#its either buddie

[poughkeepsies]

the thing about the love interests is that ultimately (like tim has said before re: LS) when you're writing a show about first responders it's hard to include anyone who ISN'T a first responder in a really substantial way because it's just. not the nature of the show. the only (adult) regular to not be a FR in six seasons was michael and even then the personal plots that were "his" (coming out, getting cancer, etc) were mostly about how they impacted athena and bobby and the grant-nash family dynamic as a whole (and I would argue that the writers have even been struggling to incorporate dispatch into the action over the past couple seasons too). so if we want love interests that have the potential to be multi-faceted with their own significant storylines then they need to be FRs as well. and that's why luck 🍀 can should must and will win thank you for coming to my ted talk

you're so fucking right and this is literally the exact reason why I wrote luck truthers (population: britt) were the only ones right all along I just didn't explain my train of thought

[bloominglegumes]

i love normal guys doomed by the narrative

[ciderjacks]

despite Laios low self esteem making him think that if he’d been eaten, Chilchuck and Marcille wouldn’t have helped Falin,

theres a small part of me that thinks the reason Chilchuck stayed with the party and went back in the dungeon in the first place was because he didn’t want to leave Laios alone. That Laios was moreso the reason he stayed.

[fauvester]

“because I’ll split this world open and tear down the sky before I let him come to even the slightest harm”

[moeblob]

North and Simon: (shaking hands on killing Simon potentially)

[nonbinoclard]

they could never make me hate you, miss oranje

[stagefoureddiediaz]

As so many of you are filling my inbox asking about salad and why I found the fact they had two types of salad for dinner in the Buck and Tommy dinner scene so funny, I'm guessing you're new to the 911 fandom - Welcome if so! I am going to give you a very brief rundown of salad and Buck and Eddies various relationships, but @clusterbuck is actually the keeper of salad theory and you can find far more detailed analysis over on her blog than you’re getting from me here!!

I can't find gif of the actual salad moments so have pictures!!

Chris smashed salad bowl that he is making a salad in with his dad in season 4 (in Breaking point) - when he finds out about Ana being the person Eddie is dating.

We have Ana turn up at the firehouse with Chris during the black out in 5x02 with 5 - yes 5 - types of salad When Eddie has his second on screen panic about Ana - when Ravi mistakes her for his wife.

Then in 5x03 just before they break up - Eddie, Chris, and Ana are at the dining table in the Diaz house and they are eating fruit salad

Then in 5x05 we have Taylor with her prepackaged fruit salad breakfast the she has 'made' for Buck when he gets home

she is making a bean salad in 5x09 during the most awkward I love you scene in the history of television!

Then we have a caprese salad in front of Natalia during the Dinner Buck cooked for her in 5x17 - when she finds out about various aspects of Bucks past and present - Taylor on the tv and Kameron turns up

Then in 7x07 - when Eddie is daydreaming of a do over with Shannon during his lunch with Marisol they are eating a salad

then we now have Buck and Tommy eating two different types of salad (a pasta salad and a salad salad) on their dinner date

so basically it's become a bit of a running joke that if salad is involved with Buck or Eddie and one of their dates (especially in their own homes) , the relationship is doomed!

[sforzesco]

TRY AGAIN LATER

it's like. well. its several things.

(Plutarch's Crassus, trans. Warner)

and also this

(ibid.)

that compliment sounds like an insult, baby.

anyway, there's a fun kind of eroticism in being given everything, in taking things that aren't yours without any real consequence, in climbing towards becoming a Roman Alexander, only for one man to deny you, over and over and over again, at every turn. Sulla tried, Crassus did it better. who would put a butcher in their place? who else knows you well enough to do it? who else can match you step for step like this? doesn't it feel like a kind of intimacy, a kind of—

it's also about the 'even sulla kissed my sword/so you want me on my knees too?' innuendo was too good to pass up. that was actually the first line I wrote, I figured out the rest of this to justify making a comic with it

and finally! the sword line is referencing/playing off of Lucan's Pharsalia a little bit because it fucks hard

(Lucan's Pharsalia, trans. Jane Wilson Joyce)

EDIT: oh, and that's a public domain anatomical illustration of a heart. you know how it is with love and hate.

[gayeddieagenda]

for your consideration… 🍻📽️😳 + 55: tracing the lines on the other’s hand

another scene prompt game! this one is for real long sorryyyyy. also it features the actual smallest amount of blood u can imagine, but it IS there. and it IS plot critical.

--

“You’re right,” Buck called. “They’re all Pokemon.”

“I’m really fine,” Eddie said.

Buck came back into the living room, box of band-aids and Eddie’s first aid kit—not the everyday one, the big one, from way in the back of the cabinet under the sink—in hand. Eddie didn’t even know how he’d known where to find that one. “No,” Buck said. “You’re getting Pokemon.”

Eddie pulled a face.

It really, really was not a big deal. It was a Friday night with no Christopher around—Denny and some mutual friends were doing a video game night and sleepover at the Wilson’s—so Buck had shown up at Eddie’s at seven with takeout from the banh mi place, the good one that he had to drive nearly to Chim and Maddie’s to get. Eddie swung the grocery store after dropping off Chris and picked them up plenty of beer—a pack of Buck’s usual brand and then a weird one, whatever seasonal flavor Eddie could find that he knew Buck would love trying just as much as he would hate actually having to drink it.

They ate at the dining room table, decanting the takeout onto real plates. After cleanup, they settled into the living room couch like they meant to stay there a while. Eddie made a show out of squabbling with Buck over the movie choice, before making just as much of a show out of giving in.

It was a Friday night. It was a well-worn routine, as comfortable as the old t-shirts Eddie had had almost as long as he’d had Christopher. Tonight was the same as every other night they’d had for the past six, seven years. It was pretty much Eddie’s definition of perfect.

Until—

Something happened with the bottle opener. Eddie still wasn’t sure what, only that he’d been trying to open the beer and watch the screen and talk to Buck all at once, and then suddenly something slipped and now he had a shallow scrape running the length of three knuckles on the back of his left hand, weakly leaking blood.

“Hand,” Buck said now. Eddie rolled his eyes, but did as he was told, holding out his hand to Buck.

Buck settled himself back on the couch next to Eddie. He took Eddie’s hand and set it gingerly in his lap. 

Gently, he pressed a cloth against Eddie’s knuckles. Three little spots of blood soaked slowly into it, each smaller than the last.

“See,” Eddie said. “It’s nothing.”

Buck ignored him. When he was satisfied the bleeding had stopped—in Eddie’s opinion, it had barely started—he got the Neosporin spray out of the first aid kit. After the Neosporin was on, it was Pokemon time. Eddie got a Pikachu, a Magikarp, and a round blue guy he didn’t recognize, carefully Tetris’d together to cover the scrapes around the ridges of Eddie’s knuckles.

“Will I make it?” Eddie said drily.

“Consider yourself lucky there was a firefighter in the house,” Buck said.

He was still holding Eddie’s hand.

Neither of them had bothered to pause the movie when Eddie started bleeding. On the screen, a car spun out of control dramatically, then exploded.

Buck turned Eddie’s hand in his, flipping it so his palm was facing the ceiling. His eyes were on the TV. Eddie almost could’ve convinced himself he didn’t realize he was doing it, fidgeting with Eddie’s hand the way he sometimes did with pens or a walkie-talkie at work, if it weren’t for how carefully he was touching Eddie.

Buck’s thumb found the soft center of Eddie’s palm. He ran his thumb up Eddie’s hand, following the curved line that outlined the meat of Eddie’s thumb. His touch was feather-light.

Eddie couldn’t help it. He shivered, and Buck looked up.

“Sorry,” Eddie said.

Buck’s nose crinkled. “I can stop,” he said, not moving.

“I, uh.” Another explosion on the screen, lighting the side of Buck’s face up in orange. “I don’t mind.”

The corners of Buck’s mouth lifted, a smile so small it could barely be called a smile.

He looked down at his lap, where he was still holding Eddie’s hand in both of his own. Eddie followed his gaze.

It was just Eddie’s hand. The lines across his palm showed up clear and mostly unbroken, which his abuela used to tell him meant something. Eddie couldn’t remember what. He had calluses on his palms, some from work, some from the gym. On his index finger, he had a thin scar, a relic of a kitchen chopping mishap when he was twenty.

Buck began moving his thumbs in small circles across Eddie’s palm. He started light, barely brushing Eddie’s skin, so gently that it was almost uncomfortable.

Eddie breathed in slowly through his nose and tried not to move.

When Buck dug his right thumb in a little deeper, right at the joints where Eddie’s fingers connected his palm, where his hands got stiff after a particularly long day, Eddie made a quiet, involuntary noise.

Buck looked up.

This, they didn’t do. They were physical with each other, always had been, in ways that Eddie never thought bore commenting on. They were on top of each other on the job, more often than they weren’t, squeezed in knee-to-knee in the truck and reaching over each other with practiced ease in the field. At home, they were even worse. Fridays had room for a lot of things—for knocking into each other in the kitchen when they cleaned up after dinner and tussling for the best seat on the couch. Elbows bumping together on the couch, hands brushing when Eddie handed Buck another beer. Sometimes, Buck fell asleep on Eddie halfway through the second movie, his head a heavy weight on Eddie’s shoulder. Sometimes, they fought over the remote, wrestling each other on the couch until one of them dragged the other all the way down to the living room rug.

Touching Buck—being touched by Buck—was nothing new to Eddie. This, though…

Eddie could feel the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. Eddie had an old feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach—the yawning sense that they were standing on the brink of something.

Somewhere in the back of Eddie’s head, he’d been waiting for something like this. For a moment, when all the things they’d been holding back between the two of them came bubbling up to the surface. He’d never said it outright, not even in his own head, but sometimes, Buck looked at him and Eddie just knew that something was coming. A breaking point. When Buck would look at him and Eddie would look back and they would both know—okay, now. here we go.

This, though—he wasn't sure this felt like it.

This was...this was nothing. This was a Friday night. This was pumpkin beer and Eddie's bandaged knuckles and the stupid action movie still playing on the TV. This was so totally, spectacularly unremarkable.

He’d thought, when it was time, that he would know. It would be something they couldn’t ignore. They both knew what it felt like to experience the world at scale. Earthquakes, tsunamis, fire and lightning. This wasn’t that.

If something as small as Buck holding Eddie’s hand was enough to break open this thing between them, it would’ve happened a long, long time ago.

Wouldn’t it?

Eddie looked down. Buck was still holding Eddie’s hand in his lap, his thumb making little aimless circles in the center of his palm.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asked.

Buck stilled. “I don’t know.”

Eddie tried again. “What, uh. What are we doing?”

Buck shook his head, wordlessly.

Eddie tilted his head back up to look at him. His eyes were huge in the half-light, the glow of the TV and the light from the hall he’d left on when he went looking for the first aid kit. They stared at each other for a long, drawn-out moment.

Then Buck giggled. The tension broke. And suddenly, Eddie wasn’t uncertain anymore.

He closed his hand around Buck’s. Eddie looked at him.

“Okay,” Eddie said quietly. “I’m just gonna…”

He leaned in, slow and deliberate, giving Buck all the time in the world to figure out where he was going with this. Buck didn’t move, didn’t pull away, didn’t blink. When Eddie kissed Buck, it was barely a kiss, putting his mouth on Buck’s as lightly as Buck had first touched Eddie’s hand.

Buck made a quiet noise into Eddie’s mouth and then they were kissing for real, Buck pressing into him almost hard enough to knock their teeth together.

It was a good feeling, kissing Buck, the kind of raw good feeling that Eddie couldn’t remember feeling in a long, long time. Maybe he’d never felt something quite like this. Eddie could get lost in this, he was pretty sure, in the closeness, in the feeling of Buck’s mouth opening under his, in the quiet noise Buck made when Eddie put his hand in the short hairs at the back of his neck.

When they finally separated, Buck’s face was flushed a bright red. Eddie had a feeling he looked about the same.

Eddie swallowed. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. “Was that okay?”

“No, it was awful,” Buck said. “What the hell do you mean, was it okay?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “We haven’t done that before, jackass,” he said. “I mean, should we talk about this?”

“Oh,” Buck said. “Sure.” He picked at the hem of his shorts with his free hand, the one that wasn’t still holding Eddie’s hand between them. His eyes flicked down to Eddie’s mouth and back up again. “We can talk, if that’s what you want to do.”

Eddie let out a sigh, faux-exasperated. “Shut up,” he said, and hauled Buck back into a kiss, both of them smiling into it.

They kissed and kissed and kissed. They didn’t stop when the movie credits started rolling or when the TV switched itself off automatically, the room darkening around them. They didn’t stop until Buck had kissed the scars on Eddie’s shoulder and the one on his wrist and the goddamn Pokemon band-aids across his knuckles and a lot of other places besides.

It was a Friday night. They’d had a lot of good Friday nights over the years. Eddie had a feeling this one was going to be pretty hard to beat.

[vyeoh]

ok how do I block tags on mobile because I'm lowkey sick of the 911 shipping war posts

[sanjoongie]

Testing the Theory

ღPairing: Director! Park Seonghwa x Professor of Dreams! Reader (f) x Professor of Battle! (General) Hongjoong

ღGenre: angst, smut

ღTrope: enemies to lovers, exes to lovers

ღAu: Modern Wizardry School au, Professors au, white and black magic au, army au

ღWord Count: 4,507

ღWarnings: magical somnophilia, sex dreams, restraints, pain into pleasure spell, dubcon (roleplaying, the dubcon/cnc is in the roleplay, there is not actual dubious consent), biting, marking, breast play, glove kink, mxm, jerking off, fingering, nipple play, edging, cuckolding, breeding kink, oral kink, penetrative sex with no barrier

ღRated: 18+ MDNI

ღSummary: you literally flee from the truth to stay away from a broken heart but nothing ever stops director park. that's why you may have put him to sleep, but will that really help you?

ღBeta’s: @downtoamagicalland

ღPlaying while writing: Man on Fire, because if that isn't Wizard Director! Hwa, i don't know what is

ღPrevious Part| ღMini Masterlist | ღNext Part

“Well well well, seems like I'm not the only one you like to rub into Wooyoung’s face. I'm wounded.”

You whined and buried your face deeper into the pillow. “Seonghwa, why are you yelling?!”

“Oh, believe you me, lover, I'm not yelling. Yet.”

You blinked blearily up at Seonghwa, whose face was a mask of slight amusement but his eyes burned dark. You quickly remembered drinking with Hongjoong and saluting your fallen comrades. And as it turned out, that ‘pillow’ you had been burying your face into was Hongjoong’s chest. 

“Good morning, Reaper,” Hongjoong said in a gravelly morning voice that made your stomach dip.

Seonghwa dipped his head in a cordial acknowledgement. “General.”

“What time is it?” You croaked.

“The sun has risen,” Seonghwa informed you.

“If I'm not late for class, why the hell are you here, Director Park?”

Seonghwa laughed, dry and sarcastic. “I was worried. After yesterday morning, I worried for you. Then I heard you took your last class off and I worried for you. Then I found out that Professor Kim had specially requested his Lieutenant to speak to his students. How cute. And then I overheard our very favourite student talk about how he was pretty sure the professor of dreams and the professor of battle had fucked. Imagine my surprise when I sent out a location demon and it brought me to this spot, this place, with you two cozied up like you never broke each other’s hearts.”

Hongjoong sat up, letting you slip away. “We didn't do anything, Seonghwa,” he insisted.

“Did she let you comfort her when she was hurting?” Seonghwa demanded quietly.

“We didn't fuck, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong insisted again.

Seonghwa’s eyes shone with an intensity that made your mouth dry. “I didn't ask that.”

You got out of bed and found your heels. “I didn't tell him about my dream,” you aimed at Seonghwa, well aware of what he was subtly referring to. 

“What dream?” Hongjoong snapped. He didn't understand the situation and it was fraying his nerves.

You raised an eyebrow at Seonghwa and he blew out a bit of his anger. “See? And so much for you being able to share,” you mocked the director.

“Now wait a fucking minute,” Hongjoong interrupted, his anger full blown now. 

“My apologies, General. It seems I've gotten my panties in a twist,” Seonghwa said dryly.

You made your way towards the door when Hongjoong called you out. “Where are you going?”

“I want something greasy to eat,” You said.

“Now you may be able to get away with not telling Seonghwa about your dream but I know better. You speak with your subconscious in your dreams. What has it been telling you?” Hongjoong asked.

“Nothing.”

Seonghwa sat down on the bed and crossed his legs. “She woke up with a gasp. She said she had a bad dream.”

“How bad, Lieutenant?” Hongjoong growled.

You swallowed. “I woke up. It's fine.”

Seonghwa’s eyes followed your back and forth like it was titillating. “What does that mean?”

“It means her dreams were always dangerous when we were at war. They usually told her just how much in danger she was. Except they also almost killed her. That's why she started sleeping with me. At first, it was for the sex, to stay awake. Later, it was because I never slept and could wake her in case the dreams became… violent. So I will ask you again, Lieutenant, how bad?”

“I couldn't breathe,” You admitted.

“Is that why you told me you needed some room to breathe?” Seonghwa questioned.

“If you're feeling the danger already…?” Hongjoong appeared deep in thought. “Does that mean we don't have much time?”

Your lie to Hongjoong was convenient at this moment. He never knew that your similar bad dreams about Hongjoong correlated with your heart and not the war. You didn't want either of them to know the truth.

“They're not violent yet,” You said hesitantly, “So there might still be time.”

“So you’re saying we need to start ensuring she shares a bed with one of us?” Seonghwa clarified towards Hongjoong.

You were almost at the door when Hongjoong snapped at you again. “You put one hand on that doorknob and I will have you on your back so fast you won’t know what happened,” Hongjoong growled at you.

There was the man that had been your Captain. You whipped around, feeling like a trapped animal at this moment. “I will push you so far into a dream that you won’t wake up until a century passes,” You snarled right back.

Seonghwa looked wary. “Can she do that?”

“Wanna find out?” You wet your lips, preparing for the spell that was on the tip of your tongue.

“Yes, Seonghwa, if she’s having violent dreams, she’s going to need some supervision,” Hongjoong opted to respond instead.

“Seonghwa can have one of his demon’s watch over me while I sleep,” You dismissed the notion immediately. You didn’t want that but you really didn’t need the alternative. The dreams were only going to get more violent if that happened.

Hongjoong’s wheels turned in his head and you didn’t like the way he was studying you. “You know for someone who was a part of the Intelligence Corp, you lie for shit, Lieutenant.”

“Well, excuse me for not wanting two men hovering over me like I’m a damsel in distress!”

“Lover…” Seonghwa looked wistful. “That’s not it.”

“Let her rage, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong shook his head. “Stubborn until the day she dreams forever, that’s the Lieutenant.”

Except Seonghwa never knew how to stop. Or maybe he did and refused to. Seonghwa always pushed until he was satisfied. 

The director stepped up to your form, his lanky body slightly looming over you. He curved a hand fondly over the side of your face. “Why couldn't you breathe in your dream?”

“I would like some food now, please. Even if it’s not Wooyoung’s.” You refused to meet Seonghwa’s gaze.

“You’ll get fed when you answer the question,” Seonghwa insisted softly but firmly.

“Then I’ll starve,” You muttered. “Am I free to go now, General?” You said Hongjoong’s title like it was an insult.

“You’re dismissed, Mistress of Dreams,” Hongjoong said with a sharp jerk of his chin. 

You ripped out of Seonghwa’s grasp and stomped down the stairs of the inn. 

“Have a happy--?” San’s eyes wandered after you and stopped talking suddenly. “Seonghwa, when did you get here?”

“I don’t understand!” Seonghwa called after you as your heels clipped along the stones towards the school. “Why is that dream so important for you to not tell me the details?”

“Let it go, Seonghwa,” You shouted back. 

For once, you wished you had Hongjoong’s speed.

“I won’t,” Seonghwa refused. “Why wouldn’t you tell me that your dreams could get violent like that?”

“It’s none of your damn business!” You refused to answer his questions.

“You, Mistress of Dreams, are starting to get on my nerves,” Seonghwa growled. “What do you mean it’s none of my business. I care about you!”

“That’s the problem!” You screeched. “Stop caring.”

“What’s wrong, Lover?” Seonghwa crooned. He practically stalked you, walking with his hands in his pockets, like you were prey and he a large cat. “Afraid you’ll catch feelings too?”

Not when that had already happened. “It’s annoying. It’s a weight I’d rather not carry.”

“Good thing I’m strong enough for the both of us then,” Seonghwa dismissed you within a moment's notice.

You were at your wits end. “No, Seonghwa, you are not strong enough for the two of us! You get hurt with every barbed phrase I send your way. You got jealous finding Hongjoong and I cuddling. You have left your heart open and vulnerable and it’s going to get ripped from your chest.”

“I get hurt but I can endure it! Because I--”

“You fucking say those words and I will resign!” You threatened.

That caused Seonghwa to actually pause. “You wouldn’t.”

“You have no idea how desperate I am right now,” You heaved.

Seonghwa’s face was stormy again. “It’s his fault isn’t it? He’s scarred your heart so badly that you don’t have room to heal. If I could go back in time and wring his scrawny little neck and steal you for myself--”

“Would you have killed me?” You interrupted him.

“...what?” Seonghwa’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Do you know how many of your comrades died because I ate their dreams and they never woke up? How do you know it wasn’t me that kept your beloved Captain in a dreamless state so that Hongjoong could kill her? I was integral to the war, Seonghwa. I could be dead at your hands if you had known who I was. Don’t speak of stupid what-if’s, they never help. I am in charge of my heart and I’m saying I don’t want you to have a piece of it.” You stared at Seonghwa as the sun filled the sky slowly but surely. 

“Let me watch over you as you sleep, Dreameater” Seonghwa begged.

The nickname you had acquired from your enemies almost slapped you in the face. “You are fucking tiring,” You spat. “Leave me alone, Director.”

“You're… more angry today. More angry than normal. Please, tell me something. Anything,” Seonghwa begged.

You sighed heavily. If Seonghwa wasn’t going to leave you alone then… drastic times call for drastic measures. 

You walked back towards where Seonghwa was standing behind you. You muttered the Chinese word for sleep, invoking the bedchamber goddess Chuángmǔ, and pressed two fingers to Seonghwa’s forehead. 

“Wha..?” Seonghwa mumbled and then fell asleep where he stood. 

You barely caught him before he slumped over, letting out a loud ‘oof’. “Could your shoulders be any broader?” You said to absolutely no one. 

You invoked next the Celtic Goddess Cerridwen, using some Welsh to command Seonghwa to walk. You kept a step behind him in case he stumbled, but you intended to walk him right to his bedroom and leave him there until he woke up the next morning. Maybe you’d even stop by Mingi’s office and let him know the director was down with a bad headache for the day. 

You steered Seonghwa all the way to his bed and it took but a slight push to his back and he collapsed onto his bed. You contemplate leaving him like that, just to make a point, but then that feeling of Nightmare Seonghwa suffocating you resurfaced and you shook your head. You did not need to be the reason that man died, despite the many times you had threatened him with it.

You climbed on the bed. You pushed and pulled to move the lanky man to his back, gasping and sweating at the labor. 

You looked down to admire your progress and then felt a pang in your chest. Whether it was from the guilt of using your powers selfishly or from the view below you, that was uncertain. But you pushed a strand of Seonghwa's hair out of his face nonetheless.

Somehow, without his ability to smirk and poke at you, he seemed younger, and more innocent, as he laid there sleeping. 

“Why must you be such a pushy, insufferable man?” You muttered to yourself.

Still, he was quite handsome, lying there, small puffs of air leaving those pink, plush lips. 

You already have gone this far… Maybe it was worth taking one more step and seeing what Seonghwa was dreaming about? That way he'd take you more seriously and stop pushing you so much.

You closed your eyes, still straddling Seonghwa on his bed and simply stepped into the other plane that was your playground. 

💭😴💤Inside Seonghwa’s dream💭😴💤

You couldn't help but stiffen as you took in the scene that you had opened your eyes to. You were well familiar with the layout of the Black Magic User’s encampment. The Dark tents that appeared more like a traveling circus than an army. You had been here many many times in many many dreams. But you had simply been an observer, not a participant. This time was different.

Goddamn it, Park Seonghwa, you thought to yourself.

You were in the tight, white uniform from your days in the civil war. You were ‘hanging’ in the air by the many demon hands Seonghwa had used on you before in his bedroom at Twilight Academy. You never actually supposed he used them on the enemy as a weapon--or a means of torture.

“Now, Lieutenant, I would like the answer to my question,” The Reaper purred as he stalked around you.

The white haired Director you had fallen into bed with was vastly different from the legend that Hongjoong had once defeated. This one had dark hair held in a bun at the top of his head. He sported the dark green uniform of the opposition. You had to admit, he still looked handsome in severe clothing. Perhaps the uniform was the reason he flaunted his fashion nowadays.

If you didn’t want Seonghwa to wake up, you now had to play into this fantasy. You sent a small prayer to Shai, the Egyptian god of fortune, to send good luck your way. You were going to need it. 

You painted a bored expression on your face. “I drowned you out ages ago, what is it that you’ve been bothering me about?”

Seonghwa took a step closer in his shiny black boots. “Give up your Captain to me and this charade can come to a close.”

It took everything in you to not roll your eyes. Of course he would be dreaming of this. 

“I’m loyal to The White Magic Users and to my Captain. You’ll never get me to turn, you despicable, high-handed, dirty--”

A demon hand suddenly clamped over your mouth, halting your plethora of negative adjectives. It didn’t surprise you that Seonghwa simply wanted to hear himself speak in his own dream. He often did that in the real world as well.

Seonghwa leaned in to whisper into your ear suggestively. “If you won’t willingly give up the information, I have other means of getting them.”

Goosebumps dotted your skin. You knew that Seonghwa would never harm you but this was a dream. There was a chance that Seonghwa could be so deep in his subconsciousness that he was reverting back to the days of the war. Perhaps--

“Means that I believe we will both enjoy,” Seonghwa continued. 

His demon's hands began to simultaneously undo the buttons for your high neck jacket and pull up your tight skirt. 

Oh god, you were trapped in a sex dream with The Reaper.

You struggled in your restraints but that only made Seonghwa smile amusedly. “Must you maintain the air that you don’t want this? Because I know you do.”

Seonghwa’s gloved hand moved to leisurely cup your mound and pressed against your hole through your underwear. When he brought his hand to his mouth and licked it, his smile bloomed into a grin. “See? Wet and ripe, just for me.”

Your muffled arguments dotted the air but Seonghwa deigned to keep the demon hand over your mouth. You had no one to curse but yourself, for being curious as to what exactly Seonghwa had been dreaming about. In your attempt to escape him and banish him to sleep you had effectively trapped yourself with him as well. You were an idiot.

The demon hands that had exposed you were now working on massaging both your breasts through your chemise under your jacket. You moaned against the demon hand still gagging you. Seonghwa’s eyes lit up at the sound. 

“Pretty noises for me already, Dreameater? I think I will very much enjoy playing with you.”

You glared daggers at Seonghwa but that only seemed to make his pupils blow. He physically grabbed your face and turned it to the side so he could lick a long strip along your neck. He moaned wantonly at the taste of the anger on your skin. Some things never changed. 

The reaper fell to his knees to lick and suck along the exposed skin of your stomach. He rolled his eyes upwards to look at you, as his tongue circumvented your belly button and moved lower. He nipped and sucked, making all kinds of marks on your skin. 

The demon hands pulled and tweaked your nipples into stiff peaks through your chemise. You couldn't help but press your thighs together, looking to relieve some pressure that was building there. That did not escape the Reaper’s notice. 

He clucked his tongue. “Now, we can’t have that. Do you need something, Lieutenant?”

Your lips pressed to a thin line even when the demon hand lifted from your face.. “I have nothing to say to you,” You insisted.

“No? That’s too bad,” Seonghwa said with pretend sympathy. 

His lips jumped over your scrunched up skirt and then he groaned loudly when he pushed your thighs apart and pushed his face into your underwear. 

“This is my favourite place to be,” He whispered to himself.

Why did this man have to be so obsessed with you? He made you want to break all the oaths you swore to yourself after the civil war ended. He wasn’t good for your heart. 

You were pulled from your inner turmoil when Seonghwa ripped your underwear right off your body. “Look at how wet you are for me, Lieutenant. Is your Captain not satisfying you?”

You turned your nose upwards. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Seonghwa shook his head. “Ah, still stubborn as always. Lucky for me, I know how to get you to sing.”

Seonghwa’s voice went deep as he called on Freyr, and when you saw a boat drift upwards, you knew you were in deep shit. Seonghwa was using the spell he had originally cast on you, the one that turned pain into pleasure.

Still, you had to play into your role. “What kind of black magic curse did you just cast on me?” You growled as you struggled in the hold of the demon hands. 

Seonghwa chuckled lowly and then bit into the flesh part of your thigh. You felt your lower half flood with desire and you whimpered at the pleasure one simple bite did for you. 

“Did you like that?” Seonghwa crooned. “Did that make you clench down on nothing? I can help you with that. You just have to tell me exactly where your Captain is and I can make you feel so good.”

“Never,” You said through gritted teeth.

Thus started Seonghwa biting into every inch of your left thigh, leaving teeth marks everywhere. And when he ran out of flesh, he only moved to the other thigh. You were eventually panting and desperate, whining at the desire that was thrumming through your body. 

His gloved hand ran along your folds, sweeping up any wetness that pooled there and then he sucked on his fingers. The motions did nothing for your desire for he didn’t enter your hole nor did he touch your clit. 

“Don't you want my gloved fingers inside of you, lover?” Seonghwa continued to tempt you in a sing-song voice. “Don't you want my glorious tongue exploring your folds? I know they warned good little magic users about us. They did it for good reason. We will give into all your baser desires. All you have to do is give up your Captain, and he'll trade places with you. He can be tortured and tempted while I make sweet love to your body.”

“Seong--seonghwa,” You whimpered pathetically. 

The Reaper stood tall in order to lean in so his ear was pressed up against your lips. “Tell me.”

You licked the shell of his ear and he shivered delicately from the motion. “Go. To. Hell,” You whispered.

Seonghwa let out a noise that was part laugh and part groan. “I thought I could break you. Oh well.”

Seonghwa’s voice went high and sweet as he called on Hermes. One second you were being held and groped by Seonghwa’s demon hands, and the next, you were in Seonghwa’s arms and Hongjoong was being held and groped by the demon hands.

Your eyes went wide at the view: the demon hands were pulling aside Hongjoong’s jacket only to grope and tug at his nipples. Another palmed him through his pants and massaged his balls. If Hongjoong appeared as an absolute wreck, then what was your fate?

“See, Lieutenant? See how he enjoys being tortured so? You needn't protect him from me. You were both made for me,” Seonghwa cooed as he pressed his cheek to yours, his stance behind you. 

Is this truly what Seonghwa wanted? Or was it his guilty pleasure? His way to work through his trauma from the civil war? Unless you actually asked him, you wouldn't get an answer, and even so, you were pretty sure he wouldn't give you a straight one.

You turned in Seonghwa’s grasp, and whimpered, “Mercy. Please, clemency for us both.” You made two fists in Seonghwa’s uniform.

Seonghwa smoothed his hands over your fists, flattening them against his chest. He smiled so fondly down at you, that you had a hard time keeping his gaze. “You know I’d do anything for you, lover.”

The demon hands stopped their motions on Hongjoong and he whined. “What’s going on?”

Seonghwa smirked. “Your lieutenant has asked for clemency.”

Hongjoong’s form trembled. “I want more.”

Seonghwa cocked his head. “The question is, what do you want, Lieutenant?”

It was your turn to tremble in Seonghwa’s arms. You could let go just this once, right? Just for this dream, so that Seonghwa’s conscience wouldn’t figure out this wasn’t his dream version of you but the real you invading his dreams. “If Hongjoong--”

Seonghwa clucked his tongue in disappointment. “What did I just say?”

“Seonghwa.”

“Yes, Lover?”

“Please…?” Your mouth was dry and your heart beat to a rhythm that you were sure wasn’t good for you. 

“What is it that you want?” Seonghwa purred.

“Please give us what we want.”

Seonghwa chuckled lowly. “Oh no, you’ll have to do much better than that.”

“Take me in front of Hongjoong and edge him with your demon hands,” You whispered.

Seonghwa shivered, you could feel it, from head to toe. “As you wish.”

Seonghwa turned you around, so that you could watch all the ways his demon hands were torturing Hongjoong. Hongjoong’s hips pushed against one hand that was fisting his cock. Another was behind him, fucking him full of demon fingers. Two hands massaged his chest, taking their time to flick his nipples when the time was right. Nothing muffled his cries, which was probably for the best, because the way that Hongjoong was panting with his tongue out had to be one of your favourite views of him.

They continued to molest your captain as Seonghwa plunged into you from behind. He kept one hand on your hip, keeping you in place so that he could fuck you, and then two fingers inside of your mouth. Your tongue swirled around his digits obediently. Your breasts bounced with each thrust into you. 

“See, I told you that you two were meant for me,” Seonghwa growled. “See how wet you both are for me? Whining and wanting more. Brats, the both of you, needing to be put in your place. You two are mine and that’s how it will be.”

Hongjoong’s cries grew into a crescendo; high pitched and pretty, when Seonghwa’s demon hands halted their progress. His shoulders heaved and sweat dropped down his chest and off his face. 

“Again,” Hongjoong said, his voice croaking. 

The demon hands started back up again and Hongjoong moaned in relief.

Seonghwa removed his fingers from your mouth and pressed the wet digits to your clit. Then he bit into your shoulder. The triple stimulation of Seonghwa fucking you good, rubbing your clit and the bite was more than enough to bring you over the edge of destruction. You screamed his name as you spiraled into the pleasure zipping through your nerves.

The Reaper held himself inside of you and bit down even harder onto your shoulder, spurting inside of you. You would have screamed bloody murder if not for the reminder that you couldn't get pregnant, this was just a dream. His tongue lathed at his marks and he slowly thrusted through his high. 

“What cute little white and black magic user babies we’ll make,” Seonghwa sighed.

Your view began to get cloudy, and the edge of the frame of the tent began to fall away like sand sifting down an opening. The dream was complete, and Seonghwa was regaining consciousness. Thank god, because you did not like where this was going. Why did he always bring up the babies?

💭😴💤Seonghwa’s Dream Done💭😴💤

The dream had ended and you were free. From the dream, at least. Seonghwa groaned when he woke up. A sleepy, happy smile pulled at his features when he felt your soft form against his. “Good morning, Lover.”

You mumbled nonsense and sat up. 

Seonghwa’s eyes widened in alarm. “What exactly did we get up to that we are waking up in this state?”

You were fully dressed but straddling the director. You winced because you could feel the wet spot on your underwear where you had climaxed in Seonghwa’s dream. Seonghwa must be feeling a similar situation inside of his pants. You did your best to not wince guiltily. 

“We were both tired after our… discussion. You suggested a calming nap and I agreed to such before classes started.” Completely avoiding the question of course. Did that bugger not remember his own dream? After everything you did to endure it?!

Seonghwa quirked an eyebrow at you. “A nap? In the morning? You?”

You avoided his gaze. “It was a peace offering after finding me in bed with Hongjoong. I wanted to show you that I could find comfort in your arms as well.” 

That was not a lie you wanted to tell, or a seed you wanted to plant, but you knew Seonghwa would latch onto it. 

You almost felt bad when Seonghwa’s face broke out into an even happier smile and then he was hugging you back down to his chest, the way he found you when he woke up. “Are you compromising for little ol’ me, Dreameater?”

“Pretty noises for me already, Dreameater? I think I will very much enjoy playing with you.”

A shudder ran through you, that memory of Seonghwa’s dream unable to be shaken from your mind. “Seonghwa,” You growled in warning.

Seonghwa laughed merrily and then kissed you on the crown of your head. “Let’s get cleaned up and ready for classes today.”

Seonghwa rolled you to your back and he stood up. His demon hands moved around, grabbing toiletries and a new outfit today. You had to remain lying on your back because even the damn demon hands were triggering.

What the hell did you just get yourself into now?

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Twilight Academy Taglist: @wooyoungqueen @babiestarrcandy @michael-angelhoe @smallfrye @park-simphwa @spooo00oky @novocainenoon

[saycheeseovenist]

I think about Alicante a lot actually like. Did he know that it was kind of our fault that he almost went bankrupt and that the bears were after him because of us. Like. No because. Like. Hello?? We’re just going to ignore it and sweep over it? And the bears to this day still cause him inconvenience. and he has a daughter. My gosh just properly processing this right now. How do you think he would react if he found out. He thinks of us as his friend now. Maybe he always has and had to put up an act for competition yknow. dont want to get chummy with the guy who moved in right in front of you to steal business when you have a daughter to provide for.

And on another note how many years was Octavia lost/possessed. Like did she accidentally pick up Cheeser’s mannerisms. Is Cicero tip toeing around Octavia and does that hurt Octavias feelings

[gaytommykinard]

im gonna say something very controversial here.

i dont want b*ddie ever going canon because i don't want the shippers to be "rewarded" for their insane hateful vile behaviour.

i don't want others outside of the 911 fandom seeing this and pointing it out like "see if we kick up enough of a fuss we'll get our ship canon, let's continue harassing cast and crew and other fans, it'll get us what we want"

like online fandom and shipping culture has already become a fucking toxic lawless wasteland. boundaries? what boundaries? i've been here a long time. it was never this bad. there was never this much kicking and stomping and throwing a prolonged tantrum demanding that a fanon ship must absolutely go canon otherwise it's queerbaiting (and it's not.)

and i'm not even being petty about this. i'm of the "we don't negotiate with terrorists" opinion about this. no, you've been behaving terribly instead of being normal about it. so you don't get canon b*ddie. fuck you.

[leathfaic]

ghost probably went "i sure hope this doesn't awaken anything in me" seeing soap knocked to his knees in front of el sin nombres house but we all know it did

[daily-hanamura]

[eddiewithcat]

THE LOOKBACK…

andi mack taught me EVERYTHING i need to know about this.

“if he turns to look back at you, it means he likes you. and not just as a friend”