#attention all sixth formers

[thefangedstoryteller]

i think i've been in sixth form long enough to be able to ask what everyone else on here is taking, so what are the three (or more) a-levels have you all picked? i'll go first! i'm taking english literature, film studies and photography. i was originally doing drama as my third, but let's just say that it didn't work out and leave it at that... (yk i won't) who's next?

[meidiary]

( 📁 ) THEY ENTERTAIN ANOTHER WOMAN FOR TOO LONG

synopsis: instead of them being jealous, this time you are because of their attention being focused on someone else 🤧

characters: zoro, luffy & sanji!

warnings: female terms used in zoro's & sanji's <3, nicknames + swearing, angst for sanji

mei's note: my previous post had an accidental angsty ending for luffy so i'll be posting a happy one soon! <3

⟶ @ahseyy request: ... And i have this idea 🤧 we had that the OP boys are jealous, sooooo obviously we need that Yn is jealous! ...

☆ "they're just friends!" usopp's words kept ringing in your mind as you stare at ZORO and his ex-girlfriend.. you and the rest of the strawhat crew had stopped sailing, planning to settle a bit on the island you came across. oh, how you deeply regret telling luffy that "this seems like a good place for us to stay in and regain our energy!" now you're stuck witnessing this situation play out, having you completely engrossed in it.

☆ usopp, having a sixth sense for drama, immediately noticed the lack of your presence as a result of you spying observing zoro and his ex.

☆ "are you done spying on your boyfriend?" he chuckles seeing your startled expression. "i'm not spying on him! i'm just-" you see her playfully slap his bicep, earning a displeased look on your face. "why is he even speaking to her for so long? it's not like they left at the best terms.." you blurt out, sighing after seeing usopp's sly smirk.

☆ you know he thinks you're an obsessively jealous person, but you can't find it in you to care because there she goes touching him again! the worst of it all is that zoro doesn't seem to be bothered by it.. your eyebrows furrow as you keep witnessing them smiling way too much, standing way too close, being way too touchy, and the worst of all; they're talking way too soft for you to eavesdrop!

"that's it, i'm going over there!" you utter annoyed, dropping the mop you were holding for the past 15 minutes, having made little to no progress at cleaning the ship's floor. usopp, taken aback, dashes to stand in front of you, blocking the exit of the ship. "are you out of your mind? don't you understand you'll be labeled as the most controlling girlfriend ever?! just- sit this confrontation out alright?" he let's out a sigh of relief, feeling he prevented a major fight to go down, not only between you and zoro, but possibly also between you and zoro's ex..

usopp was right, you know he was, but you couldn't bother thinking straight while you were still seeing that woman being handsy with your man. fuming, you gaze at the two, loathing the almost non-existent space there was between them. "i'm so done," you mutter upset. "please take over cleaning for me today, usopp.." you left to your room and plopped down on your bed, trying to put all your intrusive thoughts to rest.

but of course you couldn't after having seen that interaction between the two. were you exaggerating? was this normal? is it wrong for you to feel this way? this fuming feeling is causing you so much distress. it's like your thoughts are eating you up from the inside. you don't want to feel this way, like you're the one at fault, like you're not enough, like you'll never be enough.. right after that thought crept up out of the darkest pits of your brain, you heard a knock on your, now locked, bedroom door. "baby? you alright?.. why's the door locked-? baby?" you recognize zoro's voice immediately, mentally being stuck between picking the easy choice: ignoring him and bottling up your feelings, or the hard one: facing him and talk to him about your current thoughts..

unbeknownst to you, you unconsciously chose the former option. you open the door and look him in his eyes, hiding as much of your feelings possible. "what?" he furrows his brows, confused by your cold welcome before he remembers usopp warning him you weren't in a good mood because of his overfriendly encounter with his ex. "is this about her?" he chuckles before shaking his head slightly, in disbelief you'd be this bothered by someone from his past. "so what if it is?! is it so weird for me to be upset some woman is being all handsy with you?! and is it suprising that i got bothered even more by you not minding her touching you? is it that weird, zoro? 'cause if it is, please, do tell me!" you blurt out, almost all in one breath, before slamming the door shut.

you weren't planning on letting it out, you didn't want to bother, assuming he'd just brush it off as you exaggerating.. you didn't expect him to open the door you aggressively slammed in his face, so soon. you didn't expect him to, when he saw you leant on the wall with furrowed brows and a trembling upper lip, grab you by the waist and pull you closer to him, so close there was barely anything between you at all.. and least of all did you expect him to grab your chin, raising it so you looked him in the eyes while he told you "if i gave one shit about her, would i be here right now? tell me, if i didn't care about you at all, then why would i tell her i'm not interested in getting back together with her when she asked? why would i tell her i finally found someone that i want to spend the rest of my life with? shit, as cheesy as it sounds, it's true, baby.. i can't imagine being with anyone else except you. so please, don't you get jealous about girls i don't give a damn about."

you send him a soft smile, leaning your forehead on him. "don' know who told you i was jealous.. but you got to get better sources 'cause i for sure wasn't jealous.." zoro scoffs letting out a "yeah, right."

☆ needless to say you two made up and cuddled for the rest of the day.

☆ that would be the end.. but of course usopp had to bug you.. "hey! i took over your cleaning today, so you better take over mine for the next week.." usopp pleaded, with both his hands on his hips. "out." zoro mumbled into your neck, expecting him to comply instantly. "but-!" usopp began to bicker, before getting interrupted by zoro. "now." you accidentally let out a giggle, swiftly moving your hand to cover your mouth right after. "whatever! i will be back, considering this debt!" with that usopp leaves the room, leaving you two alone, enjoying the comfortable silence.

☆ SANJI is a womanizer, that's no shocking discovery. you've know about this fact since the moment you met him. he was charming you up while asking everyone's drinks and then he went off, flirting with another woman on his way back to the kitchen. that moment you learned that this was sanji. but there's also the caring sanji that'd make you a warm soup when you're sick, tending to your needs yet still somehow find away to make you blush whilst laughing with him. in addition to the caring sanji, there also is the determined sanji; whenever he'd speak about finding the all blue, and all the meals he would cook, all the different fish he would see, you could swear you saw his eyes glistening with adoration and resolve. further, intellectual sanji heavily plays a role in your daily life; happily helping you with mundane chores to the most exciting adventures you and your fellow strawhats go on. he fills you in on books he's read, food he's cooked, ingredients he's used, products he's bought and much more!

☆ you could go on and on, daydreaming of all sanji's positive personality traits, but you're all time favorite would have to be considerate sanji.. the way he could immediately sense from you that you weren't feeling like your usual self still amazes you. how he always chooses the right moments to bring you a freshly brewed cup of tea with your favorite desert right next to it, which you have know idea how he had the time nor ingredients for. how he treats you like a princes and tells you how much you mean to him in so many different ways when you feel absolutely miserable. and, oh, how he always knows when to embrace you tightly and whisper sweet nothings into your ear, until it becomes numb.

☆ so with all that, you accepted him being a womanizer, having the seemingly perpetuous habits of bantering with other women. you always wondered if he'd stop flirting with so many women if you asked him to.. but then the thought that you two were nothing and wouldn't be anything else than friends hit you.

☆ nevertheless, seeing his cheeky smile being sent to some random woman, seeing him subtly sling his arm around her waist as he guids her to the dance floor, seeing him lean closer to her every minute, it was killing you, no more like slowly scraping you from the inside, the bottled up pain waiting for you to finally burst open.

you've been eyeing them the whole night, not once taking your eyes off of them or bothering to answer usopp's rants with more than a 'mhm,' or a 'hmm'. "have you listened to a word i said?!" usopp voiced suddenly, turning the strawhats' complete attention to you. "mhm.." absent-minded, you nod hearing him say something, but not comprehending the words he spoke.

"see, told you she wasn't paying attention," usopp leaned back against his seat after pulling up his shoulders, indicating he was right about you not paying attention to what anyone was saying. zoro, being the one seated next to you, tapped your shoulder, earning a "hm?" from you. getting annoyed by your negligence, he shifted his gaze to the direction you were looking in, finally understanding what the issue was.

to clarify your absent-mindness, zoro nudged his head towards sanji and his date. his date, who was sat on his lap at this point, making the knot in your stomach grow substantially. seeing his arm wrap around her hips as she leaned on him was your final stroke, your last straw. it was your breaking point.. you've reached, no, you've long surpassed your limit for these shenanigans, but right now, this very moment you finally break.

you suddenly feel a rush of tears burn your eyes, overwhelmed with your thoughts and emotional distress. you jump up, hurriedly leaving the club room you were in, not wanting anyone to see you in your current state. you desperately search for a private area where you can cry yourself out of this situation without having people judge you. but you notice the whole place is packed with couples who can't keep their hands off of each other, except the balcony, so you shakingly make your way to the cold space.

all of a sudden, you hear someone's heavy breathing behind you. "darling? what's the matter? what happened?!" sanji. he asks you breathlessly, due to him running after you. you quickly tried to wipe your tears away, but they kept coming! making you feel even more hysterical. "hey, hey now -" sanji notices your crying, he turns you around, his arms moving from your arms down to your waist, pulling you closer to him. "talk to me, sweetheart.. please, just talk to me.." he pleads, moving his face closer to yours.

"i- i can't- do- it!" you babbled in-between sobs. "what, darling? who did this to you?" sanji moves his hands to your cheeks, pulling your face to his, carefully. "you..! you're killing me!" he furrows his brows in confusion. once you calmed down, you slowly tore one of his hands off your face. "i can't keep seeing you with others, sanji.. it really fucking hurts! i- i just can't-" you push him away a little, "i can't keep bottling it up sanji.. i'm done.."

☆ he didn't even mean to.. he was just being friendly, he was cracking jokes, making sure she was feeling calm and at peace, he asked sanji to get her something to snack, he was being luffy..

☆ normally, you'd swoon over him whenever he'd be in this caring mood of his. but not this time, no. this time, you were close to glowing green out of envy. you shouldn't be feeling this way, you know that. you trust luffy with your everything! it just hits you in the wrong place whenever he leans towards her when she speaks. it's like you can feel your heart cramp up each time she looks up at him and smiles, receiving his usual toothy grin in return.

☆ she was lost, abandoned at sea by her very own family. at least that's the bit you picked from usopp dramatically narrating her lifestory. is it heartless that all you could think of was that you hoped, the strawhats and you would drop her off at the very next island, wish her luck with her life, and continue your journeys? knowing luffy, that's the last thing that would happen. no, it's not even on the list of things he would ever consider! your thoughts made you feel absolutely terrible. you weren't a bad person, so why were you being so uncaring towards this poor girl who had lost so much? envy. jealousy can bring out the absolute worst in people. the lowest of a person's nature gets drawn out someone. and that someone now, was you.

you tried to stay away from her, not wanting to accidentally lash out. you felt bad for her, you did, but you also how far you could go, when jealousy takes apart in decision-making. so you avoid her, and just like that, you were also avoiding luffy. because for some reason, he was always near her, always. it's like he was scared she'd run away?

luffy noticed. but he didn't know the reason you were avoiding her. he's always optimistic and cheerful, so everyone expects him to always be exactly that, except you. you were there for him, allowing him to have bad days. he didn't have to hide his feelings or emotions. it was a relief for him to find someone like you, someone he lived so dearly, who lived him back just as much. it was refreshing, calming, delightful. what happened? what did he do? was he too much? or did he do too little to show you he cares so much, that he'd give you the world if you asked for it. he'd go to the moon and back for you. he doesn't know how, but he'd find a way. and now he lost you? that can't be true. it can't. he won't accept it!

that's how you got in your current situation; his face was buried in the crook of your neck, his hands holding you tightly by your waist, mumbling something about how good you smell.

you had told him the reason you were avoiding was because of your sudden jealousy. he laughed for a good 10 minutes about how ridiculous you were to think of something like that! but in his mind, oh, how relieved he was that you weren't avoiding him because you fell out of love with him. it was because you were too in love with him..

☆ you two ended up having a picnic on deck, trying to keep usopp and chopper away from your neatly set up meals prepared by sanji (duh)

☆ luffy kept teasing you about how jealous you were and that you love him too much for your own good. acting like he wasn't on the verge of being a crying mess because he thought he lost you 🙄

☆ he kept giving you nose tip smooches while telling you you'll never lose him <3

MEI'S NOTE: so, uhm yeah sanji's part was definitely something...

... hope you enjoyed!! <3

[aweina]

୨୧. honest eyes — mortal kombat one. kameos : raiden. johnny cage + kenshi takahashi & liu kang

when you stare at their hands for too long.

raiden was confused at first. he was not dreaming, right? he knew his small crush on you could make him overthink certain interactions, but the more he quietly observed you, he realized that your mindless staring was in fact, reality. coming into terms with this realization was hard for raiden, dissecting every possible outcome as to why your unreadable gaze seemed so glued to him. ignoring this dilemma sounds more unnerving, offering him temporary peace, and so he did. but only then the limelight that you unintentionally showered over him the past few days left him flustered and somewhat clumsy. it only began to worsen when he caught your intense gaze on his quivering hands, the warm tea swishing around the small ceramic cup. silence fell between the two of you, with raiden watching your eyes drag over the fine details of his hands — rough from working in the fields yet gentle with anything he touched. “what’s so particular about my hands that you seem to like so much?” it took a bit of courage to ask, but he was pleased to see you gaze away nervously, sputter something incoherent, just like he would with you. maybe his crush wasn’t actually one-sided all along.

johnny never seemed to notice your blatant staring, or so you thought. under the foggy lenses and his humorous exterior, his was incredibly sharp when it came to observing his surroundings — particularly you drooling over the sight of his hands. after making such a huge discovery, he has been absolutely insufferable and loud. the flirty little comments you’ve received became much bolder, he was more expressive with his hands — pointing things directly by your face and “casually” articulating them around every time he talked. he would even exaggeratedly stretch out his limbs as his ring gleaming under a nonexistent light — the wolf whistle was the cherry on top. despite all his teasing gestures, you still gazed hungrily over the callouses and subtle veins that swelled over his skin. with his strong fingers dancing along your knee, you try to keep his movement still, tracing over his hands carefully once he complied. “take a picture, it’ll last longer.” he snickers at his own joke, but this was his idea after all. next time, he’ll make sure to get a few angles saved in his camera roll.

kenshi has always been particularly tense when it came to unwanted attention. that’s why he instantly felt your lingering gaze — like he had a sixth sense. but confusion dawned upon him. what were you staring at? he learned to be cautious about his appearance, hiding his troubling past under long sleeve shirts and keeping a calm demeanor to not scare off others. yet you constantly assured him that his former affiliation with the yakuza didn’t bother you. it’s when he’s eating idly in the dinning hall of the academy, kenshi felt your unwavering eyes on him again. this time he followed the tilt of your head, noticing a blush on your blank features, and finally stopping at his rough tattooed hands. he’s heard of this before, a hand fetish? kenshi smirks knowingly, placing his utensils on the table as he raises a hand over your hard gaze. “if you wanted to look, you should’ve just asked.” he teases with a smile, lowering his hand to let let your fingertips ghost over his inked skin — something that he would never let anyone else do.

liu kang did not need his divine intuition to notice your unwavering eyes — it was quite obvious and rather amusing. when he crafted this new timeline, he never suspected that you would ever see him in a certain light. although he usually wears hand wraps on a daily basis, there are rare occasions when he would rather continue his routine without a tight fit pressing fine lines onto his skin. with your curious presence sifting through the halls of the fire temple, liu kang feels it’s only natural to shred off the one thing that taunts your prying gaze. your subtle reactions to his rare exposure never failed to make him smile. now, you sit alongside the fire god in a daze — mesmerized by the veins and small cuts that decorated his hands. liu kang gently held your smaller hand, applying a soothing balm over your healing cut. his glowing eyes flicker to your lingering stare, openly gawking at his hands and periodically, dragging along his inked muscles. that’s when he suddenly broke out laughing, breaking you out of a trance. “your gaze never seems to falter, huh?” he keeps a firm grip on your hand when you try to flee away, basking in your flustered eyes.

© aweina : please do not copy, repost, or modify any of my content.

[alwayscorvus]

Hello! Can I request a Honkai Star Rail and Wuthering Waves crossover with Jiyan? The reader can be of any faction and race you wish. I think a foxian reader, a self-destructor reader like Acheron or a Memokeeper would be interesting. Maybe even a Gallovian. Whatever you think is right, that's right. Thanks in advance 🌻🌻🌻

Once you are gone

memokeeper!foxian!malereader x Jiyan, fluff; warning!faction and "race" kinda reflect in reader's character

It took so frickin' long u probably forgot about it. Sorry. But I have like no time at all. Still thank u very much 4 the request!

And about it… tbh I played in hsr for only a brief while, because I stopped at the beginning of Penacony... (truly unfortunate turn of events) But I searched for help on internet. And after first few informations that I read, an idea popped into my head, so I decided to modify it suitably for a story. Hope its alright

In your life you have visited dozens if not hundreds of places, times and dimensions. You have met thousands of people, explored more than one story, learned new languages, traditions and habits. In the process, you have gained a lot of unique, rich and wonderful memories. However, none of them belonged to you.

You were a memokeeper. You had nothing. You dedicated your entire existence to your almighty Aeon. Your soul, experiences, memories, emotions, feelings. Everything belonged to him.

You were his best memokeeper. You always stole finest memories from most unique universes. You worked long for your title. You wanted to feel appreciated. That's why, once you noticed, that lately no memory had brought your lord to his former euphoria, you knew you had to try harder. Find something one of a kind. Everything for that one smile and few simple words of recognition.

You went on a journey. Where no memokeeper has yet managed to go. Next few worlds and their residents didn't seem really interesting. There was nothing there that your Lord hadn't already seen. But, you weren't willing to give up so easily. After all, you were the best of the best.

In the end, fate brought you to Solaris-3. At first it was a simple miscalculation. But after moments of reflection, you came to conclusion that such coincidences often led to the greatest results. Something was drawing you to Solaris. And especially to Huanglong. That's why you decided to settle there for a longer period of time. You focused your search on possible battlefields. After all, your Aeon gave them his special attention.

However, your focus wasn't drawn to trivial Midnight Rangers. Before you knew it all your attention turned to a certain teal-haired general… Even if it wasn't in your style. By the time you realized, it was too late. You drowned in curiosity. And what's even more surprising, you decided to trust your fox sixth sense.

At first you remained in the shadows. As always.

You watched him from afar. Drank in his view. His smile and gentle voice. You experienced what he did. Got to know him, his surroundings, people close to him and emotions that he showed.

Yet it wasn't enough for you.

You were greedy. You had to taste it yourself.

So you decided to take more advanced steps. And do what you were mostly not in the habit of doing. You decided to reveal yourself.

At first you planned to pretend to be an ordinary local resident. A poor, struggling victim who lost his home and all his belongings in face of war.

However, after a moments of consideration, you pushed that idea back into the shadows. You wouldn't feel right putting yourself in a weaker position than general and your rivals. You had to play a hero in this story.

Now all you had to do was to wait for the right moment. And it came faster than you could have thought.

A group of Midnight Rangers along with a general ran into an ambush. Typical, sunny afternoon. Any attack was definitely unexpected. In the blink of an eye, you jumped in front of Jiyan and covered him with your own body, countering the hit. You dealt a punch that spread destruction and left a deep crack in the ground, decorated with fainted bodies of your opponents.

You hastily turned towards your subject of interest. Jiyan stood there truly shocked with your sudden appearance.

You took a closer look at him. For the first time you had the opportunity to do so.

You saw this spark in his eyes. Full of admiration and fascination. You proceeded to the rescue before he could even react.

A sort of sudden, unfamiliar warmth spread through your body. You felt the need to help him more often.

That's how your relationship began. You were quickly dragged into the ranks of Midnight Rangers and even faster, Jiyan took you in his care.

Now you were able to experience everything he did firsthand. And you couldn't lie, you damn well enjoyed it.

Jiyan quickly took a liking to you. Just as you liked him. If you even knew the meaning of this term. Memokeepers were famous for their manipulative abilities. Extremely necessary when acquiring precious memories. Oddly enough, you didn't need to use them at all. Jiyan liked you for who you were.

At some point you became inseparable. You didn't feel the need to do anything unrelated to general and he neither could nor wanted to chase you away.

The more time you spent with him the more you learned. You even managed to come up with new ideas. Maybe your Aeon was so moody because he needed something different? Instead of war, maybe he should experience some love.

However, there were no candidates in Jiyan's way. And you also didn't feel right with the idea of some stranger messing with general's heart. No one seemed suitable. So you decided to "sacrifice" yourself for the sake of this matter.

Few flirty comments, innocent brushes of hands.

Yet, you needed something more. You needed to create some kind of special memory.

It was one of the coldest nights of an entire year. You stationed in some remote area.

As you walked through narrow paths, between a shabby tents, you heard chattering of teeth. Pitch-black night got illuminated by lone stars and shyly sparkling campfires. Excluding a few tightly wrapped sentries, on your way you didn't come across any living soul.

You reached to the edge of a camp. Jiyan never liked to set up in the center.

You looked around awkwardly. There was no door, no way to knock. You weren't sure how to alert of your presence. But rushed by the cold, you began to call out a name of your general in a loud whisper.

Fortunately, awkward moment didn't last long and man heard you. Jiyan poked his head out of a tent. Sleepy eyes, messy hair. He looked so… vulnerable. He was completely unlike his highly, awe-inspiring general's self. Truly adorable. But you shook off these thoughts in panic.

-Can I come in?-you asked with a devious smirk.

And Jiyan, not yet fully aware of what was happening, only nodded his head and stepped back, thus letting you in.

Closing a tent behind you, you cut off all access to light. In small space you were able to find your way quickly. In the dark, you took off your shoes and, together with Jiyan, placed yourself in the middle of warm furs and sheets. Although Jiyan had never had you inside his tent before, it seemed so natural for the two of you. All those times when Jiyan accidentally fell asleep on your shoulder during long war planning… It added up to one thing.

Hearing a sluggish shuffling, you imagined Jiyan shyly approaching you as he sent you a pleading look. You bit your lower lip in desperation. You really wished you could see that right now.

You slowly raised your hand higher, tracing man's face. Gently grabbed his sharp jaw and pulled him towards you in a confident motion, placing his head on your chest. You felt as general's body relaxed.

You covered him with a thick layer of furs. Left one arm on his hip, when other began to soothingly stroke his hair. Cold slowly faded away in cozy atmosphere and comfort of each other body. Still, you couldn't help but notice Jiyan's gentle shivering. He was freezing. Yet it was you who just got back out of air. You squeezed him tighter. Twisted gently from side to side, releasing your tail, which hurriedly wrapped around Jiyan. General breathed a sigh of relief as he snuggled tighter into you. You knew he liked your tail. Although he never dared to touch it, considering it your private space. He sent it plenty of sneaking glances.

-When are you leaving?

He suddenly broke the silence and you froze.

-How-?

-That's easy to notice. When I talk about plans for the spring you look away. When I ask about your past you avoid the subject. When boys beg you to become their mentor, you turn it into a joke. It all adds up. I am not blind.

Pleasant atmosphere got taken over by a tension. Strange thrill of adrenaline set in your body. You clenched your teeth and hugged man tighter. You didn't know what to say.

-So?

-You can't wait for me to be gone, that much? - you couldn't stand the pressure so you tried to dismiss the subject.

Jiyan shook his head in denial.

-I don't want you to leave at all.

He answered sincerely and turned his face towards you, hoping that despite the darkness you could see his confident look and take his word for granted.

Your heart began to beat faster and you truly started to worry. You had never experienced anything like this. But you felt a sudden urge, to provide Jiyan's safety, just as you did during the ambush. Your instinct told you that you had to reassure him that everything would be fine.

Without much thought, as if guided by your inner self, you lifted your head and placed a gentle kiss on top of man's head.

-I'll be back, I promise - you swore.

It hurt you a lot, but he was right. You had to leave. You hadn't been in your home for long enough. Though you weren't sure anymore if you were still able to call that way a place by Aeon's side. You started to arrange in your head what would you say to Aeon.

But whatever your explanations might be, one thing was certain:

You will keep this memory only for yourself.

[sl-vega]

0.2; abandonment issues personified

project: love liason! - a scaramouche smau

scaramouche:

childe's childhood best friend and former next door neighbour

moved around a lot as a kid before getting taken in by his aunt due to his mother always being away on business trips

mona's academic rival, saw her as a nuisance before recently developing feelings for her (not that he'd ever admit it.)

was childe's neighbour up until they were sixth grade and scara's aunt passed away, so he ended up moving abroad to live with his mother

doesn't say it out loud, but he's grateful that childe did whatever he could to keep in touch with scara while he was living overseas

moved back just in time for freshman year of highschool

has a pet gecko that his aunt gave him before she died, he named him durin

only uses durin as his pfps

childe:

real name is ajax but childe was more of an inside joke/nickname that way too many people caught on to

guy of many talents, and part of many extracurricular activities around campus

essentially a walking wallet for the rest of the group due to his family having many connections

doesn't mind paying for everyone and that is frequently abused

albedo:

albedo is basically that one cousin/friend that your parents always compare you to

honour roll, member of the student council, as well as the science and art club, not to mention a trusted tutor

sometimes people who have crushes on him fail tests on purpose just on the off chance that they can get him as a tutor

venti and childe thinks it's funny af but he got pretty annoyed by it after a while

his block list on all his platforms are mainly made up of people who pretended to be failing just to get his attention

poor guy doesn't gaf about their grades he just wants some alone time

venti:

drunk without alcohol friend

chronic band kid, frequently tries to convince new students to join any of the band courses

always mooches off of childe whenever the rest of the group goes out

met scara after childe introduced them to each other during a school dance that everyone was forced to attend

heizou:

the FBI friend of scara's group

just like navia he knows everything about everyone, except he actually charges people for his services

has a questionable search history at best

a SHIT ton of burner accounts on all his social media platforms for "research purposes"

has blackmailed a teacher into giving him an extension once

kazuha:

recently transferred midway through sophomore year

knew scara while he was living overseas and fate brought them together again

the actual dad of the group regardless of what childe claims

works part time at his local book store and is a MAJOR literature and poetry nerd

is part of several book clubs with a bunch of sweet old women

additional notes:

profiles are finished and done!

taglist is still open so just lmk if you want to be added <3

𝜗𝜚 SYNOPSIS: you're head over heels in love with childe, and scaramouche is (begrudingly) smitten with his "rival" mona. and, by sheer divine coincidence, you both happen to be the best friends of each other's objects of affection, so you strike a deal with each other. if scaramouche helps you ask out childe, you'll set him up with mona. so with the annual spring formal right around the corner, the two of you vow to be each other's wingmans so you can end your junior year on a high note (and maybe even kick off your senior year with a new relationship!). between, scheming, planning, and researching, you and scaramouche find yourselves developing a new relationship via helping each other out. now the real question is whether this friendship will remain as a pure platonic bond, or blossom into something more?

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🎀 - taglist!;

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[zzoomacroom]

Live a Little

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Dreamling, One Shot, Fluff, Smut, Angst, Friends to Lovers, 6500 words

Late entry for @mr-sadman's Dreamling Week 2024 (Day 1: Indulgence, First Time). Also for @dreamlingbingo (Square A3: Friends to Lovers)

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Summary: Dream needs to be convinced that he’s allowed to indulge, to want, to live. Hob shows him some of the little things that make life worthwhile: good friends, good wine, fancy chocolate, and amazing sex.

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022), The Sandman (Comics)

Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Additional Tags: Fluff, Smut, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Sexual Tension, Getting Together, First Time, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Oral Sex, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Under-negotiated Kink, Dream has bad blowjob etiquette but Hob is into it, not beta read

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��Make yourself at home, my friend,” Hob says, ushering his oldest and dearest friend into the sitting room. Dream nods soberly and heads for the sofa, while Hob turns back towards the hall. “Back in a tick. I’ve got a nice Pinot noir I’ve been saving that I think you’ll like.”

Before his friend can launch into his whole “You need not trouble yourself, I have no need for sustenance, blah blah blah” spiel, Hob darts through the hall and into the bright, cluttered kitchen at the back of the flat. He uncorks the wine and crouches down to rummage through the cabinets, hauling aside dishes and cast iron pans that would almost certainly be considered antiques by now. He knows they’re around here somewhere…

“Ha!” Hob makes a little noise of triumph as he retrieves the pair of dusty earthenware cups that he’d bought at an art fair a couple decades back. They’re handmade and painted in brilliant blues and greens, and the small bumps and imperfections on them remind him of the Border ware dishes he had owned back in the mid-16th century (minus the lead glaze, presumably).

Hob gives the cups a quick wash and dries them off before pouring the wine. He’s learned the hard way that Dream is not a fan of glass drinkware these days. When his friend explained the reason for this sudden aversion, Hob’s heart had shattered like the brandy snifter that Dream had dropped minutes before. Afterwards, he had gone through and purged his flat of wine glasses, glass bowls, and anything else that even vaguely resembled the prison Dream had described. Not just for his friend’s sake, but for himself; he doesn’t want that reminder either—the thought of his dear stranger, trapped, alone… If Hob had known…

God, if only he’d known…

Anyway. The point is, he’s been sticking with coffee mugs since then. But he can’t serve fine wine to the King of Dreams and Nightmares in a “Shag of the Century” mug, even if it does feel hilariously apropos, so it’s lucky he remembered these. The flat’s a bit of a mess as it is and he doesn’t want to come across as too much of a slob.

Hob hadn’t expected his old friend to drop by today. Well, to be honest, he never expects it, but he’s always thrilled to see him. Ever since they broke their centennial tradition with that first meeting at the New Inn, Dream has started visiting more frequently. At first it was brief, sporadic meetings at the pub, but he gradually started to come around more often, much to Hob’s delight. He’s shown up a few times when Hob was leaving work, instigating a riot of gossip among Hob’s coworkers and sixth-formers alike. Sometimes he visits Hob while he dreams, which had destroyed Hob’s entire perception of reality the first time it happened and still never ceases to blow his mind.

Usually the two of them come up to Hob’s flat, ostensibly to watch a movie or so that Hob can show off whatever new gadget he’s acquired, but the truth is that he wants Dream’s attention all to himself. Hob has always been a selfish, greedy man, and he can’t help but covet this precious time spent together. One never knows if the next Will Shakespeare is lurking in the pub.

He can never predict exactly when his friend will show up, but these days it seems like hardly a week passes without seeing him. So it’s odd that this is the first time he’s been by in over a month. Hob had noticed right away that something was troubling him; Dream seems even more distant and shuttered than usual today, and so Hob had herded him upstairs the moment he walked through the door.

He’s trying very hard not to be a mother hen, but in fairness the pub was starting to get crowded, and Hob knows that his friend is not fond of the noise. He’s just being considerate, he tells himself. Yes, he’s missed him desperately these past few weeks, and yes, the worry that he’d been captured again has consistently been in the back of Hob’s mind. But he has to rein it in and play it cool, lest he trigger another incident like 1889. He knows how lucky he is, how spoiled he’s become, getting to see Dream so often after having gone a century (or more) between meetings. So he knows he’s being a bit silly, getting so antsy after only a month apart.

Still. He worries.

(Continue reading below or on ao3):

Hob returns to the sitting room, wine bottle in one hand and the two cups balanced precariously in the other. He stifles a gasp and nearly drops them when he sees his friend perched on the sofa, having evidently vanished his coat and shoes back to the Dreaming, leaving his feet and arms bare. Hob simultaneously feels like a prude and a pervert as he drinks in the rare sight of that flawless ivory skin.

Then his heart swells with fondness—Dream has actually attempted to make himself at home, like Hob offered. “Attempted” being the key word; he does rather look like he’s sitting in a waiting room instead of on his friend’s sofa. Like he’s not sure how comfortable he’s allowed to get. Hob wants to make him comfortable, wants to wrap him in soft blankets and feed him soup and make him understand how fiercely loved he is.

Steady on, Hobsie. Get a hold of yourself.

Dream looks up from the worn copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy he’s been thumbing through, and if Hob didn’t know any better he’d say there was a faint blush blooming on his perfect cheekbones.

See, that’s the elephant in the room: the ever-present sexual tension between them has been at an all-time high lately. Obviously, Hob fell in love with Dream the second he laid eyes on him—how could he not?—and occasionally, over the centuries, he’s felt a spark of… something, from his stranger (that look he’d given him in 1789 being the most flagrant example). And he’s been feeling that something more and more often these days.

Maybe he’s just a lovesick, hope-stricken old fool, but Hob has a sneaking suspicion that his feelings for his friend are, at least to some small degree, reciprocated. Hob is sure as hell not going to make the first move; he cringes as he remembers how that had gone the last time he tried it. But it’s alright. He can be patient. He has been patient. And if nothing ever happens between them, well, that’s alright too. This easy companionship that they’ve developed is more than Hob could have ever hoped for, and he considers himself a lucky man indeed.

At least that’s what he tells himself.

“Here we are, my friend.” Hob hands one of the cups to Dream—the blue one that matches his eyes—and settles beside him on the sofa, stretching and making a point of putting his feet up on the coffee table to signal to his friend that he’s allowed to relax. And he does seem to get the hint, his shoulders easing down a fraction as he leans back into the cushions. “To life,” Hob says, tilting his cup Dream’s direction. Dream responds with a small, slightly pained smile and gently clinks his cup against Hob’s before taking a sip, humming appreciatively as he drinks.

“Good, eh?” Hob grins, thrilled that his friend is enjoying it.

“Indeed. This is a fine vintage. I thank you for sharing it with me,” Dream replies solemnly.

“I can’t think of anyone better to share it with,” Hob says, perhaps a bit too earnestly, and Dream’s blush deepens ever so slightly. “So,” Hob clears his throat, “what have you been up to, my friend? It’s been a while since I saw you last.” Dream stiffens at that, and Hob hastily adds, “If you want to talk about it, that is. You don’t have to.”

Dream takes another long sip of wine and shakes his head before speaking. “I was with family. I spent some time with my youngest sister, as well as some other relations. One whom I had not seen in centuries, and. Another. With whom I had not spoken in millennia.”

To Hob’s credit, his mind boggles only a little at that. “Well, that’s nice, isn’t it? Family reunion and all?”

Dream makes a small noise—of agreement or skepticism, Hob couldn’t say—and looks away as he continues to drink his wine. It’s obvious that something has happened; Dream seems… hopeless. Resigned. To what, Hob doesn’t dare guess. Dream doesn’t seem inclined to share more at the moment, and there’s a beat of awkward silence as Hob fumbles through his mind for a new topic of conversation. He’s mentally reviewing his day for any interesting stories to tell when he notices his friend staring at the small box wrapped in gold paper on the coffee table, seemingly lost in thought.

Hob springs forward and opens the box, nudging the chocolates in Dream’s direction. “Oh! Where are my manners? Help yourself to those. Some of my coworkers got them for my birthday—well, what they think is my birthday.”

Dream blinks at him. “I do not need to eat.”

Hob chuckles. “Nobody needs to eat chocolate. It’s purely for pleasure. You don’t need to drink this very good wine either, but you’re enjoying it,” he points out, topping off both of their cups to underscore his argument. “And I bet these would go great with the Pinot.” He takes a vanilla cream-filled one for himself before pushing the box closer to Dream. “Go on, they’re quite nice. It’s the expensive stuff. I think that one��s caramel, and that’s a raspberry cream…”

A tiny smile creeps over his friend’s face as he speaks. “My sister is fond of those. Or. Something like them.”

Hob is immensely curious about these family members Dream keeps mentioning, but he doesn’t want to pry; he knows by now that if Dream wants to share something with him, he’ll do so in his own time. “Well, please, have as many as you’d like. I’ll never finish them all before they go stale, so you’d be doing me a favor.”

“I do not usually. Indulge,” Dream says, though he is still staring (longingly, one might almost say) at the cocoa-dusted confections.

“You mean to tell me you’ve got the entire Dreaming at your fingertips, and you don’t indulge in all the lovely things you’ve made? That, my friend, is a tragedy.” Hob smiles and shrugs. “Well, if you won’t indulge yourself, then why not indulge me? I won’t make you eat them, of course, but…” he takes a bite of the bonbon (it really is good, even if it’s a bit too sweet for his taste), “you’d be missing out.”

The gloom that had earlier enshrouded Dream seems all but dissipated, and Hob can’t help but notice the way his friend’s eyes flick to his mouth, the starry voids of his pupils blown wide. Hob is considerably flustered himself right now, but he manages to give his friend what he hopes is a roguishly charming wink.

Dream glances down, his cheeks reddening further. “Very well. If you insist,” he says primly, like he’s doing Hob a favor as he delicately plucks a milk chocolate truffle from the box. And he is doing him a favor; Hob already counted it as a win that he was enjoying the wine, and this is just… well, the icing on the cake. Hmm, maybe he can get him to try cake next time…

Hob loses his train of thought as he watches his friend bite into the chocolate. Dream’s eyes widen before fluttering shut, and the moan he lets out is downright sinful. It’s enthralling. Hob is in trouble.

Dream keeps his eyes closed while he savors the confection, his tongue darting out to lick the powdered cacao from his petal-pink lips. He swallows audibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and Hob shivers as he envisions…

No. Now is not the time. Keep it together, old man. Hob shifts and crosses his legs, vainly attempting to ignore the heat pooling low in his belly and the subtle tightening of his trousers.

“Thank you, my friend,” Dream murmurs, glancing demurely at Hob. “They are. Nice. As you said.”

“Of course. I’m glad you like them,” Hob beams. “Help yourself to more. Anything I have, you’re welcome to,” he adds, gesturing vaguely around the flat.

Dream stares at him for a long moment, with a hunger in his eyes that brings to mind that look, the one he’d given him in 1789. There’s something else in his expression, though. Something sad. But before Hob can attempt to decipher it, Dream schools his features, once more a mask of emotionless detachment (except for the telltale flush that has now spread from his cheeks to his ears and neck).

They’re sitting quite close together on the sofa, Hob notices. Had he scooted over without realizing, or was that Dream? There’s no body heat, no familiar human scent coming from his friend, but Hob can feel a strange sort of energy emanating from him—something like static electricity. Like the heavy, expectant stillness that comes before a storm.

Dream slowly, hesitantly reaches for another piece, and as he leans forward their thighs brush together ever so faintly.

Hob’s breath hitches.

Although they’ve been meeting regularly for a couple years now, they have never so much as shaken hands. This is unprecedented.

Hob exhales shakily, and he can’t hold back the embarrassing little noise that escapes him. He tries to disguise it as a cough, but Dream freezes and draws back suddenly as if he’s been bitten.

“It’s alright,” Hob says softly, almost a whisper, like his friend is some skittish wild beast who might flee at any second (actually, that’s about the size of it). “Have another one.”

Dream shrinks back into the sofa, looking suddenly rueful. “I should not.”

Hob laughs nervously. “Now don’t tell me you’re trying to watch your figure, because you’re already…” he splutters and trails off, tugging on his earlobe as a prickling heat creeps up the back of his neck.

Too much. Stupid. So bloody stupid, just shut up.

He hasn’t had nearly enough wine for his mind to be so fuzzy and his mouth so loose. So why can’t he get a grip?

"It’s just—I mean,” he goes on, his treacherous mouth continuing to prattle on despite his brain’s feeble protests, “my point is, it’s alright to indulge. You of all people deserve to indulge. And I offered, so… please. Take what you want. You’re allowed to want things, Dream. And you deserve to have what you want. And—and I know, you can conjure anything up out of dreams and stardust. But even so. I just… I want you to know that anything I have, anything I can offer, however trivial, it’s yours if you want it. And it’s just chocolate and wine, eh? So… why not live a little?”

Hob looks up, apparently done with his ramble, to find Dream staring at him, his head cocked in that adorable way of his. His lips are parted slightly and his eyes shine with unshed tears.

Oh, brilliant. Great fucking job, Hobsie. Just don’t know when to quit, do you?

“Hob,” his friend begins, his voice a deep rumble of distant thunder, more of a feeling than a sound. “You are very generous. More so than is wise, and far more than I deserve. But I am afraid that your generosity may be. Misplaced. You say that I should ‘live a little,’ but. I am not… alive, in the way that you are. I do not live. I simply… am.”

Hob stares at him, dumbfounded, while his heart breaks into a thousand pieces. That… is the saddest fucking thing Hob has ever heard in the two-thirds of a millennium that he’s been alive. It all makes sense now. That’s why Dream has always been so interested in the mundane minutiae of his life. He’s been living vicariously through Hob, and all the while he’s got no life of his own. Just… existing, not living, for billions of years, and on and on until the end of time.

But that’s not true, is it? No. Hob rejects the entire premise. Dream may not be a living, breathing human, but he’s a person. And he does so have a life; he’s got a family. He’s got friends. If nothing else, he’s got Hob. He’s more than just his bloody function that he’s always going on about. Hob wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Tell him that he can live, he must.

Hob’s mind is already racing with ideas—he’s going to have to up his game; they can’t keep meeting at the pub or in Hob’s flat. There’s so much more out there to do and see. Maybe, instead of living vicariously through him, Hob can convince Dream to do some living with him. Not like that… Just. Bucket list-type stuff, even though neither of them can die. Although he doubts Dream would go for it; the mental image of his dear friend skydiving is as far-fetched as it is hilarious.

Of course, he doesn’t dare say any of that. He’s sure he’s already overstepped with that unhinged rant he just went on. He ought to quit while he’s ahead and drop the subject before he offends Dream. Still, it’s impossible not to notice the way Dream has been swaying closer to him over the course of this conversation. The way the air between them seems to crackle with electricity.

“Nevertheless,” Dream continues, “I am grateful for your kindness. Thank you, my friend.”

"'Course,” Hob murmurs. “Like I said. Anything I can offer, it’s yours. So… what do you want?”

Dream falters for a moment and seems to be intensely focused on picking at a nonexistent loose thread on the hem of his t-shirt. “I… I must confess that I do not know what to say. When you ask me this. It is not in my nature to want; desire is the domain of my sibling. It is not within the purview of dreams. I do not live, nor do I want.”

“Bullshit.” The word spills from Hob’s mouth before the thought even crystallizes in his mind. Dream looks stunned and a bit offended, though more confused than anything else. He’s not getting up and storming out, though, so that’s a good sign. He’s frowning, but still watching Hob intently, like he’s curious as to how Hob will follow up that little outburst. Hob is curious where he’s going with this, too; apparently, sitting this close to Dream has caused his brain to short circuit, and now his mouth is running on autopilot.

Ah. Right. Better keep talking, then.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I shouldn’t have said that. But… I mean, obviously you wanted that chocolate. And you want to be here, or you’d have left already.” The furrow between Dream’s brows deepens as Hob speaks, and he clenches his jaw tightly. Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t give him ideas. Dial it back, old man. “But that’s alright! Really, it’s fine! More than fine! I—I don’t know about this sibling of yours, but… it just seems to me like you do want something, my friend. And whatever it is, if it’s in my power to give it to you, that’s what I want. So… what do you want?” he asks again.

Dream hesitates, gazing at Hob with those fathomless blue eyes as he appears to genuinely consider the question. He’s sitting so close that Hob can see his own reflection, blurry and distorted, mirrored in the glossy sheen of tears that rests on his friend’s dark lashes.

Finally, he seems to make up his mind. He swallows and leans closer still, his face mere inches away from Hob’s. Hob ceases breathing as a perfect, pale hand snakes upward at a glacial pace, coming to rest on his stubbled cheek. It’s smooth and cool, and Hob’s eyes drift shut as he leans into the touch. Then, impossibly soft lips are brushing against his own, and Hob lets out a muffled sob as one hand flies to Dream’s waist, the other gripping the back of his neck and pulling him closer.

Dream’s tongue probes gingerly into Hob’s open mouth, and lightning sparkles behind his eyelids. His heartbeat is a rolling crash of thunder as the clouds finally break—kissing Dream is like the first rain after centuries of drought; cool and sweet and refreshing and vital. Hob didn’t realize how parched he had been for so long, how desolate the desert of his soul, until this. This perfect kiss. It’s soft and slow and tastes like chocolate and red wine, and this—this may be what finally does Hob in after all these years.

Or it could just be that he hasn’t taken a breath in almost a full minute.

He pulls back, gasping and panting as he rests his forehead against Dream’s. Words fail him—a rare occurrence for Hob—and all he can do is grin stupidly at his friend.

“You,” Dream answers finally. “I want you, Hob.”

Hob lets out a wet, trembling laugh. “You’ve got me, Dream,” Hob whispers. “You’ve always had me.”

Dream surges forward to kiss him again, bolder and more eager this time, and Hob allows himself get swept away in the deluge. He could stay like this for hours—forever, even—and a needy whine escapes him when Dream pulls away again and surveys him with a smoldering gaze.

“Take me to bed, Hob,” he purrs.

“Oh, darling, absolutely,” Hob replies, scrambling up from the sofa and taking Dream’s hand to lead him to the bedroom. Then he freezes, struck by a sudden thought. “Er, quick question first. Is this really—I mean, am I awake right now, or…?”

Dream’s red, kiss-swollen lips twist into a fond smirk. “You are awake, Hob. But would it make any difference if you were not?”

“No,” Hob chuckles. “No, I s’pose it wouldn’t.”

Minutes later, they are entangled on Hob’s unmade bed, exploring each other hungrily with hands and lips and tongues and teeth. Hob is naked from the waist up, Dream having torn his shirt from his body with a fierce, otherworldly strength that was so startlingly arousing that Hob can’t even complain about the loss of his favorite button-down.

Dream sinks his delicate fingers into the thick pelt on Hob’s chest, humming approvingly into his mouth as he grinds against Hob’s thigh. Hob can feel his arousal through the soft fabric of his trousers, and he dips his hand beneath the waistband to squeeze the meager flesh of Dream’s arse. Dream goes still and inhales a sharp breath that Hob knows he doesn’t actually need.

“Hey. You alright?” Hob asks, withdrawing his hand and soothing it over Dream’s shoulder. “Sorry. I should have asked first. I know—after what you went through… I get it. We don’t have to keep going, love. Or we can, and you can keep��”

Dream cuts off his nervous babbling with a kiss. “I wish to continue. I trust you, Hob.”

Hob thinks he might explode from the affection that swells in him at those words. He beams at Dream and steals another quick, fervent kiss before peeling off his shirt.

“Look at you,” he breathes, drinking in the vision before him—Dream is utterly flawless. A marble statue come to life with creamy-white skin and elegant collarbones that flow into lithe, graceful shoulders and lean, well-muscled arms. “You’re so fucking beautiful I could cry, Dream,” Hob says raggedly as he runs his hands over smooth plane of Dream’s chest, circling his thumbs reverently around the firm, pink buds of his nipples.

Dream sighs and closes his eyes as he arches into Hob’s caress, dragging his fingers through the wealth of hair on Hob’s chest and continuing downwards, tracing the narrow trail down to the waistband of his trousers and unbuttoning them with nimble fingers.

Hob quickly shuffles out of his trousers and pants, groaning as his erect cock springs free. Dream’s eyes darken, the sky-blue of his irises nearly eclipsed by starry black as he (sweet Christ in heaven) licks his lips. “Hob,” he rumbles, his voice even deeper and silkier than usual. “You are. Exquisite.”

A laugh bubbles up from Hob’s throat unbidden. “Sorry. Sorry, it’s just—hearing that from you is… I mean, I can’t believe this is really happening, it’s like—”

“Hob,” Dream interrupts, raising his eyebrows and lifting his hips emphatically.

“Right. Sorry,” Hob says, bending down to unbutton Dream’s jeans. But just as his hand brushes over the zipper, the trousers vanish, leaving Dream totally nude with Hob’s hand just millimeters away from his flushed, heavy prick. “Someone’s eager,” he smiles, taking him in hand and gently stroking the delicate, velvety flesh. “Gods above, Dream, you have the most gorgeous cock I’ve ever seen.”

It really is lovely—long and slim and rosy, all wreathed in soft black curls. Even his balls are pretty; plump and pert and perfectly round. Hob wriggles down the bed and nuzzles into the hot, solid length, relishing the weight of it on his face. He licks from the base to the tip, laving his tongue over the leaking slit before mouthing his way back down to his balls, sucking on each of them in turn. Above him, Dream breathes heavily and lets out quiet little whimpers. Hob strokes his thighs—he’s so tense, his muscles taut as a bowstring beneath his silken skin.

“Relax, darling,” Hob says, placing a kiss to the bony jut of his pelvis. “I’ve got you. Just let go and enjoy yourself.” He returns to his task of exploring Dream’s cock with his tongue, and Dream takes a long, quivering breath, loosening a fraction as he exhales. Hob can’t help but feel a bit smug at the knowledge that he’s gotten Dream so worked up he’s apparently forgotten he doesn’t need to breathe. “That’s it, love. Let me take care of you.”

He takes Dream’s bollocks into his mouth again, then moves lower to give a tentative lick to his hole. Dream gasps and startles at that, and Hob hears a choked-off “ah!” somewhere above his head.

Hmm, interesting.

Hob raises his head to see Dream looking down at him in wonder, mouth agape and eyes glazed. His cheeks are flushed a deep rose, and glistening drops of pre-cum decorate the alabaster plane of his abdomen. Hob smiles up at him, tracing a finger around the tight, twitching furl of muscle. “Has anyone ever touched you here before?” he murmurs.

“No,” Dream replies in a trembling whisper.

“May I?” Hob asks gently?

“Please,” Dream sighs, and Hob nearly comes untouched on the spot.

He slides a pillow under Dream’s hips and pushes his thighs upwards, gliding his hands along the smooth white flesh and trailing light kisses down to his spread arse cheeks. “Gonna make you feel so good, love. Just promise you’ll tell me to stop if I do anything you don’t like, alright?”

He glances up to see Dream nodding frantically, his eyes wide and black and glittering. “Yes. I trust you, Hob,” he says again.

Hob grins before diving in and licking a stripe from his entrance to his bollocks and back down, circling his tongue around the rim and nibbling at the tender pucker of milky skin. Dream moans and keens beautifully as Hob thoroughly slicks his hole with saliva, slurping and suckling and reveling in the sensation of Dream’s hairless, baby-soft flesh against his cheeks and chin. He dips his tongue inside, and Dream wails while Hob hums and groans enthusiastically. Dream is hot inside, and he tastes of petrichor and electricity and something Hob can’t identify but that he knows down to the very foundations of his soul (dreams, his mind supplies. He tastes like dreams).

“Hob!” Dream gasps, his voice rough and rasping. “Please—please—!”

Hob works his tongue in deeper, then pulls back and jabs it in again and again, until Dream is mewling and sobbing and writhing in ecstasy. He thinks he doesn’t want? I could teach him to want. Eat him out for hours until he’s sobbing and begging to come.

Just as the vision materializes in his head, Dream howls and clenches around Hob’s tongue. “Yes! Yes, Hob, please please please—I want—ahh!”

Hob has long suspected that his old friend could read his mind, and this all but confirms it. He shivers as he realizes the potential there—the possibilities are, well, endless. Hob withdraws his tongue and glances up, only to be met with the most beautiful sight he’s ever witnessed: Dream, red-faced and panting, his chest heaving, his lovely prick rock hard and leaking steadily against his porcelain stomach.

“Look at you. So bloody gorgeous,” Hob says hoarsely. “How are you feeling, darling? Good?” Dream nods, and Hob smiles and nuzzles against the back of his thigh. “Be a dear and grab the lube? It’s just in the top drawer there.” He tilts his head in the direction of the nightstand and Dream twists around to procure the half-empty pump bottle.

“It is not necessary,” Dream mumbles once he’s remembered to catch his breath, though he nonetheless hands the bottle over. “You cannot hurt me.”

“I know,” Hob replies lightly, shrugging one shoulder. “All the same, I’d prefer not to risk it. Indulge me.”

Dream’s lip quirks and he huffs a tiny laugh before settling back onto the pillows, graciously allowing Hob to continue. Of course he’d be a pillow princess, Hob thinks fondly as he squirts a generous amount of lube onto his fingers, spreading it over Dream’s puffy, fluttering hole. He works a finger inside slowly, and Dream makes the sweetest little noises as Hob strokes his tight, satiny walls and brings his other hand to Dream’s throbbing cock. Dream moans and arches upward into his hand, sighing in relief as the tension begins to bleed from his body.

“That’s it, darling. You’re doing so well. Just let go,” Hob coos. He adds a second finger and finds Dream’s prostate, brushing over it teasingly on every other thrust. “You feel so bloody good inside. Would love to fuck you sometime. Want you to fuck me, too. I could ride that beautiful cock of yours all day. Would you like that, love?”

“Yes—Hob—anything—please!” Dream cries breathlessly, grinding down wantonly on Hob’s fingers.

“Mm, we’ll work up to that. Right now I’d like to get my mouth on you, and you’re not going to last much longer, are you sweetheart?”

“I can—” Dream begins what would no doubt have been a devastating retort, but it tapers off into a high, quavering whine as Hob lowers his mouth to his cock, sinking down in a slow glide until he can feel the bulbous head in the back of his throat, trickling a warm rivulet of pre-come. He swallows, and Dream’s hands fly to his hair, gripping tightly as he starts fucking furiously into Hob’s mouth. Hob groans and ruts his own aching cock against the mattress as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of Dream’s slick, clutching entrance. It’s raw and rough and animalistic, and Hob is more than happy to let Dream use him however he pleases right now; he might come just from this.

With no warning save for a guttural growl and a stutter of his hips, Dream comes down Hob’s throat in thick, hot spurts. He shudders and gasps, tugging roughly on Hob’s hair before abruptly going limp and boneless. Hob swallows down the last drops of spend and slowly pulls his mouth and fingers away, panting raggedly.

He crawls up the bed to wrap Dream in his arms, pressing gentle kisses to his neck and shoulders. “You did so well, love,” Hob whispers proudly. “So beautiful when you let go like that.”

Dream hums and grinds languidly against Hob’s still-hard prick where it rests between the cleft of his arse. He wriggles around in Hob’s hold and captures his mouth in a deep, desperate kiss. He trails his lips along Hob’s jaw, down his neck and chest, steadily traveling southward until he is face to face with Hob’s cock. It’s a bit shorter than Dream’s, albeit thicker, and darker-toned; not as pretty, in Hob’s opinion, though Dream would appear to disagree—he’s practically got hearts in his eyes as he glides his cheek along the hefty, engorged length. He glances hesitantly up at Hob through his thick lashes, looking almost shy.

“You don’t have to, love,” Hob smiles down at him, running his fingers through Dream’s downy, soot-dark hair. “I just wanted to make you feel good, is all.”

“Indeed?” Dream smirks. “I thought that you were teaching me to indulge. So. Won’t you indulge me?”

Hob lets out a delighted laugh. “Well, suppose I can’t argue with that.”

Dream makes a noise of agreement, then swiftly takes Hob’s cock into his mouth, swallowing him to the root in the blink of an eye. Hob gasps at the sudden velvety warmth enveloping his prick, and his hips jerk involuntarily. Dream stills him with surprisingly strong hands, pinning him down and bobbing his head in quick, fluid motions. Dream’s mouth is… fucking sublime. Christ’s bloody wounds, he’s good at this. Hob brings his hands to Dream’s hair, not pulling but stroking and kneading his scalp. Dream rumbles in approval, his deep moans vibrating through Hob’s cock, and Hob throws his head back against the pillows.

“Not gonna last,” he grunts in warning.

Dream only takes him deeper, hollowing out his cheeks and slurping hungrily as he bobs his head faster. Hob looks down to see Dream gazing up at him with a blissfully dazed expression, his forget-me-not blue eyes glassy and his cheeks streaked with tears. Hob is hit with a flash of deja vu; he’s fantasized about exactly this on many a lonely night over the centuries, though his imaginings never came close to the divine, earth-shattering perfection that is Dream’s mouth. He comes with a choked sob, flooding Dream’s mouth with a torrent of spend, and Dream’s eyes flutter shut as he swallows it down eagerly.

“I love you—!” The words escape unbidden in a breathless whisper, dragged forth from somewhere deep within the core of Hob’s being, unable to be contained any longer after being left unsaid for over 600 years. Hob doesn’t realize what he’s said until Dream freezes, tightening his grasp on Hob’s hips and digging his sharp fingernails into his flesh. Then, he’s crawling up Hob’s body like a tiger pinning its prey, steely eyes boring straight into his soul.

Fuck. Of course, had to go and fuck it all up, didn’t you?

“You mean that,” Dream intones, low and sonorous. It is not a question.

“Yes,” Hob replies softly, his voice wavering as he braces himself for the inevitable swirl of sand as Dream disappears.

Instead, Dream swoops down and captures Hob’s mouth in a savage, frenzied kiss, growling and digging his fingers possessively into Hob’s ribcage. He claims him with kisses and bites and scratches and bruises, descending on Hob like a starving man on a feast, and Hob is only too pleased to let Dream glut himself on him. Dream could devour him whole, if that would make him happy.

Once he has thoroughly left his mark, Dream runs his eyes over Hob’s body in apparent satisfaction before nestling into his side and draping himself over his chest. “I think,” Dream says, curling a tuft of chest hair around his long pale fingers, “that I feel the same. About you.” He buries his face in Hob’s neck, and Hob pulls him into a crushing embrace, beaming as he plants a kiss to the top of his head.

“So,” Hob laughs through joyous tears, “would you still say you’re just existing? Because I think we did a lot of living today.”

Dream huffs into his shoulder. “You make a convincing argument,” he concedes, his voice muffled. Then he raises his head to look at Hob, his eyes shining with amusement. “However, I believe I will need more evidence before I can draw an accurate conclusion.”

“Oh, just you wait, darling,” Hob grins. “I happen to be an expert on living, and I’m going to show you all the little things that make it worthwhile.”

Dream’s smile fades slightly at that. Hob brings a hand to his cheek, tilting Dream’s chin up and meeting him in a tender kiss. “Hey,” he whispers. “D’you want to tell me what’s been going on? It’s just… Clearly, something’s bothering you, love. And if there’s any way I can help… You know I’d do anything for you, Dream.”

“You have helped. More than you realize. And… I will tell you what has happened. What I have done. Not today, but… I will tell you. Though you may come to hate me for it,” Dream sighs heavily.

“I could never hate you,” Hob replies automatically. Because it’s true; he’d fallen arse over teakettle for Dream when he thought he was the actual devil. “Whatever happened, we’ll sort it out, eh?”

Dream simply stares at him for a long moment before speaking again. “What do you think happens to a character when their story has finished being told?”

“Er—” Hob doesn’t know what he was expecting Dream to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. Dream has him fixed with a piercing gaze, obviously awaiting a well-thought-out answer. “Well… I guess that’s up to the character do decide, isn’t it? Once the story is over, they’re free to do what they want, I suppose.” He shrugs. This discussion is far too deep for pillow talk.

Dream frowns, furrowing his brows as he considers. “I believe there is some merit to your words,” he pronounces thoughtfully. “I have long believed that I have no story of my own. Perhaps I am wrong.”

“Maybe you’re just in the wrong story,” Hob yawns. He’s honestly lost the thread a bit by this point, and he’s not entirely sure what they were talking about to begin with. But that feels like the right thing to say, and Dream evidently agrees as he rests his cheek on Hob’s chest, just over his heart.

“Perhaps,” Dream murmurs, almost inaudibly.

“Like I said,” Hob says, stroking lightly down his back. “We’ll sort it out.” He yawns again, then winces at the strain on his sore jaw. “Tomorrow, though. Because I am absolutely knackered, darling.”

Dream hums, burrowing contently into Hob’s hold. “Yes. Sleep, beloved. And dream of me.”

Hob chuckles drowsily. “I always do.”

✨✨✨

Thanks for reading! Reblogs, as well as kudos and comments on ao3 are always appreciated! 💗💗💗

[saintsenara]

In Marauder era (or 1st Wizarding World era) fics, all the characters that we know from the actual books/movies (i.e., The Marauders + Lily, the Malfoys, Bellatrix, etc.), or just characters that are more known, are all put in Hogwarts together at the same time, and it confuses me.

They couldn’t have all been at school together, could they? And even if they were, most of them would have to be years ahead, no? It especially confuses me when Bellatrix is the one in school with them, but her and Narcissa are the only ones that are ever mentioned. Andromeda is literally not that much younger than Bella and older than Narcissa, so you would think that she would appear, yet she doesn’t. Why exactly are they always all bunched together? And what are their actual ages?

this is a bit of worldbuilding which i'm not fond of either, anon.

i get why it happens - hogwarts is a school and, therefore, requires a large cast of characters as fellow students, and since marauders-era writers don't have the advantage that lightning gen writers do of being able to lift these characters directly from the text, the few names we do know from canon of people who lived and died during the first war get used to fill in the gaps.

there are also - obviously - some inconsistencies in the text itself caused by jkr's functional innumeracy. if we take the date of birth given for bellatrix on the black family tree she drew in 2006 - 1951 - then she would graduate hogwarts in either 1969 or 1970, depending on when in the year her birthday is. but sirius says in goblet of fire that she was friends with snape at school.

i ignore sirius and go with the given date of birth because it works better for my worldbuilding - and i have andromeda born in 1953 [leaving hogwarts in 1971 or 1972] and narcissa born in 1955, as per the family tree, but in the autumn [therefore leaving hogwarts in 1974 - and married in 1975, allowing narcissa's wedding to be the last time sirius sees bellatrix, since, as he tells us in order of the phoenix, this took place when he was fifteen] - but i think authors can shift the sisters' birthdays later if they do want to have them overlap more with the marauders generation without it being too much of a problem.

lucius malfoy's date of birth can be worked out fairly easily from canon. in the autumn of 1995, he's forty-one - as we're told in order of the phoenix - which means he was born in 1954 [or - if he has a winter birthday - late 1953] and was at hogwarts between either 1965-1972 or 1966-1973 depending on when in the year his exact birthday is - if it's october 1953-august 1954, he's in the former cohort; if it's september 1954 [which is when the article in which his age is mentioned is published] then he's in the latter. we know he overlaps with the marauders cohort very briefly - since he's shown meeting snape in the prince's tale - but, since he's either a sixth- or seventh-year at the time, i find it unlikely that he paid james and sirius much attention, or that they paid him much attention in turn.

[lucius must - let's be real - go rather under the radar, since he's clearly able to recruit death eaters while at school - and immediately after leaving it - without being noticed.]

what i'm much less inclined to be flexible on is the fanon which has characters like dorcas meadowes, marlene mckinnon, emmeline vance, and so on all be at hogwarts with the marauders - which doesn't work for me for the very basic reason that the order of the phoenix is not an army of child soldiers.

the implication of canon is definitely that the four marauders and lily are an exception to the make-up of the rest of the order - likely for the sensible tactical reason that dumbledore had all the ministry infiltrators he needed, but didn't have people who would be able to provide information about voldemort's recruitment of younger death eaters, which the marauders were clearly able to do by virtue of having been at school with them all [and - in sirius' case - being related to two of them].

it's also clear in the text that dorcas meadowes [who is the only person in the first war other than james and lily we know was killed by voldemort himself] must have been an important political figure - otherwise the dark lord would have left her for one of his minions - and that james and lily don't know marlene mckinnon well enough for her to have been a school friend.

[if she was - as is the common fanon - sirius' teenage girlfriend, i would like to hope that lily's letter to him mentioning her death would devote a little more space to the event than it canonically does...]

what i love to see is the rest of the order - hardened aurors and civil servants who've been locked into the war with voldemort since the marauders started school - being a combination of faintly amused and supremely irritated by the group of cocky young bastards who've just turned up at their meetings, and who seem to think the whole "being a paramilitary" thing is a big laugh.

[especially because it's then so much easier to explain why everyone involved could believe that sirius was guilty...]

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for writing a paragraph on how I want to drop my friends?

(15F for ref, everyone in here is also F and around the same age)

In 2022, I returned from a six-week camp session with friends I only see once a year (pretty shitty experience ngl, but I still had fun), A couple days later, they accused me of stealing this girl's shirt since I was the last one to wear it. I told her I didn't and I wouldn't. I had a similar steal it because. They proceed to accuse me, so to get out my feelings I write this lengthy paragraph in my notes app expressing my thoughts and what I don't like about the group. This never gets sent out, and we stay friends.

In 2023, they went to camp again (for the last eligible year so it was very special to them), but I stayed home due to pre-existing commitments. This was also the time when the notes app trend was going on, a.k .a. where people would post their notes app and all the antics they wrote. I also posted a video like this, and on the sixth slide, I put the paragraph that I wrote in 2022 (it said 2022 at the top). They didn't immediately see this because they weren't allowed to have their phones, but I private the video before they got back due to a mental health issue I had accidentally aired out. At this time, I saw nothing wrong with the paragraph being included because all the issues had blown over.

A couple months later, I un-privated the video because YOLO and the group found it and immediately got hated on so hard for the video. They post pictures of me to social media stories write paragraphs about how awful of a person I am, create lies about me, and comment on all of my Tiktok posts where I talk about the issue, despite me being vague.

I don't know where I stand in this issue because yeah, I didn't go to the trip this year, and the paragraph was admittedly rude, but they didn't even give me a chance to explain, and getting body shamed on a private Snapchat story when they know I had an ED isn't something i think I deserve, but I need outsider perspective.

The paragraph for reference:

I’m sorry but I can’t do this anymore. The whole entire time I was at camp I felt isolated because I was not as involved and as social with the boys as you guys were/are, and that might not be your fault, but you guys have no care in that being the only thing you discuss on this group chat. Every time I text about something else, it always gets pushed to the side and now you are accusing me of stealing (name)’s top. I agree, I was the last on to wear it, but distinctly remember throwing it back into (name)'s trunk. I am sorry it did not make the trip back home, but it is not my fault. I don’t want your slutty top anyways, I only borrowed it because my ebb to street wasn’t going to work. I have done so much for you guys, like letting everyone borrow my clothes, giving away my lululemon, and while some of my pieces were stolen, I am not pointing fingers at random people because I have control of my feelings. So many words have been wasted protecting the reputation of Cabin 10 from others who think you guys are attention-seeking whores (you want names? It’s the whole fucking camp), and everyone looked at me in pity when I cried into my hands because I was so sad. I have heard you guys talk shit about me in front of my face (*giggling and whispering* Are you going to try out for the play? No that’s weird. Both heads turn towards me, and laughter erupts out of the two mouths. You know who you are), and you guys have talked shit about each other to me, so I can only imagine what has been said about me. I felt ashamed about my passions, the only personality trait you guys addressed was that I was so mean and I was smart (you only revealed the latter on in private, the former was told to everyone). I am done feeling horrible about myself because you guys are so wrapped up in what every (camp) boy thinks of you, so I am cutting contact. You have ruined my camp experience to the point where I am not coming back.

What are these acronyms?

[tatorthots]

— a jealous encounter

Featured: wanderer x afab!reader x Childe (implied)

cw: suggestive themes, jealousy, cursing, (slight) hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, (slight) possessiveness

Synopsis: Jealousy is nothing more than a pathetic human emotion. It’s truly almost humorous how insecure and weak-minded mortals are, getting riled up simply because the object of their affection gets a little attention. Of course, the former sixth harbinger is far above such trivial emotions (he’s not)

a/n: scara being jealous, soft, and sulky because I said so and also I used sm names for scara because I didn’t know what name to use and I panicked btw have you guys been playing the windtrace event?? I literally can’t stop playing it help

art credit: @Liann1009 on twt

The swaying of forest leaves reflected off the clear spring waters of the still river you had come to rest by. The sun was still high above the fluffy clouds and its warmth gently kissed the skin of every living being and creature under it. It was truly a beautiful day in the outskirts of Sumeru City. And along with the chirping of birds, the sound of your laughter resonated through the forest breeze like a soft melody — absolutely enchanting, he thought, if it wasn’t caused by that damned insolent insect.

Archons, could the man not get a break? Is this finally the ‘divine punishment’ mortals so often preach about? Glaring sharp eyes quietly trailed the tall, orange-headed idiot as he fumbled around you like some love-sick child, far too comfortable with you for the latter's liking. Feelings of disdain soon turned to seething anger. Despite all my efforts, slender fingers dug into the grass underneath him, he still manages to ruin what little I have. Had he not gone through grueling enough changes? Did sacrificing absolutely everything to start anew mean so little? He gave up his past titles, erased his previous relationships, and severed every last thread that connected him to his past self — aside from you — and yet, here stood the bane of his existence during his time as a Fatui Harbinger. And to make things worse, you’re actually friends with him.

Childe, he sneered.

“Ajax, how could you get so excited over anemo slimes?” You giggled as your eyes fluttered into crescents and you bashfully hit the freckled man next to you. You couldn’t help but tease your longtime friend for getting so excited over a few anemo slimes floating around a tree. Though you’d admit, the straight edge determination reflecting from his ocean eyes as he stood straight and strung his bow back to aim made your stomach swirl slightly. You noticed the way his fingertips elegantly let go of the string and effortlessly sliced through the anemo slime mid-air, despite being positioned below and meters away from the distant cliff side tree the anemo slimes were hovering around. It’s amazing, you thought. But what earned him your admiration was the simple fact that he wasn’t trying. Childe didn’t need to. Even when he’s doing something in lighthearted fun, so long as it involves weapons, he’ll breeze through any obstacle or ‘challenge’ with ease. That’s what made Childe, Tartaglia.

However, there was someone who didn’t share that sentiment.

Honestly, Scaramouche doesn’t even know how he ended up in this archon-forsaken situation. The day had begun like any other day, with your limbs intertwined with Scaramouche as he gently stroked your hair and counted the seconds in between as your chest slowly rose and fell — an action he vehemently denies that he does because he longs for your touch; not to mention that it just so happens that the feel of your body against his calms the occasional insecurities and self-deprecating voices whispering in his head. Scaramouche lightly shook his head in flustered contempt when he caught himself softly smiling and gqze slightly softening at the memory of your skin against his, useless thoughts aren’t going to aid me in figuring out how or why I’m stuck here. internally groaning he thought of when you woke up today. you had found him already awake and tidying up the room you had both stayed in the previous night. As you sat up rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you watched Scaramouches quick and precise movements as he prepared your traveling satchel. Funny, you thought, he does all this and I never hear a thing. As much of a light sleeper as you might be, no matter how many chores he’s completed before you wake, you never hear a sound stir you from your slumber. Of course, when you finally got out of bed you found yourself presented with a small plate of assorted fresh fruit waiting for you on the kitchen table, a sight you see every morning. However, you’ve long learned better than to outright thank him for breakfast, or any small acts of service. Not because you don’t appreciate his quiet considerations, but because you learned that Scaramouche will act like a total brat if you confront him about his kindness. Insults range from calling you a moron to being labeled delusional, so you’ve figured it’s best to enjoy these little things and thank him in that way. Lastly, Scara thought about the events that happened after breakfast when it was time to set off yet again. Ah, that’s right…, he begrudgingly remembered. it was as soon as you left the inn that you happened to bump into a tall figure. An apology left your lips quickly before you hurriedly scrambled to catch up to Scaramouches' fading figure until a hand cautiously grabbed your wrist.

“Y/n?” The stranger spoke. At the sound of your name, you quickly whipped your head around to see a messy head of orange locks and a familiar lopsided smile being directed at you. “Ajax?” “So it is you—!!” Sculpted arms immediately wrapped around your frame and lifted you into their embrace. “It’s been too long!”, the voice beamed, and your momentary confusion soon turned into joy as you wrapped your arms around his neck and softly giggled. “What are you doing here? I thought you were on a mission in Inazuma?” You questioned as he set you down with his hands still latched onto your hips, “Well I was mostly there for personal affairs, and I just arrived in sumeru a few weeks ago on assignment,” his voice softened as his head slightly tilted to the side, “I’ve been missing you.” Raising your hand to cup his cheek, you brushed your thumb across the freckles adorning the mighty 11ths features, “I’ve missed you too, Ajax.” Then as if a light bulb had just lit up in his head Childe clasped his hand over yours, “Are you free today? Why don’t you go sightseeing with me? My treat!” “Ah, well I’m actually traveli—“ but before you could finish your sentence you felt cold fingertips clasp around your forearm and roughly snatch it away from the gingers hold, “She’s traveling with me,” indigo irises narrowed menacingly on Childe, and the pure aura exuding from the raven-haired man was comparably hostel to the icy and dreadful snowstorms of Snezhnaya. Scaramouche forced himself between you and Childe, standing protectively in front of you as the latter glared down at him with a smile still plastered across his lips, “Comrade. Who’s this?” Childe inquired, “Oh! This is m—“ you tried answering but Scaramouche cut you off once more with an exaggerated scoff, “The question is who are you?” Crossing his arms and holding his head ever so arrogantly he continued, “Tch. Don't you have any common decency? Or are you just too impertinent to practice basic respect?” A short, dry laugh left Childes lips, “I see.” Crossing his arm and raising a hand up to lightly tap his fingertips on his jaw, Childe feigned ignorance, “Y/n never minded my touches,” with a taunting smile and desolate eyes, he chuckled, “in fact, I’m all too familiar with where she prefers to be touched.” And with that Scaramouches patience snapped, “You dare to—“ sensing the oncoming altercation you quickly grabbed a hold of Scaras hand and guided him behind you, “You’re both very important to me,” you began, “and if I matter to either of you then you’d respect those who matter to me,” glancing between the two men you sharpened your tone, “I’d like you both to get along.”

That was the last thing Scaramouche recalled before he found himself third wheeling the rest of the day. With each moment seemingly getting worse and worse. What an infantile reason to get excited about. They’re practically oversized balloons, his attention darted in Childes direction and his usual scowl was now replaced with a daggering glower, Evidently, this damn worthless scum is filled with much more hot air than any damn anemo slime in the sky.

Scaramouche wasn’t ignorant, it was clear to him since that nuisance came around that his former Harbinger ‘comrade’ had deeper feelings for you than he let on. After all, despite his distaste for the man Scara had spent adequate enough time with Childe to learn a few aspects about him; firstly, Childe can be described by humans as having an extroverted, ‘charming’ persona, and he has no trouble making friends wherever he goes, however, he never lets anyone touch him — it’s a subtle habit and not one easily picked up on; a far cry to the current situation in which Scaramouche has had to swat his hand away from you for the fourth time in a minute. Secondly, despite the hours upon hours the idiot could spend rambling about fishing or spar training, he never actually shares any personal information about himself, and yet, he’d gone as far as surrendering his real name to you. Not to mention he had no problem speaking to you about how much his siblings would ‘love’ you, of course, they’d love her, he scoffed, who doesn’t fall for her? Lastly, and most notably, Childe has no glimmer of life in his eyes. To be honest, if Scaramouche had to think, the only other time the 11th showed even a hint of a glint he would say it would be when Childes tearing his enemies limb from limb — an idea Scara is finding more and more appealing. So then, he thought, I guess I’ll just have to stomp on that little light of his. Tapping his foot impatiently on the ground an ominous shadow gloomed over his face as he lost himself in his thoughts, she’s mine. mine. mine. It had been long since Scaramouche had realized his feelings for you, and he had made it very clear to you that he had no intention of sharing you with others. No, Scaramouche no longer wanted just your friendship, he wanted you.

“Shall I go buy some snacks from a food stall nearby before dinner, comrade?” Standing from his spot next to you, Childe towered over you with his body leaning down to loom mere inches from your slightly warmed face, “I did say I’d treat you today..” half-lidded eyes traced your movements as he brought a gloved hand to cascade across your cheekbone, “didn’t I?” His voice was low and his smile smug; Childe knew full well what he was doing in front of Scaramouche, and he basked in it, though it’s not as if these actions were all too new either. “A-ah.. I- um,” stuttering over her words, huh?, Childe mused, how cute. However, the mere sight of this atrocious act almost made Scaramouche use his anemo vision to slice that wretched excuse of a warrior in half. With a soft smile, you leaned into Childes hand, making the man’s eyes widen in slight surprise as a light dust of pink spread over his face, “That’d be great Ajax, thank you.”

Internally groaning, Scaramouche rested his arms on his knees and hid his head behind his arms as his pretty lilac eyes stayed focused on you, there’s her smile again…, his brows faintly knitted together when he felt his chest start to ache, always caused by something else. He couldn’t help but wonder whether you were truly happy wandering through the lands of Teyvat with him.

“Then I’ll make it quick!” With a goofy smile and a wink, Childe went off into the city walls. Leaving you and Scaramouche resting alone with nothing more than the sound of the river flowing and the city chatter lightly busting in the background. Closing his eyes, Scaramouches brows quirked in annoyance, that self-serving imbecile didn’t even bother to pretend he even remembered me. The feeling in his chest was all too familiar to the electro Archons puppet. Clutching where his heart should be he couldn’t understand why this feeling wouldn’t go away. He couldn’t understand why he hadn’t learned his lesson despite starting anew. Maybe I was meant to live this way… he thought. Feeling a small tap on his shoulder, Scara whipped his head up to see you sitting right next to him, your body lulled to the side and brushing against him as you tilted your head down to get a better look at his sulking face. For a second he was stunned by the suddenness of your closeness, but then he was held captive by your feathery lashes and beaming smile; a warm smile finally directed at him. How quickly his chest went from hurting to blooming with warmth was almost pathetic. Even if you were the reason why he was drowning in misery, even if his pain had been caused by your ignorance, you were still the reason why he felt joy. It’s always because of you…, without realizing his hand had already reached to gently tuck the loose strands of hair blowing across your face, and just as quickly as he realized he retracted his hand in a huff of frustration and embarrassment.

Humming in acknowledgment, you stared off into the grassy mountains of sumeru, “You’ve been awfully quiet today,” your voice was soft and tranquil, “how uncharacteristic of you, no?” Glancing to the side you smiled when you saw him lightly scoff under his breath as he turned his head away from your direction.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re rambling on about.” He grumbled.

“Shall I elaborate?”

“I’d rather you not.” Piercing irises threateningly glared in your direction.

“You’ve been ill-tempered,” you began, and Scaramouche rolled his eyes, “hmm which isn’t all too out of the ordinary, but you’ve definitely been lashing out at every little thing.” With a knowing glint, you glanced at your longtime companion, “Not to mention your aggression with Ajax.” And at that Scaramouche grimaced at the way you spoke his actual name, “You force yourself between Ajax and I whenever he gets close, you demean every single thing he says, you smack his hand away when he reaches out to me — even if it’s just to hand me something, and you taunt and mock him every chance you get,” pausing for a second you let out a heavy exhale before softening your gaze, unsure of whether what you say next is the right thing. “Kuni… all of that isn’t what worries me,” at that you felt his entire body stiffen, seemingly holding his breath as if every ticking second was more important than the last, “I noticed the nail marks you have on your palms from all the time you’ve spent clenching your fists, and I see the conflict that’s been raging behind your eyes since this journey with the three of us began,” balling your owns fists on the fabric of your clothes you let out your final observation, “As small as the changes are, or as hard as you try to hide it, kunikuzushi, I see you. I’ve memorized every expression, studied every curve and line that forms on your features and what they mean… I know you fear that I’ll abandon you,” you purse your lips at the thought, “So how dare you. How dare you ever think I would abandon my other half.”

The absolute, incredulous stare Scaramouche gave you almost made you choke out a muffled laugh. Catching the anemo holder off guard and speechless was a prize all too rare to witness. Yet, what caught your attention wasn’t that you’ve managed to leave him stunned and tight-lipped but instead the unfamiliar red that spread from his cheeks to his ears. There was a quiet gasp from your lips as you admired how beautifully his pale complexion was set off by the searing color. Instantly, your ears perk up as he speaks.

“I.. you don’t…” he began, but immediately he stopped himself. Then, a moment passed. And then a minute. The tension between you two seemed to pile up in pressure, and you now found yourself holding your breath and feeling your heart start to quicken as you stared at him. Awaiting what was to come next. With a defeated look and an airy sigh, he finally turned his full head toward you. “You really are foolish y/n,” his voice was strained, and his eyes peered into yours with such a soft intensity, “hah, really.. you couldn’t be more incompetent, could you?” Swallowing the lump in your throat, your glistening doe eyes simply gawked at him almost owl-like, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at your dumbfounded face. Then that’s when he smiled. A true, genuine, adoring smile, “Haven’t you realized that I’m in lo-“

“I’m back—!”

Childe’s voice ripped through the tension and practically grated Scaramouches ears while you jumped, startled at the sudden noise. Snapping your head to Childe, you saw him holding a small bag with the label titled Puspa Café. “I hope you don’t mind what I got us!” Reaching his hand into the bag he pulled out a crispy, sweet-smelling Candied Ajilenakh Nut dessert, “When I was walking through the different vendors, I was quite surprised to have found a dish that looked so similar to one of the desserts my motherland of Snezhnaya has!” Childe puffed his chest and extended the sugary sweet to you, “Though I’m confident the one from home tastes much better than this, I’m happy to share something similar with you,” softening his azure gaze as you took the dessert from him he continued with a gentler tone, “but I hope to one day treat you to one back home.” Blinking once, then blinking twice, you quickly glanced over at Scaramouche now positioned with his knee up and resting his arm on his knee to hide his face once more, I wonder what would’ve happened…, you pondered, but you knew better than to prod the conversation given the current situation. I suppose it’d be best to ask again later, turning your attention back to Childe you offered a thankful smile, “I’m sure one day we can visit if Kuni agrees to go.” At that, both men froze for a second. We..?, now it was Scaramouches turn to stare owlishly at the dancing grass brushing against his fingers, and without noticing he felt his entire body relax as he let out a quiet, small sigh of relief. Whereas Childe clenched his jaw in annoyance while still forcing an easy-going facade, I need to get rid of him, “Sounds like a plan comrade!” Was all he could muster through slightly clasped teeth as he sat down next to you. Humming to himself in deep thought, Childe wondered what to do about that asshole little leech that stayed glued to you.

All of you sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes — well, two were lost in their own thoughts either processing or scheming, whereas you simply sat between the two men enjoying time together as you feast on your sweet treat. "Ah. Comrade, you seem to have a few crumbs," "Hm?" Moving your hand up to brush away the stray pieces, Childe gently stopped you, "Allow me." He softly spoke as he leaned in close and carefully swiped away the crumbs; his hand then cascaded across your plush skin and caressed the curve of your jaw. Gazing into his eyes and cheeky smile, you found yourself at a loss, feeling both embarrassed and shy from the gesture.

Scaramouche, however, was not at all pleased. This little game of Childes has gone on far too long and writhing in self-loathing had been nothing but a waste of time. You were his. You’ll always be his, and there wasn’t a human, harbinger, adeptus, or archon in this damned world that could ever change that. So, with swift movements, he laced an arm around your waist and pulled you on top of his lap and into his possessive embrace. The sudden movement had stunned both you and Childe and you had no time to react as your eyes glanced up at the smug smirk spreading across Scaramouches lips. His eyes were low and scowling intently at Childe, while the Harbingers smiling face quickly fell, replaced by a much colder and sinister glower. “All this time and not once did you offer me one of those burnt little treats,” Scaras voice was low and mocking, and you could feel the icy touch of his slender fingertip tracing down the side of your face to the base of your chin to guide your full attention towards him, “guess that just means I have to take one myself, won’t I?” And in a quick moment, his lips came crashing down on yours. His kiss was rough but cautious, and you could feel the longing and desperation emitting atop his soft lips. At first, your eyes blew wide open in shock, but then, no matter how hard you tried to focus on what was going going on or move your body to react, all you could fixate on was one little detail, his lips taste.. like a Zaytun peach.

Parting his lips from yours, his eyes quickly scanned your face for any hint of disgust, any reaction, anything. You could clearly see the worry pooling in his irises, but before regret could creep up on him your eyes turned into crescent moons, and a pretty pink blush flushed your cheeks as you smiled dotingly at him. He was taken aback. At first, he was shocked, then confused, he even felt a little angry, but mostly he felt love. Turning his attention from you to the glaring daggers and clenched fists Childe had, Scara smiled in triumph and narrowed his eyes in slight. “You’re right, Harbinger,” bringing his thumb up to glide across his lips he licked them, “this treat isn’t bad, hah, not bad at all.”

side note: happy new year everyone!! and happy birthday to my first, and most cherished, Zhongli ᥫ᭡

Reblogs and Interactions Are Appreciated!! ღ

[earthtoharlow]

Jayla has a crush on a boy, so she goes to Ariel for advice because she knows Jack would overreact

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Ariel smiled as she hung up her student’s drawings that they left behind on their desks on the walls of her classroom. She could never understand why some teachers would get rid of them, she loved seeing the kids work and enjoyed the way the kids' eyes sparked when they would see them scattered around the room.

As she hung up the last drawing there was a knock on the door, turning around she was surprised to see Jayla standing there.

“Hey, babygirl. Did you miss the bus home?” Ariel asked, confused.

Jayla nodded and hesitantly walked into her former classroom, trying to distract herself by looking around the room. Now a fifth grader, the room looked different but also the same.

Ariel watched her daughter roam the room before finally sitting down at the reading corner. That was always her favorite spot even after all these years. She could tell something was on Jayla’s mind as she played with the necklace around her neck. But never being the one to push her to open up, Ariel went to her desk to finish grading papers until she was ready to talk.

Ariel was on her last couple papers before Jayla spoke up. “Mom?”

“Yeah, honey?” Ariel placed her pen down to give Jayla her undivided attention.

“Can we talk? But please, don’t tell dad. You know how he can be.” Jayla said, still playing with her necklace.

She knew that if she didn’t want to tell Jack then it must be something serious. Ariel came over and sat next to her on the soft cushions and gave her a reassuring smile. “Of course, sweetie. You can always talk to me. What’s on your mind?”

With a mix of apprehension and excitement, Jayla spoke her voice barely above a whisper. “I think…I think I have a crush on Leo.”

A soft smile played on Ariel’s face, happy that it was something as innocent as a crush. “Leo, huh? He’s quite the popular choice.”

Jayla’s eyes widened in surprise. “You know about Leo?”

Ariel chuckled softly, nodding. “Mothers have a sixth sense about these things. But it’s okay. You can always talk to me about your crushes.”

Jayla nodded, happy to hear that “But, Mom, what do I do? I feel so awkward around him, and I don’t know how to act.”

She nodded knowingly, her gaze filled with empathy. “You know, I used to be nervous around your father too.”

“No way! I don’t remember you ever being nervous around him! You and Dad seem so comfortable with each other now.” Jayla said in shock.

Ariel laughed at her reaction, she’ll never forget the moment Jack walked in the classroom for the first time. “I had butterflies in my stomach every time your dad walked into this very room. But with time and patience, those nerves faded away.”

“So what did you do?”

“I started engaging in small conversations and as I got to know your father better those nerves began to melt away.”

“So you think I should talk to Leo?”

She nodded, her expression encouraging. “Absolutely. It’s the first step in getting to know someone better. And who knows? You might find that Leo is just as nervous as you are.”

Jayla reached over and gave her mother a hug. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll give it a try.”

Ariel pressed a kiss to her head, giving her a tight squeeze. “You’ve got this, sweetheart. Now, why don’t you tell me more about this Leo!”

[empressgeekt]

Trolls - Accidental Crystal Knight (FoF au au)

So, I was looking over the different aus that have made an appearance on Ao3, and The Crystal Branch was one of them. So here's my attempt at combining it with the FoF au (don't worry I haven't forgotten about the end of the world au for FoF).

We start on a less then routine patrol for the Forest Guard. It's dark a storm is beginning to come in. Branch stayed out along with Tresillo, since the troop they left with were investigating giant footprints in the south part of the forest. If their dealing with Giant issues Branch wants to be on top of it, even if it's just a Bergen that wandered into their territory. Despite the brewing weather, the two are having a very casual conversation about the guard uniform, because Tresillo is on the fence of whether or not to wear the armor since most of his moves are dance based. It's when the rain starts that things go south. Branch sees the hand reaching out for Tresillo before the former bounty hunter does (Pop trolls kind of have a sixth sense for giant hands at this point, Branch especially), and throws Tresillo out of the way. The reggaeton troll falls through the Brambles of the forest's low brush, getting cut up and hitting his head, but hidden. And Branch is taken away.

Keith immediately knows something is wrong when Branch doesn't come home that night. Poppy knows it too, sure she knows that he's takes possible giant threats seriously, but he knows to get back to the bunker before really bad weather sets in. By morning, and after a meeting with the troop that left earlier, a full blown search party is deployed. They find Tresillo, knocked out but Blood clotting saved his life. Still no sign of Branch. They keep searching the forest, but after three days they get the full story from Tresillo who finally woke up. Poppy is horrified that something might have taken Branch, under her orders and the rest of the Guard's lieutenants suggestion, she beefs up security around Trollstopia and on the trading networks between the Kingdoms just in case. All while still looking for Branch.

Meanwhile, Branch was currently being transported to who knows where in the troll world's equivalent to a cat carrier, and he is not happy about it. He doesn't recognize they type of giants that caught him, but he's narrowing down their weak points. No visible joints, probably exoskeletal shells, but there eyes are large and probably sensitive, considering that their practically nocturnal. Branch does not let them think he's and easy catch, he keeps escaping the cat carrier, and attacking them. The female slams him usually to disorent him and shove him back, and try to proorly re-enforce the carrier. Seriously, He has a sword he will cut thought duck tape no matter how much you use. At some point they make it to mount Rageous, Branch tries to escape one last time there, because he hears the twins yelling at someone about how a "better cage" wasn't complete. Needless to say Branch is not sticking around for that. He's about to get into the vent when he pauses at the sight of a troll trapped in a bottle. A hand grabs him and squeezes his breath out of his lungs, next thing he knows he shoved into the bottle with the other troll.

Floyd had been trapped in the bottle for who knows how long, disassociating has become his new hobby, Crimp sneaks him food and water, and the only thing he wants to do is take a shower and sleep in a bed. He barely reacts to when the Twins come back from their little trip, he's horrified another troll was captured, but he doesn't react. He doesn't have the energy. Until the second troll was shoved into the bottle with him. At first he's startled, but he quickly turns his attention to helping the Troll catch their breath. Floyd doesn't recognize the odd armor their wearing or the weapons they had.

"You're going to be okay, just breathe. Everything's fine."

"*huffs* Fine? I've been kidnapped and carted half way across the continent! It's not fine!"

"Doesn't mean getting upset will help. Believe me pissing off Velvet makes it worse."

"Yeah I'll be the judge of that. Those noodle limb idiots aren't the first Giants I've had to fight off, next time that lit opens I'm taking out both of their eyes."

"*mildly concerned* Uhm, My name's Floyd..."

A masked face just turns to the red-headed troll and, "Fuck my life."

Branch does not want to talk with his long lost brother. Floyd was a liar who abandoned him, that's all Branch needed to know. However, Floyd is making the not talking thing very difficult. Every other word out of his elder brother's mouth is either an attempt to make up or utter words of comfort that Branch doesn't need he's a grown troll who licks his own wounds thank you very much. At one point he thinks Floyd's worse then the fucking Spritz. Honestly he's this close to punching out the smaller troll's teeth. It's when John Dory shows up that Branch thankfully gets to load off some steam.

When JD got the letter about both his baby brothers in danger, of course he set off for mount rageous. He finds them in a diamond bottle, Floyd seems happy to see him, Branch however remains on the floor of the bottle silently watching. John isn't even sure it was Branch because of the mask, but Floyd confirms it. It isn't until Floyd starts to talk about the harmony that John hears branch speak, and it wasn't like the sweet little bitty B he remembered.

B: oh for madonna's sake will you both shut up! We all know that the fucking harmony won't work.

F: Branch it will work, don't worry.

J: Yeah bitty don't worry we got this

B: *rolls eyes and stands up* First, don't call me bitty, second we couldn't even pull that myth off when we were still a family, what makes you think we can do it now?

F: Branch, we're still family, we can do it.

B: Please Floyd, we haven't talked to each other in 20 years, I know my neighbors better then you, and i live in the middle of the woods. John, You need to go north of bergentown, there you'll find Pop village, it's hidden deep in the forest but it's there. Get in contact with Queen Poppy, if you tell them I sent you they'll listen to you. She has contact with the Funk tribe they can make an alternative that can save us if they don't have one already.

J: Bits don't worry we got this!

B: John! For once in your miserable life just listen! If your so instant on the damn harmony then do it, but get in contact with Queen Poppy first! If you ever gave a single crap about me, then do this...please.

J: *taken aback and sharing a glance with an equally shocked floyd* Okay, B. I will.

Back in Pop Village, Poppy is besides herself. She had reached out to the other tribes asking if they had any kind of kidnapping (they hadn't, but their on high alert), and asked Gristle to look into forgein connections asking if any sort of giant nation is buying/selling trolls. She's keeping herself together best she can, especially since she's now Keith's primary caregiver, with Branch missing. Speaking of the trolling, things haven't been good. It's the middle of summer so the trolling was on a break from school, however instead of spending time with his friends or working on his book, Keith was spending his days searching the forest. Looking everywhere for his brother, all while wearing Branch's lest vest (he doesn't usually wear it underneath the uniform). Tresillo has been a godsend in this time. EVen if he's out of the hospital he's still not on active duty yet, so to keep busy he's been going with Keith to make sure the trolling's safe, when Poppy can't. The reggaetón troll kind of feels guilty about what happened, even if he wasn't sure what was attacking them. So he's taken to protecting what Branch cared for most, his woman and child. It's on one of these excursions when All three of them come across a Troll and his armadillo bus.

John Dory did decide to check out the forest that Branch asked him too, with how desperate his baby brother sounded how could he not. He ends up stumbling upon a small group of trolls, two adults and a child. He introduces himself, but quickly get side tracked at the sight of the Kid's vest. He knows that Vest. His dad wore that vest, and then he wore it as did everyone in his family, Floyd being the last one he remembers having it, as Branch was too small. Floyd didn't have the vest at Mount Ragous, neither did Branch. The kids eyes were blue, and so was his hair....Holy crap no wonder Branch was so insistent that John come here, he had a family. With how clingy and nervous the pink troll was with the kid no doubt who was the mom, or just Branch's partner and the kid was a case of an ace egg. Either way, bitty had a family that he was worried about. (also how old was branch we he got a kid? This little guy was at least 8 and Branch was what? late teens? early twenties?)

Poppy is a little suspicious of the John Dory at first, after all he's looking at her little Keith in an odd way, but then he mentions Branch and she's all ears. To her horror he tells her, that her Branchifer was currently being held captive. To her surprise he tells her that he's Branch's brother (and that he's brozone, she'd fangirl if she didn't have a scared trolling in her arms). Thankfully John Dory also offers her a plan to rescue Branch. She's about to say yes, when Tresillo pulls her aside and makes cautions her. Go with him is she has too, but Tresillo urges her to contact the other tribe leaders about this matter since this is technically a war crime since Branch is on the council as head of security, not to mention that with his experience in musical combat he knows that the PFH is something that's nearly impossible to pull off, it might even just be a myth so they need a back up plan. Poppy has John Dory drive them back the to the village, before heading out. She gets the other royals involved and asks for their help. Funk is already working on a way to break diamonds before the day ends and the other's (along with the Bergen kingdom) are trying to get in contact with Mount Ragous officals to get them to do something.

John Dory is not happy about waiting for Queen Poppy (His baby bro scored a queen, great job Branch! Also this adds to further theory that the kid isn't actually hers but she and Branch got together after the kid was born...and did that mean his baby brother had to deal with a pregnancy and newborn on his own?) to finish with...what ever she was doing. All he knew was that it was taking time (barely a few hours), and he needed to get this show on the road. Apparently she wanted a back up plan, and he couldn't understand why, the PFH was a perfect plan. Eventually, she's ready to go, though John is worried about the guard who insisted on accompanying her. That is until Tresillo says, "She is a queen who is going into a territory who's people have proven dangerous to trolls, You think we're going to let her go with out protection?" John relents at this, perfectly fine with a third member of this rescue team, at least until Rhonda hits bump and a tiny green trolling falls out of one of the kitchen cabinets.

Keith felt bad about sneaking on to the transport critter, when Poppy asked him to stay with her dad, but the trolling wasn't going to let them rescue Branch without him. Especially, since all of branch's bio brothers would be involved, no way was Keith going to let them hurt Branch again. Poppy can't send him back at this point, and then JOhn Dory drives them off a cliff....yeah Keith was coming along.

Meanwhile in the Diamond prison Branch was beginning to feel the effects of imprisonment. He's started having nightmares of Poppy and Keith trapped in a bottle in Velvet's clutches, and they're impossible to hide from Floyd, because even if Branch tiled the Bottle onto its side they're still practically sleeping on top of each other. Floyd keeps trying to get Branch to talk about it, but all he gives his red-headed brother was that "Just dreams about horrible things happening to people I actually care about." It isn't until a dress rehearsal that Branch finally cut's Floyd some slack. The spritz hurts but the knight manages to recover quickly. Floyd not so much. Branch isn't sure if it's due to Floyd's longer imprisonment, the fact that he's trying to push the little food and water that Crimp and Veneer are sneaking them on to Branch, or the lack of sleep. Still once he watch's Floyd's feet crystalize do major alarm bells start ringing in his head. Though, he waits until Crimp and the twins were gone until doing anything.

B: Sit down.

F: What?

B: Sit down I'm checking you out.

F: Branch don't worry I'm fine.

B: Don't give me that crap. You and I both know you're feet turning into rocks is not normal. Sit down I'm checking you out.

F: *sigh* fine

B: Do they hurt?

F: no, they just feel cold.

B: *mumbling* could be messing with blood circulation...

F: Did you become a doctor?

B: What?

F: did you become a doctor? You seem to know what your doing.

B: No, just field medicine, first aid that kind of thing.

F: so first responder?

B: No.

F: then why....

B: *rolling his eyes* if you must know it's an occupational requirement. And no I'm not telling you why for what my job is. Can you feel this?

F: Feel what?

B: I'm pressing the sharp end of my gauntlet tip into the ball of your foot. You can't feel it?

F: N-no...what does that mean?

B: Well either, you're foot is dying or what ever this is is damaging you're nerves.

Back with the rescue Squad, John Dory's post card is not well received, but Tresillo actually recognized the island so they're not shooting completely blind. Still that didn't mean he agreed with getting them nearly drowned. Though, he and Keith do like John's machette. Keith asks if Tresillo had ever been to the island, nad sadly the reggaeton troll hasn't, his squad's hunts mostly stuck inland.

Bruce is surprised to see John Dory, but it happy to see his brother, even if they parted on bad terms. He also recognizes the vest, and takes notice of Keith's hair color, drawing the same false conclusion. When Poppy introduces her self as Branch's Girlfriend, all he wants to do is congratulate his baby brother on such a beautiful family. All he feels is horror when he learns about Branch and Floyd being kidnapped. Once given the okay from Brandy, they leave to look for Clay.

Finding the middle brother is harder then they thought, it's a good hour or two, of Keith making a clue board, calling Tresillo's old informants, Bruce driving since he doesn't know the first thing about tracking, until Keith remembers how wolves track and finds the funderdrawers. Yeah everyone is grateful to john for keeping them, but are incredibly grossed out. The only shared thought between the whole group when they enter the golf course is "Someone was murdered here"

Meeting Viva and Clay is a little different in canon. Poppy is already stressed out by her boyfriend being in danger, so she doesn't react all that well when viva is revealed to be her sister, and kind of has a little break down with Keith in her arms. This leads to Bruce and John explaining the situation to Clay and viva, still under the impression that Keith is Branch's kid and Poppy is practically the kids mom, and how the two youngest are in danger. Tresillo isn't apart of this convo to correct them, becasue the putt putts are giving him bad vibes and he's not going to slack on his protection detail here. Viva wants to convince Poppy and Keith to stay in the golf course, safe, and spends the next hour trying to convince her to stay. After all, while she feels bad for Branch, Giants got him, in viva's mind he's as good as dead. Clay starts working on their escape, planning on using Poppy and keith as a distraction while they run out to get Branch and Floyd. Tresillo objects to this, after all did they even think that Poppy and Keith would be okay with such a plan. Clay asks why would that matter they would all be coming back here. This sparks a conversation about how Poppy, Keith, Tresillo and Branch had lives outside of the golf course and they couldn't stay. Bruce has to agree with the reggaton troll much to Clay's disappointment. Viva tries to tap them, but this only makes Poppy more upset, Keith unlocks the gate and they get out of there. Poppy's hurt that she and viva didn't get along, but she has to think about more then just herself, she has to worry about Keith, her kingdom and of course Branch. She can't loose her Branchifer.

Back in the bottle, Branch is getting more desperate. Whatever those shoulder pads did was 10x worse then the bottle, and while Branch hasn't had anymore symptoms other then exhaustion and some bruising from the rough handling, the same couldn't be said for Floyd. The crystalization had spread to his hands, legs and even hair. The elder brother is half asleep most of the time and constantly freezing. The shivering gets to the point where Branch feels bad enough to take off his armor, shirt helmet and gloves to try and keep Floyd warm by giving it to him, also to protect Floyd from hurting himself since he can't feel much of his body anymore. This reveals the scar the chef gave him and Floyd is horrified Branch still refuses to tell him what happened but that is enough to know it's bad. They try to escape with Floyd playing dead and Branch calling out for help. The moment the bottle opens Branch jumps out and attacks Velvet with his sword, cutting up her face and using his hair to choke her while telling Floyd to run for it. Floyd doesn't get far, as he turns back just in time to see Velvet Rip Branch off her and throw him to the floor before kicking him into the wall. In the end the attempt fails, and without his armor to protect him Branch suffers severe injuries.

Inside of Rhonda practice is happening (Tresillo's driving since he doesn't want to be involved). From the start it's a disaster. Poppy is pulled in as a practice substitute for Floyd and John tries to get Keith to play Branch's role, but Keith doesn't like to sing. Poppy steps in and tells John to back off when he pushes. Very quickly everyone looses track of why they're doing this by picking at each other's old wounds. The rising tension and shouting, finally pushes Keith over the edge. The trolling starts sobbing about how Branch is going to die and none of them care. Poppy rips off the puffy vest and runs to the trolling's comfort. They all make half hearted apologies but then "Mission the mission, after this we go our seperate ways". Poppy has some chose words for them.

Poppy: I don't know what happened back then. But what happened after? You're all at fault. I used to think could caring Branch was towards everyone, wanting everyone safe, was just him having a good heart. But no, its because no one did that for him, and the one person that did...may Madonna bless your Grandmother soul because she must be turning in her grave if she knows what's happening right now. No wonder Branch never told anyone about you.

Tresillo pulls over and they (Poppy, tresillo and Keith) leave. they meet up with Marimba and Tambora with the plan to get Branch and floyd out of there, before bringing them to the Funk trolls to get them free. Infiltration is easy for three former bounty hunters and Poppy and Keith are fast learners. they find Branch and Floyd easy enough. Poppy and Branch reunite with hapy tears and Keith and Branch hug through the bottle, while the reggaton trolls try to find a weak spot in the bottle. They don't find one and their too small to get the lid off. they have to retreat back into the vents, just as the twins come back.

The car chase is utter hell for Branch. He's fairly certain he has several broken ribs and a concussion, every jump and jostle is a whirlwind of Pain. Even worse Floyd is barely conscious at this point, and to keep him aware Branch is answering any mumbled question his elder brother asks. Mostly Floyd wants to know who the Pink troll and green trolling were. Branch answers but still keeps certain things private, it's only when Floyd starts talking like he's on his death bed does Branch get really concerned. He might not be on best of terms with Floyd but he doesn't want him to die.

It isn't the harmony that frees them, instead it's the proper authorities stopping the boat and arresting the twins at the end of the ride. Poppy Breathes a sigh of relief knowing that Essence and Quincy were successful in getting the mount rageous leaders to help and make a device that could undo the lids of the bottles. Cooper arrives in a smaller shuttle to take them to the hospital in Vibe city, and with Floyd still half out of it with crystalized limbs and Branch developing a collapsed lung, they don't object. (they take Rhonda with them in a separate shuttle).

Branch is taken to get scanned and eventually the surgery table to fix internal bleeding, but over all his prognosis is good. Poppy and Keith wait at his bedside almost never leaving. Tresillo pop in and out, but he's there when Branch wakes up. "You came for me?" "C'mon hermano, I couldn't let you hold saving my life over me for too long."

It's Floyd everyone is worried about. During the transit he lost consciousness and eventually slipped into a comatose state. the doctor's set his fractures and put him on supportive measures, a feeding tube, IV, and breathing tube, but there's little they can do for the crystallization at the moment. He spends three days in the ICU before the doctor's notice a small improvement with the crystal creeping back.

With Floyd not being allow visitors until he's more stable, three panicking older brothers turn their mother-hening towards Branch. The Knight is not happy about it. Poppy was sadly pulled away since she needed to help with all the legal matters of the scandal, being Pop queen it was her tribe was directly threatened and she needs to be present in the meetings with the Mount Rageous leaders. Branch also makes Keith go hang out with cooper for a few hours a day so the kid isn't just sitting in a hospital room. He can't really move due to the chest tube, but he is very tempted to leap out of bed and smack his bio-family up the head, when they act like they know what's best for him. Needless to say they are force to air the dirty laundry and Branch lets them have it. The brothers know they have a lot to make up for and they are willing to make it work. Branch with some prodding from Keith allows them a chance, but he calls the shots. He also sets them straight regarding his relationship with Keith (they are all a little embarrassed by that misunderstanding). Eventually Branch is let off th chest tube and allowed to go home with strict orders to rest and go to a hospital the moment anything felt off.

Life goes on another two months, Bruce left and came back, Clay helped convince some of the putt putts to move to Pop village, Poppy and Viva reconcile, the twins are given a life sentence and use of trolls for talent enhancement is outlawed, John Dory sticks around the village to make sure his brothers are safe, Keith is getting used to have more then one Brother. Eveything seems to be getting better...except for Floyd.

Three months pass, Floyd still hasn't woken up. The crystal is gone, but his limbs remain thin and pale, and the roots of his hair remain stark white. He was moved to the hospital in Trollstopia for long term care. The doctor's aren't hopeful. One day Branch is visiting, his brother's hand cold in his, "If you don't wake up, and make all our hard work to save you worth nothing, then I'll never forgive you."

Floyd's hazy eyes open...

----

Well here's this idea. I think this was a great idea to celebrate the end of the summer semester. Once more ask all the questions you want. I really need to go to bed.

[cor-lapis-candy]

I'm back on my idea of an isekai reader who is the assistant to aether/lumine, but like you run that teapot, that is your domain, tubby is your assistant and the invited guests answer to you not aether/lumine.

Now let's think about Zhongli coming to visit between trips with the traveller only to be met with your glower, you had been cleaning and he had the former archon had the gall to appear while you had been re-leafing some of the gold furniture and startled you enough that had a smattering of gold across your cheeks and arms.

He had made a mess of you and your work and had the audacity to simply walk off as you tried to brush the gold flakes from your skin.

It's not the first time you had growled and grumbled at the former archon about his popin visits and the constant invasion of your space when he did, looming over you as you repaired and put new furniture together, the bastard has a sixth sense to when your putting together liyue styled pieces and or working gems into certain things, always on the dot and flees the moment you call him out on it.

If only you had followed him rather than huffing and continuing with the repairs, oh what a sight you would have seen.

It was far from a chance that he showed up just as you began to work with gold and gemstones, as the former lord of geo he knows when someone is working with his elements, often blotting it out and ignoring the residual hum in the back of his mind. Only when it comes from certain areas does he pay attention, and the travellers realm is one he always watches, waits for the moment he hears that low hum before rolling through to the realm.

He knows it won't be the traveller, knows it will be you at the foot of the stairs or tucked away in some room shaping and fixing some of the decorations, so diligent with his domain and so perfect as you slot the cor lapis into it's frame on some chair that had tipped and cracked the original jade icon. Perhaps it was unbecoming to look as he does and yet he can't stop himself, watching as you work with your hands, fingers dipping into the wood and stone, dragging over the groves and carved waves in the very element he had lorded over for millennia.

It was most definitely unbecoming that the sight had him tenting his pants, cock swelling with the vision of your hands taking him up and treating him with the same diligence and care, palms cupping his balls and wrapping around his shaft as you work him to completion, perhaps you would take him into your mouth and leave his skin shiny with your spit before dragging it across his skin, making the black and gold of his cock shine like the cor lapis you so often had to change out.

The way he hurried away when you turn your attention from the furniture is only to keep you from seeing how as you bend your head he is pressing his palm against his cock, rocking hair hips into the pressure and trying to avoid shuddering or shifting too much, the dedication and focus you display is intoxication in its purest form.

He can practically taste the tang of another world on your skin, even if he has never had more than passing contact with you, and yet he wants to know what you taste like, how the sweat that beads on your upper lips would taste as he dragged his tongue across your lips before delving between them, he even longs to know how your scent would change after working in the false heat of the adeptal realms, would your sex smell of sweat and your arousal? Or would the heavy scent of work overpower everything else?

He had to know, but in the same breath he knew you had grown annoyed at his looming presence, huffing and grunting as he made another unannounced visit to the teapot, and yet it's a cycle as he watches you, drinks in the designs and care you show only to duck away into the room that was for him, decorated for him, everything here was made by you for him and he would make sure to make use of it all.

Be that alone with his hand around his cock or maybe in the days to come with you, dedicated, wonderful you, oh so perfect to be seated on his cock or perhaps you would prefer his more bestial form and the twin cocks that would stretch you and make all mortals useless for your pleasure...

[fen-luciel]

The Devil

AnakinXreader

Warnings:slow burn/implicit smut/ a bit of gore at the end

Summary:A love story born amidst the war, with a fallen angel.

[Support the story on Ao3 Here]

One thing I had learned about Anakin Skywalker is that he was always ready to help those in need. Sometimes, I saw it more as a curse, sacrificing himself for others, with a reassuring smile on his face, ready to leap into action.

Many mistook that care for arrogance, but I had always seen beyond it.

The jokes, the gestures, the ways, all a mask to make you feel better even in the worst moments.

He was radiant.

I met him in person purely by chance. I was assigned to the same mission at the last second. I was supposed to leave with other clones to a war zone, but some human traffickers had appeared out of nowhere, taking advantage of the precarious conditions of the planets that survived the separatists' attacks.

The Jedi were being sent everywhere every second, so it was just a coincidence that I was free at that moment.

The first time I saw him, I recognized him immediately, like a bright star in the cold universe, his smile warmed me more than anything.

His former master introduced us. We didn't have much time for pleasantries given the sudden crisis we were about to resolve. We said goodbye to our friends, and with a small platoon, we set off for the last planet that had been marked as a contact point.

He didn't know me, of course. I wasn't particularly famous for great feats in the war or interactive in the more political sphere. I struggled to see myself as a Jedi—I was more of a soldier... more replaceable.

But Anakin didn't make me feel that way.

Soon that evening, lost in deep space while everyone else slept, we started playing cards. He was terrible, winning one game out of ten. By the sixth game, he started losing on purpose, trying to annoy me with stupid questions that he repeated over and over, but I found it hilarious, he was... light.

For a moment, he made me feel like a young girl and not a soldier in war.

Anyway, I couldn't say if something between us started right there, he made it seem natural, as if we had been friends forever, and I adored every second of it.

The problem was that the mission turned out to be much worse than expected—a network of kidnappings and sales of human and alien beings had been created right under our noses without the Order realizing it. What was supposed to be an intervention lasting a couple of weeks turned into a well-organized outpost for more than five months.

The atmosphere was mostly tense during the day. We set traps in wooded areas, devised capture plans, intercepted calls, but above all, we tried to save as many civilians as possible—women, the elderly, children—we never stopped.

At the end of the evening, we were so exhausted that we barely exchanged a few words. Anakin and I had our cots in the same house, the base was hidden among the ruins of a city bombed by the separatists long ago. We had tried to make the place livable as much as possible, but we couldn't afford to attract attention, so we just dusted it off.

The place was stale and suffocating. One of the two windows had been boarded up with wooden planks, the power had gone out along with everything else, and we kept a small dim lantern in the darkest corner to avoid attracting unwanted glances from outside.

I didn't realize that night after night, Anakin moved his sleeping bag slightly closer to mine.

When I noticed, we were barely an arm's length apart. I never said anything, it made me feel less alone.

I slept better at night.

One thing I noticed was the lost look in the void that sometimes froze him on those few evenings when we played at least one game of cards.

He was silent, tense, it usually happened after we saved people. Normally, this should have made us happy, and at least the rest of the team was, but he suddenly got lost in his thoughts, closed in on himself, and didn't talk to me anymore.

"Are you okay?"

Silence.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Silence.

"It went well, right?"

Still silence.

I let it go, finished the game, and lay down, turning my back on him, too proud to admit that I felt rejected.

Rejected by what, I couldn't tell.

It was precisely on one of those alcohol-fueled evenings that the turning point happened. We had returned exhausted from a mission that had allowed us to save at least a hundred lives. We celebrated with some wine stolen from an abandoned house, but Anakin did not show up, and I was too irritated by his isolation to go knock on our door.

We drank late into the night. I returned to the little house with my mind slightly foggy. Anakin had turned off the light and was already asleep. I took off my clothes with some difficulty before slipping under the duvet, ready to fall asleep, but a warm arm silently snaked around my waist, "I'm sorry." he whispered in a hoarse voice.

I realized he had been crying.

I bit my lip, afraid to dare too much, the alcohol was confusing my senses, his touch so light yet intimate, to which I was not accustomed... so I just told him I wasn't angry, that I forgave him.

I slept divinely, but the next morning we said nothing about what had happened.

A few days later, he pretended to casually end up close to my body before wrapping an arm around my waist before sleeping. So we started lying in each other's arms, seeking a bit of warmth and comfort. I kept telling myself it was normal in our situation, the war was wearing us down, and we needed contact... I needed his contact.

As the months went by, I noticed that something was off about the perfect figure of the Chosen One.

His sudden mood swings, the strange talks... the hatred.

The hatred I saw in his eyes when we captured the gang members.

The visceral rage.

I had met killers with a less menacing air.

Of course, no one was perfect, and being a Jedi meant fighting the dark side every day, but from a figure like his, something different was expected, more like a flawless and fearless hero, yet he seemed the most fragile of all.

I thought that maybe power like his had a great burden on the other side of the balance and stopped doubting his faith.

It was around the third month that the turning point happened.

I had been injured on my side, the burn made me wince with every movement. Bandaged and treated, I was forced to stay in bed to rest for a few days.

Anakin was deathly silent as he caressed my bandaged side, his body lying behind mine, head resting on his hand and free fingers gently brushing against me. I could feel him thinking with his eyes closed.

"I'm okay," I murmured softly so as not to break the silence.

He exhaled slowly, moving closer, pressing his chest against my back. "If I had been there, it wouldn't have happened."

I shivered, feeling the breath behind my ear, his hoarse voice cradling me, making me feel warm... safe.

"We're both knights. I can take care of myself." I was almost on the verge of falling asleep, but I held on to reply. I didn't like knowing he was lost in thought on his own; his face darkened when it happened.

He leaned down to kiss my bare shoulder, I held back from commenting, it seemed that every step we took together was a slow descent on a path with no return. I should have told him not to do it, to stop, but... that warmth in my chest made me feel alive.

"I know. I'm not saying you need me, I know you can take care of yourself." he sighed heavily before placing another kiss on the skin slightly higher than the previous one. "It's just that when you protect others, it seems like you don't care about yourself. I want to be there for you."

That warm, dense feeling growing in my stomach.

I turned slightly to look at him, we were so close that our noses almost touched.

"I have given my life to the Jedi cause. The good of others comes before mine." I reached out to gently stroke his cheek, he leaned into the touch. The faint orange light illuminated the side of his face, looking at me with such intensity that my heart trembled.

"Then I'll take care of you."

Our lips almost touched, I didn't even notice that his hand had slightly moved my shirt up, the tips of his fingers burning on my bare skin.

I wish I could say something romantic like "I don't know if I got closer first or he did, maybe we came together" or similar, but it would have been a shameful lie.

I was the one to throw myself on his lips.

I realized while we were locked in a slow kiss that he had me wrapped around his finger from the moment I met him months earlier.

All the admiration, the respect, was nothing compared to what I felt looking at him, not as a Jedi or a hero, but as a man.

The blond curls, the chiseled physique, the sharp features, the defined jawline, the deep eyes, his skin, his scent, it was everything.

He got under your skin, and you wanted more.

I wanted more.

He took his hand off my side to stroke my cheek, our faces pressed together as we shared the same air. I had no prior experience with kisses, yet he made it seem natural. I just had to follow the trail of his lips on mine, the light bites, the tongue in my mouth.

"I need you." he whispered on my skin before kissing my neck, leaving wet marks. I trembled weakly from the wounds and his touch, holding back sighs and moans as he opened my robe, his body covering mine, the moonlight illuminating his sculpted muscles.

I had no regrets the next morning.

I knew what had happened was dangerous, forbidden, but when he got dressed next to me in the early morning light, I couldn't help but admire his golden skin, still wanting.

He gave me a kiss on the forehead, told me to rest, and left, giving me one of those breathtaking smiles.

No, I didn't regret anything.

When they allowed me to go back into action, everything seemed to have returned to normal.

Except in the evening, when those masks of indifference we wore fell away, and we found ourselves in each other's arms: the kisses, the touches, the breaths we shared.

But above all, the looks.

Sometimes tears welled up in my eyes when he held me to his chest, that feeling that tightened my throat, it was so beautiful it hurt, and he devoured me with the intensity of a thousand suns. I burned under that gaze; he held me tight, leaving bruises on my skin, and for a moment, I... I saw him.

I saw him, without his masks, without the lies he used to protect himself, and something deep in my conscience screamed a warning at me.

Flashes of that hatred I'd seen in him crossed my mind, the anger, a visceral contempt, sometimes arrogant. That deep look was more revealing than a thousand words, and instinct told me to look, to see how far that abyss went, but I was terrified, not for him, but for me.

If I found a beast hidden in the darkness, what would I do?

No, I didn't want to think about it. Every time I lost myself in the tangle of our bodies, I would look away, maybe close my eyes or hide my face in his neck, anything to avoid looking... to avoid looking at him.

I realized my mistake when it was too late to turn back.

We were nearing the end of the conflict, the majority of the population had been brought to safety, many criminals captured or fallen in battle. It was a great result, except that all this pressure made the few remaining who were resisting us increasingly nervous and daring, as if they didn't care if they would die in the shootout, the important thing was to do as much damage as possible, as if on a whim.

The last month, in particular, was a real trench war. Only a handful of slavers remained to be stopped, but they had barricaded themselves inside the abandoned Senate building with the last hostages, of course, the easiest ones to drag along, the children.

The place had been fortified for some time, and even though we had a map, we couldn't know where they were keeping the hostages or, worse, if they had already killed them, keeping up the façade just to buy time.

We hypothesized every kind of plan, but none gave us the certainty of getting the hostages back. It would have been easy to bomb the area at this point, they were so dangerous that the Republic wouldn't have mourned their loss. We had also thought of isolating them until they came out from exhaustion and hunger, but again, if there really were those children, they would have been the first to suffer.

After two days of discarded plans, I tried everything.

"Let's go back to the first hypothesis. I'll make my way through the breach in the ceiling, look for the hostages, and send you a signal when I have them safe." We were all gathered around the building's holographic map. Next to me, Anakin huffed, "Don't even think about it. I'll go instead."

I sighed, smiling weakly "No offense, General Skywalker, but you're not particularly good at crawling along corridors." The remark drew a laugh from all the clones around us, who agreed with me, but Anakin wasn't laughing at all.

"I don't want you going in there alone, it's too much, even for a Jedi. They're waiting for us, they'll have set traps—" He started, waving his hand over the table, but I interrupted him. "They definitely have. But it's our best option. It's decided."

I didn't wait for a reply, knowing he could argue with me all day if necessary. I kept myself busy organizing the troops for that evening. Anakin moved tensely through the camp, ready to spring into action at the slightest sign. I knew he wasn't happy with that choice at all, but I wouldn't back down.

We left late in the evening; by then, I knew the map by heart. The building had three floors and a basement; all the side windows were barred, so it was impossible to tell where the children were. I would descend from the skylight above the chamber of deputies and from there explore each floor from top to bottom until I found the hostages... or their remains in the worst-case scenario.

The first part of the plan was fairly simple, but as soon as I stepped inside, I noticed something strange. Patrolling the corridors were droids built from makeshift materials, fragile-looking, yes, but armed.

I had to turn off the radio for fear of receiving a call at the wrong moment. I needed to check every room and descend a level until I was sure no one was there, and deactivating the droids would work against me since they would realize someone had entered.

On the ground floor, I saw the men who were left, all sitting around an old board game, looking either drunk or on the verge of falling asleep. I managed to send a brief message before heading to the basement.

Some walls had partially collapsed, and the narrow corridors made it difficult to move stealthily, but I stayed alert, ready to spring into action. I reached the end where I knew the vault that held the most important documents and money was located. It was a room large enough to hold more than one person, and at this point, it was my only chance.

The dim light in the room wasn’t much, but I finally saw it, the heavy metal door sealing the vault.

I knocked on the surface, hoping to get a response, and to my joy, I heard frightened gasps. I called out, hoping they could hear me; on the other hand, I could only make out vague murmurs, but when they started banging on the wall from the other side, I had no doubt it was them.

I ignited the lightsaber to begin cutting a hole in the surface, quickly warning them to move away, hoping they understood what I was saying, and very slowly, I began to cut through the metal.

It all happened in a moment. I felt it in my gut before I even heard the sound, I spun around, deflecting a shot aimed at me.

In front of me, one of those men, accompanied by three droids, pointed their weapons at me. I was at a disadvantage, given the tight space in which I had to defend myself. I parried more shots before inevitably losing the rhythm. I didn’t see where I was hit, but I felt it on my skin—the burning sensation spreading like an oil stain, the throbbing pain, and finally, my heavy fall to the ground.

When I turned to face him, something was thrown at me, a disturbing click around my neck made me flinch.

"Finally," the man approached me menacingly. I got up quickly to defend myself, but suddenly, an electric shock coursed through my body, knocking me back to the ground. I screamed in surprise as I tried in vain to tear off the collar.

"Don’t try it, Jedi, not even you can get rid of these."

I lay on the ground, breathless, my hands trembling uncontrollably, and a dull ache in my bones.

"You have no chance..." I panted in pain, moving my arm near the pocket where I kept the communicator, slowly activating it.

However, the movement caught his attention, and I was forcefully shoved to the ground, the device falling a few meters away from me as the man reactivated the shock.

I thrashed on the ground in jerky movements, keeping my mouth shut for fear of biting my tongue as I tried to crawl towards the communicator, a ringing in my ears.

"Bitch!" The shock stopped, but I had no time to recover before a kick hit me in the stomach, knocking out the little breath I had left. He bent over my body, gripping my hands around my neck. I wanted to push him away, but my fingers were still trembling uncontrollably. "I don’t need to keep you awake to use you as a bargaining chip. I’ll make you regret what you put us through!"

I kicked uselessly, my head feeling heavy, and my vision darkening, my lungs struggling for air. I tried to claw at his wrists, but I was losing strength.

It was when I was on the verge of passing out that something suddenly pushed him away from me.

I coughed forcefully, gasping for air. I turned onto my hands and knees, trembling and still unable to stand. I didn't understand what was happening, but I was glad to feel my fingertips again.

I coughed a few more times when I noticed something was off—or rather, something strange was happening next to me, judging by the sound I heard.

Like... something wet, an eerie crunching sound that I couldn't quite place.

I turned, finally more clear-headed, and almost had a heart attack.

Anakin was there—I figured he had used the Force to push the man away from me—but what I saw in front of me was worse than anything I had ever experienced.

I saw him with his back to me, crouched over the man's body... which wasn't moving anymore.

I crawled toward them, reaching out a hand to his shoulder, trying to shake him. "Anakin, leave him, we need to open the door—" and then I saw them more clearly.

He had pushed his thumbs into the man's eyes, which disappeared up to the knuckles in the sockets as he gripped the sides of his face. There was blood everywhere—it was dripping from the eye sockets, the mouth, even the back of his head, which was being slammed into the floor that slowly stained a bright red. I swear I saw his skull unnaturally crushed.

The air left my lungs, a wave of nausea rising in my throat that I held back at the last second.

"Please, let him go, A-Anakin, p-please—" I stammered as I clung to his arm, trying in vain to pull him away. I gripped the front of his tunic, but he seemed immovable.

"Anakin, I'm fine, let him go, please, y-you've killed him—" I cried, tears falling before I even realized.

He finally released his grip, letting the man's head fall into the pool of blood with a wet thud. He turned to look at me, and I instinctively tried to back away, frightened, falling onto my backside because my knees were still weak. I couldn’t look away, but now I saw it as clear as day—that monster he hid inside, that flame I had glimpsed when he was angry, or when we made love, and those languid eyes would light up with a sinister, almost possessive glow.

Now I saw it in its rawest form and could no longer pretend I hadn't. The metallic scent of blood filled my nostrils, making my eyes sting.

"Anakin—" I whispered, raising a hand, not sure whether to reach for him or keep my distance.

"My love." He came toward me as if everything was normal, his face worried, relieved to see me mostly unharmed. He brushed the collar with a hand, a spark of anger flashing as fast as a blink. "The others are coming, we’ll get this thing off you," he murmured, then gently took my face in his hands, the blood staining my skin and dripping in tiny crimson drops down my neck. I was shaking like a leaf but didn’t know what to say.

I knew what he was.

I knew it, but I had underestimated it, in fact, I had lied to myself, ignoring all the warnings. Yet I wondered how it was possible that no one had noticed before.

Or maybe they had all been blinded by the same light?

By that warm smile.

Never getting too close and risking harm.

But I had been drawn to the light like a moth, and now, indeed, I was burning alive.

And it was too late to run away.

I was complicit in that fire, which I had fed every night with every kiss, touch, or whisper.

How could I turn my back on him now?

It was also my fault.

He leaned over me, the hand I had raised now resting on his chest, the heartbeat too steady for someone who had just crushed a human skull with his bare hands.

"Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you." A whisper on my lips, I wanted to say it was impossible, that he couldn’t save me from himself, that it was him I feared so much, but it was too late.

He kissed me, his lips tasting of death and blood, the light that blinded me now an shadow that devoured me.

It was too late.

I loved him.

I realized it when I closed my eyes to meet him. I would have kept his secret, I would have protected him until my last breath.

Till death do us part.

[boingfessions]

HAPPY OINGO BOINGO DAY EVERYNYAN!!!

I hope everyone has a great time today! Surely more than one person asked themselves a question: What the HELL is Oingo Boingo? Well, the name itself is complete absurdity! But what makes Oingo Boingo Oingo Boingo? Find out in this post under cut!

Our beloved crazy ginger man! Daniel Robert Elfman is an American film composer, singer, songwriter, and musician. Delusional, orange af, joker-like, face with a combination of slasher smile and Kubrick stare, perhaps even had prolonged non-fatal rabies in his time in Oingo Boingo that was only recently cured when the band broke, but unfortunately (or not) returned in recent years. Now his entire body is covered in tattoos and his hair is straight now because of dyeing it to hide his gray hair, ergo his old age. The truth is that he is actually a skeleton disguised as Danny Elfman to pass himself off as living human so that the Grim Reaper don't come after him, but SHHHH!!! I did not tell you anything!

Danny Elfman (lead vocals, rhythm guitar)

Steve Bartek (lead guitar, rhythm vocals)

Fluffy tall boy <3. Steve Bartek is an American guitarist, film composer, conductor, and orchestrator. Elfman's right-hand man and the one he trusts with his skeletons in his closet, oh and his film compositions too of course! One of the few members of the band who was not consumed by it and therefore did not become a feral creature in the process. He plays little guitars because he's a big man, y'know! He usually wore ridiculously short ties along with baggy t-shirts. His guitar solos drove Danny so crazy that he was spinning around and caused him to have back pain to this day, so you know how to blame. Nowadays unfortunately his beautiful dark curls have become gray, but luckily he now looks like an adorable grandpa now! (just like the others)

Kerry Hatch (bass guitar, backing vocals)

A marvelous human being! Kerry Hatch is an American musician... and that's it. Walking diva and Zoolander wannabe, this lad was the band's bassist until 1984, when he decided to join the band "Zuma II" (what the HELL is that band? I have no idea!). A pretty lad who likes to be handsome and play bass guitars that don't even look like bass guitars, I don't know what else I could say about him! Maybe he thought the band wasn't good enough for him and decided to leave to pursue something better, but that's just a guess... if you can consider a landscaping business better!

Richard "Ribbs" Gibbs (keyboards, backing vocals)

Mister mistery~ Richard Gibbs is an American film composer and music producer. Like Kerry, he left the band in 1984 to join Zuma II, and to be honest I don't know what what that band had to make not one but TWO members of Oingo Boingo (the best band in the entire galaxy and even the sixth dimension) have left to be in that band. Anywho, all I have to say about him is that he did well in life, being a composer like Danny and that's it.

Johnny "Vatos" Hernández (drums, percussion)

THIS IS JOHNNY VATOS FROM OINGO BOINGO MAN!!!! He is a drummer with crazy hairstyles who likes to dum ba dum through life. Almost as crazy as Danny was, he stayed loyal to the band even after they broke up (yes, he was in another band called Food for Feet, but I don't give a DAMN!) Years after the band broke up he managed to reunite about four former members and form "Oingo Boingo Former Members", made up of him, Steve Bartek, John Avila, Carl Graves and Sam "Sluggo" Phipps, in addition to new members. Idk about you, but I would like to have him as my grandpa!

Sam "Sluggo" Phipps (saxophone, backing vocals)

Leon Schneiderman (saxophone, backing vocals)

Slam Bam "Sluggo" Phipps is an American saxophone player known for his signature bright, expressive smiles, where he shows off all his teeth and can light up an entire room. The tallest guy in the band and the one who likes to show off his instrument the most, rising it high in the air when attention is focused on him. Well, maybe not so much, but you understand what I mean! Maybe he can be too expressive and noisy, but we still love him ❤️

Dale Turner (trumpet, backing vocals)

Do you remember when I said that Sluggo had the brightest smile in the world? Well, I lied! That one goes to our dear Leon Schneiderman, the other saxophonist in the band. He could do anything in the whole world, even his own instruments! Being a childhood friend of Danny's, it can be said that he has been in the band every moment since it started, even longer than Danny himself! Don't you love him and his smiles?

John Avila (bass guitar, backing vocals)

Our beloved grandpa-mom. He is an American trumpet player who entered The Mystic Knights after they let him audition after seeing him practice in secret. He makes sure to keep an eye on the other guys in the band and can (if he hasn't already) spank them to make them behave (except for Sluggo; NOBODY spanks Sluggo). Even if he is the shortest member of the band along with John Avila, that doesn't make him any less authoritative, being around ten years older than the rest of the band. He is silent like a mouse and has never been heard to speak, perhaps because he is reserved or has nothing to say. He left the band and is currently enjoying his life privately, and I really hope he's okay!

HE IS MY BABY, MY CUTIE PIE, MY PUPPY, MY LOVE, MY LIFE, THE BEST BOY IN THE WHOLE WORLD!!!!!!!!! RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

Ahem, sorry about that... John Avila is an American bassist and music producer. A literal human puppy and the shortest member of the band. He looks like you could pick him up in your arms and cradle him like a baby... Sorry, I'm off topic again! What do you want me to do? He's simply adorable! (At least for me). Anywho, Although he appears in the Gratitude MV, it was not until 6 months after the release of the album So-Lo that he joined the band along with Michael Bacich, being the new bassist and keyboardist respectively. He is usually hyperactive and you can see him at concerts jumping, spinning and playing his bass like a pro. The strange thing is that, even though the years go by and he obviously ages, he still seems to be the same mischievous and playful puppy-like guy... Okay, sorry again!

Michael Bacich (keyboards, backing vocals)

Quiet nerdy boy. He's was the keyboardist of the band since 1985 until 1988. Yes, he didn't stay for a long time, but his presence in the band is still important as he was present in the band's best era (Dead Man's Party). He looks like the typical nerd who would say "actually☝️🤓" and give you information that you didn't even ask for but still decided to give you to expand your zero knowledge. He also looks kinda shy and like someone who Danny would bully if the band were in a cliché teen movie. Like Dale, he decided to move on with his life after leaving the band, which it's okay after all.

I ran out of space for more images! Don't worry, I'll reblog this post right away talking about the rest of the band (which are only two members but still!). Thank you very much for reading this far and HAPPY BOINGO DAY TO ALL OF YOU AGAIN!!!

[tf2-bhs]

Meet Jeremy Sullivan

The most speedy Student at Mann Secondary School and Sixth Form. The runt of a rather large family it's clear that he was slightly neglected but so were all his other brothers as having one mother to share around 8 children is quite the task.

Being the so-called runt of a large family does have other consequences than just not receiving enough attention, it also gave his brothers the perfect opportunities to give stupider and stupider nicknames to him. To his brothers James and Jonny, he's simply 'Rat', as the twins used to call him 'Remy' until they watched Ratatouille, and found it quite funny. For Jacob, it is 'Jerbel.' Their mother always called him 'Jerry', which in turn led to Jefferey Jordan and Jackson calling him 'Mouse' as a Tom and Jerry joke. And because he's just quite boring, Julian just calls him Jeremy. Of course with his mother, nicknames are far from the insults and rodents of his brothers. Her favorites are 'Jerry', 'Jer-bear' and 'Cupcake'. She especially likes to do this when his friends are round to embarrass him further.

As he was the youngest in his family, and from his brothers' constant 'banter', as they put it, he often felt like he was the weakest member of their family, and that he had something to prove. And so to prove himself, he started to do sports, especially rounders and cross-country running, eventually dropping the other sports just to focus on those ones.

Aside from sports, Jeremy also quite enjoys drawing and arts, and in fact, he's quite good at it. However, he doesn't use his talents for much good just often drawing little doodles of his friends or characters, and never drawing anything big. One of the things he draws most often however is the French exchange student who's living with his family in odd situations.

And now we get onto 'Spy', as despite living with the Sullivan family for just over a year, no one actually knows his name, or what he looks like (except for one person), and by god, does he and Jeremy fight. Most of it is verbal, but occasionally there is a physical fight; like the massive one that got them in isolation for a while, and almost excluded, but that's a story for another day! Other than the constant fighting, they can actually be nice to each other occasionally. Like for example, Jeremy goes to 'Spy' for girl advice, specifically with a certain sixth former.

F. Pauling, or just Pauling as she's more commonly known, is the chosen infatuation of the two-year junior. Despite his many attempts at winning her over, she says that she just sees him as an annoying younger brother, and with how many brothers he has a lot of people see him that way.

GSCEs

Trilogy

Critical studies

Geography

Art

PE

Relationships

Jane 'Soldier' Doe: They sit next to each other in PE, so hardly any work gets done. Not to mention the fights that Jane often initiates and Jeremy often loses

?? 'Pyro' ??: This pair just often sits and draws in either the most random places in the corridor or near where the library ghosts hang out.

Tavish 'Demoman' Degroot and Mikhail 'Heavy' Ivanov: The designated 'Bonk!' suppliers. Tavish gets it for him by simply not ID-ing him when he buys it, and Mikhail gets it for him by saying it's for himself, and with how old and tall Mikhail is, it's no wonder why the cashiers don't ID him.

Ludwig 'Doc' Koch: With how often Jeremy gets injured in his fights with Jane, it's no wonder why Ludwig's most often patient is none other than Jeremy.

Mun-dee 'Mick' 'Sniper' Mundy: Two of four members of the friend group to be in yr10, however, they haven't actually talked that much.

?? 'Spy' ??: It's a complicated friendship, in fact, they're more like brothers than they are friends.

F. Pauling: Its incredibly awkward when they're alone, especially when Jeremy tries to break the silence, with an even worse flirt.

[fellow-fandom-fruitifier]

(@mythicalmagical-monkeyman asked “ROYAL AU?” but it disappeared?.???😭😭 so just pretend I answered the ask rn💀💀)

ROYAL AU!!!

Basically I watched Cinderella & immediately decided I need royalty/borderline fairytale/fantasy AU shadowpeach. SWK is ofc the king & 6EM is apart of a ragtag group of entertainers that call themselves “The Lantern”, they r all sum kind of “”freak”” which is what brought them 2gether. The premise was originally just a feel good story where the Bull Kingdom invites The Lantern to play @ the Sun Kingdom, & SWK falls in luv w/ 6EM & vice versa. But I am incapable of keeping it simple so now there’s ✨lore✨

We have The Lantern (Macaque, Bai He, Peng, Yellowtusk, Azure)

Dragon Kingdom (Ao Lie, Mei, Ao Guang, Mei’s parents, etc)

Sun Kingdom (MK, Wukong, Tang, Pigsy, Sandy, Mo, Guanyin, Nezha)

Bull Kingdom (Demon Bull King, Princess Iron Fan, Redson)

Bone Clan (Lady Bone Demon, Mayor — idk what 2 call him yet)

Spider Clan (Spider Queen, Syntax, Goliath, Huntsman)

(The short writing/WIP below, fair warning I haven’t reread it or anything & this is the 1st draft + it’s old💀💀💀, it’s also kinda just an idea dump so idk how much would actually b canon 2 the AU yet)

The dark and looming forest, something usually eerie enough to send the bravest men running, was made less intimidating by the warm violet fire light. The campfire crackled as the group around it told tales, smiles wide and bellies ready to be filled. The sound of laughter only added to the homey atmosphere.

Peng cackled as Bai He told the story of how Demon Bull King, their closest ally, attempted to court Princess Iron Fan only for her to turn the tables. Sweeping him off his feet instead. The story wasn’t new nor was this the first time it had been told, yet it sent their feathered friend rolling each and every time it was regaled.

Macaque rolled his eyes fondly, lips quirked up in a soft lopsided grin. “Alright,” he said, catching everyone’s attention. “The food is ready. Bring your bowls and get your fill,” he said. Holding up the ladle from the pot strung up above their fire. Several cheers were heard. The more polite few, Azure and Yellowtusk, giving their thanks and the less patient, Peng and Bai He, giving theirs when elbowed from the former.

Macaque rolled his eyes at their antics, scooping the soup from the pot into their clay and wood bowls. “Thank you for foraging Yellow,” he nodded gratefully. Yellowtusk smiled.

“Anything for your cooking brother,” he said with an elegance only he could hold. Bai He nodded eagerly, completely agreeing. Azure admonished her for it, reminding her to eat properly lest she choke. The girl, at the soonest opportunity, maturely stuck her tongue out at him. Causing Peng to snort and actually choke. Yellowtusk patted them on the back.

Macaque smiled warmly at his little ragtag group. They were traveling entertainers. All of them were a freak of some kind, Macaque a shapeshifter who puts on shadow puppet shows. Having been ‘blessed’ with the gift of shadow and the sixth ear from a young age, he’d been sought out and held captive for many years before he’d found Bai He.

Bai He is a winter fae. Winter fae have quite the bad rap and yet she’s the sweetest girl he’s ever met. Brave and compassionate, she cares so brightly for her friends that it’s impossible for them to even doubt their place by her side. Macaque had met her when he’d been captured by the Bone Clan. The two had escaped together and the start of their theater began, turns out she had quite the knack for special effects.

The next to join their small gang was Azure Lion, a griffin cursed to live as part man. Apparently the man had some bad friends back in the day which had led him to his capture, a cage which Bai He and Macaque had freed him from. Azure had proved quite the leader, quickly taking the reins of their group and helping organize shows.

After him had been both Yellowtusk, a great warlock, and Peng, a magnificent harpy. They had encroached on the twos land by accident where Peng had fiercely attacked them. Upon discovering the misunderstanding they’d invited them in as an apology. Rather Yellowtusk invited them in. Turns out the two had been rather bored living on their own and Yellowtusk had always wanted to explore the world. So their three soon became a five.

Peng made a good scout and bodyguard while Yellowtusk knows plenty about medicine. Macaque also valued the warlock's insight when it came to plants. He always had the best ideas for add ons.

In their travels they had made many friends and ally’s. Their biggest ones, as mentioned previously, was the Bull Kingdom. Demon Bull King, a powerful centaur; his wife Princess Iron Fan, an elemental witch that has a deep connection with the wind; and their son Redson, half centaur and half elemental witch who, unlike his mother, has quite a strong connection to fire.

The five had been visiting both for shelter and to perform when an opposing kingdom had attacked. The group had lent their aid in the battle and quickly endeared themselves to the royals. The Bulls even going as far to claim them as family.

Smiling Macaque scooped up some of the mushroom soup and blew on it to cool it down, carefully taking a sip from it. He hummed in satisfaction. Yet another meal made to perfection. The next kingdom they plan to stop by is the Sun Kingdom. Apparently a great ball will be happening and the Bull Kingdom had invited the five to attend and perform, to which they had agreed.

Bai He had been rather ecstatic. According to the forest animals the Dragon Kingdom would be attending, another ally of theirs. Mei, the princess, had almost immediately taken to Bai He and the two became thicker than thieves. Of course not all kingdoms were receptive to their kind so Macaque was just hoping they would be welcome in the Sun Kingdom. While he wasn’t positive he would take his Bull brothers word for it.

After finishing the soup Bai He gathered up the dirty dishes, grumbling all the while as if the chore roster hadn’t originally been her idea. Her bug-like wings quivered as they rid themselves of the dust of the day. Bai He wore a light blue sleeveless top, that always reminded him of frost, with dark blue trimming. She also donned baggy white shorts and darker blue boots tied up with black leather string. The only thing with true color variation was the pink handkerchief holding her long black hair, which had a stripe of white, back from her face. A gift from Mei that the dragon girl said would bring out her warm brown eyes.

Peng had dark teal baggy shorts as well as a purple loincloth held up by a golden belt. A dark green feather sticking out from their black hair pulled up into a high bun. Yellowtusk wore a simple dark purple robe with gold accents, a compliment to his brother's outfit. His white hair is short and tucked back behind his ears with a few loose strands framing his face. While Azure wore skin tight black pants and shirt, which only had one sleeve and was cut diagonally in a way that exposed half of his torso, and finally a golden armored skirt with gold shoulder pads. His ginger hair pulled into two braided pigtail resting in his shoulders.

Macaque himself had a red cloak, a black baggy shirt with even baggier sleeves and gold accents, dark red pants, and black boots also with gold accents. The shapeshifters own short black hair simply slicked back to stay out of his face. The only real thing their clothes had in common was a necklace crafted by Yellowtusk, the symbol was his shadow lantern and each amulet was enchanted with protection wards.

Macaque absolutely did not cry when Yellowtusk handed them out no matter what Peng says. Which is super hypocritical because they totally did.

ANYWAYS!

“Alright!” Azure spoke. Gaining the attention of the group he smiled, clasping his hands together as Bai He came back from the river with the freshly cleaned dishes. “It’s getting late and if we wish to arrive in time we must leave earlier,” he announced. Grumbled agreements rang through the camp as the group pulled out their blankets.

Macaque wheezed as Bai He tackled him, wrapping her arms and legs around him like a koala. “Really?” he groaned. She laughed as he pulled the blankets up over them. The next to lay down was Yellowtusk and Peng, then finally Azure. He closed his fist and the fire went out, their supplies being gathered up by shadows and deposited in their rightful place.

The five gathered up their blankets and pillows for their cuddle pile. Macaque relaxed into the bed as he shifted from his human form to his puma one, wrapping his tail around his sister's ankle in an effort to hug her back. Peng and Azure's wings spread out to cover them all as Yellowtusk whispered a spell of warmth. Soon the gathered heat of his family lulled him to sleep, excited for a full day of performance tomorrow.

——————

Wukong was excited. The neighboring kingdom, the Bull Kingdom, had invited the rather infamous traveling group The Lantern.