but it feels like there's something missing. I'm open to suggestions!

Get in the Fucking Robot

A pamphlet-size, competitive, GMless title that's at least as much a board game as it is a tabletop RPG, this one is about a bunch of dysfunctional candidate mecha pilots competing to be the first to pilot the titular giant robot. The game is played under misère conditions: while each character's IC goal is to pilot the robot, each player's OOC goal is to avoid that fate, with the player whose character actually Gets in the Fucking Robot being accounted the loser.

Current status: playtesting suggests the current framework of play doesn't actually work – like, at all – so this one needs to go all the way back to the drawing board; I don't feel like doing that any time soon, which puts it squarely at the bottom of the list.

[anyroads]

Every so often I come on here to shamelessly plug my Etsy store where I make leather thimbles out of reclaimed offcuts, but today I don't have to because Bernadette Banner apparently did it?? 

Listen. Listen listen listen. I've been making these thimbles for a few years now and every time I think, oh maybe this will end up in someone's sewing bag, maybe it'll be their little sewing friend, or knitting friend, or whatever they use it for, and I will have gotten to make something that means a lot to someone. But I never know! They go out into the world and that's the last I hear of them. So to hear that someone cherishes them?? is so moving. You have no idea. And that it's Bernadette, who's such a brilliant needle maven??? I can't. Shh. I'm not crying, you're crying. 

Anyway, I'm beyond excited. If you want one, I'm linking my store below. I just restocked so I'm about to add a couple new colors, including a gorgeous hunter green that I'm doing my best not to keep all for myself.

[elmuvahva]

heyhey :>

i saw that @abbeyofcyn was hosting a CTIYS and i had to join in :D

i had so much fun doing this bc i didn’t have to figure out sketches and shit and could just mindlessly colour 🙃

also, allow me to once again shamelessly plug my EP that i just released (link in my bio and pinned post hehe)

[kydrogendragon]

Monochromatic

Monochromatic for Day Six of Dreamling Week

Relationship: Dream/Hob Rating: Mature Words: 2060 Warnings: Forced Relationship, Teacher-Student Relationship, Age Gap, Body Horror and Dubcon to be safe. Ao3 Link

Thank you to @gabessquishytum whose ask here inspired this!

Hob should have known that something was gravely wrong when he opened his apartment door to see Dream perched on his kitchen counter. The young student smiles at him with eyes too sharp and knowing.

“Dream?” Hob asks, setting his bag on the floor, propped up by the wall. “What’s wrong? How . . . how did you get in here?”

“Any door can be unlocked if you’re determined enough,” he replies, curling a finger to beckon Hob closer. He keeps his feet firmly planted instead. The smile falls from Dream’s face.

This was getting out of hand and fast. Initially, he’d thought Dream was simply one of the occasional students of his that developed a crush on him. And that isn’t a terrible thing by itself—flattering, in a way—but, of course, a crush was all it could remained. And he had to give Dream props for actually asking him out on a date in the beginning rather than asking for “extra credit” as other students in the past had.

He’d said no, of course, but that hadn’t stopped Dream. He was still Hob’s student so it wasn’t as if he could ignore him, especially when he would drop by with questions during office hours and just happened to have extra treats to share. Sometimes it was coffee, other times it was cookies or pastries, but it grew further to actual gifts and finery, of all things. When Dream had tried to give Hob a golden bracelet that looked like it costed more than Hob’s life savings, he’d refused. Said it was unprofessional and that perhaps Dream should look into other classes than his in the future.

Well. That only made things worse.

When the gifts weren’t winning Hob over like Dream had expected, he changed tactics. He’d come to class with clothes far too tight and far too short that displayed every part of his body perfectly. Hell, one day he’d come to class in a mini-skirt and sat in the front row only. Which that alone would have been . . . fine, but when Hob turned back to talk to the class, he looked towards Dream and was met with spread legs and a view of the ruby red plug buried in his arse. Class ended early that day so Hob could hide in his office and lock the door to jack himself off before his next lecture. Something that Dream apparently noticed because he did it three more times after that, each with different colored plugs. Once with a cock ring and Hob swears there was a piercing on his cock (something he, begrudgingly, found out later was true. He’d gotten it pierced just the day before, specifically for him).

Hob’s not blind. Dream’s incredibly attractive and if he wasn’t his student and was a few years older, he’d have bedded him in a heartbeat. But he is Hob’s student. And he is younger—fuck, he’s fresh out of secondary school, just barely eighteen. Hob has an easy twenty years over him, not that Dream seems to give a shit. 

He wishes he could say Dream had just stopped at shamelessly flashing him in class. Christ, life was easier when it was just some kinda crazy kid going after him, but no. Dream’s apparently not just any kid. He’s the fucking son of Chronos and Nyx. He’s an Endless child. And when his bodyguard (and quite possibly his hitman as well) told him to give Dream whatever he wants with a knife pressed to Hob’s throat . . . well.

Hob likes his life. He likes living and teaching and enjoying all the small things that make it worth being here. And he’d quite like to keep doing those things, so he wasn’t left with much of a choice after that. And when Dream came to his office the next day and planted himself over Hob’s lap, he let him. And when Dream pressed his lips to his, Hob let him as well.

But he should have known it would only get worse. Should have known there’s no way Dream would have been satisfied with just simple kisses and knowing he’d won.

Dream carted him away for date nights after classes. He drug him to the fanciest joints in London, gifted him suits and jewels and other adornments to wear, most often delicate lace lingerie to wear under the fancy suits so there would be something pretty for Dream to find when he unwraps Hob at the end of the night. Hob thought, maybe, that Dream’s obsession would start to fade. That, given enough time, he’d realize that Hob was just a boring old maths professor and would drop him in favor of something else—or someone else—soon. But it’s been four months now since that guard of Dream’s threatened him and almost a year since Dream had first stepped into his class.

And now Dream has somehow found himself a way in to Hob’s flat.

“Dream, you can’t just break into my place! Good partners don’t do that kind of thing.” Dream’s eyes narrow as he slinks off of the kitchen counter. The edges of his classic black overcoat trail just above the floor as he glides closer to Hob.

“No,” Dream says, reaching for something in his pocket. “No, good partners wouldn’t break in, would they? But it’s a good thing I didn’t need to resort to something as petty as that. You gave me a key after all, didn’t you?”

Dream tosses whatever was in his pocket at Hob’s chest. He scrambles to grab it, only to see a set of brass keys on a ring. These, he knows for a fact, never came from Hob’s hands. However Dream got ahold of a copy of the keys to his locks didn’t matter. He had them know. And could easily get more, he assumed. And if Dream says Hob gave them to him? It’s as good enough as the truth now. That’s a lesson he learned early on.

“But—” Dream swiftly turns heel and steps back towards the counter where Hob can see something small lying on top by where Dream had been sitting “—you haven’t been a very good partner to me lately, have you?”

Hob blinks. Christ, Dream’s probably not wrong, if they were going by healthy relationship standards, but he thinks he’s been doing pretty damn well for feeling like he’s about to be shanked if he makes the wrong move. But that doesn’t matter to Dream. This is his story and Hob’s merely a character in it. And apparently he didn’t play the part right.

“No, you’re right,” he replies, stepping closer. He rests his hands on Dream’s hips. If he plays sweet and sorry, then everything should be fine. “I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?”

Dream hums, fiddling with whatever was on the counter in his hands. Hob tries to peer over his shoulder, but all he can make out is the plastic bag but not what’s inside of it. “Do you even know what you are apologizing for?” Dream turns his head and meets Hob’s gaze with those calculating blue ones of his. He’s pinned in place under them.

He swallows, mentally running through the past week, trying to figure out what it is Dream’s referring to, but he comes up blank. He thought he’d done pretty well lately, but apparently not.

Hob sighs and shakes his head. “No. But if it upset you, then I’m sorry. Tell me what it was? I’ll be sure not to do it again.”

“You cheated on me.”

Hob’s eyes widen as Dream turns in place, cradled between the countertop and Hob. over the months, he’s gotten good at reading Dream’s face. He had to, it was a survival skill at this point. And the tightness around his eyes, the clenched jaw, and the fire in those blue eyes of his are all signs that point to danger.

Fuck.

Hob’s eyes dart around the room, trying to find wherever that damn bodyguard of his is. This is how he’s going to die, isn’t it? Stabbed because Dream thinks he “cheated”. Maybe he can still save this.

“Dream,” he says, holding his hands out. “I would never cheat on you! Why do you think I did?”

“You were flirting.”

“With who?” he asks, because he genuinely can’t think of who he might have been “flirting” with.

“With her,” Dream says, opening the small bag he was holding. He pulls out something cream-ish colored with splots of red and—

Oh . . .

Oh god . . .

Hob stares down at the bloodied finger between Dream's, his eyes feeling like they’re going to pop out of his skull. His heart is racing in his ears yet his body feels ice cold. There is a finger here. A severed finger. And Dream holds it in his hands with such ease and comfort that it might as well be a piece of candy.

Dream is smiling. He's talking. Hob faintly hears him through the muffled silence that weights down on him. He can't stop staring at the finger, at her finger. He can't stop staring at the green lacquered nail, the polish chipping at the base. He can't stop staring at the congealed blood that coats her skin.

Christ . . . What is happening? What is this life he's gotten wrapped up in? He's just a maths professor for fuck's sake! And now he's staring at the bloodied severed finger of the girl from the coffee shop who he’d chatted with because she was an old student of his. Fucking hell, he’s the reason she’s without a finger. His heart sinks.

Or worse. God, is she dead? Did Dream kill her?

"Hob." Dream's voice calls to him. He shakily lifts his head, meeting darkened blue eyes narrowed in displeasure. And there, just on Dream’s cheek, he sees it. Doesn’t know how he missed it before amidst the sea of white and black that is Dream: a streak of dark red. Of blood. God. He did this himself, didn’t he? It wasn’t even that guard of his that did this. This was personal. "Did you hear what I said?"

Hob blinks back the flood of tears as the reality of his situation crashes down on top of him. It doesn't help. They still fall and he thinks that Dream might even like it that way, judging by how his face seems to relax at the sight.

"No," he says, voice strangled. "Sorry, I'm so sorry, um—" he swallows "—what was it you were saying?" Dream tilts his head to the side. "Love! Um—what was it you were saying, love?" he corrects. Hob's hands shake.

“I said, you wouldn’t be foolish enough to do such a thing again, would you? Not when you have me.” Dream lowers the finger onto the kitchen island beside them as he closes the distance between the two of them. “Now, I can be forgiving. I know it’s natural to be curious about others, especially if . . . one is considering proposing. It’s understandable, the want to be certain of who you’ll spend the rest of your life with, but even so, what you did was unacceptable. But I can forgive you this once.”

Pale hands wrap around Hob's neck, slowly pulling him in for a kiss. Hob moves, afraid of what would happen if he didn't. He lets Dream's mouth meet his, parting them, and letting the younger boy's man’s—mob prince’s—threat’s tongue explore. His body goes on autopilot as his mind races through what Dream said about proposing and the not so subtle threat that if he ever so much as looks like he might be flirting, then that person is going to end up dead. And him too, quite possibly.

Fucking hell . . .

Dream parts with a happy sigh, nuzzling into Hob's neck. "Now, isn't that better? You belong to me, after all. No need to let anyone else get between us, is there?"

Hob can hear the threat laced over Dream's words. So much for thinking Dream would grow bored of him. Now, it seems, he's stuck with him and the only way out is death. And Hob, well. Despite everything, Hob still does love living.

"Yeah," Hob hears himself reply. "Much better."

It seems he’s got a proposal to plan. One that makes Dream happy enough not to murder him. To death do us part, indeed.