#i am nothing that wears a human costume

[that-spider-fan-over-there]

Something about Izuku I keep thinking about is how much he's a downright hypocrite and the only reason he isn't called out on it is because he's one for himself and not for others and at the core of it all it boils down to his pending childhood issues and the *vaguely gestures* "relationship" he and Katsuki have- I mean, just out of the top of my head:

Wants to be a strong and dependable hero but is at his weakest when he's alone.

Says to Himiko he would never hurt someone he loves but was the reason Katsuki was forced to dance with death until his own sacrifice. Hell, I'm expecting him to actually accidentally hurt Katsuki (Physically? Emotionally? You decide) next time they talk.

Wants to save people with a smile but barely cracked genuine ones during his battle with Tenko- I can think of two(?), and even then those felt more like a resignation (379 and 412 iirc) than actual smiles.

Being aware Kacchan's a jackass, fine, but the entire "Imitate the people you love/admire" themes, having an attitude when heated or absolutely Done with anyone's BS (makes sense for someone who grew up besides a kid in the Inferiority-Superiority Complex but still) and "This is a battle between All For One and One For All, you can't keep up" is still very much pot calling the kettle black (it's because his "arrogance" is rooted in selflessness and desire to be useful but that's for another day)

Deadass called All For One out for being a lonely man pretending to be a "Demon Lord" yet will not admit he himself thinks a he's just a lonely kid pretending to be a hero; and by the time he seemed to be growing out of it: Paranormal Liberation Front.

"IT'S YOUR POWER, ISN'T IT?!" Cool, nice of him to comfort Shoto and try the same with Touya, now if only he could do the same in regards to himself and OFA-

Wasn't able to connect with Tenko at all and that's why he failed but it's wild to me he'd still the one who even at surface level could relate to):

Spinner, because they're nerds who were ostracized based on Quirks/lack thereof looking for a purpose and were unable to help him because of AFO's interference;

Himiko, because they want to be like others (because they hate themselves at least a little bit) but also show love in a way others wouldn't accept and;

Touya, because they wanted to prove they could be useful to others and be heroes to the point of actively harmed themselves while using their own Quirk.

Hell, when you think about it he related to the crying child but he could've used Literally Anything from his relationship with Katsuki to try and reach Tenko, but of course he didn't, that means he'd have to think about his own issues and yet he saw Tenko's issues no wonder he didn't get the job done-

Also can we talk about him saying he relates to Ochako confronting Himiko but she actually succeeded- Or even Shoto wanting to forgive Endeavor; I keep recalling both Ch. 322 him saying he won't forgive Tenko for anything he did (understandable but still) and Tenko going "And I won't forgive anyone". Connecting these three instances are huge stretches, I know, but really, he hasn't addressed the apology he got- combined narrative punishments for empty platitudes.

Kept saying he needed to improve in his control with OFA: had to get beaten up during his internship and in the Summer Camp for that lesson to stick... Then he heard the words "Control Your Heart" and decided to Not Address It At All.

Supposed to surpass but he's really All Might's successor in every way that counts: Smile so nobody will worry, keep fighting even though you are destroying yourself, be so selfless you'll make your friends desperate enough to make you stop for your own good, hide every single thing you can about yourself, the only difference is in the bed they made: Toshinori lies in omission most of the time, and Izuku thinks he lies in white when almost every other character's in the dark, but as long as there's a dream of bright smiles in the future, who cares they're now forcefully entangled in this nightmare, right?

And these are just the examples I can think of the top of my head, there might be more, but. No wonder we've been "panicking" (let's be real his therapist already scheduled him for Ground Beta atp-) Shoto and Ochako brushed him off by accident in Chapter 425, it's the consequences of his hypocritical ass coming back to bite him-

(I am not hating on him, by the way, it's just something about him I wanted to point out. I like that aspect of his. Makes him more human. But jeez can someone call him out and make him practice what he preaches? XD)

[knight-a3]

Heavenbound AU

Masterpost

Angel Dust "Angie"

So I can avoid confusion between Angel and angels, his stage name is Angel Dust but he goes by Angie casually.

Side note: I'm too ace for this guy, yikes. Don't mind me clutching my pearls.

Spider family:

More notes under the cut to reduce clutter. There's info about the whole Spider family and some info about the Mafia as well.

Angie's redesign took me a while to nail down. I looked at other people's designs for inspiration, but nothing felt right. I wanted to give his head shape more structure, but it's too iconic to significantly change. Many people added spider fangs but I think they always look too cluttered and ugly. I also wanted the right balance of masculine and feminine for his outfit.

I am not a fan of heterochromia in character design, unless there is a reason or it's used sparingly. Angie's design is complicated enough with the gold tooth, extra eyes and arms, and body patterns that the heterochromia would just be too much.

Instead of giving him fangs that jut out like a real spider, I chose to just give him a main pair of fang-like teeth, while the rest are smaller.

It didn't make sense to me why he's able to retract his tertiary set of arms, beyond simplifying for animation, but I also do not want to manage all of them all the time, so I'm keeping that little ability. I'm justifying it with the idea that he was only ever somewhat interested in the family business, so he had less of a hand in it than his Pop or Arackniss(both of which cannot retract their extra limbs at all). I also wanted the sets of arms to have a hierarchy in how he uses them. Also didn't like the shoulders canon gives his secondary arms. They look weird to me.

The main set has 5 fingers on each hand and are relatively normal, because they're the equivalent of his human arms. The secondary set is a little smaller and a little more bug-like, with 4 fingers. The tertiary/retractable set are smaller and have 3 fingers.

I tried giving him a spider butt, but I couldn't wrap my head around how he would wear any type of pants. Not that he would be opposed to going around nude, but I just wasn't interested in that.

Casual:

I remember reading somewhere that Angel likes to dress more comfy rather than provocatively outside of work. So I decided his work outfits are the skimpy, sexy stuff. His main outfit is his typicall out-in-the-town fashionable stuff, which tends to cover him up more(gotta pay for those goods). And lounging clothes are just purely for comfort.

Main outfit-

I really wanted something that alluded to his mobster background. He may not really be involved of all that now, but it's still a part of him and that would linger. For as much as he modernizes, he's still a product of his time. Anyway, that's why I gave him pinstripe pants and a blazer.

I didn't want to lean too far into either masculine or feminine styles. He is undoubtedly feminine, but he was raised in an environment where suits and violence was the fashion. I actually searched for 40s gangster costumes for women, counting on the fact I'd find the silly sexy costumes so I could get ideas for a more feminine spin of the classic mobster.

I tried a boob window shirt for awhile, but it didn't let me show enough chest fluff. So I traded it for a V neck, which can work for both masculine and feminine styles.

Eventually I settled on a crop top blazer, since it gives a sort of suit jacket vibe while being feminine. I preferred the short gloves from the pilot, at least on his main arms, and used the longer style from the show for his secondary arms.

In canon, his "skin" color and the white of his clothes just don't have enough contrast. So I used more pink, and had the color of his fluff be a different hue than his shirt. I liked the stripes on his jacket before, but I didn't want to add any more complexity, especially when I already committed to the pinstriped pants.

Overall, I like this outfit for him. Maybe that has something to do with my personal tastes, but I think it suits him.

Body markings:

He wasn't a star until Val came around in the 70s, so he wouldn't have been quite so glam before that. He still had more mobster habits. I used his older, pre-pilot, Zoophobia design as inspiration, which used a low saturated purplish color. I thought it struck a nice balance between his mobster roots, and his later glam style.

I wanted to make the pattern something easy for me to remember. The heart design got pushed lower down because I needed more room for his chest fluff. His hands don't have anything because I didn't like how it looked with his lounge clothes. The stripes on his arms reference the stripes on his canon, pilot, and pre-pilot jackets. The stripes on his legs represent garters(suspenders that hold up socks or stockings).

Human- Anthony "Tony"

Many human versions of him that I've seen make him look too modern. I think they would absolutely work for a modern human au, but not for the 1940s. So this is my take on what he would have looked like while he was alive. The Mafia is almost exclusively Italian, and overwhelmingly Southern Italian/Sicilian. Sicily was settled by the Greeks during the antiquity period, so many people there have Greek ancestry. The vast majority had dark hair and a tanner complexion(less than 7% are blonde in modern day). Northern Italy has more variety, with up to 25% blondes in modern day. I find it unlikely that an Italian-American mobster would have such light blonde hair(darker blonde, maaaaybe). I found only a couple of a blonde mobsters, and the pictures still look pretty dark. I just believe he would have had a more typical Mediterranean appearance: naturally dark hair and olive-toned skin, rather than the fanon platinum blonde more typical of Scandinavian areas.

Hair coloring in the 40s was always done professionally, and primarily used by women, and they usually didn't want it to be obvious. Bleached hair on a man(especially with naturally dark hair) would be far too much to maintain discreetly. He hadn't publicly embraced his feminine side while he was alive. His family was Catholic, and being gay was a no-no. But murder was okay for some reason. Don't question the mobster logic.

His brother and sister knew he was gay, parents did not. Arackniss was too tired to care, and Molly was supportive. She would take him to be her "bodyguard" when she would go out and do fun things, but it was partly an excuse she provided for him to do gay things.

Angie had mixed feelings about his participation in the mob. Sometimes it was fun, other times he'd really rather be partying. But he was a made man and swore an oath of loyalty. He can't just back out.

He spent his free time with drugs, guns, and hot guys. Then died of drug overdose in his early-mid 30s in 1947.

He wasn't publicly out as gay until Hell. His parents hated it and basically disowned him when they found out. But why should Angie care at this point? He's already in Hell. So he just parted ways with them(technically the oath of loyalty ends at death. It's not like the Mafia can really kill him for leaving now, since they all just regenerate anyway) and has kept in sporadic contact with his siblings. They aren't close anymore.

Spider Family:

Ma and Pops were mostly because I wanted to play with character design. And since they have no official designs, I had more room to play with it.

The whole family became spiders because they were involved with the "web of crime" that is The Mafia. Family relation does not automatically mean sinners will look similar. They usually don't.

Pops (real name Enrico, the Italian version of Henry. Nickname "Big Cig". Almost every mobster listed on wikipedia had a nickname) inherited the position of mob boss from a relative. I'm not thinking hard about historically accurate crime families, so this is a fictional family that we will pretend had a significant presence. He died not long after Anthony, in the early 1950s in his mid 60s via gang violence. He never managed to get to the same level of power after his death. He's a minor Overlord at best, but does hold some influence.

In Zoophobia, Angel and Arackniss had a dad named Henroin. A play on "heroin". So when considering a real name for him, I searched for a variant of Henry that sounded more Italian. I designed him before I knew he had a design, but I wasn't exactly impressed by Henroin's design, so I totally ignored it anyway.

Design-wise, I wanted to go for a stereotypical mob boss vibe, and it lends itself well to the more bulky, crustacean look. The resemblance to Mr. Waternoose was unintentional. He cannot retract any extra limbs.

Spider traits- I wanted to give everyone varying degrees of spider traits, partially determined by their level of Mob involvement and how dangerous they are. Pa is venomous(through his clawed hands), has super strength(because spiders are proportionally strong compared to their size), can super jump(cuz jumping spiders is the theme), and can summon a couple of guns. He's too large to crawl on walls and can't spin webs.

Ma was always at Pop's side, helping with the less violent aspects like finances. She did her share of poison murders as well. Ma died alongside Pop and is still at his side. She's arguably the more dangerous of the two at this point. She looks easy to take advantage of, but it turns out she has potent venom.

I didn't have anything canon to go off of, so she's technically an OC. I haven't put a ton of thought into her name, but I think I'll just go with Maria. Molly is named after her, I guess.

Design- Had to go with a femme fetale mob wife. The hourglass motif is because of her venomous nature, and not for any husband-killing. She can retract her extra limbs, because she is more dangerous than she initially seems.

Spider traits- she's more venomous than Pa(through her extra limbs), can wall crawl and super jump with her extra limbs, and spin webs(to ensnare prey. I think it might come from her hair bun and/or mouth, but I don't want to think too hard about it.). She's actually the more dangerous of the two, partially because she appears less threatening, and partially because the way her extra limbs are set up gives her more reach and agility. She cannot summon guns, and she doesn't have super strength.

Arackniss (real name is Giovanni, Italian version of John. Goes by Jon. Nicknamed "Little Cig", "Don Jon") worked as the underboss until Pa died, then took over as mob boss, making sure Molly was taken care of. He died in a shootout with police in the 1960s. He was around 50ish. He is on speaking terms with their parents, and sometimes works with them. He's tired and very addicted to coffee and cigarettes.

Apparently an old QnA revealed his real name to be Jonathan. Not sure if it's still true, but I didn't find anything more reliable. I found no examples of any historical mobster named Jonathan, despite there being many many Johns/Giovannis.)

Design- I wanted him to be unable to retract limbs, unlike Angie, but also wanted to avoid drawing all of them. So I used his overcoat to cover them, and he habitually keeps his hands in his pockets. Again, he can't retract any limbs because he was heavily involved with the mob. I changed his eyes from red to yellow, because I felt the yellow suited him better and reduces the overuse of red in general.

Spider traits- He can wall crawl, has super strength(which most don't expect because he's pretty scrawny), has super jump, and can summon guns. He cannot spin webs, and his venom is non-lethal and inflicted via bite(which isn't super useful to him).

Anthony/Tony "Wild Tony" was a soldier in the Mafia. He could have been a Capo(caporegime) if he was more committed. But he had a tendency to party and goof off. Technically, membership of the mob ends through death. Being the first to die, he was separated from the mob and didn't care to recommit. Angie partied hard and enjoyed gun violence, until Valentino came along. Valentino swept him off his feet with promises of fame, fortune, and love, convincing Angie to sell his soul.

Design- already covered most notes, but for organization: he can retract one set of extra limbs because he was involved with the mafia, but he was lower level.

Spider traits- He has less than the previous three. So he can super jump, spin webs(via mouth...he can make it kinky), and summon guns. He technically can wall crawl, but not for very long, and he usually uses it for things like pole dancing. He is not venomous at all, and does not have super strength.

In canon, Molly is in heaven, but I don't find it likely because of how the Mafia works, so she's in Hell now. (Real name is Marietta, which is an Italian version of Mary, and Molly is a nickname)She was the spoiled daughter and knew about the family's criminal activity. She knew, profited, and didn't care. She's guilty by association. Anyway, I'm gonna say she died about 10 years after Anthony, approx 1957, around the age of 40. Haven't thought too hard about how she died. Then she probably went and found some powerful, hot guy to sell her soul to. Not sure.

Design- I was going to give her an extra set of legs, but I couldn't wrap my head around the anatomy of it and just decided to stick with extra arms. She can retract all her limbs because she was "hands off" with the mafia.

Spider traits- she has the fewest because she was the least involved with the mafia. Aside from the obvious physical traits, she can only spin webs(because it is symbolically more domestic. Also via ponytail and/or mouth, but I don't want to think hard about it). She cannot wall crawl, or super jump, has no venom or super strength.

The Mob:

The Mafia is very patriarchal, so all members are men, as women were never formally initiated. But women were still significantly involved in a variety of ways. Most often by instilling mafia culture to the kids, drug trafficking, finances, or economics. Some helped as launderers, couriers, shills(con artist), drug traffickers, informants, and other typically non-violent roles. Some acted as proxies for their husbands in prison(which is becoming increasingly common in modern times).

Quick chart for Mafia organization, via the FBI.

Simple rundown of terminology because I didn't know the difference between Mob and Mafia, and I've now done too much research to not write it down in a relevant place:

mob- a group of people, usually disorderly

gang- crime group, ranging from loosely organized street gangs to structured syndicates.

syndicate- group of individuals or organizations that unite for a common goal. Can be legal or illegal.

cartel- (type of syndicate) a group of individuals or organizations that collude to control a business market via supply and demand. Can be legal or illegal.

The Mafia- originated in Sicily. Ethnically Italian gangs, referred to as "families" that may or may not have actual familial relationships. Characterized by a distinct hierarchal structure.

The Mob- the American extension of The Mafia. (ie. it's the same thing)

The Commission- the alliance of the various Mafia/Mob families. Older generation members, called "Mustache Petes", only worked with fellow Italians, sometimes even only Sicilians.

The National Crime Syndicate- multi-ethnic alliance of various criminal organizations. Most prominent being The Mafia/The Commission and Jewish syndicates.

All somewhat organized crime groups are gangs. Crime syndicates have a higher level of organization, and cartels deal in specific businesses. Eventually the terms mafia and mob were applied to other ethnic gangs that operated similarly. Such as the "Jewish Mob" and "Russian Mafia". But THE Mafia and THE Mob refers to Italian gangs.

(Jan 28, 2025- fixed the tags) (Jan 31, 2025- added a couple more notes about his human design, particularly the hair color)

[bakugoushotwife]

in my opinion, gojo’s storyline has been handled so so poorly i can’t help but think it’s intentional. it is not bad writing to kill a character—even a beloved character. i know most people will dismiss my criticisms because gojo is so beloved to me and so many others. i’ve said before that i don’t mind if he died. does it hurt? of course, and i would still cry and be sad about it. but there is a beautiful way to do it. with respect and honor for his legacy—for what he has done for your manga, the characters in it, and audiences worldwide. but no…gege chose the path of horror and disrespect. at certain points i’d say to myself, well. this is a dark manga. but essentially gojo is the only character that receives this treatment. since the beginning—since suguru left him, he’s been wondering if he mattered because he was a person, or if he only mattered because he was powerful and useable. we certainly fucking answered that question. he is a weapon and nobody ever cared about him at all!!!

and we knew he was being used—he knew he was being used, but he is selfless. so he did it for his kids. for megumi and yuuji and yuuta—he wanted them to be safe. in these flashbacks it’s exceedingly clear that he knew he would die. again—that’s not my issue. gojo dying to sukuna makes plenty of sense and it would hurt to leave it there. but to give us an afterlife scene where he’s presented a choice—north and south—that concept lead nowhere, that’s truly fucked up. to leave all the subtle clues and hints for no reason but to keep people reading and theorizing his return is fucked up. to continue to use his imagery to promote your manga when you know he’s not even honored in your manga is fucked up. we don’t get a funeral or a grave for him. no one’s spoken about him in chapters despite him fighting for hours against sukuna and damaging him so much that yuuji could win, nothing. yuuta wearing him like a costume and no one is horrified about it. i thought his students WERE different. they weren’t jujutsu society yet. that’s why gojo was their teacher—shaping them into better human beings. how am i supposed to trust in their future when it seems they’re just as cold and heartless as everyone before them? no one has honored gojo in any way since the moment he died. and they’ve forgotten about him. he spent his entire life fighting and no one can even say thank you. gege intentionally used gojo to promote the end of his manga because he knows that gojo fans make up at least half of his fanbase so had we stopped reading when he died, he would have lost a lot of traction. he baited us intentionally, cruelly, and something that transcends storytelling. i’ve truly never seen a mangaka have this sort of vitriol for one of their characters and the people that love him.

we spent the entire last chapter talking about some random fucking mission when we have several unanswered questions and concerns. i thought gege said he wanted this ending to be shocking and something you didn’t see in shonen? tying everything up neatly where no one has any trauma or grief for what they’ve experienced, everyone comes back to life except the one character you hate specifically and choso, defying your own power structures and having everyone laughing into the sunset is exactly how shonen ends so what in the fuck is he talking about??

let me disclaim, this is not megumi hate at all. i love him very much and i am so happy he’s back with the group but like. he shouldn’t be able to even walk. he tanked unlimited void for over 6 minutes whenever that length caused irreversible damage to sukuna himself. not to mention the countless black flashes. so what the fuck? he doesn’t mention gojo at all?? the first time he laughs in this manga is after he reads a note written by his dead fucking caretaker about his dead fucking father? like i don’t believe. random open ended kenjaku/suguru mention just to piss me off, an absolutely no mention of gojos sacrifice or how they’ll miss him. i’m sick to my stomach. gege defiled his memory both in the story and outside of it. wow.

P.S. SUKUNA CARED MORE ABOUT GOJO THAN ANYONE ELSE (SUGURU IS NOT INCLUDED IN THIS I MEAN HIS STUDENTS AND SOCIETY)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Squeaky Clean 5

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You start work as a maid but you’re not prepared for the mess your client brings with him. (maid AU – plus!reader)

Note: damn, boy.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“So, if you terminate contract without two weeks’ notice, terms state you owe the agency an admin fee.” Jan explains over the phone. 

You sit in your car with her on speaker, idling behind the store, shellshocked.  

“How much?” You ask. 

“Based on how long you’ve been with us, four-fifty.” 

“That-- four hundred and fifty? That’s a week’s pay,” you exclaim. 

“Yes, well, we’d have to overextend other staff and then there would be training and recruiting. Seeing as you’ve not completed your probation period, we would be taking a loss.” 

“A loss? I’d still work, just for another client.” 

“There’s a lot of cleaners with seniority, they get preference. I’m sorry, but those are your options,” she says. She has no compassion, it’s all just money to her. 

You stare at the brick wall ahead of your car. Never mind about going inside. You’ll make your boxed macaroni with water tonight. Maybe as you scroll the job boards. If you get something quick, you’ll be able to cover the fee. 

Or. 

Or... 

Or you’ll have to face him again. 

You grip the wheel tight. It isn’t even your car. The fee comes out of your pay too. This whole thing is a grift. You lean forward and rest your head on the vinyl ridges. 

You see him, standing in front of the door, in his body armour and helmet. A man who could snap you like a twig. You exhale with a quake and roll your eyes back against the swell of heat. You have no choice. Not unless a miracle comes and you don’t believe in those. 

You drive home. Your apartment is small. Especially compared to his townhouse. How rotten. Look at you. Living at the bare minimum, living off his scraps based on how well you clean his floors. It’s not fair. And he can just do whatever he wants. Because what, because he wears that costume? 

You’re not hungry. You scroll through job boards. It’s all this bullshit AI training. You know it’s garbage. $100 an hour, yeah, you’re sure it will hit your bank account smoothly. Oh and Jan didn’t miss the non-compete clause. If you quit, you can work for another cleaning agency or even freelance for at least a year. 

Sleep is fractured by your anxiety. Every time you close your eyes, he’s there. Each time you move, you feel his hands on you. Your skin crawls and your insides burn. Why? Why you? Would it be the same if it was anyone else who’d taken that job? 

You stare at the ceiling as the sun rises outside your window. As the light shifts, your nerves flurry. You don’t want to get up. You don’t want to go back. 

You flinch as a soft click comes from the kitchen. There’s a length of wall between the rest of your apartment and it. A bachelor with nothing more than a clunky radiator and scratched floorboards. Another click and the grind of the coffee machine. 

You sit up, chest thumping furiously. You’re dreaming. Your frail human condition finally forced you into submission. It’s a nightmare. It has to be. You're sure of it as he appears from behind the wall, leaning on the plaster with smirk. 

Steve’s hair is slightly askew. His cowl is gone but the rest of his suit is still in place. All but his gloves, tucked into his belt. 

“You know, I was always taught not to give up. Why do you think I am who I am,” he grips his hips as he pushes away from the wall and approaches you with decisive steps. “You don’t just roll over and let the world win.” 

You blink. It’s not a dream. You’ve never felt anything more real. 

“When you get a no, you don’t stop until you hear yes,” he stops at the foot of your bed, “or until they can’t say anything.” 

“Steve,” you bend your legs and push yourself back against the metal headboard. “What...” 

“You know, it’s funny. They didn’t tell me all the side effects.” He turns and sits on the side of the bed. “Nope. They said ‘it’ll make you strong. And big.’ That’s about all they told me,” he bends his leg and brings his foot onto his knee. He unlaces his boots, the ends of the laces snapping on the leather. “They don’t tell you how much you can hear. How much you can feel. Or not feel.” 

He scoffs and shakes his head, “either they didn’t care or they didn’t know. I can’t say which is worse.” He wiggles the boot off and switches boots. “Don’t tell you that your body turns into this callous shell. The caffeine in a cup of coffee does nothing. Nope. You’re body’s on overdrive. You get nothing. You only give.” 

He rips his other boot off and drops it. He sighs and leans forward, his elbows on his thighs as he bends his head. He smooths his blond hair. 

“I can hear through a car. Even from a block away. Even through the brick wall. And I can hear your heart beating from ground level,” he sniffs and rolls his shoulders, holding his head. “I can hear it right now too.” 

You’re silent. Paralysed. It’s all a game to him. He’s been following, watching. Even if the thought crossed your mind, you wouldn’t have caught him. He shows himself when he wants to be seen. Exactly as he does at his place. 

“I just want to feel one fucking thing that makes me feel alive,” he sits up. 

You stare at him. He slowly looks over his shoulder and meets your gaze. “I put the coffee on. Your head’s throbbing. Migraine. The cells in your brain are compressed. Lack of seratonin due to lack of sleep.” 

Your mouth falls open. He can tell all that. No, another job was never an option. Quitting, like he says, isn’t a choice. Why doesn’t matter. Why is a stupid question. Why won’t change what is about to happen. 

“Have a cup, take a shower, relax,” he commands. “I want you to feel it too.” 

[impactrueno]

🪲Beetlejuice as Mephistopheles😈

so you guys might've seen that my masquerade comic has BJ wearing this funny little get up after people were expecting me to draw him wearing the Phantom's Red Death costume.

just who is Mephistopheles?

our devilishly charismatic fiend friend Mephisto is the reason we use the term "Faustian bargain" to refer to a deal with the devil. in the legend, Faust was an alchemist who ended up selling his soul to Mephistopheles in order to gain knowledge, power and pleasure. he is, quite literally, a trickster demon full of wit and a taste for irony looking to get something out of you. sound familiar?

of course, deals with the devil didn't originate with Faust, and neither did the trope of the devil being a charming and witty character. Faust just popularized it and greatly influenced later characters following this trope. Hades from Hercules is a pretty solid example, since he takes after Satan more than he does the actual Hades from greek mythology (which is on purpose, since the movie plays with christian elements for comedic effect, like the muses singing gospel and Hercules being like a combination of Jesus Christ Superstar and Superman.)

every now and then i see people complain that Lydia referring to Beetlejuice as a "trickster demon" in BJBJ messes with the lore, because "he's supposed to be a ghost," but he has always been more demon than ghost if you ask me. "trickster demon" is a perfect descriptor for him: he has a specific summoning ritual, powers beyond what normal ghosts can do, and is always always trying to tempt people into chaos and tricking them into making a deal. i'll give you knowledge, but your soul is mine. i'll save your loved ones, but you'll have to marry me.

despite this Beetlejuice and Mephistopheles are both funny characters, hardly menacing. doing fun little magic tricks and mocking wordplay, even though they can (and will) ruin your life. yet at the same time, they're not quite as evil as they might appear at first. it's always funny noting how Beetlejuice in the movies technically stuck to his word the entire time. surprisingly high level of integrity for someone like him, but that's part of why he's so great imo.

the scene in the original movie where Beetlejuice shows up as a circus attraction to get rid of the yuppies that came to Winter River to gentrify the town into a tourist trap is just the kind of thing Mephistopheles would do. same with how he gets rid of Rory in BJBJ, playing the role of the therapist to someone who used psychobabble to manipulate Lydia. ironic twists mocking human sins, that's what Beetlejuice is all about when he's punishing somebody, and it can all be traced back to Mephistopheles.

Mephistopheles is a proto-Beetlejuice, basically. or Beetlejuice is a modern Mephistopheles, however you want to look at it.

ok but why am i talking about this? well first of all, adhd. also this is one of my favorite character archetypes. i've always wanted to put my oc Rocky in a story where he's a Mephisto-type of figure. i used to think that the closest i got to that was when i crossovered him with Beetlejuice (you had to be there) but writing this post i...just remembered something. (feel free to skip the next paragraph, it has nothing to do with Beetlejuice lol)

i have this unfinished short story i started to write a while back, in mid 2018. i was miserable, going through a really bad depressive episode, and i was looking for something that could inspire me to create again and get back on my feet. just to practice and for shits and giggles i started writing a simple freeform story where a character named [redacted], who was a stand-in for myself, is suffering from writers block despite not being a writer, and basically wants to be good at writing. while muttering something about how he'd even "make a deal with the devil to become a good writer," he accidentally ends up summoning "the devil" (it's just Rocky) who's all silly and charismatic and offering him a deal. what i wrote ends there, i never finished it. but very soon after that, i rediscovered The Simpsons and started writing Those Springfield Kids. fast forward to a few years later, my SpringKids versions of the characters end up becoming part of an official couch gag animated by The Simpsons team. so. i guess...the deal worked? spooky lol (my Faustian downsides are 1. i can never finish anything i start and 2. i'm stuck here in Venezuela.)

anyway! i originally wrote this as a thread on twitter so i could introduce people to Mephistopheles since i was going to make a reference in the masquerade comic with BJ's costume. i just added a little bit more stuff (and the personal anecdote above) in this post. i would've posted this much earlier but on the day i was going to do it, my blog got nuked. now that i got it back, i can post this!

bonus: the shin megami tensei version of mephistopheles, plus david who is a reference to camille saint-saëns Danse Macabre, which i've ALSO referenced in my beetlejuice stuff a couple of times

ty for reading

next time i yap like this it'll be about the gravediggers from hamlet and how they're another core beetlejuice archetype. ESPECIALLY musical beetlejuice.

[obeymeshallwedateaddict]

Devildom 'I love you' day

Imagine if there was a day in the Devildom where all demons had to show affection in one way or another. How would the brothers do it? How would the brothers express their undying love for you?

Contains: Fluff

GN!MC (Reader)

You can find more of my work here: Masterlist

............................................................................

Lucifer

You heard a knock on the door which woke you up. It was early in the morning and you had gone to bed late last night since you were playing games with Levi. So waking up early in the morning wasn't how you were planning to start the day. You sit up in the bed and groggily answer "Yeah?" You hear the door open while you rub your eyes.

-MC? Did I wake you? –You look over at the demon with fuzzy eyes. It was Lucifer. The raven-haired, red eyed, arrogant Avatar of Pride had come to wake you. You assumed that it is something important since he isn't the one to come wake you up. But then you saw a beautiful bouquet of flowers in his arms. And on top of that he was wearing formal attire. You rub your eyes once again to make sure you are seeing this properly and yes you were. The first-born was standing before you with a bouquet of flowers, wearing a costume! And the flowers were your favourite ones. Have you ever even told him you liked those?

-Uhm, Lucifer? What are these for? –You ask and look up to meet his eyes. His gaze was soft and loving.

-Today is the Devildom 'I love you' day. Every year on this day people have to show affection towards their loved ones. So here I am, MC. –He takes a deep breath and gets on one knee offering the bouquet to you.

-MC, I know I may not show it as often but you mean everything to me. I love you more than words can even begin to explain. And I promise you. I'm not doing this just because it's the Devildom 'I love you' day. –You swear you could feel your cheeks heat up and you probably have the biggest idiotic smile on your face you nod and take the bouquet from his arms. You bring it to your nose and the sweet scent of the flowers floods your nostrils. You close your eyes and inhale it.

-Thank you, Lucifer. They are lovely.. I love you too.. –You say as the demon sits next to you in the bed.

-I have planned many things for us today. I promise to make this day unforgettable. But before we start I have something else I'd like to do. –With those words the first-born grasps your chin and kisses you passionately. Your breaths mingle together while your lips dance in a heated rhythm. When the kiss ends you embrace him and inhale his scent. It was your favourite perfume. It was obvious that the day would be a success. After all it was planned by no other than the Avatar of Pride himself.

Mammon

You were walking down the hallway of RAD. It was in the middle of the school day so you still had a few hours left to go. The day was overall nice. Nothing too hard nor too boring. It was a pretty decent day. And then suddenly you hear someone shouting your name from the end of the hallway.

-Yo, MC? Wait up! –You turn around and look at the white-haired second-born run up to you. You wait for him to catch up while eying him with a questioning look.

-What's up, Mammon? –You ask as the demon reaches you. He puts his hands on his knees and pants. When he finally manages to catch his breath he looks over at you.

-MC, I bought ya something! –He says and pulls out two matching keychains from his pocket.

-Mammon, what are these for? –You ask and carefully observe the keychains.

-Let The Mammon explain. So I heard some bullshit that today is some Devildom blah blah 'I love you' day. And eh The Great Mammon just wanted to show you some love, human! –You chuckle and roll your eyes. Though you can't help but feel a bit flustered at the demon's determination.

-So hear me out! Cuz I'm gonna say this only once. MC, I love ya. –He hands you one of the keychains, looking into your eyes.

-I worked hard for these keychains ya know? So you better wear it every day. Cuz I am! And I wanna match! –You smile at Mammon's little demand and nod.

-Alright.. I'll wear it, Mammon –You see a big smile draw on his expression and you smile back at him.

-I love you too, Mammon. –You lean in and press a soft kiss to the demon's lips and he gasps.

-Yo, human! What's the big idea?! –He asks and you wrap your arms around his waist in an embrace. You can practically feel how the second-born rolls his eyes which almost makes you laugh.

-Fine. The Mammon will show ya some affection. Don't get used to it though. It's just for today. –You decide not to argue with his little statement but you knew it was a lie. Afterwards you and Mammon spend a great day, filled with kisses, hugs, holding hands and most importantly –love.

Leviathan

It was a regular day. You were painting your nails with Asmo in the living room when suddenly you got a message on your D.D.D. since your nail polish was still wet you asked the fifth-born to read it to you. You saw him tense up as he read the message.

-It's from Levi. He says he wants to play games and is inviting you to his room. Should I write to him that you are busy at the moment? –Asmo asks and you nod.

-Yeah. You might as well. I will talk to him later. I'll have to wait for the nail polish to dry out. –The eyes of the demon before you brighten and he nods, typing a few words on your phone before leaving it on the table.

-Okay! Let me put another layer of nail polish on you! –Asmodeus says and reaches for the nail polish but your phone buzzes again. Asmo leans over and reads it.

-Levi said that he has something important. Eh.. can't he wait? –Asmo whines and shakes his head. You think over it carefully before speaking up.

-If it's something important I must see what's up. I'll speak to you later, Asmo! –You say, grabbing your phone and turning to leave.

-You are seriously leaving for that boring otaku? And leaving the nail polish? MC, you are so bad! –You chuckle at the fifth-born's words and head for Levi's room. You knock on the door and prepare to say the secret phrase but to your surprise Leviathan just opens the door for you straight away. You greet him and enter the room.

-So, Levi what's up? –You notice a small blush on his face and wonder whether to question it or not but the demon speaks up before you do.

-So uhm MC.. I h-heard that today is.. uhm Devildom 'I love you' day and uhm.. I wanted to give you this as a token of my feelings.. –He stammers out before handing you a figurine of both of you's favourite anime. Your eyes widen and you take it eagerly. Thank you Levi!

-Y-yeah... No problem.. know that.. uhm.. I.. I l-love you.. okay? –the third-born speaks and you nod.

-Yes, I know.. and I love you too, Levi! A lot. –The demon's cheeks heat up in a pinkish color and you chuckle to yourself before leaning in a pressing na soft kiss to Levi's lips.

-Wh-what are you??? –He questions but you silence him.

-Let's make the best of today. –You state and hug the purple haired demon, wrapping your arms around his neck. He only nods. You and Levi proceed to have a nice day filled with love.

Satan

You were sitting in the living room, scrolling through your phone in the company of Mammon, Asmo and Beel. The three of them were doing their own thing. Mammon was counting money, which resulted in a silent "one hundred to thirty-two" for example. It wasn't often but it happened from time to time. Asmo was reading a beauty magazine. He looked almost lost in it. Like he wouldn't be able to move his gaze away from it while Beel was eating a pizza and a devil burger at once. At once.. oh and he was drinking soda along with it too. That demon is impossible. Suddenly you get a call which draws everyone's attention to your phone. You grab your phone and check the ID to see that the Avatar of Wrath was calling you. You pick up and your first words draw frustration in everyone in the room.

-Yeah, Satan? What's up? –You speak and wait for him to answer.

-I want to speak to you. It's important. Could you come to my room for a bit? –He asked, hanging up before you could respond, leaving you with little choice but to make your way to his room. Standing up from the couch you walk to the fourth-born's room. You knock on the door and soon enough you receive a firm. "Come in, MC" from the other side. By walking in you could smell the faint scent of Satan's perfume. He was wearing a formal attire with a book and a rose in hand. You shot him a questioning gaze and he chuckles.

-Oh MC. Why are you looking at me like that? Don't you know what today is? –The demon asks and you shake your head.

-No, not really.

-Let me enlighten you then. Today is the Devildom's 'I love you' day. People on this day show their love and appreciation towards their partner. And I would like to do the same. –He offers you the book and the rose, by taking it you feel that the thorns have been cut. For as long as you can remember you'd always poke your finger into a thorn. But not today. Supposedly Satan thought about that as well and clipped out the thorns. The book was one that you have been wanting to get for ages but never got spare money to do so. You look over at Satan and smile. -Oh my gosh! Thank you, Satan! That means so much... –You speak and see a faint blush cover the demon's cheek.

-You flatter me, MC. And here I thought that today was the day I got to pamper you. But let me tell you. I love you, MC. More than words or any book can express. –He says and takes your hand. You look at his eyes and feel the sincere love he feels for you.

-I love you too, Satan. –You smile and lean in to press a soft kiss to the demon's lips. Afterwards you and Satan share a nice and romantic day together.

Asmodeus

You were helping Lucifer run some errands around RAD and it was honestly tiring. The man himself seemed exhausted and was barely holding up considering he is one of the most powerful demons in the Devildom. So what's left for a human like you? You felt like you could collapse any minute now. And then all of a sudden you get a call from Asmodeus, the fifth-born. You answer and continue trying to catch up to Lucifer.

-Yeah? Asmo, what's up? –You ask and continue walking.

-MC, sweetheart... I've got something for you. Meet me in the cafeteria. –He speaks up and you watch Lucifer walk faster and faster into the distance.

-Sorry, Asmo. I'm kind of busy right now. Heyyy! Lucifer, wait up! –You call out for the eldest who didn't seem to hear your words.

-Lucifer! –You try one more time but it was also unsuccessful. The demon was lost in his own world. Meanwhile Asmodeus was giggling on the other side of the phone.

-MC, Lucy won't notice if you slip away. As I see he isn't even answering you. –You stop in your tracks and think about the fifth-born's statement. Perhaps he was right. But Lucifer would be pissed if you left him like that. Though do you care? You've gone through his punishments millions of times. It's not as if you cannot do it again. So there you were. Making yet again another poor life choice which you'll be scolded for.

-I'll be right there. –You say to the speaker and hang up the phone, heading to the cafeteria, instead of running after the lost in thought Avatar of Pride. Not long after you finally reach the cafeteria. When you opened the door you heard Asmodeus shout.

-Happy I love you day, sweetheart! –The fifth-born speaks and throws heart-shaped confetti your way. You chuckle and look over at Asmodeus.

-Thanks, Asmo. This is awesome! –You speak with the biggest smirk on your face. Asmodeus on the other hand claps his hands before walking up to you, wrapping his arms around you.

-I love you, MC. So so so so SO much! <3 –He speaks up and leans down, capturing your lips in a loving, yet passionate kiss. It lasted for a couple of minutes and when you finally pulled away, you whispered into the demon's ear.

-I love you too, Asmo. –The day you and the Avatar of Lust shared was irreplaceable.

Beelzebub

You were in your room, quietly scrolling on your phone. The day was pretty decent. You had a few errands you had to run but it wasn't something hard to do. And now that everything was done you had some free time left to do whatever you want. That's when suddenly Beelzebub the sixth-born barged in through the door. You looked at him with a questioning gaze. You didn't expect visitors. Or so you thought. After all your room is a public place and free to use for certain 7 demon brothers.

-Hey, Beel. You need something? –You ask and look over at the orange-haired demon before you. He had a hopeful look in his eyes. It felt like he was expecting something from you. Though you weren't sure what. Was there something you have forgotten? An outing with the twins? Or to make Beel his favourite demon sandwich? You weren't sure exactly why the sixth oldest would come into the room just like that.

-Yeah, MC. I heard from Lucifer that today is a Devildom 'I love you' day. And I wanted to show you how much I actually love you. To use the day as an opportunity. –The demon says and falls into complete silence before looking out the window.

-Well evening.. not day.. but.. will you spend it with me, MC? –The demon asks and you nod your head.

-Gladly, Beel! Let's go.. –You stand up and take the sixth-born's hand, leading him outside your bedroom.

Soon enough you and Beelzebub find yourselves in Hell's kitchen, waiting for your order. The sixth-born takes your hand, making you look into his eyes. You saw that same loving, yet innocent gaze he had. One of the many reasons you loved Beelzebub.

-MC, I want you to know how special you are to me. And how much I love you. –The demon speaks up while caressing your knuckles.

-I love you too, Beel. You are also really special to me. –You say and lean in, closing your eyes and gently pressing your lips to those of the Avatar of Gluttony. He smiled against your lips while they intertwined in a passionate dance. You and Beel proceed to share a nice dinner at Hell's kitchen.

Belphegor

It was a regular morning. You and the brothers had just shared breakfast though you cannot deny how wild it actually was. Mammon and Satan argued the whole time about the ingredients in the Devildom hell sauce. Asmodeus was painting Beel's nails while Lucifer was lecturing Leviathan for using his phone during breakfast. That was pretty much a regular morning at this point. And if it was peaceful you'd know that there is a problem. Suddenly the first-born finishes scolding Levi and turns to you.

-MC, could you wake up Belphie for me? I don't want him to be late to a meeting once again. –You listen to the raven-haired demon's words and nod before excusing yourself from the table. You walk over to the twin's room and knock on the door. When you didn't receive an answer you walked in. To your surprise though the Avatar of Sloth wasn't sleeping like he usually would. Instead he was sitting on the bed, wearing his school uniform. In his hand he was holding a little jewellery box. Playing with it and moving it from one hand to the other.

-Good morning, Belphie. Why aren't you at breakfast? –The demon turns his gaze to you and smiles. It seemed like his mood immediately shifted when he noticed you.

-MC! There you are! I was waiting for you. –He stood up and walked over to you.

-Waiting for me? I don't remember you asking me to meet you? –You question and the demon chuckles.

-I didn't call you over because I knew Lucifer would send you to wake me up at some point. But anyway. I have a little surprise for you. –Belphie says and opens the box, offering it to you. Inside there are two necklaces. Matching ones. The first one was formed like a moon and the other one was like a little sun.

-Happy Devildom 'I love you' day, MC. This is a little something I bought to show you how I feel. They are matching necklaces. One is for me and the other is for you. –He speaks up and reaches for the sun-shaped necklace. He wrapped it around your neck and clipped it.

-It suits you perfectly. Would you mind putting mine on? –The seventh-born asks and you nod. Taking the moon necklace you wrap it around the demon's neck and clip it up. And there you were. Wearing matching necklaces with Belphegor. You smiled and pulled Belphie into a hug. Wrapping his arms around you he leaned down and whispered into your ear.

-I love you, MC. –And with that he proceeds to capture your lips in a loving kiss. You were in a great mood for the rest of the day. Toying with the little necklace when you missed the youngest brother in class.

[rockatanskette]

So, I've written before about how our relationship with predators would probably intimidate aliens, but I just pictured another way we interact with predators that is honestly just as scary from an outside perspective: we pretend to be predators and even make up new ones, all just for fun.

Now, we also adopt predator patterns for utility: wearing striped makeup for camouflage, imitating roars and bird calls, etc. But I'm specifically talking about the video I just saw from Creature Bionics of creature rigs designed for a human actor to better do motion capture. I'm talking about voice actors and sound designers creating new and terrifying clicks and roars and growls because lions' roars just aren't scary enough. I'm talking about adults dressing up as plush monstrosities to entertain sports fans and children. Gritty is terrifying, objectively.

One day at an early meal, human Janet seems confused when her alien crewmates start asking about a shape-shifting monster that they keep seeing in human culture. They ask her what it's like to live on a world with "dogjons;" animals that can shift from a fan-headed creature with eye-covered wings to an amphibious eel-like figure, humanoid but not human, to a death-pale monstrosity that chases anyone who dares get near its food. Human Janet is confused until they say that the pale figure has eyes in its hands; bloodshot, and glassy.

"Oh, Doug Jones! No, he's not a monster, he's just a really good actor. Too good—the Shape of Water awakened something in me, specifically."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, let's just say the lady 'mating' with him isn't a horror story, it's a fantasy." Human Janet says, like it's nothing. Then something seems to occur to her, and her eyes brighten with what the aliens are quickly learning is mischief. "Oh my god. Am I the one who gets to explain monster fucking?"

Elsewhere, an alien accompanies xis human friend on a day out with their young. There's some kind of show being put on for human youth and Xlibthar is excited for this insight into how humans get Like That. Imagine xis surprise when the lights go up on the entertainment platform and a horde of creatures rushes up. They are large and bright yellow, with big black eyes as dark as singularities, with bright red spots on their heads that clearly indicate venom. Xlibthar shrieks and shields xisself behind Akio and Hinata, sure that something has gone terribly wrong.

"What are those?!" Xlibthar demands, quaking in xis shoes.

"Those? Oh, they're just Pikachus." Akio does not seem even the slightest bit distressed, and five-year-old Hinata is absolutely losing her mind with excitement at the sight of these garish monstrosities.

"What. On Earth." Because this could only happen on Earth. "Is a Pikachu?"

"It's a Pocket Monster. It's a series about monsters that battle with each-other. Pikachu is a mouse that can shoot electricity out of its body."

Xlibthar stares at Akio, wondering if this is an example of what humans call "gaslighting," because keeping monsters in your pockets sounds too insane even for humans. And, "you bring these things around your CHILDREN??"

"I mean, they're not real." Akio puts his hands over Hinata's ears. "They're just people in costumes. Though Nintendo would never let you see one with its head off."

Xlibthar has many questions: why? What? How? What? But one question has been answered: if this is what entertains human youth, it is exactly why Humans are Like That.

[sashi-ya]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ エロチックトバー２０２４> MDNI / EXPLICIT CONTENT

THAT LITTLE FOX 🦊 SOSHIRO HOSHINA X F! READER ＫINKTOBER DAY 2: MONSTER FORM // KITSUNE

🐙 requested by: anonymous. About your kinktober event, I'm not sure if I read your rules properly soo.. Can I have a request for Hoshina from kn8? (With female reader). Day 2, I'm not sure if Kitsune counts as a monster form? But feel free to decline! :D ⚠️ tw: mdni. explicit content. sex with a "stranger creature" in the middle of a forest. nipple biting, hard sex. unprotected sex. 🐙 wc: 1,9k // kinktober 24 masterlist // join the taglist

A funny fox, a sly fox a very naughty …

Infamous for a droll laughter, that creature living in the ghost city is. He plays tricks on people, he is fast and very, very strong. A sharp smirk, with keen fangs, makes everybody a little annoyed and scared. His status, high. Nobody dares to say no to him, whimsical with food and sex, everything is served to him.

“I’m feeling like paying a visit to the human world today” he chuckles, eating a sweet dessert with his kimono almost open.

“Are you sure Master Hoshina? Remember humans are weaker, by far more innocent, and above all… mortal” his assistant, maid, Okonogi answers worried.

“You say innocent, Okonogi dear? Mhh…”

There, with a cunning smirk, the Kitsune Soshiro seals the faith of a poor, innocent victim… a human victim.

It took nothing for him to leave Ghost City; many Yokai saluted him goodbye, other simply omitted any words. And it also took nothing for him to go from a humanoid form with fluffy ears, to a very sweet fox with narrow eyes and a cute pair of fangs.

“Night of the Yokai” that’s how the event you were attending was called. A usual “ghost seeing” event hosted at your city park -that actually looked a lot more like a forest- where you all wear typical clothes and enjoyed a night time walk around the park. Some people used their great costume skills to dress as Yokai, scaring the weak and the bravest and other simply sold delicious treats to collect funds for the local shrine.

And there you are, dressed in a beautiful pink yukata with flowers tangled around your hair. An updo as beautiful as your face, and the sweet scent of your perfume attracting every look around.

As you begin to walk, the chit chat of your friends began to become less and less important and by the time you realized their presence was a simple memory… you had lost? How could you? you were right by the main entrance of the park minutes ago. The sound of the matsuri music only reaches your ears like a soft murmur, and the moon was now the main source of light in your path… why? What happened?

Your phone, dead. no gps, no calls, no 911. Why?

“Are you lost?” a voice caresses your ears, a very distant, strange voice. It is playful, but a little creepy. You could feel how the creature speaking was smiling.

You take a look around. Nothing. There is nothing.

“Aren’t you going to answer? Are you mute?” that same voice asks. This time sounding a little annoyed rather than playful. You swallow; should you comply? or should you run?

“Who are you? I am not lost! I’m just taking a walk” you lie; if there is something you know very well, is to never show weakness.

“Mhh… are you sure!? I can help you come back, if you want me to…” that voice says, this time closer… so close you could swear it was whispering right on your ear.

You turn around swiftly; scared. But there isn’t a man, nor a ghost… just a little cute fox sitting right there. You immediately breathe alleviated, at least danger doesn’t seem so close.

“What a cute fox” you murmur, still looking around, frightened. “Am I?” the fox answers, turning into a humaine form right in front of you. Uncovered, naked and most importantly savagely free, he stands up with his hands resting on his waist and his sex imposingly out.

You gawk; the beauty of that man, pale and well trained, leaves you in awe. The soft kiss of a silver moonlight shines on his purple fluffy ears, and a tail also casts shadows on the ground.

You take some steps back; independently if that human fox hybrid looked absolutely delicious, you don’t really feel safe around a creature completely naked.

“Why are you walking away? You said I was cute, don’t you wanna pet me?” he asks again, smiling and while he does, flashing a pair of brilliant sharp fangs coming out of his mouth.

“I- don’t hurt me” you mutter, that’s the only thing you could actually say as your legs quiver and your eyes are forced to look away from his nudity.

“I am not going to hurt you! that’s not something I do… In fact, I wish to help you out of this place… however, for that, I require a payment!” he playfully words, sitting back on a rock. As a god waiting to be served, perhaps even to be fed, he waits for your answer.

You stay still for a couple of seconds; should you trust this creature? Of course not! and yet, there you were, thinking about it… there is something so luring about him, about the way he is not even a little ashamed of showing off his anatomy… so magical and attractive.

“What’s the price?” you ask, biting your thumb nail. “Oh, interested then? Well, a kiss! I’ve read about your stories, where a princess kisses a frog, and the frog turns into a prince… would you do it?”

You giggle; is that so? a simple kiss? That sounds a little childish…

“Well, I’ll do it. But! You need to promise me you’ll help me getting out the forest” “It’ll be my absolute pleasure…”

He then proceeds to stand up, and jumping comes closer to you. An aura, almost asphyxiating, surrounds you when he does. But that feeling doesn’t feel bad, in fact, it is almost described as… lustful. You close your eyes and pout, coming close to his lips -and those interesting pointy fangs protruding from beneath-. You feel attracted to kiss him slowly rather than giving him a quick peck, and it makes you auto reprimand yourself for such lewd thoughts.

Oh, but honey… how could you be that innocent? a fox is an animal that hunts a prey to eat, and you are exactly it…

As your lips touch his lips, a claw seems to bury on your waist; Snatched against his nudity you become trapped, and the kiss that started with a simple crash of mouths is now deep, lustful, erotic.

Your mind goes blank; dazed in the way his tongue intrudes your wet cave, you can’t articulate a single thought. Your body takes over, and what should have been fighting to be freed, turns into a quite “receptive attitude”.

Your pelvis comes closer to his crotch, feeling how hard it becomes the more he kisses you. Your arms, that were hanging loosely on each side of your body, are now tangled around that “kitsune’s” waist.

No words were said as he pushes you softly and you start walking back until you hit a tree. One of his hands, now that he is sure you won’t run away from him, grips tightly around your wrists. He lifts your arms up and pins them against the log behind.

“Kitsune don’t turn into princes, as you can see” he smirks. “I can see that very clearly…” you answer back, as one of his legs slides in between yours and his thigh reaches your core.

He chuckles, his slanted eyes turn into a fine line, there is no doubt this man is a fox… it even looks cute, enough to make you smile in such intense situation.

But the soft and sweetness only lasts for a second, as he opens his eyes shining a purple hue that’s both intense and scary.

“Now, that you have given me access to your body, I will enjoy feasting on it” he announces, startling you with such statement. Access? Feasting?

You widen your eyes, unable to react to the fast blow of a paw that turns your clothes completely to rags; and your body, naked.

“Unless tell me your name first” you murmur, as his lips are about to attack one of your nipples. “My name is Soshiro… now, enough with the questioning” he says, desperate to, indeed, feast on you.

You moan the moment his lips finally surround your nipple, but then you whine when those sharp fangs nibble on it. You can’t move your arms, as he still has you pinned against the tree, and your legs, spread enough, only fight to keep your weight up.

Soshiro pushes up his thigh against your sex; a pressure you definitely sense, making you feel even needier…In a matter of seconds you begin humping on his leg, a dry torture that feels good but still not enough. And for that, my dear, you just need to wait just a little longer…

“You are making a mess of my leg, fufufu” he giggles, biting your neck while he takes his leg off your sex. It hurts, those fangs seem to mark your skin to the point of drawing out blood from it. It hurts but it’s so good, so deliciously good… “You are so tasty, human…” he whispers in your ear, making you tremble with such creepy but sexy tone. “Your blood tastes like an unholy prey…”

You gasp; is he really thinking of eating you alive?!

He smirks, again, without you looking. But you can still notice he is doing so. And after he does, a swift snatch and you are on your fours with your knees burning from hitting the ground beneath.

“Now, let me copulate with you” “Copulate?!” you ask, on the verge of laughter. That sounded like an ancient word to you. In fact, Soshiro is quite an ancient creature. “Oh! Wait! My bad, I remember you dirty humans call it fuck… so naughty” he answers back as a slap reaches your buttocks. “But believe me, we are even more naughty than any of you…”

Another spank made you whine, and then, the heat of a throbbing sex reached closely to your dripping core. It makes you quiver, desperate to receive it on your insides. Walls already pulsating and spasming, dilating enough to welcome him.

“Look at you, so willing to let me fuck you” he laughs, already playing with the wetness coming from your core in between his fingers.

Soshiro takes enough time to discover everything about your anatomy, and when the way your ass keeps lifting up to ask for more, he finally positions himself behind you with one knee on the ground and his hands around your waist.

His intrusive hardness opens its way inside you, dealing with milking walls that make him grunt as he goes slowly in. Little claws of his, carve marks on your waist going down your hips.

The first blow comes, a ram so strong that makes you mewl in lust. And then the next one, forcing you to keep your arms and legs steady not to fall, being on all fours ain’t easy.

Soshiro fucks you like an animal, as naughty and feral as one. One thrust after the other, so eager to make you cum from pure brutal penetration… and, unlike any previous men in your life, he, indeed, got you trembling with an uncontrollable orgasm experience.

Your chest has already fallen onto the ground, your arms couldn’t keep you on all fours. And, to Soshiro’s delight, this position seem even more enjoyable… so ready to fill you up with whatever Kitsune cums with…

“Can I get pregnant from a yokai?” “Well… I bet you can, wish me to try?!” “NO”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ....

“(Name)! (Name)?! Hey! Snap out of it!” one of your friends screams at you. “Wha- what?!” you blink repeatedly, unable to understand what is actually happening. “You got lost following a little fox, but thankfully you came back… are you ok?” “Oh… yes, yes… I guess I am…” you smiled. ㅤㅤㅤㅤAfter all, that naughty fox helped you go back, exactly as he promised ~

Taglist of amazing babes: @adaizel @ariesbbytings @animesnowstorm @lenablack9919 💕🌻

[camelspit]

Alvar Vacker by @aurenflare

Tiergan Alenefar by @flori-doodles

Definition of a sexyman: An often pathetic and/or evil man who is sexy (but perhaps not in the conventional sense)

Propaganda:

Alvar Vacker:

"he's SO pathetic!!! he literally became evil because his younger brother is prettier than him. he commits so many evil acts and somehow fucks up every single time. he almost dies on several occasions. he was stuck in a pod of troll goo. then he decides to fake his death and hide out in humanland, where he immediately decides that pancakes, cable tv, and korean skincare are his new best friends." @arsonistblue

"HE'S HOT?? HE LOVES PANCAKES?? SEXY??? HE WAS EVIL THEN HE WASN'T THEN BOOM HE WAS AND HE'S A LIL PATHETIC MAN <33 VOTE FOR MR PANCAKE™" @siennamakeschaos

"alvar has it all 😌 he's sexy AND evil AND pathetic. so pathetic. the most pathetic man alive possibly. nothing has gone his way and i can't say he's dealt with it well but u see. that only serves to make him more of a sexyman. VOTE ALVAR !!!!!" @aurenflare

"hes SOOOOOOO skrunkly simply how could you resist. has three girlfriends buckets of charm and a banging ability but he turned evil just because he was jealous of his little brother. got chopped up and gooped but he keeps trucking on pathetically. he deserves the world and also to die but most of all he deserves YOUR vote for sexyman <3" anonymous

"No but if Alvar doesn't win. Y'all he was BORN to Tumblr sexyman. He has orchestrated terrorism and violent attacks on 12 year olds. He hates his little brother for being cooler than him. He's canonically insanely hot and he's TERRIBLY unethical with this power because he had three girlfriends who didn't know about each other. He manipulates his little brother's ex best friend into giving him affection. He desperately wants to be loved and he can never get it. He loves pancakes. He wants to be just a guy but is pathetically hungry to receive his abilities back when he gets the chance. He gets thrown away by a terrorist organization he believed cared about him. His family actually loves him but he's so broken by the belief that they don't that he can never receive it. Did I mention he likes pancakes" anonymous

"f slur (lovingly)" anonymous

"I am a very sexy man. Ergo, I should be keeper sexyman" @alvarthethiccpipecleaner

"He’s gay and so very very stupid." anonymous

"he's just. he loves pancakes??? and skincare??? and he's so absolutely pathetic. there's like four pages in legacy where in between every thing he says, sophie's like 'he looks sick and pathetic lol' so yeah vote this pathetic hot evil man for kotlc sexyman" anonymous

"Alvar has two sides: evil scar-covered villain bent on killing siblings and cute soft boy older brother figure who likes pancakes. Both would be valid to argue for sexyman status but the combination is what makes him exceptional. Also he canonically had three girlfriends (and ruy let's be honest), like this dude is so hot in-universe it's not even funny." anonymous

"look man im not even an alvarhead but you gotta admit hes pretty funny. hot enough to get three girlfriends and yet so insecure he joined a terrorist organization because he thinks everyone likes his little brother better. keeps on failing at everything. got goop’d. etc." anonymous

Tiergan Alenefar:

"he's awkward. he's transgender. he has antennae. he's a dad. he's arguably the only character who doesn't give a shit about sophie's love life. he's sopping wet. he wears a rock man costume when he commits crimes. he's even gay" @arsonistblue

"his middle name is literally transgenderism. what else do you want me to say." @necromycologist

"f slur (lovingly)" anonymous

"hes gay, hes a twink, he wistfully stares into the sunset in the human world for his man prentice, hes a rock, hes so pathetic wet cat, he commits crimes, hes a dad of like 5, he really said fuck you to alden and adopted sophie, he has long blonde hair, how could you not love him

also look at his jawline like ok baddie🤫🧏" anonymous

Want to submit propaganda? Do so here and it will be added in the next round!

[unpredictable-probabilities]

What Lies Beyond Fear

Summary:

Dream decides to visit Hob a day earlier than their agreed appointment.

He learns about modern-day Halloween traditions, and what it means to have nothing to fear.

Word Count: 4,635

Notes (more at the end):

For All Hallows Sadman 2024 hosted by @mr-sadman 🎃

Prompt: Trick or Treat

[Read on AO3]

---

Dream ducks under fake cobwebs hanging on trees and sidesteps around a candy stall as he makes his way to The New Inn. He could, of course, have just appeared on its doorstep, but he finds that he likes the walk, as it reminds him of the first time he took the path. The first time he had seen Hob again after more than a century.

The late afternoon sun casts a warm glow on the pub as Dream draws closer, and he sees a poster on its wall advertising an upcoming Halloween party tomorrow. Drinks would be at a discounted price if one were to attend in costume.

“My friend!”

Dream turns his gaze away from the poster to look at Hob, already approaching him from the other side of the open doorway.

“You're here early,” Hob smiles when he reaches him. “I'm not complaining, though.”

Dream finds that it is easy to return the smile. It always is now. With Hob.

“I simply took your advice and accepted more help with my work from Lucienne and Matthew. They all but pushed me out of my own castle when I said I wanted to visit you a day earlier than what we agreed on.”

Hob beams at him, and it makes something warm bloom in Dream’s chest. “Well, I should remember to thank them later. Wanna come inside, then?” he nods to the interior of the pub.

Dream nods, and Hob leads the way inside to their usual table, talking about how the Halloween party was a spontaneous idea that only came about less than a week ago.

Dream keeps his eyes on Hob the entire time, not wanting to miss a moment of it. His feet have memorised the way to their table, and so he is free to give his full attention to his friend.

He has grown rather fond of Hob's face this century; the way his eyes light up when telling a story, how he gestures with his hands more as his excitement grows, as if his body couldn't possibly contain all the happiness he is feeling, the way his eyebrows lift and his lips quirk up in a smile when Dream says something he finds surprising. That was what he endeavoured to see today, why he surprised Hob with his unannounced visit. Needless to say, the reality of it is even better than his expectations.

“Is Halloween also celebrated as a romantic event nowadays?” Dream asks curiously as they sit across from each other.

“What? No, why?” Hob furrows his eyebrows.

“I see the daydreams of your patrons. A handful of them are hoping to ask someone as their date to your gathering tomorrow. They have romantic intentions.”

“Oh!” Hob chuckles. “No, humans just do that. Ask someone to be their date to parties as an excuse to spend time together.”

Dream tilts his head a fraction to the side. “I am not certain I understand the need for such an excuse. Would it not be simpler to ask to spend time together regardless of gatherings?”

“Well, you know,” Hob looks down and picks up the round cardboard coaster, tapping the side idly on the table. “Sometimes it's scary to ask that, especially if you don't know what the other person likes to do. It's easier to invite them to a party, where there's already something to do.”

“Ooh Professor G! I didn’t know you’d bring a date!” a young lady wearing a witch’s cape and hat playfully says.

Hob chuckles good-naturedly. “Ah no, this is Dream. My—”

“Date. Yes. I am Hob’s date this evening.” Dream smiles at Hob.

Dream blinks himself out of Hob’s daydream. He always makes an effort to respect the privacy of his friend’s thoughts, but that particular one was so sharp and sudden that it caught him off-guard.

Curious. Hob daydreams of people mistaking him as his date. And him confirming it with a smile. That does not make sense. It would imply that Hob has romantic feelings for him. And why would he, when he has lived among humans for nearly seven centuries and experienced all their warmth and joviality?

Before this century they had only had six meetings, none of which had lasted a full day. Surely Hob would not prefer the cold aloofness of him compared to all the interesting humans within his reach in his daily life.

“Dream? Are you alright?” Hob’s eyebrows knit together in concern.

Dream focuses on his friend once more. “Yes. I was merely… pondering.”

“A penny for your thoughts, then?” Hob’s expression is open, encouraging. As he has always been after Dream told him the reason behind his absence in 1989.

Dream could ask. About Hob’s daydream. It is normal for friends to ask questions.

“I hope my sudden appearance has not intruded on any prior plans.”

Hob raises an eyebrow. “That’s what you were thinking about?”

Dream glances down. It is also normal for friends to be considerate of another’s time. And much more acceptable than inquiring upon one’s private thoughts.

“Don’t worry about that, mate, I’m always glad to see you. I have to chaperone a friend’s kids later tonight for trick-or-treat, but until then we can just be here. Unless you wanna chaperone with me.”

Dream looks at Hob again, trying to discern if he correctly interpreted the hopefulness in that last remark.

“You don’t have to, of course,” Hob says hurriedly. He clears his throat. “The kids’ parents are my colleagues, and they have to attend a seminar tonight so they asked if I could chaperone their kids since they live nearby.” He looks at his watch. “That’s in a little over two hours from now, though. We have plenty of time.”

Dream wants to point out that that is not nearly enough time. That they spend several hours together in their weekly meetings, sometimes until late into the night when Dream remembers that immortal though he is, Hob’s body still needs sleep. At which point they would continue their conversations in the Dreaming, lounging in the couches in the library or under the shades of trees in Fiddler’s Green.

Therefore, no. Two hours is not plenty of time.

“Dream? Is it really bothering you?” The concern has returned in Hob’s eyes.

“I am merely puzzled by these new human traditions. In times past, when this festival had varying names, it was often associated with bonfires and commemoration of the dead. Plastic spiders and masked children asking for sweets are all quite new to me.”

“Ah, yeah, it was a bit surreal to me at first too,” Hob reminisces. “But it’s nice to see an old solemn festival evolve into something that makes people more cheerful, you know? There’s something beautiful in seeing happiness around you.”

Dream keeps his gaze on Hob, on the curve of his lips and the crinkle in the corners of his eyes when he smiles. The same man who had sat across from him talking about chimneys and playing cards and handkerchiefs with raw wonder in his voice.

Dream returns the smile. “Indeed. Perhaps I can learn more about Halloween in this century. If your offer to chaperone with you still stands.”

“Of course,” Hob says immediately, his face brightening in a way that further convinces Dream he made the right choice by proposing to extend their meeting past two meager hours. “Oh I forgot to get us food, sorry. Give me a moment.” He turns and calls the attention of one of his staff.

“You are aware that I do not need food.”

“Yeah, but you enjoy it,” Hob winks at him before turning to the waiter. “I’d like a strawberry scone and my usual coffee, and a blueberry muffin and hot chocolate for my friend.” He turns to Dream for confirmation.

“It appears you know me well,” Dream concedes.

Hob grins at him and thanks the waiter who promptly passes their order on to the kitchen.

They talk, as they always do in their meetings. Hob listens with rapt attention while Dream tells him of his work in his realm, and Dream wonders if Hob is aware that his own stories of how his week had gone captivate Dream in much the same way.  

Dream thinks it is because he is the Prince of Stories that Hob’s tales have such an effect on him, no matter how mundane they may seem. It is not until Hob asks if he wants to have another cup of hot chocolate that Dream realises it is quite the opposite; Hob sees him beyond his function, and wishes to spend time with him simply because they are friends. It is not something that he is overly familiar with. Spending time with a friend. He has far more experience being the Lord of Dreams. Although it appears that he finds more pleasure in being a friend. With Hob.

Two hours fly by quickly—as Dream had known they would—and Hob says that he should get dressed before picking up the kids at their house.

“Is there a dress code for Halloween?” Dream furrows his eyebrows.

“Of course. Costumes.” Hob grins. “Even the chaperones get dressed up here every year. Wanna come upstairs? You can read in the living room while I change.”

They vacate their table and go upstairs to Hob’s flat as they had done many times before. The motions are so familiar that the situation almost feels domestic. And Dream wonders if Hob feels it, too.

“Right then, make yourself at home,” Hob says easily when they reach his living room.

“Do you say this to all your friends? Offer your home as theirs?” Dream trails his fingers along the books on Hob’s coffee table. The stack is higher now than when he first came here. He sits down on the couch to peruse the titles along the spines, and finds that the books are those he had expressed a preference to in their previous meetings.

Hob falters in his step and stops walking. “Oh, um, I haven’t really invited anyone else over since I moved here. I’ve got all these things from my past lying around, like that vase from the 1800s, and that music box from 1902. And other things that would be more difficult to pass off as part of an art collection. It’s just easier if I don’t need to worry about explaining them.”

Dream glances around, realising what Hob means. He has decorated his home to have pieces of the different lives he had lived, has chosen to keep things from his past that he holds close to his heart and doesn’t want to forget.

And Dream is sitting among them.

Dream should say something. Friends express appreciation to each other, he recently learned. He should tell Hob how honoured he feels to be allowed to see all this, to share the same space as Hob’s most cherished memories. Hob should know about the blooming warmth in Dream’s chest, about how perhaps this place is beginning to feel like home to him as well.

“You should get changed.”

Hob blinks. “Ah, right. Won’t be long. There’s some food in the fridge if you want any.” He disappears into his bedroom.

Dream sighs. It seems that he is far more articulate as the Prince of Stories than he is as a friend.

He picks up a book from the top of the stack—a fantasy novel he had begun to read at a previous visit—and continues to read where he had left off, idly wondering how humans learned to express themselves through words.

Several minutes pass before he hears Hob’s voice again.

“That’s everything, I think. I considered an eye patch but I don't wanna be walking around at night with just one eye, especially since I'm chaperoning.”

Dream glances up from his book and sees Hob wearing black leather boots that nearly come up to his knees, brown trousers, a loose white v-neck shirt tucked in, and a long black coat with gold accents at the collar and cuffs. Around his waist is a wide brown leather belt affixed with a scabbard and a gun holster, holding a cutlass and a pistol, respectively. Both of which are evidently made of plastic.

Preoccupied as he had been with his sentiments about Hob and his home, Dream had not stopped to wonder what Hob’s costume might be. He wears it well. His padded thighs and broad shoulders carry the clothes splendidly, and there is a glimpse of chest hair from beneath the low neckline.

“Don't laugh at me,” Hob warns playfully.

Dream blinks and lifts his gaze to his friend's eyes.

“I've got a fake sword and I'm not afraid to use it.”

“You are a pirate.” The past several minutes have not returned eloquence to Dream.

“Yep. That pirate show’s still stuck in my head.”

“That does not look like the ensemble of Edward Teach.”

“Because I'm not wearing that much leather,” Hob says pointedly. “Otherwise I'll be sweating in half an hour.”

Dream huffs out a chuckle. “Am I correct to assume that friends wear matching costumes on Halloween?”

“Sometimes, yeah. Why?”

Dream closes his eyes and conjures the image in his mind. The black leather boots, the black shirt tucked loosely in black trousers, the low neckline mostly covered by the black scarf tied neatly around his neck. The ring on his left index and little fingers, inlaid with rubies. The rapier hanging by the black belt around his hips.

He opens his eyes and stands up, neatly returning the book to the coffee table.

Hob is staring at him with his mouth open, his eyes running over every detail of Dream's clothing as if intending to imprint them in his memory.

Dream smiles in satisfaction at Hob's reaction. “I do like the Gentleman Pirate’s attire but I have a preference for black. I do not think he would mind the colour change.”

Hob blinks and meets his gaze. “You… Is that a real sword?”

Dream glances down at it and waves his hand to change it into plastic. “Not anymore.”

Hob chuckles, seeming to shake himself out of a trance. “Why a pirate, too?”

“I want everyone to know we are together.”

The smile melts off Hob’s face and he swallows, eyes flicking down to Dream’s mouth.

Hob surges forward to press their lips together, his hands cupping Dream's face—

Dream nearly gasps as he closes the walls around Hob's daydream. It is even more vivid than the last.

It is rare for him to manifest a heart in his human form. He finds no point to it, and oftentimes it simply slips his mind to form one.

Yet now it thuds inside his ribcage, every beat echoing in his ears like a measure of a song saying Yes, I want that. Now.

Dream swallows and puts his hands behind his back, gripping his wrist in order to prevent himself from grabbing at Hob and pushing him against his shelf of memorabilia, imprinting another memory into his mind and body that he shan't soon forget.

Dream looks at the door and takes a steadying breath. “Shall we go, then? I do not wish to make you late for the children.” And they will be quite late indeed if Dream were to fulfill their daydreams now.

“Oh, right, yeah. Let's go.”

The air outside is refreshing, calming Dream’s heart into a more even rhythm and clearing his mind.

They pass by other children and adults wearing costumes, some carrying plastic jack-o'-lanterns with candy inside.

Dream listens to Hob talk about more of the city's Halloween traditions, wondering why he had not noticed Hob’s feelings for him before. Why he had not noticed his own.

Hob puts a protective arm out in front of Dream when a motorcycle speeds past, as if Dream could be harmed by such things. They continue on walking, with Hob talking about the unfortunate lack of sidewalks before moving on to more positive things like the free candy tonight at The New Inn for trick-or-treaters and regular customers alike.

Dream watches the light of the setting sun reflect in Hob’s eyes, remembering the first instance of Hob protecting him, all those centuries ago. He had not seen Hob's daydreams then, but he felt them at the corner of his mind. And before he could be tempted to confirm if they wanted the same thing at that moment, he cut their meeting short. He did not wish to risk Hob’s life—immortal he may be—just for the sake of his own fleeting urges.

Now there is no risk of hurt or capture for either of them. Perhaps, instead of wondering why he did not notice such feelings after his return many months ago, it is more important to wonder what he will do next. Now that he knows.

They reach the house of Hob’s friends, and pleasantries are exchanged with introductions. The kids, Noah and Oliver, know Hob as their parents’ friend from the times that they all went to The New Inn. The boys dressed as their favourite superheroes—Batman and Superman, as Hob helpfully whispers to him—and they immediately adore the pirate costumes that Hob and Dream are wearing.

After their parents remind them to get along with other kids and listen to their chaperones, the boys excitedly run ahead to wait for them on the street, bouncing on their heels as they wait for the grown-ups to finish their conversations.

Hob's friends mention an upcoming holiday trip, and Dream is struck by the realisation that the spouses look at each other in much the same way that Hob looks at him.

He tenses and waits for fear to set in. He has had lovers in the past, and their relationships ended in ruin. He will not—must not—allow the same thing to happen between him and Hob.

Dream is so lost in his thoughts that he barely registers when the farewells happen and they join the kids.

They walk down the streets and Noah teases his younger brother about being scared of the older kids’ costumes of ghosts and ghouls.

“I'm not scared!” Oliver says indignantly in his high voice.

Dream feels a small hand grasp his. He looks down and sees the boy’s green eyes looking at him in concern.

“You're quiet, Mister Dream. Are you scared?” Oliver is still holding his hand reassuringly.

Dream glances at Hob and sees that his friend is smiling fondly at him. Those warm brown eyes that welcomed him without question even after he had stormed out of their meeting and was absent in the next. The gaze that belongs to the man who never doubted that he would return and built a new place for him to return to.

“No,” Dream answers Oliver without looking away from Hob. “I am not scared.”

“Hurry, Oli!” Noah calls out from a few paces ahead. “Mum says we're not allowed to separate!”

Oliver lets go of Dream’s hand and runs to his brother.

“Oi!” Hob calls after him. “Your mum also said not to separate from us!”

The boys give no indication that they heard Hob, and instead approach the nearest house to ring the doorbell.

Hob chuckles and shakes his head as he turns to Dream. “You're really okay with doing this?”

“I am. These children tonight have loud daydreams of their favourite sweets and eating them while in their costumes. It is good to see them fulfill that happiness. I had… forgotten. How much every little daydream matters.” Dream looks around at the little superheroes and princesses and fairies walking around the street, and he feels himself smile.

When he turns back to his friend, Hob is watching him with a smile of his own.

“It's good to see you happy,” Hob says with such sincere softness that makes something like yearning twinge in Dream’s chest.

“Mister Hob! Mister Dream! Let's go!” Oliver is holding his brother's hand and is excitedly waving for them to continue walking.

They meet some of Hob's neighbours along the way and get compliments on their costumes, and Hob invites them to tomorrow’s Halloween party at The New Inn.

Plastic pumpkin baskets get filled, and eventually Noah and Oliver grow tired of walking and sit on a bench to peruse their hoard.

Hob goes to buy refreshments at a food stall nearby while Dream stays to guard the kids, standing a few steps away from the bench and looking around with interest at the jack-o'-lanterns that have now been lit all over the park.

“That's a lot of candy you got.” An unfamiliar kid’s voice catches Dream’s attention.

He turns to see that three teenage boys have approached Noah and Oliver, wearing shiny robot costumes that look particularly expensive.

“Yeah…” Oliver says timidly and protectively hugs his pumpkin basket close to his chest.

“Now, that's not nice,” says the tallest kid. “Didn't your mum teach you to share?” He reaches for Oliver's basket—

Noah stands up and squares his shoulders, looking up at the older kids. “Didn't your mums teach you not to steal?”

The tall kid sneers and steps forward, and in that moment Dream bends the shadows and appears directly behind the bench, facing them.

“The night is still young, children. And reward is only sweet when it is earned,” Dream says evenly, his eyes black pools with bright stars in the center.

The older kids stare at him in horror and stumble all over themselves in their haste to run away.

“They left,” Oliver says in awe, watching the kids turn and disappear around a corner.

“It must have been your brother's bravery that daunted them.” Dream blinks and his eyes are once more blue.

“Daunted…” Noah furrows his eyebrows in thought and turns to Dream. “That means scared, right?”

“Indeed,” Dream smiles. “It appears you are smart as well. You make for an excellent Batman.”

Noah beams. Then he gets a chocolate bar from the depths of his basket. “For you, Mister Dream!”

Dream looks down in surprise at the offering in the child’s open palm. “But you worked for it. It is yours.”

“Our mum did teach us how to share,” Noah grins. “With friends.” He holds his palm higher.

Dream is rendered speechless. He does not need air but for a few moments he feels short of breath. Then he smiles and takes the chocolate bar. “Thank you, Noah.”

Hob arrives carrying big cups of fruit shakes in a paper bag. “Everyone alright?” He begins to distribute the cups.

“Yes!” Oliver exclaims, showing his full basket. “Let’s get back home and share these with mum and dad!”

The fruit drinks seem to have replenished the children's energy, and they jog and bounce along the sidewalk on the way back to their house.

Their parents have returned and have already prepared dinner for them. Oliver regales them with the tale of how his brother defended them from bullies, and as a reward they are allowed to have some of their candy before dinner.

Farewells are exchanged, and Hob and Dream make their way back to The New Inn.

“I saw what you did, you know,” Hob says as they leisurely walk under the light of streetlamps. “I can't believe you scared those kids like that,” he chuckles.

“Hm?” Dream hums with feigned innocence. “Noah did not want to give them treats. So I gave them a trick instead. Is that not how this holiday works?”

Hob laughs, a bright sound that makes Dream continually grateful for this night. “Not exactly, no.”

“Then I suppose I should stay longer so that I might learn more.”

“Well, you know I'll never complain about that. We can stay at the pub or in my flat, wherever you like. Could make us some dinner too, if you want.”

“I was thinking about a longer duration than that.”

“We’ll go to the Dreaming afterwards? Yeah, of course.”

Dream stops walking and Hob follows suit, looking at him questioningly.

“Hob Gadling. Will you do me the honour of being my date to The New Inn’s Halloween party?”

Hob’s lips part and a tinge of scarlet colours his cheeks.

Dream smiles. “You arranged for the party to happen tomorrow, on the day you were expecting me to visit. Am I wrong to assume you wanted me there?”

“No,” Hob says quickly. “I did want you there. I do. It's just… Date? How'd you mean…?”

“I mean,” Dream takes a step forward, making the blush on Hob's face even more prominent. “That I have romantic intentions and wish to be the priority of your attentions tomorrow. If you would be amenable.”

“What— Yes!” Hob laughs again, relief and delight evident in his voice. “How… How long have you… felt that way?” His gaze is vulnerable, hopeful.

“I confess I do not know,” Dream glances down for a moment. “But I know how I feel now. And if you feel the same…” He takes another step forward and transports them both back to Hob’s flat. “I have some plans in mind.”

Hob gasps in surprise at the sudden teleportation and stumbles backwards into his shelf of memorabilia, rattling some of the objects.

A smile curves Dream's lips, a coil of hunger beginning to awaken within him.

“What… Plans?” Hob blinks, pupils dilating at what he saw in Dream's expression.

Dream reaches up and slowly undoes his scarf. Hob’s gaze drops to his neck and follows every movement of his fingers.

Dream tosses the scarf to the floor, revealing the low neckline of his shirt showing much of his pale chest and collarbones.

“God almighty,” Hob breathes, and his tongue runs across his bottom lip.

Hob's daydreams wash over Dream, loud and colourful and vivid that Dream feels nearly intoxicated with them.

Dream takes a breath and steps forward, placing one hand on the shelf beside Hob’s head to steady himself. His friend's eyes widen as Dream leans in close enough that their noses are almost touching.

“I can taste your daydreams, Hob,” Dream's voice almost wavers, his restraint hanging by the barest threads of his willpower. “I should like to taste the reality of them.”

Hob swallows, and a trembling exhale escapes him. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then thinks better of it and simply cups Dream's face in his hands and presses their lips together.

Hob's lips are impossibly soft, and his calloused hands a comforting warmth around Dream as one slides down the back of his neck to pull him closer.

Dream places his hands on Hob’s waist and licks at the seam of his mouth, eliciting a moan as Hob's tongue eagerly meets his. He deftly unbuckles Hob’s belt, dropping it to the ground along with the plastic weapons in its holsters.

Hob fumbles around Dream’s belt with trembling fingers, tossing it to the ground as well and kicking it out of the way as they stumble across the corridor to his bedroom, Hob’s coat falling off his shoulders in their journey.

“Please tell me this isn't a trick,” Hob pants against his lips as he opens the bedroom door and they pour through the doorway.

“Not at all,” Dream feels himself to be equally breathless and a fond playful smile curves his lips. “I should like to have you as a treat. If you will have me.”

Hob captures Dream's mouth again in response, dragging him over to the bed as he blindly pushes the door close.

Down at the busy pub, customers enjoy the free candy and new Halloween decorations, as well as the songs playing from the jukebox that drown out any sound that might be coming from the owner’s flat above.

---

Notes:

The whole idea of Dream thinking about his feelings for Hob while they're walking around outside is inspired by this fic written by @beatnikfreakiswriting <3 I had read it shortly before starting to write this fic. It's a lovely and adorable read!

----

(All Hallows Sadman 2024 Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

[saint-hymn]

no because see if we're talking c!tntduo, especially c!wil,

for me its always "almost" with these freaks. almost acting on it, almost closer than they should be, almost, almost, just enough to make c!wil feel alive and more. arm's length. unhealthy distance or lack thereof. get the blood pumping and yank himself away at the last moment. leave them both wanting like some fucked up starved kenneled animal, like stretching a rubber band, like hunger-thirst and the omnipresent want. you get me? the bassline, the base note of this story is wanting-needing-wanting. and

let's look at who's on the table today. just one half, sorry, c!Wilbur. i sanctify and canonize him now as the patron saint of almost-there. one must imagine Tantalus happy. hold onto that sentence for me while we go through this.

his hand slams the button and he almost leaves a mark; his poignant point was additionally steamrolled after this fact and no one even bothered to give him a proper burial, a proper memorial, because who mourns a fucking costume, a typecast homicidal maniac?

he almost won. he almost got it. he was almost happy. they were almost free. he almost proved a point to big Q. he was almost seen. he was almost understood. he almost made up for his wrongs kind of maybe not quite probably not, but he almost, he almost, he almost,

he almost forgave himself?

(kind of maybe not quite probably not.)

he was almost loved he was almost seen as human it almost wrapped up perfectly it almost had a cherry on top but, again, the thing about desire is it's stronger when it's not totally satisfied. c!q holds him with a desperation and he digs from q's gaze only an understanding of himself. this is not a two way radio.

the cherry on top is that this is his penance now, his stupid little ending no one likes. for what? for failure? for being the sly motherfucker he is? for being too stubborn and too arrogant to take up quackity's offer and, by extent, always always keeping him at arms length always leaving them both oh so fucking wanting?

he's now in the middle of bum fucking nowhere with no one who loves him with no one who knows him with none to show for how he clawed through the thirteen years of limbo except some scars and claustrophobia and a longing loneliness haunting him. there are no winners here, no trophies no grand ending. he ran off from his problems, as always.

congratulations, mr. president, you are now some unknown gas station clerk. another costume to wear, another character to play, forbidden from exiting stage left and being, what, himself? as if, honestly.

there is a want there, if you squint. does quackity want him to open up so he could close the distance, say what is always stuck in his throat, or taxidermy him like a trophy?

is this love, or fascination? is this affection, or obsession?

i think even under the gaze of someone that completely matches his freak and considers him not untouchably demonic but simply unpredictable i.e. c!quackity you could never find what he is. if you keep taking off his costumes there would just be more. if you keep taking off the mask his face would contort to more. if you're something so used to being forgotten you wouldn't even bother being yourself because who would even remember that? you keep peeling off his mask, facade after facade, and at some point you'd just be digging at dirt. you can't solve this puzzle, only pick it apart and ruin it

of course he can't be honest and open up, there's nothing in there. it's all a play, an actor, a lesson in dramaturgy. he'll open up when he's cold and dead on the operating table.

i am looking at c!quackity elbow-deep in the actor-metaphors on the operating table and i am asking: was it worth it? did you get what you seek, what you *wanted* from him? is this your idea of being closer than arms length? will you keep this as a trophy, too, that you have finally understood the misunderstood?

remember the bassline: want. need/want.

is the stage too big for c!wil or is he too ambitious. is the world too wide and his flames too dim? did he waste his shot, one piece of lead against leviathans? is he so lost in his own layers and layers of costumes he couldnt ever find himself again even if he begged to? i would ask "why, despite everything?/why, when everything was done?/why, when you tried your best?" but then he'd be asking the same question with a pinch more desperation and buddy neither of us has the answer here

there it is again, then, a stalemate of the omnipresent want.

the want to get-what-you-want (the hands grasping at the retreating water and reeling fruits / the hands grasping at burning flags and broken swords / the hands grasping at poker chips and glossy cards)

the want to understand (i push my thumbs into this caricature of actors and only façades split)

the want to be understood (c!quackity looked at him like he was human, through it all, and under q's gaze he was alive)

one must imagine Tantalus happy.

[killjoys-makesomenoise]

April has come to a close and so has the April’s Fool’s prompt fest!! We had 16!!!!! Incredible works written in the month of April, I am so impressed with the community and passion that everyone showed. Go check out the collection and give the writers some love in the comments 💕💕

strange, strange game by joeysnowy Teen | M/M | 6.9k The thing about working for a top secret spy company is that it is, largely, some of the most boring shit Ben has ever done in his life. But Ben is not, like, a necessary part of the spy thesis of the company. This suits him just fine. (a spies au!)

If not by faith then by the sword by Flyguys E | M/M | 3.2k The first time Sam glimpsed him, Lord Doyle was lounging at the side of the training grounds, sharp eyes watching all the would-be knights sparing. Sam is a weapon learning how to be tender in Ben’s hands; A Knights AU

Don't Eat a Glowworm by huntedbybenforsport E | F/M M/M | 5k At 25 years old, after 9 years in the business and 3 years hunting alone, Adam Chase was beating the odds. If there was one thing he was good at, it was surviving. Age, on the other hand, had stopped applying to Ben a long time ago. If there was one thing he was good at, it was killing. But really, what's the difference?

holding it together by idleflower Teen | M/M | 8k He wasn't distracted. His eyes were still on the road. There was nothing he could have done - but he would still wonder, later, if that brief thought about McDonald's might have made the difference. Because in that moment, without warning, another car turned directly in front of him, plowing right into the hood of his car. --- Sam's hurt and Ben has to take care of him, but getting Sam to accept care isn't always easy.

girl problems, no problems by vincisor E | Multi | 4k Ben had always been a menace with his oral fixation and penchant for biting, but ever since Sam's tits had finally started developing, he'd somehow gotten worse.

fools of all kinds by callabang M | M/M Multi | 1.5k The best part of being a jester was, of course, the little hat. The second best part was riling up the knights.

bunny mode activated by ten_nine_eight M | M/M | 1.9k V/O Sam: Bunny Mode Activated. Purchase and wear a set of bunny ears. You must send a photo to the seekers of you wearing the bunny ears. After you send the photo, the seekers are required to obtain a fox costume before asking their next question. You will earn an extra half hour bonus if you keep your bunny getup on for the rest of the game day.

 “As Samuel Denby would say, we are s-s-s-s-so back.” Ben pulls a card in Hide and Seek that triggers a new game mechanic for the players eyes only.

we only lose a little by night_night42 M | Multi | 6.4k This would be incredibly easy for any other person on Earth. Unfortunately for Adam, he isn’t any other person on Earth. He's not even human. With all this pressure on him to not get found out, it’s no wonder his anxiety levels are so much higher than a human’s. If Sam and Ben knew about this, they would understand why he did everything he did. adam is an alien, and also in love with his coworkers. it's a bit messy

Freaky Friday by Flyguys E | M/M Multi | 15k “Ben?” Adam sounded pretty worried. Well, shit. That got Ben immediately into damage control mode. “Yeah Adam, you called me, what happened? You alright? You need me to come over?” Ben hit the speakerphone option so he could get dressed, sitting up in the bed. “Ben I didn’t call you, I called myself. And this isn’t Adam.” Ben froze. AKA the body swap au

protective lies by ninja_assassin E | M/M | 3.8k It started when Adam’s trial period was coming to a close.

for fox's sake by ten_nine_eight M | M/M | 1.2k Sam could hear the dogs behind him as he sprinted through the woods. He had forgone clothes, as he usually did at the estate, but was starting to regret it as branches scraped his arms. He had been running for what felt like hours now, and the dogs had just caught up. If the dogs were close, then Ben and Adam had to be right behind. Ben and Adam go fox hunting but Sam is the fox

With Golden Thread by idleflower Gen | M/M | 2.1k He let his hands sink into Sam's soft blond locks and then pulled them back slowly, gently parting the strands as they slid between his fingers. As it all came loose, he fluffed it up again, thinking about the texture. It would be fun to curl Sam's hair a little, but that was too big a step for the moment.

learn to listen by ten_nine_eight E |  M/M | 1.7k Sam is incredibly frustrated with Ben's seeming lack of care for the game and decides to take it out on him. “What does that even-” Ben was cut off again as Sam shoved him down. His knees buckled and he collapsed onto the floor of the train bathroom, face turned upwards by Sam’s fist in his hair. Ben tried to get back to his feet, but Sam’s grip and leverage made it impossible. “Sam, you’re not going to do this, right? Right?”

dizzy on dreams by night_night42 E | Multi | 3.5k

“Was he hard?” Ben whispered. “Just from you leaning on him?” “I don’t think it was me,” Adam said, mind still racing. What the fuck had his life turned into? “I think it was the plane.” sam might be into transport, adam and ben need to get to the bottom of this

Orient Express by whitchbhitch E | M/M | 2.5k They'd talked about CNC beforehand, had safe words like always. Sam hadn't been worried about it before they'd started--he's not good at more complicated role-plays, can't improvise the way Ben and Adam can, so normally he plays someone who doesn't really talk that much. To him, it's basically just regular sex while Adam and Ben riff with each other. No biggie. And this one wasn't any different. Why would it be any different?

The Samuel Denby Picture Show by huntedbybenforsport E | Muti | 14k Sam Denby did not like musical comedies. He did not like performing in front of crowds. He did not like sharing details of his sex life with his colleagues. Ben and Adam didn't set out to change all that, but maybe that's just the power of the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

[timdrakelvr]

Weekend at Bernie’s

synopsis: you dress up as Bernie for Halloween, see this post

warnings: mention of sex, little to no cursing, no other triggers apply

status: unfinished—I’ll finish it later

“Hey.”

“Hey—what are you wearing?” Tim asked, adjusting his fake mustache. It was Halloween night, and you had decided to drag him to a party. He was less than enthusiastic. But when you mentioned he could bring Kon—or Conner Kent, as you knew him—he agreed. He did suspect that you had only added that because you knew he would say yes.

“I’m Bernie.” You said confidently, adjusting your own fake mustache. His blank expression gave you pause, now you weren’t so confident. “…from Weekend at Bernie’s?”

Tim blinked.

“Did your parents not show you Weekend at Bernie’s? Two guys that work together visit their boss’s house. And their boss, Bernie, is dead. And they pretend he’s alive for the weekend. A woman has sex with Bernie’s corpse. Kids bury him in the sand. He wears sunglasses and this exact outfit.” You were shocked. Appalled even. You’d known his parents weren’t great, but you didn’t know they had denied him an education. This was unacceptable.

“Anyways, Conner will be here soon. And then we can go to the party.” Tim said after a moment, standing up from his desk and stretching his arms.

You snorted the second you saw his costume. “Luigi?”

“I like green, Bernie. And at least people can recognize what I’m supposed to be.”

You were offended, such cruel words shot from his mouth to your heart. You gasped, clutching your nonexistent pearls. “How dare you Timberly. How. Dare. You.” He raised an eyebrow in response as if to say “am I wrong?” He wasn’t. He never was. Not that you would stop trying to prove him wrong.

You huffed indignantly at his look, brushing off the cruel words from your cerulean jacket that remained unbuttoned. You had clearly put effort into the costume. Finding clothes that Tim knew to be out of fashion for decades. A baby blue and white thick-striped shirt, a cerulean Jean jacket, white khakis, and round circle hippie sunglasses. You’d even put a wig and a fake mustache on.

“So, where is this party, Bernie?” He asked, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“Nope. No party. I’ve decided, we need to sit and watch this movie.”

“What about Conner?”

“What about him? He’ll have to sit and watch with us.”

“…Are you sure? I want you guys to be friends but…”

“But what?” You asked, eyes looking anywhere but directly at Tim.

“He thinks you don’t like him. I think you don’t like him.”

“I don’t know him well enough to dislike him.” A crappy excuse. But you didn’t know how to explain to your best friend that his best friend made your skin crawl. Conner made you sweat. He made you tense. Aware of everything yet feeling like you know nothing. He wasn’t hiding something. You were sure about. Sure, Tim and his family were also hiding something, but at least they felt right. They felt human. Conner… didn’t. Not completely at least. He put you on edge.

“Fine. You don’t want to know him well enough.” Tim corrected with an irritated tone. You knew it had to hurt. Tim’s best friend just refused to get to know his other best friend.

“I… I’ll try tonight.” You said after a moment, offering him a small smile. He hummed un response and you took that as a chance to escape the conversation. You grabbed his hand and pulled him out of his room and down the stairs. Right before you got to the movie room—literally an at home theater, rich people are crazy—Conner arrived.

You felt it before you heard it. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Then you heard the door opening. Alfred didn’t greet him. He wasn’t even here. He was accompanying Damian and Jon—he gave you the same feeling that Conner did—while they went trick or treating. Jon’s suggestion, of course. You were secretly grateful that Damian wasn’t present. He was a cute kid but you always felt like he was just barely keeping from cursing you and your bloodline. He spoke like a Victorian child.

Conner walked into the room, already picking up on your discomfort. “Hey,” he said with what you just barely identified as confusion in his eyes.

“Wassup. Duuude…” Fuck. You were so fucking awkward right now. You slapped on what you hoped was a friendly grin. You looked like someone had a gun to your head.

Conner was dressed like Superboy. And… it kind of suited him…? “Superboy?” You asked, tilting your head curiously. He hummed and you nodded, “suits you.”

He looked genuinely surprised. And so did Tim. This was the first interaction where you weren’t treating him like a leper. “Thanks.” He said, still wide-eyed.

“Well, c’mon, we’re gonna watch Weekend At Bernie’s,” you said, pulling Tim towards the theater, glancing back at Conner.

— — —

So this is like totally unfinished, I’ll finish it later if I want to

tag list: @youallneedkopernik

[actual-changeling]

The Metatron's outfit obviously has meta reasons/the costume department and Neil decided on it for a reason, but I think that there are also in-canon ones we should talk about more.

Now, the thing most people notice immediately is the colour—angels were whites, beige, light colours that match the job and heaven's sterile whiteness. His, on the other hand, is black, a colour usually associated with hell and demons.

As a small meta reason side note: I do not think that they chose the colour to signal that he is a demon and broke them up because he has Big Evil Plans because that goes against everything Good Omens is about. The Metatron is at the top of heaven's hierarchy and only subservient to God (assuming She is actually still involved), he can have bad intentions and universe-destroying plans as an angel, the whole point is that the angel/demon dichotomy is an ideological fantasy.

Why did the Metatron himself choose that outfit though? One would assume that he would have the most pristine white clothes possible, but every single time we have seen him so far, he has been a floating head without a body.

So before he came to earth, he actively made a decision to dress the way he did. We also know that he did his research on Aziraphale and Crowley, hence his knowing that Aziraphale consumes human food and getting that coffee. The entire situation was the Metatron creating the most beneficial set-up for his plan—to convince Aziraphale to come back to heaven with him.

He knows Aziraphale likes food, but what else does he like?

Crowley.

The person we see wearing exclusively black and dark colours.

Give Aziraphale a coffee, make his subconscious associate the Metatron with Crowley based on his clothes, sweet-talk him and lie to get him attached, and then offer him everything he could have ever wanted—heaven, the ability to change heaven, and Crowley and him being angels together.

Just like his off-hand mention about consuming food, the black suit is also meant to make him seem 'other', someone who—just like Aziraphale—doesn't really fit in with all the other angels. Aziraphale sees all of that, and the conclusion he comes to is the following:

The Metatron, the Guy In Charge is like me! He understands me, and we're both different, but he still wants me to be the Supreme Archangel. It IS possible to break some rules and still be a Good Angel, I was worried for nothing, everything is fine, and he will even revise the mistake of Crowley's fall.

Consequently, Aziraphale accepted the offer and didn't even think further than his own moral qualms finally being resolved, which is exactly what the Metatron wanted.

I think he vastly underestimated their relationship though—Aziraphale almost changes his mind—but overall it was a complete, clean success for him.

For my part, I am incredibly curious if he will keep the black suit in season three, turn back into a head, or change into white/lighter clothes. Now that he has Aziraphale where he wants him, he can dial down the persuasion and manipulation techniques.

[lenalenouilleisblogging]

2024 feminist movie retrospective ~ day 13

Hello and welcome back to the retrospective ! I was on a break due to being dead unfortunately. Let's get back into it by talking about something fun. This was originally a rapid fire review, but i had too much to say so it's getting promoted. Not putting a dark content warning on this one because it's pretty tame, but keep in mind that there's still.... death and stuff (like with my Memory review, some images' descriptions are additional comments! Please read them!)

Watched : May 18th at my city's main theater. The showing was pretty packed.

The Planet of the Apes franchise is super important to me. Yeah yeah, "fork found in kitchen" i know. I'm a furry so i must love the talking ape films. And.... yeah, i guess ? I guess it maybe all comes down to the fact that ever since i was a tiny autistic baby girl i fantasised about being a non-human creature and biting and running on all fours and howling... I did all these things by the way. The other kids never liked me for some reason... Yes. watching these films makes me fantasise about swinging through trees and eating bugs off my friends' hair. But i also happen to be a sci-fi fan and overall film freak, as well as a zoology enthusiast who lovessss primates. So strap in, it's yapping time.

The Planet of the Apes IP started with a french novel by author Pierre Boulle in 1963 (the same guy who wrote The Bridge over the River Kwai 10 years before) which was adapted into a very popular USAmerican science-fiction movie in 1968. The movie did a fairly good job of changing necessary things for a new medium while keeping the original political message of the book, and it was a huge commercial success. The film then got 4 sequels up to 1973. The sequels are all original stories but try to stay coherent with the themes and values of the book. The movies have incredible soundtracks and sound design, beautiful costumes and makeup for all the ape performers (tho unfortunately the budget got cut very harshly with each sequel so by the end of the series the costumes were kept together with plastic tape and prayers 😭), great camera work and fantastic dialogues. These movies and the novel that inspired them are staples of modern sci-fi that are still remembered for their strong anti-racist message and bleak, pessimistic themes.

The franchise then got a reboot in 2001 with a new film by Tim Burton. The story was this time completely removed from the book and its themes and presented itself purely as a reimagining of the films rather than an adaptation of the novel. The story was then supposed to continue in sequels but the film was such a flop on every level that thankfully, they were never made. The film had good music and good costume and makeup work but apart from that, honestly nothing was salvageable. One of the worst stories i've had the displeasure of witnessing on the big screen. Poor Pierre Boulle had just died less than 7 years ago, Tim Burton could have just went to his grave and pissed on it. That would have been less of an insult.

POTA was then rebooted again in 2011 with Rise of the Planet of the Apes, which spawned two sequels: Dawn of the Planet of the Apes in 2014 and War for the Planet of the Apes in 2017. That trilogy was a complete story by itself, but a sequel and the start of a new trilogy came out last year with Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes, the movie that interests us today.

So what exactly happens in this story? Well in the first series, (please keep in mind that i am massively oversimplifying here, and not going over certain details for the sake of time and to not spoil you) a group of human astronauts led by George Taylor crash on a planet where evolution has taken a very different path. Humans are wild animals incapable of speech and are hunted for sport and science by gorillas, orangutans and chimpanzees, the superior species of the planet. They talk, wear clothes, live in houses, you get the picture. When it is revealed to the apes that our main character Taylor can speak, it creates a massive moral debate for their society. Taylor tries to survive and make sense of it all, helped by a couple of friendly chimpanzee scientists, Zira and Cornelius.

Some of the sequels show the aftermath of this first contact between two dominant evolved species, while some take a look back at how this world came to be. I'm not gonna spoil any of that because i think everyone should watch these films, i strongly recommend them. Similarly to my beloved Star Trek the Original Series which was airing around the same time, these films are as much about sci-fi concepts as they are about metaphors and satires. And they do that extremely well. They're very smart, purposeful and well thought-out films that will make you think. If you're a reader, i actually recommend starting with the novel ! It is widely available and very easy to find on pdf. It's also fairly short.

In the 2001 movie, uuuuh.... Things.... Happen. It's trying to redo the story of the first film while missing its point, so not great. It also thinks it's automatically more interesting to add more twists everywhere and uh... Yeah, don't watch it.

The "modern" trilogy started in 2011 was a massive story shift for this franchise. For the first time, the main character is an ape. For the first time, apes are played by motion capture performers with the help of CGI, and not by people in costumes. And you can also see the cultural shift in how we write sci-fi stories. These new movies are less about the metaphor and more about down to earth, realistic concepts treated completely seriously. In the first series (without spoiling too much) everything was based on a strange time travel paradox. Here, it's about a scientist who, in trying to heal his father's alzheimer, accidentally dooms humanity.

Well maybe you need a few more details. Even if I don't want to spoil. Sure. Basically in the last trilogy (once again please remember that i am oversimplifying) this scientist tested his cure on a chimp, not knowing that she was pregnant. That resulted in Caesar, the chimp baby that the scientist ends up adopting, being abnormally smart. The cure turns out to be dangerous for humans but unfortunately it escapes the lab. This new virus makes ALL apes very smart👍 and most humans very dead👎. As the years/decades pass, the apes become even smarter and the few remaining humans, whose society is already far beyond collapsing, start to develop a side-effect, they lose their ability to speak. That trilogy has some major plot-holes and story problems, but is overall extremely good in my opinion. It's a very different, more action-packed (tho never as action packed as any trailer suggested, they are overall pretty calm films) vibe but i strongly recommend it as well if these themes interest you. It's not devoid of depth or social commentary, and the character of Caesar might be one of the most iconic movie heroes of the last 20 years.

Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes picks off where the previous trilogy left off. 300/400 years after the pandemic, humanity has now been almost wiped out and apes are the earth's ruling "species". So yeah, almost like the original film series. We follow Noa, a young chimpanzee from a tribe of fishers who live in harmony with eagles. One night, his whole clan gets destroyed/kidnapped by an army of unknown apes. Noa is the only one who made it out and leaves with his father's eagle Sun to find his family. He will soon discover that his clan wasn't the only one targeted, as a powerful ape tyrant who calls himself Proximus Caesar is looking for slaves and followers. During his travels, Noa meets a human woman called Nova who surprisingly, is able to speak. The two of them work together to try and take down Proximus.

I have to say, I'm sold on this new trilogy. The story looks way more solid and original than the previous trilogy, it was very engaging from beginning to end, it had unexpected twists and great moments of drama. The acting is very good, the film is beautifully lit and it has a great sense of flow, i wasn't bored for a single second. But i mean... HOW could you be bored while looking at that?!

The motion capture animation looks crazy good, but I expected nothing less from Weta Digital. I am a fan of this kind of effect, i could watch movies like this all day, this shit hypnotises me it looks sooo good. These apes look real !!! The way the actors and animators mix anthropomorphised behaviours with simian body language is insane!!!! THIS IS MY CRACK COCAINE GIVE ME MOOOORE

While i had the time of my life watching this, and i thought it was one of the best big budget projects of the years, two things bugged me.

First: In the previous trilogy, Caesar had a weirdly humanised face, but it was kinda justified by the lore. It wasn't a 100% normal chimp, something had happened to him in utero. Here it's just weird. Noa looks weirdly too human compared to the rest of the ape cast. It feels like they're doing this to make us relate to the character more but hasn't the previous trilogy proven that this isn't needed?? Spectators got really attached to characters who were not humanised at all (wasn't Maurice everybody's fave??), it's just weird. I love this franchise because I love the apes. I don't want them to look like weird hybrids. Do they think apes NEED to be as humanised as possible to be good heroes? Are they ape racist? What is going on?! I will only take this criticism back if it's revealed in the sequel that Noa is a descendent of Caesar or something. Because they kinda look alike. But also i don't want them to do that because Caesar had his time in the spotlight for 3 movies and not everything needs to be about him. Even if he was really hot for some reason.

My second and BIGGEST criticism is this : The first POTA movie came out FIFTY-SIX YEARS AGO. You know what we still haven't improved AT ALL? When we put human female characters in post-apocalyptic movies, we make their hair greasy and we put some dirt on their face and we call it a day. The woman in this movie has perfectly plucked eyebrows and shaved pits. I'm pretty sure if we ever saw her legs those would be shaved as well. I'M TIRED OF THIS SHIT. "b-but the lore" i hear some say. I don't care! I don't care how advanced her group is, have you seen the world she lives in?? I cannot feel immersed in this universe when i look at her!!

And the worst part is that this character is fucking great ! She's complex, she's interesting, she opens up this franchise to brand new themes and questions and the acting of the actress is great, but WHY on Earth does she look like that?! I mean, i know why. Because if female characters stop being fuckable for like 1 second the economy collapses or something. *sigh*

I really hope i wasn't the only person pissed off by this. I mean a few people liked my comment so i guess they agree. I hope this... gets fixed in the sequel. I hope eventually we stop treating great female characters like pretty faces first and foremost. I'm about to find whoever started telling women to shave and stab him, watch me create my own time travel paradox. Fuuck.

While as you can see, this film kinda pisses me off because of this one element, it also gets the Léna seal of approval ! It's one of the best of 2024! I really hope i made you want to discover the Planet of the Apes if you haven't seen them already. I recommend all of them except the 2001 version, and i would love to write more about them on this blog at some point. Maybe i could talk about feminist themes in the original series. You've probably noticed that this post was more of a general endorsement of the franchise as a whole rather than one of this film specifically. Anyway ! I OBVIOUSLY don't recommend starting with this one. If you're interested in this modern version, start with the one from 2011 ! And then come tell me what you thought ^W^ Here's a link to the trailer of this new one.

Final rating : OWOWHATSTHIS/10

[in-my-loki-feels]

💕 President Loki + Don

Welp, once again I went a little overboard. 😅 But this one is a sick fic, a Halloween fic, and an ask prompt fill all in one so it's okay if it's a little long, right? Inspired by your drawing of sick, blanket burrito Loki. ❤️

ETA: Look at this blanket burrito President Loki!! Thank you for immortalizing him in his pathetic misery. 🤣💚

💕 kissing somewhere other than lips

Pride goeth before the fall and Don was looking at a prime example of it. The huddle of blankets on the couch shook with another series of coughs, followed by a not-very-productive sounding sniffle.

“No better, huh?” Don said, standing beside the couch. The medicine had been a shot in the dark, given he knew nothing about Loki’s physiology. 

A face appeared within the swath of blankets, eyes narrowed and nose red. The glower Loki leveled at him could have peeled paint from the wall. He opened his mouth—probably to deliver some scathing reply—but another coughing fit hit him. It had barely let up when Loki suddenly sat up, flinging off the blankets. 

“Enough!” he snapped. “How can a mere human ailment affect me so? This is absurd!” His fury was somewhat dampened by his consonants being so congested.

He swayed and Don caught his shoulder to keep him upright. 

“I don't know what to tell you, babe. Even the Martians fell to plain ol’ bacteria.” 

“What? And don't call me that,” Loki added mulishly. He normally let the endearment slide but being sick apparently brought out his petulance. 

“Not an H.G. Wells fan?” Don teased. He took his hand away once he was sure Loki wouldn't fall over and picked up the couch pillows that had been shoved to the floor. “It really does help to sleep propped up.”

“It wasn't comfortable,” Loki muttered and sniffled again. He started to pull the blankets back around him. 

Don plucked a couple tissues from the box on the coffee table and reached for Loki's nose. Loki jerked back. 

“I am not a child!” A hand emerged from the blanket cocoon to snatch the tissues. He blew his nose noisily.

No, but you're acting like one. Don kept that thought to himself. It was a true sign of how out of it Loki must be feeling when he didn't notice. Loki usually read Don like an open book, picking up every cheeky comment he thought but didn’t voice. 

“Have you never been sick before? Not even as a child?” Don knew Loki considered himself all-powerful, but he could be hurt—even almost mortally injured—so illness had to be a thing back on Asgard. 

Loki had slumped against the couch arm with his eyes closed, breathing shallowly. He was quiet long enough that Don thought he’d fallen asleep. Then he sighed. 

“As a child, yes. Occasionally.” He opened his eyes but seemed to be looking through the floor instead of at it. “My mother cared for me until I was better.” 

Don could see Frigga playing nursemaid well, as kind and gentle as she had been. 

“Well, good news: I have lots of experience with this. The kids are constantly bringing home some new form of crud.”

Loki’s gaze darted to Don, a flash of alarm in his eyes before he masked it. Don wondered if, in the future, Loki was going to vanish whenever one of the boys got sick. 

“Why don’t I make you some soup, and…” He trailed off, looking up at the ceiling as he heard raised voices from upstairs. There were two loud slams as the argument continued. 

“You said you were gonna be Zeus!” 

“And you said you’d be Iron Man!” 

The squabbling grew louder as the boys came down the stairs. Don hurried to meet them by the door. 

Both boys were dressed in full body costumes printed to look like a three-piece suit, complete with a red and blue “vote” pin. It wasn’t very realistic, but what could you expect from a mass-produced “Mr. President” costume. Both were also wearing a plastic set of horns with elastic bands that went around their heads to keep the horns in place. The black stood out against the boys’ blond hair. 

“He copied me!” Sean said, shoving his brother with his shoulder. 

“Nuh-uh! It was my idea first!” Kevin replied, pushing back. 

“Come on, don’t fight,” Don said, and lowered his voice. “You know Loki isn’t feeling well.” 

They both sent guilty looks towards the living room. Loki was hidden behind the couch’s back, but he had been there since they went upstairs to change. 

“Can we show him our costumes?” Sean asked. Kevin added puppy eyes to the request. 

“Only if you stop fighting about it,” Don said. The boys shared annoyed glances and then sighed. 

“Fine,” Kevin muttered. 

Don ushered them around the couch to find Loki had disappeared into the huddle of blankets again. Hopefully he hadn’t fallen asleep. 

“Hey Loki, the boys wanna show off their Halloween costumes if you’re feeling up for it,” he coaxed. 

The pile of blankets wriggled a little and then parted so Loki could peer out. He blinked and then his scowl deepened. 

“Atrocious,” he croaked. 

Don felt a half-second of regret, mixed with worry about how his sons would react, and then his heart stopped when green light enveloped both boys. It was gone in the next instant, but Don’s heart almost shot out of his chest before he saw the boys were still there. He knew Loki had come to care for them, but he was more crabby than ever with this cold and history had shown how quickly Loki lashed out when in a bad mood. Don could tell their outfits had changed and moved around them to get a better look.

The one-piece costumes were gone, transformed into identical full three-piece suits, complete with bright green vests and matching ties. The toy crowns now looked exactly like Loki’s, solid and gleaming gold, mysteriously staying in place without any band around the back of the head. 

Sean and Kevin looked at each other, realized what had happened, and let out identical shouts of joy that made Don wince. 

“Thank you, Loki!” Kevin said, almost a screech. 

Don caught them both by the shoulder before they could tackle Loki with hugs. 

“You can thank him tomorrow when he’s feeling better, okay?” He steered his sons towards the front door. “Now, you’ve got your bags?” They both held up their Halloween-themed shopping bags. “Good. Go straight to Devon’s house and don’t give his mom any trouble tonight, got it? Or I’ll confiscate all the candy when you get home.” He fixed them both with stern looks.

“Yes, Dad,” Sean said, rolling his eyes. “I still don’t see why we can’t go on our own.” 

“Because your dad is an old fart who worries,” Don said, and was relieved when they giggled at the remark. Next year, Sean would be old enough to probably push back more, but he was grateful they were behaving now. “Have fun! Tell Ms. Anderson I said hi.” 

He watched from the doorway until they were halfway down the street. It looked like they might have started squabbling again, but once they started collecting candy, it’d be fine. Don almost wished he was the chaperone this year, to see people’s reactions when they opened their doors and found twin mini President Lokis on their front step.

He started to close the door and spotted the bowl of candy waiting for the trick-or-treaters to arrive. He always gave out candy, whether the boys were with him or not, and he’d bought plenty in preparation this year. There was another sneeze from the living room, followed by a string of irritable cursing. 

Don flicked the porch light on, then stepped out to leave the bowl on the chair by the door. It was even odds whether the first kids to arrive would dump the whole thing into their bags, but he had a more pressing issue to deal with. 

He shut the door and went back into the living room. Loki’s face was still visible, his eyes closed as he leaned back against the couch’s arm. 

“Is that all I am now? A mere caricature?” Loki muttered. “It barely even looked like me.” 

“Kids’ costumes are like that,” Don said. “Do you want that soup now?” 

“No,” Loki said, turning his head away and sniffling. He really did look miserable. After a moment, he heaved a big sigh that almost turned into another coughing fit. “Fine.” 

Don smiled, then leaned down to press a kiss to Loki’s forehead. Loki opened his eyes, his expression turning pleading as he tilted his chin up. Now Don was the one to sigh, but he dutifully pressed a kiss to Loki’s lips. If this cold was going to get him, he supposed it would’ve kicked in by now. 

Loki’s red cheeks and nose hadn’t changed, but he looked slightly mollified by the kiss. 

“I’ll come back with some soup and ginger ale, okay?” 

“Ale?” Loki said, frowning. Any further questions were stalled by him turning his head to cough into the blankets. Don brushed some of his hair out of his face and resisted the urge to call him adorable. It’d only make Loki more cranky. 

“You’ll see. Hang tight until I come back.” 

Loki nodded, closing his eyes once again. Don half-expected him to be asleep when he came back, but that wasn’t a problem. The soup could be reheated and he’d drink the ginger ale himself. 

As he headed into the kitchen, he thought again about Sean and Kevin’s costumes. Now that they’d had upgrades, courtesy of Loki, there was no way they’d go back to the cheap store-bought kind, or even something homemade. But would Loki help out if it wasn’t about improving his own image?  Guess we’ll find out next year, Don thought, and smiled to himself as he heated up the soup.