#destiny drabble

[mantleoflight]

Echo gazed down at the two circles in her hand, one black with a white "X" in the middle of it, and the other a white circle with a blue "A" at its center. On her belt, identical smaller disks lined a belt attachment like a score card. "(X)", "(X)", "(A)", "(A)", "(X)", "(A)", "(A)", "(A)"...

She leaned back against the wall and let out a sigh.

"Still thinking about that report?" Whisper asked, drifting from her red cushion over to her guardian.

"Yeah," Echo murmured, "Everything about it makes. The light and darkness fitting together like one of those old black and white talismans from the Golden Age."

"The taijitu?"

Echo looked up and raised a brow-ridge.

"It's the symbol for an ancient philosophy of Taiji or Tai Chi. Something about duality, harmony, and universal beginnings."

A smirk crossed the exo's face as she looked at her ghost. "You've been doing studies haven't you? You've actually been looking this up!"

Whisper bristled, gyrating her goose-toothed shell irritably. "Even I have to find something to do when bored in down time. What do you think I do when you sleep when I don't need a defrag?"

Echo chuckled and shrugged. "Fair enough," she said and looked back down at the disks with a frown.

Her ghost glanced down at the disks and then at her Risen. “What are you thinking about?”

"They're still out there..." she murmured somberly. "All those new light hive looking for a leader and blundering their way through like we did in the dark ages. They're so desperate, they tried to revive Oryx!"

Whisper shook her shell in disbelief. "You're still going on about them? Echo, they're HIVE! The longer they're without leadership, the longer we keep them as a minor disorganized threat!"

"Yeah! And they will always be a threat unless we change things!" Echo argued back. "Unless we change the board, show them a BETTER way like Shaw, Ikora, and Zavala showed us! We can show them a better way - a way that ends the fighting, that turns our Light from each other toward the real enemy!"

Neither of them had to say who that real enemy was as the mere reference of it seemed to bring a weight to the conversation, like covering them a heavy blanket.

"What do you plan on doing?" Whisper asked, her shell flicking tensely.

"I'm going to figure out how to right a wrong," Echo replied, pushing herself to her feet. "And I'm going make sure the grace of mercy I extend isn't used to stab me in the back...."

[d3stinyist1red]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴇx x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

yandere ex who wants you back

yandere ex who textes you everyday, on everything

yandere ex who you blocked, so how is he still managing to message you?!!!

yandere ex who makes 67 new alt accounts, pretending to be nail artists that you won a give away for

yandere ex who sends you an address, and you come but immediately scowl when you see him open the door

yandere ex who gets slapped by you once you realized he set his whole thing up

yandere ex who calls you everyday, crying into his phone

yandere ex who shows up to your door one day, all dressed up and shit, with flowers in his hand

yandere ex who you gave a dirty look too and slammed the door on his face

yandere ex who comes to your door everyday, with a new tuxedo and flowers, and chocolates asking for a second chance

yandere ex who you broke up with for being hella possessive, even going as far as deleting your family's members numbers so the only person you'll ever talk to is him and only him!

yandere ex who only fucks girls that look like you, hitting them from the back since if he sees their face it'll run the fantasy that hes fucking you

yandere ex who pretends hes fucking you, while fucking some random girl, moaning out your name and everything while the girl dont gaf since yan ex fine asf

yandere ex who can only get his dick wet if hes thinking about you

yandere ex who scrolls through your instagram pics, rubbing his wet pinkish tip as he likes all your pics, groaning out your name

yandere ex who has had several diff gfs after your break up to try to make you jealous and come back to him but never works

yandere ex whose gf has gone through his phone and saw the many diff down bad messages he sents you,

𝐲/𝐧_𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐛𝐚𝐞_𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧

bae take me BACKK

bae PLEASEE

THAT GIRL IN MY INSTA HIGHLIGHTS IS NOTHING COMPARED TO UUU

BAE I LUV U

U MY EVERYTHINGG

PLEASEE

baby

please

BABE

did you get a new man?

is he fucking better than me or something?

y/n im not fucking playing with you

I hope he gets run over

I hope he gets skinned and worms go inside his body and begin to eat him

actually tell ur bf to watch out at excatly 10:34 pm.

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

yandere ex who broke up with his gf and got into a huge agrument after he said "what the fuck? my ex was wayyy better than what ever the fuck your doing" during sex

yandere ex who broke up with his girl after a week of dating and decides to go text you, acting as if he was super hurt and depressed when he just wanted to have a reason to text u

yandere ex who you actually had a convo with, helping him with his 'sadness' (more like freakiness bc he was holing the phone with one hand, stroking his dick the whole convo)

yandere ex who is now ur sorta friend and thinks u guys are back together

yandere ex who never got over you, and wants you back terribly

[sorinethemastermind]

2. With Rayllum for the cuddle prompts 🥺

 Rayla shivered. It was freezing out. She didn’t know how the little ones couldn’t feel it. But they were still running around; throwing snowballs at each other and giggling. As she watched, Raine tripped, falling forward into a snowdrift. Rayla rose to go help, but his sister was already running back to help him up; pulling him out of the snow before both of them jumped into the pile together, screaming with laughter. She smiled, hugging her arms to herself to ward off the chill. She couldn’t make them go inside when they were having this much fun. 

 “You an icicle yet?” Callum asked, coming to sit beside her. She shook her head, knowing that if she spoke her teeth would chatter. 

 He laughed. “Come here, I’ll warm you up.”

 She leaned into him gratefully, feeling the warm puff his breath against her cheek. After a moment, he reached up and undid his scarf, wrapping it around the both of them and pulling it up to cover her nose. She sighed as his warmth enveloped her.

 “Better?” he asked, all big eyes and warm smiles.

 “Better.” Rayla agreed, slipping her hands into his coat. He shivered. 

 “Are you trying to leech all my warmth?”

 “Mhm.” she murmured, wrapping her arms around him. He opened his coat for her entirely and she shuffled inside, letting it’s warm fleece shield them both from the winter’s chill.

 They sat like that for a while, just watching Raine and Malia as they ran about and rolled in the snow.

 “This is nice.” Callum said eventually, with a sigh. 

 “It is.” Rayla burrowed further into his coat.

 “Just like when my Dad used to bring us here.” Callum continued, pulling her closer. “I’m glad we get to do the same with them.”

 “Me too.”

 As they watched, Malia grabbed a stick, beginning to trace little runes in the snow. Raine copied her, the two of them running about and waving their sticks in the air. Callum chuckled.

 “They’ll be little warriors one day, just like their Mom.”

 “Or little mages, like their Dad.” Rayla offered. 

 “Or both.” Callum agreed. “They can be whoever they want.”

 They both smiled, happy that the world now offered that option. Thanks to them, Rayla added in her thoughts.

[clover-doodles]

FLIGHT LESSONS

[ AU DOODLE ]

And here’s some bonus dialogue I wrote for this scene

[Grian]

Hey Scar, hey it’s okay… we’ll start with gliding alright?

It’s just like using an elytra okay… just follow what I do and you’ll be okay

[Scar]

Okay… gliding I think I can do that.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

SEASON 10 IS OUT YIPPE (even tho I barely finished Grian and scar season 9 povs but why does that matter)

It’s official out so now I can write and draw the canon setting EEEE I’m screaming

Any gonna watch scar’s pov now byeee

[spontaneousful]

"Is this really the world we fought so hard for?"

It was a question that always seemed to be on Blondie's mind lately. It was the only thing she could think to say as she stood in Ashlynn Ella's castle, watching the snow fall atop her fresh grave.

Apple, her friend her once-upon-a-time lover her, Apple White, ruler of Ever After, glanced over at her. "Whatever after do you mean?"

Blondie stared out the window and tried to bite her tongue. This conversation was pointless, nothing she could say would change what was. But that budding investigative journalist inside her, the one who wanted to change the world, the one she thought was stamped out long ago, couldn't leave it alone.

"Did we really fight for a future where our friends drop like flies? And condemn those who didn't agree to death along with them?"

She laughed. "Don't be silly. I haven't sentenced anyone to death."

Blondie turned around to face her. "What about Raven?"

"What about her?" Apple's gaze was piercing.

Blondie stared her down, but Apple didn't falter. Instead, she returned the stare with intensity. Blondie sighed and looked away. She couldn't stand up to Apple, she never had been able to. But the flame of anger in her still burned, and instead, she shifted the conversation.

"How many of our friends have to die for you to admit you were wrong? How many have there already been? Briar, Ashlynn, Ginger, Humphrey, Duchess, Meeshell, we're in our thirties, Apple. And yet, I'm attending a funeral every other week."

For a moment, there was no response. Then, she heard the clacking of Apple walking away. "The Ella estate is sorted out. I believe we're done here."

Blondie wanted to stop her. She wanted to scream at her. To curse the unfairness of it all. How hypocritical of her, when she had played no small part in the war of destiny versus choice.

Why? Why had she ever agreed with the side of destiny? Why had she thought this was better? Why had her own happy ever after been worth setting up her friends for slaughter? Why? Why? Why?

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

INDIANA JONES has that effortless brat-taming way about him. When he tells you to “Sit down.” because you’re getting too uppity, you’ll sit down. When you’re acting fussy because he’s spending too much time away from home, he’ll call you out on it before finding a satisfactory solution for you. For the most part, he’s highly logical when presented with problems. So logical sometimes it’s hard to argue with him because he doesn’t wanna see the emotional side of things. Oh, but when you give him the silent treatment... it's an entirely different story.

His boots thunder after you as you walk away from him with your nose stuck up in the air. "You ignorin' me?" he questions. He knows the answer, but he's incredulous. You've noted how when he's angry, he's looser with proper pronunciation. So at least you're getting somewhere.

"Hey." he warns, his large hand clamping onto your upper arm to whip you around and face him. "Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you."

You glare up at him, jerking your limb from his hold. "Oh, were you? I didn't notice, Pa." As you speak you cross your arms, closing your eyes to pivot your head in the opposite direction. The nickname you call him so affectionately is now used to pierce him. Instead, it backfires. You see it in the way he sets his jaw.

"I'll show you why you call me that."

With all the rage a father can have, and all the passion a lover is capable of, he makes sure to teach you not to address your Pa so informally. Your poor ass a mess of a sloppy, red welt when he's done.

[frickingnerd]

caught making out with apollo justice

pairing: apollo justice x gn!reader (+ trucy wright, athena cykes & phoenix wright)

summary: apollo and you have the wright anything agency to yourselves — or so you think!

“polly, we're baa–”

the door the wright anything agency swung open so soon, that apollo didn't have any time to pull away from you. you were still on his lap, as trucy entered the office, followed the rest of the usual suspects.

“s-sorry, we were just–!” apollo gently pushed you off his lap, his face almost as red as his vest. “i tripped and then we–”

“you're a terrible liar, apollo” athena hummed amused. “wright and i don't need any magatama or mood matrix to know you're lying~!”

apollo lowered his head embarrassed, his little hair horns hanging low, as he awkwardly ruffled through his hair.

“you're not mad, are you?” apollo eventually asked and looked up flustered.

“of course not! i'm happy the two of you found each other” phoenix assured apollo. “but next time… please make out somewhere outside of this office.”

[powerful-niya]

— (α lσvє rєвσrn.)

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚hαppч nαruhínα mσnth єvєrчσnє!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟼: 𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚢 + 𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚢 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝 + 𝚁𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜 - (𝙽𝙷𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝟸𝟹)

Link to Oneshot below ↴

Pt 1: Wattpad | AO3

Pt. 2: Wattpad | AO3

Pt. 3: Wattpad | AO3

Pairing˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚Naruhina

Synopsis˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡Love was a risk, a risk that cost Naruto everything, leading to the loss of the life he always knew and an everlasting separation from his beloved: Hinata Hyūga. 

His forbidden love for her brought about a curse that condemned him to live as a monstrous beast, forever wandering alone in despair. 

Yet, in this new lifetime, with a woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to his beloved now miraculously in reach, love could very well be the solution to his salvation.

Content Tags˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Alternate Universe - Medieval • Arranged Marriage • Beauty & The Beast • Destiny • December 2 • December 5 • December 26 • Emotional • Fairytale • Fairytale Curses • Fantasy • Falling In Love • Family Issues • Fate • Forbidden • Forbidden Love • Heavy Angst • Historical Eras • Hurt & Comfort • Knight AU • Love • Love Confessions • Monster • Mutual Pining • Mythical Beings And Creatures • NHmonth • NHmonth23 • Non-Human AU • Princess AU • Pining • Prophecy • Psychological Drama • Romance • Reincarnation • Reincarnated Lovers • Royal AU • Soulmates • Tooth-Rotting Fluff • Tragedy • Tragedy With Happy Ending • True Love • 1600s era • 1700s era • 2023

NSFW Tags: Body Worship • Cave Sex • Claiming • Coming Untouched • First Time • Fluff • Fluff And Smut • Hickeys • Love • Love Making • Magical • Outside Sex • Ownership • Praise Kink • Tail(s) • Scent Kink • Scratching • Sensation Play • Size Difference Kink • Unprotected Sex • Vaginal Sex • Virgin • 2023

Overall Word Count˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

Part #1: 12.5K

Part #2: 9.2K.

Part #3: 17.6K.

Tumblr Post: Word Count˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚1.8K

Preview ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

The Beginning 

17th century.

1600s.

---

Naruto Uzumaki 

Naruto wasn't supposed to love.

He had taken a solemn oath—never to love, never to wed, never to father children.

He wasn't meant to fall for anyone.

Certainly not Hinata Hyūga—the Princess of the Kingdom of Konoha, the delicacy of the land, the diamond of the ton. 

Not to mention, she was the daughter of Hiashi Hyūga himself. He was a king, a formidable ruler known throughout the land for his unwavering authority and strict governance—a man of principles, tradition, and nobility.

A man of steel. 

Having such a man as a father meant that Hinata's upbringing was meticulously planned down to the finest detail. From childhood to adulthood, she was taught to walk with poise, to speak with eloquence, and to conduct herself with the dignity befitting a princess. 

Her every move was scrutinized, and her every action was held to the highest standards. 

Her attire was always immaculate, her manners impeccable, and her education comprehensive. She was trained in the fine arts, fluent in several languages, and educated in the intricate politics of the court. She was even skilled in musical instruments, having mastered the piano, harp, and violin. 

Hinata was groomed to be flawless, and untouchable. 

Absolutely perfect. 

And that is what she became—a beacon of perfection in the eyes of society, more than suitable to one day marry, bear children, and assist the Hyūga lineage flourish and prosper. 

Hinata was the epitome of beauty and grace, off-limits to all except suitors with suitable titles—a precious gem that no commoner or knight could ever hope to touch.

Certainly not a knight like him—not Naruto.

He was her royal guard, a position of great honor. He was meant to safeguard her, to be by her side for all of her days, to protect her and remain loyal—not to love her.

She was supposed to be off-limits to him. Yet, he crossed those limits. 

He fell in love with her.

Naruto recalled the subtle moments when it all began—the fleeting smiles, the accidental touches, the stolen glances, not just from him, but from her too. 

Her gaze began to linger on him just a second longer than usual, and in those moments, he saw a spark of something more in Hinata's shy eyes—an unspoken connection, a shared understanding that he couldn't ignore.

At first, Naruto thought it was just him.

He figured he was just imagining things. But then he started to see that spark in Hinata's eyes more and more—a twinkle of longing, a yearning for the freedom she saw in him. 

Each interaction, each shared glance, built a bridge between them, one that was both exhilarating but terrifying. 

It felt so new. 

...so wrong.

Naruto wasn't sure how it all happened. 

The progression from duty to love was a blur. It was as if one day he was merely her protector, and the next, his heart was entirely hers. The line between his oath and his feelings had blurred, and he suddenly found himself drawn to Hinata in ways he could neither control nor comprehend.

It was the greatest victory of his life.

And the greatest mistake of his life.

Nights in the moonlit garden of Konoha palace were where they began to meet in secret. 

One night led to another, and another, and before long, they were meeting almost every night.

They would spend their evenings together under the starry night sky. They would sit on the soft grass, surrounded by the fragrant blooms, and talk for hours. They shared their days, struggles, dreams—anything and everything. It didn't matter to them, as long as they were together.

They would even have playful moments where they chased each other through the garden, past the flowers, and under the stars. 

Naruto recalls the sound of Hinata's laughter echoing through the night, her delicate hands clutching her dress as she ran, her face glowing with happiness.

And he would chase after her. Always.

"Catch me, Naruto-kun! Catch me!" She would cheer.

And indeed, he would catch her, their laughter mingling as they collapsed onto the soft grass, breathless and happy.

These moments became the only light in Naruto's world.

Hinata became the only light in his world.

The sweetness of her smile, the warmth of her embrace, her lavender eyes full of love, her silky midnight blue hair, her sweet scent, her heartfelt laugh, and her gentle spirit—all of it stayed with him.

Deep in his heart. 

Day after day, despite the risk, despite the danger, despite duty or even mere common sense, the two were drawn into an ever-going routine. 

Princess and knight by day.

And lovers by night.

Both were always eager for nightfall, when Hinata would slip out of her bed chamber, and Naruto would desert his post to meet in the garden of Konoha palace.

Some nights, when they met together, they would just lie on their backs, gaze at the stars and imagine a future where they could be together. 

During these times, Hinata often grew vulnerable with him. She shared her deepest fears and her greatest desires, opening up in a way she couldn't with anyone else.

Hinata even confided in him about her longing for freedom and the strict control her father exerted over her life. 

"He is determined to marry me off—my f-father," She told Naruto that night, nearly driven to tears, "Love was never supposed to be a consideration for me. That's what my father has always told me, that I need to marry. I need to choose my family. I need to choose duty. But I f-feel—" Hinata admitted, but then she stopped herself.

Naruto listened intently, as he always did, trying his best to lighten her heart and unburden her.

"You feel differently, don't you, Hinata-sama?" Naruto asked gently. 

"You've chosen love, haven't you, hime?" He added softly.

And the look that appeared in her eyes then touched his heart deeply.

Yes. I choose love. I choose you, her eyes had told him.

But there was more. 

Her eyes showed a plea for freedom, for something real and true, beyond the cold, heartless world she had always known.

Naruto's heart ached for her, it truly did. 

He found himself leaning close, taking her hands in his, and he made the mistake of promising to always protect her. He gave her hope that he could save her from such a horrid life, to be the source of freedom and love she so desperately sought.

"I'll figure something out. I'll save you, I promise," He had assured her.

Naruto remembered the joy that instantly appeared in Hinata's eyes, how she believed him wholeheartedly, placing all her trust in him.

That night, she actually kissed him for the very first time.

"Thank you, Naruto-kun," She whispered against his lips.

But he should have known better than to make such a promise.

What they had was fragile yet unbreakable when they were together, a beautiful dream they lived each and every night.

But dreams were fleeting. 

Reality was cruel. 

And, forbidden love never lasts.

They were caught. 

Hinata and Naruto thought it would be another quiet, hidden night together in the garden, a sanctuary where they could steal moments away from prying eyes, just like all those times before. 

But they were wrong.

Naruto could still remember the rustling of leaves and the snap of a twig that alerted them too late.

Suddenly, they were ambushed. 

King Hiashi's guards emerged from the darkness, torches in hand, intent on seizing them both.

Naruto fought back fiercely, for Hinata, for both of them, but there were just too many. Their sheer numbers overwhelmed him, and despite his best efforts, they managed to subdue him. 

Subdue them both.

The guards then dragged them away, tearing them from their sanctuary.

And just like that, their secret was out. 

Naruto had no idea how they had been discovered that night, but it didn't matter. The truth was out, the damage done, and they were now at the mercy of the King—a furious Hiashi Hyūga.

And oh, was he furious.

Their punishment was as cruel as it was merciless.

Hinata's punishment was given first. For defying her father's orders, daring to love someone beneath her stature, and tarnishing her family's honor, she faced severe consequences.

She was forbidden to see Naruto ever again.

Her tear-streaked face and dull eyes were the last sight Naruto saw of her as the guards forcibly took her away to her chambers. Naruto had never seen her so broken. Her desperate cries and pleas echoed through the cold, stone halls, her voice screaming his name the entire time. 

He could still hear her cries.

His punishment, however, was far worse. 

He was beaten, humiliated, and dragged before the King, where he was forced to his knees and made to face Hiashi's wrath.

"You have betrayed your duty, dishonored my family, and defiled my daughter," The King declared, his voice cold and unforgiving.

"For that, you will pay the ultimate price."

Naruto had accepted his fate. 

He believed he deserved it for turning his back on his knight's oath and causing Hinata so much pain. He expected his punishment to be death, a swift end to his suffering. He braced himself for it, thinking it would be a merciful release compared to the agony of being separated from Hinata.

But fate had a crueler design.

Instead, Naruto was brought before a dark, malevolent witch, and he instantly knew what was in store for him. 

He would be cursed.

Indeed, the witch cast a spell upon him, a powerful one. She transformed him into a beast—a creature so hideous that Hinata would never again be able to love him. 

"You will live out your days as a beast," The witch declared, her voice dripping with malice, "Banished from this palace, condemned to wander the forest for all eternity. You will outlive her, always knowing she is beyond your reach."

Pain tore through Naruto as his body twisted and changed, the curse taking hold. His once strong hands became claws, his noble and formidable body transformed into something large and terrifying, his face a grotesque mask of the beast he had become. 

The guards then threw him out of the castle, casting him away from his home, away from people, and away from Hinata.

Discarded like trash. 

Now, Naruto roamed the vast, lonely forest that surrounded the palace he once sworn to protect, his heart aching for the love he had lost. 

The forest was his prison now, and loneliness was his constant companion. 

Each step he took reminded him of Hinata, of the tender moments they had shared and the future that had been stolen from them. 

His curse was relentless, ensuring he would never forget. He was cursed to remember, to feel the pain of their love that could never be, every single day.

The only way his curse could be broken was if he was loved again. True love. 

But how could that ever happen? 

He was now a beast, feared and shunned by all who saw him. The idea of someone seeing past his beast form to the man within, understanding his pain, and loving him, seemed utterly impossible.

It was all wishful thinking. An unattainable dream. 

A painful hope he no longer allowed himself to wish for.

Continue Reading On Wattpad Or AO3.

— (⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆)

[mstarcreates]

I wrote some 1k in angsty words the other day but I’m waiting to see what Act II of Revenant brings to the table as it is kind of influenced by it. So I shall keep these words for now but hopefully you might see them in the future.

This snippet is all you will get for the time being:

Cayde found Crow sitting in a chair, his hood pulled up, holding a coffee mug and staring out the large bay window that looked out over the Last City.

“Hey Bright Eyes…” he said softly. “What’s got you out of bed?” There was no response from the male, not even a glance. Something twisted in Cayde’s gut, this wasn’t right… “Crow? Earth to Crow?” He went to reach out for him but before his hand could touch him Glint flitted out from the shadows of Crow’s hood, putting himself between Cayde and his Guardian.

“I wouldn’t touch him.” Glint warned gently. “He might have a violent reaction. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

Cayde dropped his hand. “What’s wrong with him?”

Glint looked back at Crow as he spoke. “It happens sometimes…he slips into the past. It has a medical term—catatonia.”

[telestoapologist]

drifter: i'll be seein' ya, little sister. sao and i got a biiig score of popcorn shrimp to fry up tonight by the river.

eido: that sounds delicious! would it be too much to ask if i could join you both?

drifter, grimacing slightly and rubbing the back of his neck with an awkward chuckle: sorry, 'fraid this is private a party for two this time around. tell ya what, though; i'll bring back some leftovers for ya. how's that sound?

eido, slightly disheartened, but understanding: i see... i understand. thank you for offering, i would like that very much.

drifter, patting her shoulder apologetically: next time you can come with, trust. hell, we'll even teach ya how to catch and cook 'em! how's that sound?

eido, brightening up: oh, that sounds fun! yes! thank you, i greatly appreciate the offer and will gladly partake!

later that evening, down at the river....

sao, with their pants hiked up to their knees as they help drifter catch prawns for eido: don't get me wrong, i'm not against this- and smoking on an empty stomach is a bad idea- but don't you think she's old enough to be able to handle this sort of talk?

drifter, wiping a bit of river muck across his forehead: eh, it's not her i'm worried about, it's big bad crawdaddy- he's been a little more protective than usual after that ordeal with eramis. eido may be able to handle herself just fine, but 'ol misraaks is like any other dad. he knows she's her own person, but she'll still always be his baby girl no matter what.

sao, smiling to themself and humming: fair enough, i imagine that's something they'll eventually work out for themselves with time juuust fine- though, i think you and i are going to have to change up our phrases just a little if she's gonna be tagging along. you know, for now.

drifter, clucking: you might be right about that. (grins) got any ideas?

sao: hm... (leans up with a freshly caught prawn, snapping its neck to kill it instantly and dropping it in their basket) what about "meeking a smee"? i haven't used it in awhile, but it's always been a personal favorite of mine.

drifter, raising a brow skeptically but not without amusement: "meeking a smee", eh? now that's an interesting one. i like it, though! it's got a little (wiggles fingers while swirling hands in the air) ~*~whimsy~*~ to it, heh.

sao, beaming proudly: thank you! i think so, too.

[kydrogendragon]

Dec 30 - "May I Have This Dance?"

(Ao3 Link) (Masterpost Link)

It’s six in the evening and the New Inn is just beginning to have the crowds trickle in. There are various streamers and colorful centerpieces scattered around the place. The number 2024 was embellished upon the walls and tables and even on the glasses of some of the staff. Hob himself donned a pair, much to Morpheus’s chagrin. The cheesy gold and silver lettering on the tops of the plastic frames looked ridiculous. Morpheus hated how much they made him smile.

Morpheus has been present for many new years over his long life. And while he hadn’t paid much attention to them or to the passing of time in general, he knows well the festivities they bring with. Ever since mankind first kept track of the changing of the seasons, the turning of the year was a time that was observed with reverence. In this modern age, it seems to be observed by getting completely sloshed and lighting off colorful explosives.

Hob’s running around, getting the final pieces in place. He’s checked the karaoke machine and made sure that everything is charged and ready to go. He’s double checked with the staff that their supplies are filled and prepped, that the glasses are cleaned and the food is cooking. He’s adjusted the New Years banner that hangs above the bar top no less than five times and it’s when he goes to tweak it on the sixth that Morpheus finally rises from his corner booth to check on his fretting boyfriend.

He places a hand against the small of Hob’s back, guiding his attention to him as he speaks. “The banner is straight and centered. You need to adjust it once more.”

Hob chuckles and he climbs down from the stool he’d been using as an impromptu ladder. “Sorry love,” he says, curling into Morpheus’s hold. Slender pale hands find their homes upon Hob’s hips. He rubs gentle circles with his thumbs against the soft cotton shirt.

“You are nervous.”

Hob leans down, pressing his forehead against Morpheus’s shoulder. “Am I so obvious?”

“I do not understand why you are nervous. You have experienced many New Years before this, here at this Inn, no less.” Morpheus tilts his head to the side, letting his cheek rest upon his lover’s soft chestnut hair.

Hob sighs and winds his arms around Morpheus’s waist. They stay there, for a moment, enjoying each other’s presence in the relatively empty room until Hob speaks.

“It’s your first New Year, though. As a human. Wanted to make sure it was perfect,” Hob mumbles into his shoulder. Morpheus’s heart flips in his chest. The care and love Hob holds for him never fails to surprise him.

“Hob, look at me.” Slowly, Hob lifts his head, those brown eyes soft as he trails his gaze across Morpheus’s face. Taking his hands from his hips, Morpheus cradles Hob’s head between them. “You need not fret over such things. I am able to enjoy this celebration here with you, now. And that is in thanks to your kindness and generosity. This New Years will be perfect because you are here at my side and for no other reason.”

There are tears threatening to fall at the corners of Hob’s eyes. “Not even the world’s most straight banner could make it better?” He says, chuckling as a tear falls down his cheek. Morpheus thumbs it away before pressing a kiss against Hob’s lips.

“Not even that. Although I feel you are quite close to achieving that title.”

Hob laughs, a proper laugh this time. He tilts his head up, wiping away the water from his eyes as Morpheus’s hands fall back to his side.

“Thanks, dove. Think I needed to hear that.”

“I shall endeavor to tell you thus as often as you desire, then.”

“Good. Might need to hear it a couple more times tonight.” Hob says, placing another kiss upon Morpheus’s lips.

It’s just around nine when unexpected guests appear. Morpheus is at the bar top, watching as Hob demonstrates how to make his famous New Years drink he’s dubbed “Immortality”. It’s is an indulgent thing that’s sole purpose is to taste delicious and still get you drunk so you feel “immortal”. At least, that is the story Hob tells him as he works the cocktail shaker. He’s got a variety of different liquors and mixers contained within that he then pours into a glass over ice with a sugar coated rim. The key detail, he claims, is the frankly obscene amount of edible golden glitter he stirs in after.

It’s a pretty drink, Morpheus will give him that. And when he pushes a freshly poured glass in front of him, Morpheus has to admit it is rather tasty as well. It’s sweet, which he appreciates. As much as Hob enjoys his bitter drinks and throat-burning whiskeys or other liquors, Morpheus has never developed a taste for them. But this? This is good.

“I thought you disliked glitter,” Morpheus muses, staring up at Hob from the edge of his glass. Hob just laughs and shakes his head as he prepares another drink for a customer. They had gotten very busy, very quickly, and the staff got overwhelmed, so Hob being Hob jumped behind the counter (after ensuring Morpheus was fine with it, of course). He had no complaints. It gave him a reason to enjoy the sight of his lover in his element as well as watch the careful flex of his forearms and biceps as he prepared each drink.

“Well, I made an exception for you, didn’t I?” Hob retorts, smiling as he sugars the rim of a few more glasses. Eric, another bartender Morpheus has grown to know well over his few months of humanity, busies himself behind Hob with prepping another selection of fruity cocktails.

“That you did.” After the peppermint bath bombs were all used up (Morpheus had very much enjoyed the added experience of scent and glitter that they provided), Hob had indulged him by taking him to a local store that sold a variety of bath bombs and other creations. Morpheus had taken his time choosing a selection. They didn’t last long. Almost every bath he had taken since involved the use of a new bath bomb. Hob joked that their tub would become permanently glittery. Morpheus had fretted over it at first, worried Hob would grow angry at him for it, but Hob had soothed away his fears. Now, they have a dedicated basket by the edge of the tub to contain the newest selections for Morpheus’s use.

“Well? How do you like the taste of ‘Immortality’?” Hob jokes, pouring the last batch of drinks out. He hands the glasses to the group of university students with a smile. One pipes out a “Thanks Professor!” as the group merges back into the ever growing crowd.

The party was gaining in intensity as the alcohol flowed. People were dancing on the makeshift dance floor beside the karaoke machine, which has also started to see use. A thought runs through Morpheus’s mind as he looks over his shoulder at the young couple standing atop the small stage who are singing their hearts out to some pop song. They are not excellent singers, but they are far from the worst so far tonight. Perhaps he’ll coax Hob up onto the stage so that he might hear his lover’s voice in song.

“It is more pleasant that I had expected,” Morpheus says, twirling the golden liquid in the glass. “I thought that, perhaps, immortality would grow stale and tiring after a time. But I should have known that when blessed with your guiding hands, it would be a gift rather than a curse.”

He is not talking of the drink. Not completely. When the choice was presented to him in the soft sands of the in-between by his sister, he was uncertain. Death, a rest from all that he has ever been and will ever be, called to him stronger than any desire has before. So long had Morpheus wished to be other than what he was, to be able to hand over the mantle of Dream to another so than he might finally have peace. Then, when his brother arrived, telling him there was yet another option, he… well. He was still unsure.

To end one life and start anew? To become less than what he was and suffer through the ordeals of humanity sounded far closer to a punishment than a gift. But Hob had pleaded with him to take the chance. It became clear to Morpheus that first week that Hob recalled none of what happened in the shifting sands of the soft places. To him, it was still nothing but a dream, perhaps a nightmare. And while the words he spoke were true and from his heart, he did not recall ever speaking them to Morpheus.

Hob had pleaded with him, standing between Destruction and Death themselves, hands outstretched to the former Dream Lord. A mortal, with more stubbornness and determination in his heart than any human had a right to. He asked him to stay, to join him if Morpheus wished, but to choose to live. To choose each day to continue on, even if it would be such a different life, a different experience. To Hob, the choice was obvious. He was a man who forsook Death. To Hob, choosing to live was the easiest choice anyone could make.

To Morpheus, it was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

Hob was staring at him when Morpheus lifted his gaze, a soft and sad smile on his face. He wipes his hands off on the towel across his shoulder and sets it on the counter. Morpheus watches him make his way around the bar and leans back into his sturdy chest as Hob wraps his arms around his middle. Hob rests his chin on the top of Morpheus head.

“You know, keep this up and you’re gonna end up making me cry this whole night, love.” Morpheus places his arm atop Hob’s own, fingers grazing against the warm skin. The thick hair that covers him shifts under his touch in a familiar fashion. He trails his hands over his forearm until he climbs up to intertwine their fingers, giving his lover’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“So long as they are happy ones.”

Hob chuckles as he presses his nose into Morpheus’s hair. “You’re a menace, you know that? Just you wait until my heartfelt speech. Then you’ll be the one crying happy tears.”

“Oh?” Morpheus says. “Do you have such a speech planned?”

“Not yet, but we’ve still a few hours to go. I’ll make it a good one.” Hob replies, taking a deep breath in as he presses Morpheus’s body close to his.

The door chimes and is somehow louder than it has been in all of Morpheus’s time here. He turns, instinctively, and his eyes widen as he takes in the sight.

There are six Endless standing in the entrance of the New Inn.

Desire stands at the front, dresses in the most eye-catching sequin dress Morpheus has ever seen. They are covered in glitter and gems as they tilt their head back and sigh. Their arms are outstretched as they speak.

“Oh, this place is positively rolling with desire,” they purr, turning their head to their other siblings. “Don’t you agree?” Despair nods, her eyes wandering across the crowd. She is dressed as she often has been in this century: plain grey lounge wear with holes scattered around. One of her rats sits atop her shoulder as she caresses the jagged edge of her hook.

“And still teeming with regrets and sadness, my twin. This was a good choice, indeed.”

“Oh you two, I told you you’d have fun.” Death says, standing forward and finding Morpheus’s gaze in the crowd. “Hello little brother.”

Hob’s head lifts from Morpheus’s own and gasps. His arms fall from Morpheus’s body, finding a home on his own hips instead. “Did you know your family was coming?” Hob whispers as the group of Endless make their way toward the pair.

Morpheus shakes his head. “I was not aware, no.”

Death takes the lead, Desire and Despair trailing further behind, talking amongst themselves. Dream is there as well, standing beside their sister with a soft smile upon his lips. Morpheus’s heart lurches. This is the first time he has spoken with his former self in the Waking. He is… he does not know. He supposes he is, as Hob would say, a clusterfuck of emotions.

Delirium skips along side, her outfit as bright and colorful as herself. There are small mirror panels plastered across the arms of her jean jacket that reflect the light in a dizzying manner and her hair all but floats as she moves. “Murphy!” she calls, racing forward and lunging herself into his lap. Hob leans his arm on the bar behind Morpheus, helping steady him with the strength of his forearm against his back.

She curls up, not unlike a cat, over his legs, looking up at him with those bright heterochromatic eyes. He smiles, looking down at his youngest sister.

“Hello, Delirium. Happy New Year.”

Dream and Death join at their side. Death wraps her arm around Hob’s shoulder, leaning her head against his. Dream simply stands to her right, gazing down at Morpheus and Delirium. Desire and Despair stand a step or two away, Desire leaning dramatically against the bar as Despair climbs into one of the open bar stools. Most surprisingly of all, perhaps, is Destiny, who walks towards them with the confidence he always carries, his book tucked under his arm.

“Are you going to set off the pretty lights here as well? There’s always so many pretty lights on this night. And good visions. And happiness. And fun colors.” She says, her skin changing and glowing with each sentence. Hob chuckles.

“No, no fireworks here. But, if you go outside and look across the park, you can probably see them at a distance.” Delirium’s eyes quite literally light up as Hob speaks. Suddenly, she leaps off of Morpheus’s lap, briefly turning into a firework, before gluing herself back into a human shape.

“Fireworks!!!” She cries, spinning in a circle.

“But we still have to wait,” Death says. “It’s not firework time just yet.”

Delirium huffs, her cheeks growing as wide as a puffer-fish. “I know! I can wait. I know how to wait!”

Morpheus smiles. Desire rolls their eyes, but gazes fondly at their younger sister’s antics. Despair has taken to looking across the New Inn’s crowd. She doesn’t smile, but her face is content. Destruction is not present, but Morpheus is not surprised by this. He would not have expected him to come. In fact, Morpheus had not expected any of them to come. And as pleased as he is, and surprisingly happy to see them all here, he grows nervous.

“Is something the matter?” Morpheus asks, his eyes turning to each of his siblings.

It’s Desire that speaks first.

“Can we all not simply enjoy a night among the humans without some world-ending issue at hand?” They say, reaching for a drink that had not been on the bar just moments ago. They take a sip from the swirly, colorful straw, arching a brow as they stare Morpheus down.

“We’re here because we want to be,” Death says, releasing Hob and tilting her head to the side to better see him. Morpheus turns his gaze to her, brows pulled together.

“But. I-” He sighs, folding his hands on his lap. “I do not understand.”

Dream takes a step forward, hands folded behind his back. “We wished to spend this night with you. And among humanity.” Morpheus looks up into the starry night eyes he once wore. The soft white curls hang around Dream’s face.

“Plus,” Desire pipes up again. “As I said when we got here, lots and lots of desires around here. Good for the soul.”

“And much despair.”

“And colors and confusion and funny thoughts and sights!” Delirium adds.

“And many dreams.”

“Not much death, hopefully,” Death adds, elbowing his shoulder lightly. “But with fireworks, you never know! I’ve a feeling I’ll be popping out for work here and there throughout the night.”

“So,” Desire says, lifting themselves onto the edge of the bar. They swing their feet out in front of them. “Not just for you. But you know, you’re here as well, so might as well say hi.”

Morpheus laughs. It is still an ugly, braying thing, but Hob has claimed to love it regardless. Dream laughs as well and Morpheus only laughs harder at how similar it is to his own. Death joins in, her snorting chuckle adding to the terrible laughing choir they are building as each of his siblings begins to laugh as well. Delirum’s laugh chimes like bells then birds then the quaking of the Earth. Despair’s is a low hum and Desire’s is the light fluttering of wings or a flame. Destiny’s is the hard toll of a bell, of finality, but he laughs nonetheless.

Hob’s voice comes in last, the loud, joyful thing that it is, harmonizes with the mess that is the group of Endless laughing the night away. Then, a booming hardy chuckle joins in. They all turn to the looming figure in the doorway, his ginger hair pulled up in a bun as their brother smiles at them.

“Heard there was a party going on,” Destruction says, gliding over to their little group. “Couldn’t miss that, could I?”

“Brother,” Morpheus whispers as he walks to the front, standing in front of the stool he sits upon. He has not seen him since... well. Since he died, he supposes.

Destruction plops his large hand on Morpheus’s shoulder. It is ridiculous just how large his hand looks on his own relatively narrow frame. Even after he has since bulked up some with Hob’s cooking and care. It’s only now, as a human, that he realizes just how large and daunting his younger brother is.

“How you doing, Morpheus?” Destruction asks, smiling down at him with a twinkle in his eye. “Humanity looks good on you, you know.”

There are tears in his eyes. He does not quite know why he is crying, but he is. And then another laugh bursts through, between the sobs that make their way forward. Suddenly, he is wrapped up in much too large arms and pulled off of his seat. His feet dangle off the floor as he’s pressed tight against his brother’s chest.

Morpheus supposes, as the tears and the laughter do not stop, that he hadn’t truly ever… thought much of his death. Of what took place after the Kindly Ones ravaged the Dreaming and demanded his demise. There had been much to do after becoming human and the short time he had in-between was taken up primarily by the debate of how his afterlife would unfold.

He should have expected this, in hind sight. He can no longer tuck his emotions away, through dreams or ignorance. His paltry human mind would no longer allow him. They bubbled up to the surface quicker than he has learned to tamp them down. Hob’s encouragement to feel his emotions and work through them has done nothing to help his ability as restraining them, either. The mixed bag of feelings arises from deep within him as he is surrounded by his family, who, despite Desire’s claim, have all come to visit with him for a night of human celebrations, is unleashed and Morpheus is powerless to stop it. And with Destruction’s arrival and the sight of him unlatches the final box he had stuffed all the thoughts and feelings of his transition into, he cries. And laughs. And feels as his arms begin to go numb with how tightly his brother’s squeeze is on his body and so he laughs again.

Hob’s hands are on his face, rubbing away the trail of tears on his face as Destruction sets him back on his feet. Death steadies him, a hand on his shoulder. And as he clears his eyes and looks upon the faces of his siblings, of his family, his heart aches with the realization that, despite everything, they care. They love him. It is an overwhelming sensation.

“I… I apologize,” he says, voice rough, as he takes the offers handkerchief from Dream. The fabric twinkles and shifts like galaxies and it brings a smile to his face. “Humanity has made me more temperamental.”

“Oh, more temperamental?” Desire says, sliding their way closer so their foot can gently poke his arm. They look down at him from their perch with a smirk on their lips. “You were already a big ball of emotions, you just refused to ever feel them before.” They look up at Dream who is staring at them with an unimpressed face. “You’ve gotten a bit better. Still temperamental, though.”

Death chuckles, bumping her shoulder into Dream’s. “I have to agree with Destruction though,” she says, turning back to Morpheus. “Humanity does look good on you.” Her eyes flit up to Hob who has taken his position guarding Morpheus’s side, one hand wound around to rest on his lower back and gives him a smile.

“You haven’t come and stopped by my realm since!” Delirium says, pounding her foot on the ground. “You should come visit! I want to give you the fun nice visions I’ve made! I have some birdies I made for you, but you haven’t come by yet!”

Morpheus chuckles and leans in closer to Delirium. “I shall endeavor to come visit you soon.”

“You know,” Hob says and Morpheus can just hear the smirk in his voice. “I can easily get you into her realm with enough drinks.”

He turns before he rolls his eyes so Hob would see, which earns him a chuckle. “Perhaps another time. I think I would prefer to remember this evening.” He turns back to Delirium. “If Dream would allow, perhaps you could send me your birds this evening while I sleep?”

Delirium’s eyes light up and she spins on her feet to face Dream. His face mirror’s Morpheus’s own as they both look down at her with a soft fondness reserved solely for their youngest sibling. “Can I? Can we send him my birdies?” She pleads, tugging on the long white robes that Dream wears. He rests a hand upon her head and nods.

“Since Morpheus has agreed, then you may. But only once he is safely within the Dreaming this evening. So you will have longer to wait.”

She nods, her head bouncing like a bobble head. “I know how to wait! I can wait for the colorful lights and I can wait until he’s in your realm!”

The night progresses. Desire takes to the dance floor at one point, their glittering gown entrancing the looks of many. Even as a mortal, Morpheus knows that they are enjoying and luxuriating in the desires they are swirling in the hearts of those who look upon them.

Despair has found a secluded corner, the one that Morpheus himself often sits, and has been relaxing in the soft high-backed hair as she watch the crowds in silence. She has turned her gaze to a man who sits at the far edge of the bar, his head in one hand, a drink in the other.

Dream, Death, Hob, and himself have found a seat at one of the tables near the window. Destruction pulled up a chair from another table and has sat with them. Delirium does not sit, but rather floats above them. Eyes flow off of her like water, thankfully. The few that do not are too far gone into their drinks that they do not think much of the sight. Destiny stands, leaning against the window, silent, but present.

There is laughter and tales swapped between their little group. Hob spins tales of their time together, of his students and his coworkers. He tells stories of the little things, embarrassing moments that draw forth laughter and the touching moments that bring with them soft smiles. Morpheus finds himself in a familiar position, his head propped up by his hand, arm resting on the table as he gazes at his lover. His eyes trail across his face, watching the light in Hob’s eyes glow and glint in the soft lighting. He watches the tilt of his mouth as he smiles through his words and the animated gestures of his hands because the man does not know how to talk without using them. He watches the movement of his brows and the scrunch of his nose. He watches the shake of his chest as he laughs and the flick of his tongue as he wets his lips.

It’s only when the flash of a camera goes off that Morpheus blinks back into the conversation. Death smiles as she pulls the Polaroid from the camera and sets it face down on the table. Both Hob and Morpheus turn to her with varying levels of confusion.

“When did you get a camera?” Hob asks, bewildered.

“Oh, you know,” Death says, setting the familiar camera on the table. “Popped out for a quick second for work and thought I’d nab this from your flat on the way back.”

Hob blinks. “Wait… when did you leave?”

Death just winks. Morpheus chuckles. He reaches forward, turning the camera in his hands. There is a small groove on the base and a few spots of white paint on the black plastic that mark it as Hob’s. He smiles as he lifts the camera up to his eye.

Death smiles and leans closer to Dream. Destruction stands, moving so he’s in-between the two. Delirium’s head appear at the top of the frame and Destiny is visible on the edge. “Smile,” Morpheus says, clicking the shutter as his family all grins. Even Dream smiles, as soft as it is.

There’s a flash and the camera churns out the thick glossy plastic from within. He grabs it and sets it face down beside Death’s own before handing it back over to her.

“Well, we’ll have to get an actual group photo before the night is over,” Destruction says, moving back to his own seat. “It’s not often we have everyone here, after all.”

Hob hums in agreement as he lifts his drink to his lips. “That’d be nice. I’ve a copier for those, so we can get more made if you’d all like one.”

“I want the pretty picture!!” Delirium says, floating down so her back now rests on the window. “I’ll put it in the gallery cause that’s where pictures you like are supposed to go.”

Morpheus smiles as the conversations drifts back into tales and stories of the past. Death talks of some of the sights she’s seen over the year, of the people she’s met and of her day as a mortal. Destruction talks to his art and his travels. He and Hob commiserate over the various locations they’ve visited over the years and the unique struggles lives like theirs bring. Dream, even, talks of the Dreaming and of the citizens there. He talks of Lucienne and Matthew and Mervyn and it brings with it an ache in Morpheus’s chest but he urges Dream to continue. And so he does.

Matthew, apparently, wishes to tell Morpheus “Happy New Year” and to “get trashed” for him since he can no longer get drunk as a Raven. Lucienne also sends her regards and a tear falls down his cheek as he realizes that even those he left behind in the Dreaming care for him still, despite not being their Lord anymore.

“You know,” Hob says, smiling over at Dream. It is a startling vision, he realizes. Hob sits across from Dream as they had for centuries. He wonders, briefly, if Dream plans to continue their agreement to meet each hundred years. “I don’t know how the whole Dreaming to Waking traveling thing goes, but they’re always more than welcome to stop by. I’m sure Morpheus would love to see them again.” He turns, glancing as Morpheus with a question to his gaze.

He nods, looking back to his old self. “Should you, of course, allow it. I… I have missed them.”

“As they have missed you,” Dream says. He realizes, as the night sky gaze falls over him, just how intense it is to be under it. He is surprised Hob had managed to ever speak clearly during their meetings. “Perhaps, if you would wish, you may walk the Dreaming with clarity as you once had. I would not take you from your normal dreams and nightmares, but would grant you such on the nights you wished. Then you could visit the denizens of the Dreaming at your leisure.”

Morpheus smiles. “I would greatly appreciate that. Thank you, Dream Lord.” Dream huffs.

“You needn’t be so formal. Not to me. Not as you are.”

“Very well, then,” Morpheus says, bowing his head in agreement. “Dream.”

It’s nearly midnight when Hob extends his hand out to Morpheus, a sly smile on his face. “May I have this dance?” He asks. The music, he realizes belatedly, has changed. No longer is it the pop music that had been filtering through the inn prior, but has since slowed.

Ah.

It’s Glenn Miller. Moonlight Serenade, specifically. It is the first song they had listened to once Morpheus was able to withstand the noise. It was a gentle tune. Melodic in it’s rhythm and hardly appropriate for a New Year’s Eve celebration, but that has not deterred the drunken patrons in the center of the dance floor. They have turned from the rocking and jolted dancing to a smoother, softer flow. Many have paired up together, arms wrapped around necks and waists. And it’s as he looks back up at Hob does he realizes that this song was not chosen at random.

Hob had planned it. And wished to dance with Morpheus.

In another life, he would have turned him down. That other life, however, was sitting across the table from him with a knowing glint in his eye. This is a new life. And so he takes Hob’s hand and lets his lover guide him to the dance floor and wraps his arms around Morpheus’s waist and Morpheus wraps his arms around Hob’s neck. And they sway. They sway gently to the tune, not caring for form or function. They sway and enjoy the flow and the music and the lights. And when Hob gently guides Morpheus into a small spin under his arm, he laughs softly, a smile upon his lips.

He understands, in that moment, why people dance. Especially with one they care for. As he stares up into Hob’s kind eyes, the ones he has had the fortune of waking up to each morning for most of his newly human life, all others fade away. It is just him and Hob here in this moment. They float across their small section of the floor. And perhaps it is the alcohol of Hob’s dangerously addictive “immortality” drinks or maybe it is the high of having so many that he loves and cares for near, but Morpheus is certain this is the happiest he has ever been.

He cries, a single tear, for the him that would have said no to Hob Gadling’s pleas. He cries for the him that would never have known such bliss. He cries, briefly, for Dream, for Daniel, who now bears his old burdens and hopes that somewhere in Destiny’s book, he can one day find his own bliss like Morpheus has finally found his.

Hob kisses the tear away and whispers against his skin. “I really didn’t plan on having today be such a cry fest, I swear.” His breath and his lips tickle the soft skin of his cheek. Morpheus chuckles.

“Perhaps New Years can be the exception, then. So long as we do not make a habit of so many tears.” Hob laughs and the sound does not fail to send Morpheus’s heart aflutter.

“Sounds like a good plan. No more tears allowed tomorrow. So no watching Up.”

Morpheus snorts. It is undignified and Hob loves him more for it. He has said so in the past. “No. No Up, indeed. You would end up using the last dredges of hydration on your tears if we did.”

“Oh if I did, is that is? Tell me, who was the one that went through a whole box of tissues at the first half of the film?” Morpheus turns his head, his temple resting upon Hob’s chin.

“It does not count as such when the box was nearly empty to begin with.” Hob laughs. Morpheus smiles.

They stay there, eyes closed as they enjoy one another’s warmth and company as the music plays. Then, as the song fades to a close and the mood shifts once again to the hyperactive pulse of some song Morpheus does not know the name of, they slow to a stop.

“I love you, you know.” Hob says, not moving from their spot on the floor just yet. He still has a hand on Morpheus’s waist.

“I know,” he says, trailing his hands down his biceps and resting at his forearms. “I love you as well. With all of my heart and all that I am.”

“The balls about to drop, everyone!” A voice calls loudly from the bar. Eric flips the television over to the news channel where a live stream of the New Year’s ball is shown. A cheer echoes through the Inn as everyone turns to face the sight.

“10!”

Hob nuzzles his head against Morpheus’s.

“9!”

Morpheus turns, their noses grazing.

“8!”

Hob’s eyes meet his, the earthen brown golden in the light of the Inn.

“7!”

He has never looked more wonderful.

“6!”

Hob’s calloused hand raises up, cupping Morpheus’s cheek.

“5!”

Morpheus lifts his hand and rests it just above Hob’s heart.

“4!”

“Kiss me,” he whispers, feeling the warmth of his own breath bounce back at him against Hob’s lips.

“3!”

“Any time you ask,” Hob replies, his lips turned in a smile.

“2!”

Their lips meet. He is warm, as he always is. Morpheus’s hand tightens, his fingers gripping the fabric of Hob’s shirt, pulling him closer.

“1!”

His heart is hammering in his chest like this was their first kiss. It is far from such, but somehow feels different than all the rest.

“0!”

“Happy New Year, love,” Hob says, a whisper against his lips.

“Happy New Year, Hob.”

[makoredeyes]

Y’all I was going on and on about all these WIPs I’ve got going earlier today and then I went and found this like almost completed that I’d started a few weeks back and then totally forgotten about. So I finished it :3

[d3stinyist1red]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴍᴄ ᴅᴏɴᴀʟᴅs ᴡᴏʀᴋᴇʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

yandere mc donalds worker who first sees you when you ordered some food as he cooking some patties

yandere mc donalds worker who got called and caught out of his gaze, shaking his head and finally focusing on the patties that were now burnt bc he was paying more attention to you than them

yandere mc donalds worker who the next day, he got the cashier shift

yandere mc donalds worker who hopes you come back

yandere mc donalds worker who perks up when he notices your pretty face walk through the door, opening it

yandere mc donalds worker who immediately fixed his appearance, fixing his messy hair somehow and dusting off his clothes

yandere mc donalds worker who acts as if he's the main character suddenly, flipping his hair and everything while taking your order, making sure the light is hitting the right places in his face

yandere mc donalds worker who literally is fighting his urges to put a fucking love potion in your food

yandere mc donalds worker who suddenly puts his working shirt into a tiny shirt, rolling it up to his waist like damn hoe we get it ur a skinny legend🙄

yandere mc donalds worker who literally tries seducing you in front of his boss, not giving af

yandere mc donalds worker who acts as if his job was his dream job now, waiting for you patiently so you could come back to MC donalds

yandere mc donalds worker who literally cums in ur MC flurry, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he yanks on his dick, biting his lip to hold in his quiet whimpers

yandere mc donalds worker who adds a lil extra flavour in ur MC flurry

yandere mc donalds worker who literally pays for it food despite he is literally a broke ass mf

yandere mc donalds worker who wants to give you head in the Mc donalds bathroom so bad

yandere mc donalds worker who gives you origami made flowers and hearts because he's too broke to buy real gifts

yandere mc donalds worker who luvs being ur cook and cashier<333

[sun-six]

Drabble 1 from ?

“I’m serious. You’ve got to promise me you’re going to be careful.”

“Andal-“

“You get carried away.” Andal interrupts and Cayde glares at him. “And I trust you. I do. But I’m not there to watch your back and Guardians die every damn day on the comms and I-“ not you. I can’t lose you.

“Andal.” Cayde waves his hand sharply and Andal swallows the rush of feelings in the throat. “I will be careful, ‘kay? Don’t worry your pretty head about little old me.”

The Exo snags his hand to intertwine their fingers and brings them to rest on his own chest. There is no rise and fall of Cayde’s chest or beat of a heart, but if Andal leaned his ear in he’d hear a faint hum. Solar light thrums throughout Cayde whole being, not visible but Andal can sense it. The heat, the power, the gentle rage- so alive. It pushes away the void’s dark tendrils creeping into Andal’s mind.

[dracocheesecake]

The fourth movie has (probably) inspired me to make more Kai writings. Maybe. I'll see if-

LAWD THE JUICE IS FLOWING THROUGH ME

[hanasnx]

nothing but trouble

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 0.9k WARNINGS: established relationship | no angst they just yell at each other out of sexual tension <3 | shooting at ppl but no explicit violent or corpse descriptions | seeing you naked but no feminine descriptions are applied to your figure | implied smut.

The last time. you thought. This’ll be the last time. 

A promise unkept as your oldest friend lumbered in, heavy boots against the wooden floor. His very introduction back into your life is a plague on your past self’s wishes. You swore then it would be the last time. 

Yet here INDIANA JONES remains, left un-smited by divine intervention, and undeterred to a near nefarious degree. 

“What do you want?” you’d asked. 

Like a fool you heard him out. All his shiny and grand notions over a piece of junk unheard of for a thousand years. He’s got a new lead, and a new motive, and you’re naive enough to believe it when he claims you’re the only one that can help him. 

You fall for those big, green eyes. The dopey, crooked grin he wears whenever you’re agreeable to his whims. As soon as he’s within your atmosphere, you can practically smell your own attraction to him pulse off you in waves. It’s humiliating. 

“C’mon, kid, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” he’d persuade you. Sweet talk you as smoothly as he’s done before. Curse your enslavement to your most selfish bodily desires. 

Indiana Jones is nothing but trouble. 

“Get down, are you crazy?” Indiana barks, his large and rough handling of the back of your head makes you hiss at him in anger. Shoving you down, shielding you from the staccato of the machine gun fire, is appreciated even as unceremonious as it is. 

“And you- are reckless!” you chide, the weight of a shotgun in your hands banging against the hollow sound of the bar as you rise above it. Taking advantage of your opponent’s weapon overheating to a jam, you cock your firearm. 

“Wait!” Indy shouts. His body, warm and rigid, slots behind you, catching you when the kickback of a shotgun shocks you, the hilt recoiling into your collarbone. Your partner grunts from the impact but holds fast, cushioning your fall to the ground by landing underneath you. “You’ve never shot something like that before, what were you thinking?” he admonishes, and you roll off of him. 

“At least I’m doing something!” Hysterical, your scream ripples through your voice, and you meet his wild eyes, brows pinched together in a most daring glare. You’d lifted the hardware from a fallen enemy— and you’d expected a jolt— but your collarbone did not. It aches. 

Indiana picks himself up, throwing a glass bottle in your direction; his satchel swings around his hips from the force of his pitch. You duck, and whirl around, witnessing it shatter against the forehead of an unsuspecting villain rounding the corner. Your expression of incredulity inflicts that most frustrating and famous scoff of relief of his. A cute shrug that said, “Did you really believe I’d do that to you, sweetheart?” Your eyes narrow at him, and you exhale sharply through your nose. 

“Hand me that, doll,” His hands outstretch, ready for the impact of the shotgun when you toss it to him. It pops open under the pressure of his experienced touch, the shells discarding as he searches the box of ammo he found near the strewn corpse you swiped the weapon from. Reloading, and snapping it shut with a flick of his wrist. You helplessly attempt to ignore the adrenaline tearing through your veins, crying out for any sort of relief— which must be why your desire towards him has increased tenfold regardless of how insufferable you declare him to be. The way he takes charge of risky business with a sense of admirable fearlessness you wish you could bottle. You wonder what it’d taste like. 

Sharing a cramped space on a boat had very limited perks. One luxury you’re afforded is a private bathing area connected to your room. You pat yourself dry with a towel, hair still wet and dripping onto you as you exit, the steam dispelling. You hadn’t bothered to collect garments to change into within the confines of the bathroom, being as confined as it is. Entering the room bare, in search of what to wear, Indy rises from his place on the bed. As if reverting to formal manners in a moment of bewilderment, to stand when a lady joins one at a table. A flash of an unfamiliar countenance graces his handsome features, soundlessly conveying confusion, and displacement. It’s not like Indiana to feel he doesn’t belong somewhere. A thought crosses his mind that you might now know he’s here, and his sudden movement was a way to prove his presence. He sits up straight, the pose uncomfortable enough for you to address. 

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” you assure, sifting through your belongings. Not before noticing the way Indiana’s eyes wander down your figure. At your words, he relaxes marginally. A low rasp emits from him, and you cast him a side glance. 

“I’ll never get tired of seeing it.” 

A curl to your lips you can’t hide, a scoff through your nose, and he knows he’s got you. 

“Well, c’mere. Let me take a closer look at’cha.” he phrases it like he’s about to search your body for wounds, and he’s exasperated by the chore. He settles at the edge of the bed, a thick finger of his beckoning you over, nonchalant in nature. 

You oblige him. 

As if there exists an invisible string connecting the two of you, you’re tugged over, coming to stand in between his knees. His calloused hands handle your waist, drawing you in. When your instincts run away with you, you lean down, placing a kiss on his willing lips. 

Salty. He tastes salty.