#An improvement!! Its better!! But its barely anything

[misspickman]

Like in my head cassie is a butch lesbian but i know this is never going to be real in dc so im not like Angry they don't make her more masc i just wish she looked more serious instead of like hey im a teen girl who Just became a superhero, which Worked before bc it was true but now shes been wonder girl for longer than yara and yet yara gets a cool fit and cassie gets. This

[southern--downpour]

pros of new hyperfixation: dopamine :) 

cons of new hyperfixation: i cannot focus on school work all i want to do is read trigun nothing else is interesting rn

[tasmanianstripes]

Amazing how it took the developers of Poppy Playtime two whole chapters to finally make a bare minimum of a functional game

[oflgtfol]

me clocking in for my shift seeing a score chart of how many credit cards every cashier has gotten since the cards rolled out: i hate it here i actively cant take this for much longer i need to quit soon i need a new job by summer time i need to get out of here im out of here

manager: hey brot today you’re going to be making a little. diorama. for easter. i figured you’d enjoy it so i saved it for you to do :)

me: maybe michaels isnt so bad :)

[gift-of-orzhova]

It's insane to me that the company that produces zzz, a game that has some of the best animation work I have seen in an action game; also produces genshin impact, which has some of the worst animation work I've ever seen in an action game.

[deerboybreeder]

LONG fucking fantasy below the cut whoops. Tw for rape, drugging and stalking ♥️

I move to a small town in the middle of nowhere to completely restart my life. The community is small and tight knit, but thankfully extremely accepting, so me being trans is a non issue! Or at least, people have the decency to not say anything about it to my face. I feel welcomed in this town, though I spend a lot of my time improving the patch of land I moved onto and less talking to residents, even though I've met nearly everyone.

I start getting letters in the mail, complimenting me in sweet, flowery language. It makes me feel special, but there's no return address, so I can't write back. But over time, the letters get more possessive. Once, the letter describes my body fairly graphically, in all the most complimenting ways, but it's clear they saw me working shirtless in my garden, tits free to the wind. My land is huge and fenced in, someone would have to have jumped my fence and gotten very close without my noticing to see me doing that.

I start spending a little less time at home and more time in town, hoping to make some connections to keep my mind off my "secret admirer", who started recently describing how beautiful and motherly of a man I would make swollen with his baby. I don't tell anyone about it, embarrassed by the content, and the fact that despite the obvious escalation, it makes me wet to think about all this attention. I'm not beloved by the town, but I make a few good friends.

One day, a year to the day I moved into town, a package shows up at my door. Its from my secret admirer, a very small bottle of wine with a letter attached. Praising all my accomplishments this year, in detail, in order. Singing my praises and wishing for even more in the upcoming year. Against my better judgement, I accept, and take the wine inside.

I generally am a lightweight when it comes to alcohol- I learned that recently, out with friends at the local bar. One had bought me a drink and I needed help home afterwards, and the friend that bought me the round felt so badly about my state he walked me home himself. But I had nothing else to do that day, so I poured myself a glass anyway.

I don't drink often, so I didn't recognize right away that something was wrong. Didn't notice that I was fading in and out of consciousness on the couch until one moment I was watching a documentary on wilderness survival, and the next it was about space travel. My body was heavy, I could barely move, so the couch would have to do that night.

I almost chalked it up to overindulgence when my front door opened.

It was a small town- I had no reason to lock my door. Even my secret admirer hadn't made mention of wanting to break in, just lamented that they couldn't work up the courage to approach me first. But apparently, this was how they chose to do it.

I yelled, a slurred and disoriented thing. Time was runny, and I didn't even have time to process running before they were on me. A mask, sunglasses and a ball cap obscured my attackers face, hair seeming meticulously tucked into the cap to further obscure their identity.

I tried to struggle, but I'm small and they're much bigger- not to mention the wine that I realize must've been drugged. They shush me, clearly altering their voice so I wouldn't know who they are- small town, after all.

They pull up my shirt, tangling me in it and covering my face so I can't see them. Everything is running together, and at some point they've taken my pants off too, Im lying naked before them. Everything narrows down to sensations that run together. A mouth sucking on my nipple, my attackers hands running reverently down my body. They're murmuring words I can't understand because my head is swimming from the spiked drink. Their fingers find my wet and waiting slit, and they thumb over my tdick, and despite myself I make a strangled noise.

Then, I am aware of their cock at my entrance, and I get another burst of fighting, but it's useless. They shush me, kissing the side of my face through the fabric of the shirt around my face, and promise to be gentle as they push themself into my dripping cunt. They moan openly into my ear, muffled by the shirt, and start playing with my tits while they rape me.

Everything is blurry, I keep slipping in and out of consciousness, only to wake up and find that they're still fucking me. They whisper praises, saying they wish they'd done this a year ago when I first moved in, how much of a tease I was working in my garden shirtless or changing in front of the window. How we were going to be so happy together, how excited they were to realize I had a womb they could fill. How they'd start with one, but they knew I would look heavenly round and heavy with their baby for the rest of my life.

I don't know how much time passed, them using my pliant body like a cocksleeve. They were mostly true about being gentle, aside from the bruising on my hips where they held me down. They came against my waiting cervix at least once, but it all ran together for me. After cumming inside me, they gently rubbed my stomach over my womb, scratching the trail of dark hair that sprouted over the year taking testosterone.

I wanted to cry, but they stayed inside me growing soft for a while, gently fondling me or kissing my body. Eventually, I blacked out entirely.

The next morning I couldn't pretend it was a dream- I was left tangled up in my clothes, though a blanket from my room was draped over me and my TV turned off. My cunt was sore and I had the world's worst hangover. I stumbled to the shower and tried not to throw up.

I didn't want to be alone, so after my chickens were fed I went down to the friends house who helped me home that night. He had been so kind, and we'd started getting close. He had even dismissed a mutual friend making a joke about taking advantage of me the night he helped me home- he'd just helped me to my bed and left. I could trust him.

He knew something was off the moment he saw me, and ushered me inside. He got me water from his fridge, and sat down with me to let me talk.

I told him everything. First about the rape that night, then elaborating to the stalker in tears. He looked horrified, and let me sob in his arms. He was so kind to me, so good to me. I told him I didn't want to be alone. He offered to move in with me for a little while, to make sure nothing else happened. I agreed immediately, and he started packing up his things right that second.

His time spent moved in was nice. I got up early for my chickens and garden, but somehow he was always up earlier, making me coffee and breakfast. Some days he even watered my plants for me, just to be kind. He was sweet, always there to support me. He slept on the couch with no complaints, and even held me close when a noise outside had me convinced the stalker was going to break down the now locked door and rape me again.

The admirers notes slowed. They first were promises of coming back again, to see my "beautiful fertile body" up close again. Then threats when my friend moved in. Then nothing. I thought the nightmare was over.

I had chalked up the throwing up to a traumatic response and the drugs working their way out of my system. When it continued I didn't think much of it. Attributed the weight gain to my friend fussing over me and making sure I ate well. But the slightly round look of my stomach unsettled me, so I bit the bullet and took a pregnancy test.

Positive.

I was in hysterics when I saw the lines, and my friend ran into the room asking if I was hurt. I just shook my head and showed him the test, and he took me into his arms. We both know by this point it was too late to abort in the state this town was in, and travel costs put it out of the question if I could go out of state to have it done.

My friend assured me that it would be alright. That he'd help me through this. That he'd even help me raise the baby if I didn't want to be a single father.

Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, maybe it was the kindness he'd shown me this past month or two. Maybe it was the way he looked up at me, having knelt down in front of me to make his promise of support. But I kissed him. I had fallen in love with this man, who'd taken care of me in my time of greatest need. And with the way he kissed me back, he'd fallen for me too.

It was like a switch was flipped, like he had been holding back this entire time. I invited him into my bed, and every night his hands were on me. I loved the way he felt, so happy to have someone else touch me after what happened. Every touch was adoring and reverent, he made me feel like a prince. Id beg him to cum deep inside me and breed me, and he'd get a look in his eyes when he pounded my cunt. It helped me pretend it was his baby growing inside me, especially when he'd put his hand on my growing stomach protectively.

Our relationship moved quickly. We were dating for only three months when he proposed to me, but it felt like three years. Gladly I accepted, and it took only two months to set up the wedding. He handled everything, insistent I just relax because he didn't want to stress out the baby. I was heavily pregnant at our wedding, and I heard a few murmurs about it being a shotgun wedding. I let them gossip- I hadn't told anyone about my attack, and I didn't care if they thought we were just getting married because I got knocked up. My husband and I knew the truth.

Those final few months were hard, but my wonderful husband took such good care of me. Doted on me hand and foot, took care of the chickens entirely, and with winter setting in soon I didn't need to tend the garden at all. This loving wonderful man cared for me through every stage of this unwanted pregnancy and turned it into the start of a beautiful life. It was like a scene out of a romance novel.

My labor was hard, but he was there through it all. Fussing over me and ensuring I got the best care. It hurts beyond words, the baby huge and heavy, but I managed. A sweet baby girl.

He was overjoyed. The next two months spent in a sleepy newborn haze, of course. But he was always there, at my side. He cooked dinner, kept the house tidy, watched the baby as I tended the chickens, our main income aside from a few residuals from some old novel he wrote years ago. He didn't even ask for sex, knowing I was healing, even if I wanted to regardless of doctors orders. But we waited.

The anniversary of the attack came and went, and he held me through my sobs. Reminded me that even if the experience was horrible, we had our beautiful daughter, and our beautiful relationship, because of it. And he was right. I was able to leave it behind.

As time wore on, he continued to be an amazing husband. Attentive in daily life, wonderful to our child, and absolutely fantastic in bed.

Nights spent after the baby was sleeping entwined in each other. His cock buried to the hilt in my needy cunt, his mouth on my heavy milky tits. Some nights, id let him take Polaroid photos of me impaled on his cock, or sucking him off, or stroking my tdick as his cum leaked out of me. I never saw where he kept them, but the idea that my body was so important to him he kept photos around made me feel good and loved. I never needed to ask with him, he somehow always knew what I needed, and I was often marked with hickies along my body from him. He said he was claiming every part of me.

A few months into summer, I felt off again. This time I didn't wait, and took a pregnancy test right away. Positive again. We weren't trying explicitly, but we weren't preventing it either, especially not with how I begged him to breed me every night. I told him, and he was overjoyed. I felt like I was in a fairy tale.

We decided to turn his old stuff into a playroom, since the nursery itself was small. I set to work on it in the mornings, while he was making breakfast. It was a lot to take down and move, so it took a while. While emptying his desk to have him move it to storage, I found a little cardboard box. Curious, I opened it up.

At first I thought it was the dirty photos he had taken of me. The idea of him alone in his study, fucking his hand to these photos when working late on a new story made me shiver. But then, under those photos were more. Candid shots of me out with friends, even before the baby. I hadn't gotten out much after the baby came, not like I went much of anywhere after the attack. These photos were old.

Then, the ones from my home. In through the windows while I was changing. My shirtless working in my garden. Me reaching for a gift wrapped bottle of wine.

With shaking hands, I set the box down. My husband, unbeknownst to me, had come up behind me. He wrapped his arms tightly around me, in a way hours ago I would find protective but now felt like a vice grip.

"What's the matter, love?" He asked, as he placed a hand over my womb, once again full of his child. "I told you we were meant to be. That you would look beautiful heavy with my baby for the rest of your life. I know you think so too. Why else would you beg me to breed that fertile, beautiful body of yours again? Just as I said before. If it weren't for that night, we wouldn't have our daughter, or our marriage. I just wish I'd done it sooner."

[delulujuls]

the prettiest boy in the paddock | op81

hi there, here comes the 1.3k of wholesome fluff with the pastry boi. its just-uh, i already know that i wanna write a part two for this so watch out!

summary: oscar is feeling a bit down but little does he know that for two people out there he is the prettiest boy in the paddock

warnings: none

pairing: fem!mclarendriver x oscar piastri (ft. lando)

Oscar never had an opinion about his appearance.

Whenever someone asked him if he considered himself as an attractive guy, he would just shrug. Passing by shop windows, mirrors, or surfaces reflecting his image, he never stopped to check if he looked good. The same applied to taking pictures of him. He never needed to have a say in them; he didn't feel the need to improve any shot, as he might not look favorable in it. If the photographer thought he looked great, who was he to judge?

This, of course, didn't mean that Oscar didn't take care of himself; quite the opposite. The Aussie was always neat, smelled good, and sometimes even used hair conditioner, lip balm or even a hand cream. Looking at him, you could notice a handsome, young man with a well-built, slim figure, a pleasant gaze, and an infectious smile.

The fact that Oscar was attractive was especially noticeable on social media. He was adored by fans. The papaya army loved the McLaren duo, and Oscar was no less popular with the ladies than Lando. If anything, sometimes it seemed like his name was shouted even louder.

His teammates also shared the same opinion. Oscar was a good-looking lad, so it wasn't surprising that during conferences, interviews or casual conversations Lando couldn't take his eyes off him and Y/N took every opportunity to throw compliments at him. However, these compliments were one hundred percent sincere and true and Oscar took them very personally, blushing like never before. These compliments were perceived as harmless, friendly jokes by the public, but both Y/N and Lando believed that their friend was the indeed the most beautiful.

However, this didn't change the fact that sometimes Oscar had a bad day. This was one of those days.

With the hood pulled low over his head, the person in the orange McLaren hoodie entered the dining room. Y/N was slowly having her breakfast, scrolling through social media. She usually went for meals early to avoid crowds and have some time to clear her head. Her surprise was evident when someone pulled a chair next to her and took a seat.

"Oscar?" the girl asked in surprise, barely able to see her friend's face under the hood. "What are you doing here so early?"

"I couldn't sleep."

He muttered under his breath and opened a small chocolate packet, pouring it over his pancakes.

Y/N blinked several times, holding her phone in her hand. Clearly, something was off.

"Is something wrong?"

Oscar shook his head and leaned his elbow on the table. He ate in a hunched position, with his back slouched. It looked like he was hiding from someone. Or hiding something.

"You haven't convinced me."

She replied, putting down her sandwich.

The Aussie ate in silence. Only his chin and chocolate-stained lips were visible under the hood. Y/N looked at him, waiting, but when she saw it was better to drop the subject, she returned to her breakfast and scrolling through Instagram.

When Y/N finished eating, she glanced at her friend one last time. He still sat with his head down, swiping his finger on his phone screen. She gathered her things, planning to leave the dining room, realizing there was no chance for a normal chat with Oscar.

"See you around, grumpy."

As she stood up, she heard a quiet question.

"Can you help me?"

Y/N paused and finished her coffee.

"Of course I'll help you, but first I need to know in what matter."

She replied without hesitation, looking down at him. He raised his head and for the first time that day, she had the chance to look at his face.

"Do you have a moment now?"

The girl checked her phone's clock and nodded.

"To my room, then."

Once they were in her room, she sat on the bed and Oscar, after closing the door behind him, walked slowly into the room.

"I'm all ears."

He took his hands out of his pockets and sat next to his friend. He sighed and took off the hood, turning his face toward Y/N in silence. She looked at him surprised, studying him.

"What? You don't have the answer written on your face."

"I do," he replied tartly "You don't see gow terrible i look?"

Y/N furrowed her brows. She had no idea what he was talking about. He looked exactly the same as always.

"You look cute, just like every day."

She said playfully, smiling, but he wasn't in the mood for jokes. He lowered his head and rubbed his face with his hands.

"Acne," he said, resigned, lowering his hands to his knees. "It's worse than ever."

She gently touched his chin and turned his face towards her. Oscar avoided eye contact. He felt embarrassed, unsure whether he was more ashamed of coming to her with such a thing or of his appearance.

"If you want me to help, first, don't touch your face like you did a moment ago."

The girl smiled and brushed the hair from his forehead with her hand.

The Aussie looked into her eyes and, seeing her smile, he felt a little more confident.

"Can you help me with this? I have no idea what to do."

"You're lucky you're friends with someone who has half a Walmart in their makeup bag."

Y/N smiled and stood up, going to the bathroom. After a moment, she returned with a pink headband, which she placed on Oscar's head to keep his hair away from his face.

"Have you washed your face today?"

Oscar nodded.

"What do you use for face wash? Tell me about your skincare routine."

To be honest, there was nothing much to talk about.

"Uh, I wash my face with water, morning and night, when I take a shower."

Y/N blinked several times and looked at him in shock.

"And that's it?"

He just nodded. To his surprise, his friend smiled and clapped her hands.

"Great, I can teach you everything."

"I don't know if I'm ready for that."

Oscar replied uncertainly, but he obediently stood up and followed the girl to the bathroom.

"Don't worry; it won't be anything crazy" Y/N said and took her face wash gel in her hand "It's gonna be Piastri's friendly skincare."

He listened to her even more carefully than when he analyzed the race result with the strategists. He asked when he had doubts, trying to remember every word she said. When he finished washing his face, she applied a gentle scrub and face mask after. After that, it was the time fot rest of the skincare routine. Y/N took a bit of cream on her fingers, which finished off all the major skincare. She crouched down in front of him and smiled, applying the cream to his face.

"Smile, Osc. You are beautiful."

Piastri involuntarily smiled at her compliment.

"Immediately better."

She added, massaging the remaining cream into her hands. For some imperfections, she applied a clear, specialized ointment and removed the headband from his head. She stood up, taking a brush and combing his hair.

"Thank you, Y/N."

Oscar replied, looking at her from below. His brown eyes sparkled as he raised his head to look at his friend.

"You are welcome, pretty boy."

She replied. She wanted to kiss his cheeks but refrained, partly because of the multi-step skincare routine on his face, and partly because Oscar was her friend. But mostly, it was about skincare.

"And you're beautiful, don't forget that."

"Of course, I am" a loud interjection from Lando was heard as he entered the room, making himself comfortable in it, quickly appearing in the bathroom "What's going on here and why without me?"

"You miss everything because you're the last one to get up"

Y/N replied, putting her things back into her cosmetic bag.

"Not true, don't be mean."

Lando retorted, but quickly his gaze turned towards Oscar and the Brit smiled at the sight of him "Wow, Osc, what a glow, mate!"

"Y/N did her hundred-step skincare on me."

"Really? Why are you torturing our friend?" Norris asked, sitting on the edge of the bathtub next to the Aussie.

"I asked her myself," the younger boy replied before the girl spoke up, ready to throw some sort of retort at her friend, "I wasn't feeling very confident this morning, my acne was killing me a bit and it's gotten worse lately."

Oscar admitted, still a little embarrassed by his problem.

"Aw, Oscar," Lando wrapped his arm around him and kissed him on the cheek. "You'd win the competition for the prettiest boy in the paddock."

Piastri blushed and lowered his gaze. A slight smile appeared on his rosy lips.

"Oh yes, you would definitely win."

Y/N replied and put her makeup bag aside, also sitting next to Piastri and kissing his other cheek, feeling a bit more confident after Lando did the exact same thing. Oscar blushed even more and raised his hands to hide his face, but lowered them halfway.

"I can't touch my face, damn it!"

[10thmusemoon]

I think a lot about yqy, who had no specific attachment to gender, feeling dysphoria the first time he realizes that the women in SJ’s bed at the WRP were delicate with elegant soft features. He spends a night turning a copper mirror every which way, struggling to apply cosmetics with shaking hands when something finally clicks and he thinks to himself “I could never look like that, I could never be what Xiao Jiu wants.”

Maybe the thought lingers long enough to drive yqy to action, to bring him down the mountain and into a brothel where the women look eager to eat up this soft spoken man and show him the ways of the world. Unfortunately that’s not what he wants, instead of seeking the delicate touch of a woman he wants to emulate it. It’s hardly unheard of, they manage all sorts of requests at brothels, and this one is simple enough.

The first time YQY sees himself properly done up, his breath catches in his throat. That is, of course, still his face beneath the white powder and red dots, those are his eyes behind the kohl liner, and yet it’s…softer. In a certain light he could almost be called delicate.

The older woman must recognize something in his expression, the hand at his shoulder gently squeezing and apologizing that they don’t have anything in his size, but if he were to return with enough notice, perhaps something could be arranged.

Yue Qingyuan returns.

Again and again and again.

Each time the spells sinks its hooks into him, a fantasy of a different life where he was a different person, one that Shen Qingqiu could bring himself to touch. Maybe even to love. The feelings that inspires cling to him like the last remnants of summer’s warmth, sparking a small joy that lasts throughout the following days until it flickers out, signaling his return.

It’s a noticeable change in Yue Qingyuan. Disciples and peak lords alike notice his improved mood, an errant An Ding disciple sees him browsing hair pins, the fine silk of women’s robes in a market place and a rumor spreads like wild fire.

The sect leader has lover!

It’s not the first time such a thing has been said, Shen Qingqiu tracks these rumors like a farmer tracks the seasons. Each and every time the claims come up unfounded, and yet…when the recent whispers from chatty hall masters reach his ears he listens. This time around, there’s a marked change in Yue Qingyuan.

An improved mood, yes, but not only that there’s…a distraction.

The sect leader’s visits to Qing Jing Peak grow further and further apart, and when he does dare to show his face it’s always followed by a visit cut short, a distant air to his demeanor. Bile turns in Shen Qingqiu’s stomach, a familiar ache in his chest pounds against his rib cage, begging to be freed. It’s the same jagged toothed creature that would bare its fangs when the likes of Shi Wu would dare call out for Qi-ge’s attention.

Shen Qingqiu did not cut Yue Qingyuan out of his heart just for someone to pick up what he discarded.

This bears investigation.

In the dark recesses of Shen Qingqiu’s mind, he’s conjured up an image of what Yue Qingyuan’s lover would be like. A soft spoken woman from a noble family or humble shopkeeper, a shy thing that inspires love from all the meet her, a paragon of purity and morality that stokes Yue Qingyuan’s bumbling courtship. He would go through the proper channels of course, through her family if she had one, or simply jump straight to providing for her if she did not. Shen Qingqiu can just imagine it, Yue Qingyuan’s sweet little lover hidden away in house that he visits under the cover of night, bringing to her the gifts Shen Qingqiu has been offered but had turned away.

It just riles him up!

That the righteous YQY would sneak around everyone’s backs to defile a hapless woman that doesn’t know better! That he could be hunched over her, rippling muscles over bearing as he whispers confessions of love under the moon light.

The idea of it makes Shen Qingqiu’s heart race and fists clench. It’s simply unacceptable!! That should be-

Yue Qingyuan shouldn’t!

He doesn’t keep his promises!

It is only for the sake of the woman that YQY has duped into being his doe she lover that Shen Qingqiu follows him.

Shen Qingqiu was convinced it would take several attempts to find Yue Qingyuan’s secret abode. Surely his wife would be protected by the strongest talismans and spells available to a sect leader. So when his tracking leads Shen Qingqiu to the red light district of another town, it’s as if the world was turned on its heels.

That righteous bastard!

Yue Qingyuan is no better than any other man!!

White eyes with fury, Shen Qingqiu bursts into the brothel, accusations of hypocrisy on the tip of his tongue. But Instead of finding YQY rutting against a woman like the swine he is he is…

He’s…

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know what he’s looking at.

There’s women screaming and filtering out the door, his sword is brandished but SQQ’s hands have gone numb from the pressure.

Yue Qingyuan is-

He is-

…beautiful.

-

And that’s where I stop!! Happy 9/7 day YQY definitely uses his new found confidence to put the moves on SQQ, with a shakey voice he ask if he likes YQY better like this and SQQ is already stepping close to cup YQY’s face in his hands.

“Explain”

So he does and everything about how wrong SQQ was shakes him to his core because yqy would do this…found this part of himself… in order to be appealing to Shen Qingqiu…

Shen Qingqiu never tells YQY about the lover he had invented (and grown to loathe) in his jealousy, but as he’s giving him the first and most thorough fuck of his life, SQQ makes plans to buy his own secret cabin in the woods.

Just in case.

[marsbutterfly]

Too Sweet

Summary: For the past few weeks, Hanji has locked themselves away in their office, away from prying eyes, including your own. But your heart can clearly tell when something is wrong with your beloved.

a/n: hey everyone <3 this story is entirely based on the cover art by my amazing artist friend @kylekoraki ! please show them some love and everyone say "thank you" to kyle for drawing this! <3 here's their twitter as well <3

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: canon setting, fem!reader, non-binary!hanji zoe, no warnings really, just some heavy kissing. not really beta read, we die like men <3

 ao3 | wattpad | cover by: @kylekoraki | wc: 4.2k

You knock on the door. Once, twice, thrice. No answer. A grunt escapes your lips and you roll your eyes, repeating the action. Once, twice, thrice. Nothing again. Now a frown takes the place of the smile that used to rest on your face, you know they are in there, you can hear the papers being shuffled around, the tapping of their pen, the shadow of their body as they pass by the door, even faintly the sound of the ice that clinks around their whiskey glass.

You raise your hand to knock again, but before you even have the chance, the door opens. Barely enough for any light to make it through but you see the faint silhouette of Hanji's lips pouting. "You know that when someone doesn't answer, it means they want to be left alone, right?" Their voice is low, almost as if they are making sure to remain quiet to not attract any more unnecessary attention.

"But... it's me.." you respond just as softly, a pout of your own forming, "I'm not like other people."

“y/n…” They begin, moving their glasses from the spot on their face towards the top of their head, pushing their bangs backward in the meantime. Their brown eyes stare at you for what feels like forever, their mind hiding behind an ocean of thoughts and an expression you can’t quite decipher this time around.

They want you to stay, to hold you in their arms as they sit here in the comforting silence of your presence, but instead, they shake their head, trying their best to remove any thoughts of what your warmth would do to them. A heavy sigh makes its way past their lips, the eyebags under their eyes more present than ever as they begin to talk again.

“Please, I’m fine,” they respond. What Hanji fails to realize is that their voice did a slight tremble, not noticeable to anyone else but you know them better than the palm of your own hand. They are the pure representation of your heart beating outside of your chest, so seeing them in such distress is enough to make you act against direct orders, consequences be damned.

“You are not,” you respond. Their office is a mess, their research papers scattered around with drawings and models of flying boats, new weapons, and ways to improve the Survey Corps all around. A thousand and one ideas, some connecting and some just scattered around the wind. 

The whiskey bottle that until a few weeks ago rested full to the brim on their bookshelf now finds itself on its last few sips, the curtains are drawn so no amount of light other than the small candles at the edge of their table can exist in the room and you even notice a few shards of broken glass, probably meaning that they have dropped a cup or two, either from exhaustion or from not being able to see in the dark.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” You ask, gently taking the whiskey glass out of their hand. You notice a small blush creeping its way onto their cheeks as their eyes pointedly avoid yours and, by these simple reactions, you can tell it has been a while, “You’re losing weight.”

They try to reach for the glass once more but you shake your head, pulling it further away. Even though they are stronger than you and could easily take it back if they wanted to, they don't. Instead, Hanji leans against their desk, crossing their arms in front of their chest as they let out a heavy sigh. They want to lie, to tell you they are fine, and pretend like nothing is wrong, but before a single false promise about their well-being can make its way past their lips, you speak up again.

“I can tell you haven’t been sleeping,” your voice is soothing, not an ounce of frustration or anger behind it, just plain worry. You take a step closer, fully prepared for another rejection but it doesn’t come this time around, though you still don’t dare take a deep breath until the moment your fingertips brush against their left cheek, just slightly beneath their eyepatch, “you look exhausted.”

“Now that’s just rude!” An exhausted chuckle escapes their lips as they nuzzle their face into your hand, their expression contorting from anguish to a somewhat relaxed one and it causes your heart to nearly stop for a second before between at three times the usual speed, you are convinced they can hear it from where they stand. “I’ll have you know that I look awesome.”

It’s your turn to chuckle, your worries melting away for simply a second before coming back at full force, knowing way too well that redirecting attention and humor have always been Hanji’s favorite ways of avoiding a serious conversation.

“Hanji…” You start, your tone of voice sounding just as exhausted and defeated as theirs. It drags a loud sigh out of their chest, but as their mouth opens to complain, you continue, a begging tone in your voice as your eyes fill with unwashed tears, “Please, just talk to me.”

That look is enough to cause a painful bang to shoot throughout their body, their heart dropping to their stomach with the knowledge that it is their fault that you look this way. So, without even realizing it, they are already taking a couple of steps forward, hands tightly grasping at your hips as they lean their forehead against yours.

“I’ve just been so busy,” they whisper, the broken tone in their voice creates a tight knot in your throat and the sensation only grows stronger as they continue to speak, “Paperwork, meetings, and any free time I have I go to the lab, trying to complete some old experiments I’ve had from years ago. Even if I try to sleep, I just… Lay there, staring at the ceiling, maybe getting two or three hours here and there.”

You sigh, your arms immediately wrapping around their neck as you pull them close. Their eyelashes bat against the skin of your neck as they close their eyes, a shaky breath escaping them as they inhale your scent, focusing on the way your body feels and smells.

At that moment, an idea hits you. Without disturbing the hug, you look around the messy room, quickly taking in the setting before noticing that, for once, their couch rests next to the window, uncluttered and undisturbed. 

Reluctantly, you pull away from them and the first thing you can hear is a grunt of disapproval. Once your eyes meet again, their pupils are so big, they could only be compared to a puppy dog that has just discovered steak for the first time, pleading, begging even, “Why’d you do that?”

Without an answer, your hand slides with theirs, fingers lacing and fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. Their palm is slightly wet, though you can’t quite place if it is from the condensation from the whiskey glass they held earlier or if it is from nervous sweats. Regardless, all you can focus on is how warm their presence feels close to you.

You don’t speak, instead, you just guide their body towards the couch, their feet dragging behind you, “what are we doing?” They ask, their eyes already fighting to remain open in a combination of the exhaustion and the fuzzy feeling from being drunk, the comfort you bring them doesn’t help either. They are clearly forcing themselves to stay awake, wanting to spend all of this time with you instead of stubbornly trying to push you away.

“We are not doing anything,” you respond, taking a seat on the couch. Your free hand brushes against the spot next to you and they quickly catch onto what you are hinting, your words finally clicking in their head as they flash you a confused look, “You, on the other hand, are going to sleep for a while.”

Their eyes widen for a second as your words take them by surprise, a small groan of protest making its way past their chapped lips, “mmmmm, noo, I can’t… I have so much work that I need to get done… I don’t... Have time to sleep.”

Carefully, you bring your hand towards the back of their head, pulling the ponytail holder out of their hair to make sure they are more comfortable for the next step, which includes guiding their head down towards your thighs. It doesn’t take much effort nor does Hanji put up much of a fight, their body is completely exhausted after all.

“Mmmm,” they whine, their voice filled with a mixture of exhaustion and stubbornness, almost like a child who refuses to lay down for nap time, but once again, they don’t put up a fight, “damn it, how could I ever say no to you?”

“You can’t,” you chuckle, your fingers beginning to comb through the knots in their hair, detangling the strands, your nails gently scratching their scalp while you are at it, “I promise I will be here when you wake up. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your words are soft, carrying so much love that it is almost impossible for Hanji not to melt on the spot. The warmth of your legs combined with the feeling of your fingers going through their hair is finally enough to relax their overly exhausted body, their eyes finally closing and you use your free hand to remove their glasses, hanging it up on the neckline of your shirt.

“Finnneeeee,” Hanji whines once more, turning their body over so their face is buried in your stomach, their slim body now curled into a small ball on the couch and you can’t help but smile at the sight, “but do not let me sleep for more than thirty minutes. An hour, tops.”

You lift your eyes slightly to take a look at the clock on the wall, a gift from Kiyomi to celebrate your relationship. Silently, you take note of the time and look back down at your beloved, a soft, whispered “okay” leaving your lips.

“I’m serious,” Their voice starts sounding more sluggish by the second, their mind already starting to drift off but they fight back sleep for a few extra minutes, just enough to finish the conversation between the two of you, their voice extremely drowsy, “I’ll be mad if you don’t wake me up.”

“I would not dream of doing such a thing,” you respond, unsure if they recognize the mischievous tone in your words or not, but truly hoping that, if they do, they are simply choosing to ignore it. Even so, the way you speak brings them so much comfort, a sense of peace they haven’t felt since becoming commander, “just sleep, my love. I’ll be here.”

The moment Hanji hears you whisper that promise, the certainty that you will be here when they wake up, it’s like a switch flips inside of their mind and they finally allow their body to relax against your touch. Much like a cat, they purr as you continue to run your fingers through their hair, unable to avoid the smile that is now stamped on their lips.

“Thank you, love you,” they whisper, their voice is barely audible and you almost miss it. You don’t even have time to respond before they are completely asleep, the weight of the countless sleepless days finally catching up with their body.

When the first hour passes, you look up from your book, your eyes landing on the clock before making their way down towards Hanji’s face. They look so peaceful, their breathing is so calm and even that it soothes your own worries away and it takes every ounce of your strength not to lay down and nap with them. 

The decision to let them continue their slumber is an easy one. Eventually, you notice a small smile that tugs the corner of their lips in their sleep and you can’t help but wonder and hope that they are dreaming of you. Nevertheless, your fingers continue to go through the strands of their hair, even if it makes flipping the pages of your book a bit difficult, you manage to find a solution by placing it down on the armrest of the couch before using your pinky and ring fingers to hold the object down while the remaining digits flip towards the next page.

Another hour goes by and you start to ponder if you should wake them up. Maybe letting them sleep for this long wasn’t such a good idea, especially since you know they have to return to their duties as commander of the Survey Corps, such as continuing their research and sketching plans for the flying boat. But you can see it in their expression, the small specs of the bubbly person they used to be finally showing back up on their features as they sleep, small reminders of the bright light that has saved you from darkness more times than you can count.

You gasp softly when Hanji stirs slightly in your lap, your heart clenching in your chest as you continue to look down at them, scared that you moved too much and it caused them to wake up. Their expression is still undisturbed, almost like a cat that has just found the warmest spot on the window sill and you catch yourself smiling at them. A silly, love-sick smile that only they can bring out of you.

As the third-hour rolls by and you are trying to convince yourself that it is time to wake them up, you hear a knock on the door and your entire body freezes. You find yourself torn by the two options:

1) Do you say something loudly enough for the person on the other side to hear and risk waking Hanji up in a stressful way before throwing them directly into a situation in which they need to be the Commander, and not the bubbly Hanji Zoe you once loved so dearly.

2) You silently hope that the soldier on the other side will either go away soon or open the door quietly. The couch, though it is by the window, still has a perfect view of the front door to their office, so the person would quickly notice the situation and you would be able to calmly wake Hanji at your own pace, without any negative or stressful interactions.

A second, more forceful knock comes and you notice Hanji slowly starting to shift on your lap. The annoyed expression on your face morphs into one of anger and, as the shadow on the door side moves to knock for a third time, you decide to throw a pillow at the surface.

The person stops midway with their movements before their hand slowly comes to rest on the knob, twisting it slightly as the door quietly swings open. In front of you stands a very nervous scout, one of the new recruits, who hasn’t even been able to choose a specialty yet. His hands are trembling and he nearly drops the stack of papers he holds in his grasp, eyes bugging out of his skull as he looks at you and the sleeping figure on your legs.

“P-paperwork… F-for the C-Commander…” His voice is quiet and trembling, almost as if he is stepping directly into a monster’s lair. You realize in this moment just how intimidating Hanji is in everyone else’s perspective but your own and you can’t help but smile. You nod and gesture your head towards their desk, placing your index finger in front of your lips.

“I-it’s from… Instructor S-Shadis,” he says in the quietest of whispers, but you could already tell. Keith Shadis’ ugly handwriting was something you could identify from a mile away if you had to, “r-reports about… T-the ranking c-ceremony.”

“Thank you,” you mouth the words softly, your fingers moving on Hanji’s hair. They look so small and calm, almost like a harmless kitten, a direct contrast to the authoritative figure that can command an entire room with just a single look in their eye.

The boy nods, his trembling legs making their way towards the wooden table and carefully placing the new stack of paper next to the old ones, trying his best to make sure it is neatly organized while desperately avoiding eye contact with you. He does a quick salute towards you before eagerly exiting the room and you can nearly hear his breath of relief once he is out of sight, outside the closed doors.

You shake your head before looking down at Hanji once more to see a smile on their face. You roll your eyes, “how long have you been awake for?”

The smile on their face grows bigger, their eyes opening slowly to look at you, still a blurry image from the lack of their glasses but still enough for their heart to beat slightly faster, “since the first knock.” Of course, you think to yourself, “How long was I asleep for?”

You look at the clock, and a part of you wants to lie, say it’s only been thirty minutes or so but when you look out the window, you realize the sun has already started to set, making it impossible for such a thing to be even remotely believable. You sigh again.

“Around three hours…” You respond in a sheepish voice, avoiding their gaze. Immediately, Hanji sits up, placing their glasses above the bridge of their nose and looking at the clock on the wall. Once they look back at you, you can see the slightly irritated expression on their face and you feel like you could just shrink and disappear under such a harsh gaze.

“y/n, you promised!” They blur out and you can tell it isn’t anger or irritation… It’s an intense pile of anxiety, hidden behind the harsh facade they attempt to put up. They’re scared that something went wrong in the period they have been sleeping, like the Survey Corps might have fallen apart and they were doing something so useless such as taking a nap. A single thought is going through their mind, those words they have been chanting like a mantra since the fateful day in Shiganshina.

Erwin Would Never.

You stand up a mere second after them, watching closely as their hands grip the edges of the desk and their head hangs low, hips tilted forward in a desperate attempt to hold themselves upright. It breaks your heart to see them like this and, no matter how much you agree with Erwin that Hanji should be the next Commander, you can’t forgive him for leaving such a massive responsibility on their shoulders.

So your arms wrap around their waist, your cheek finding a perfect spot in the area between their shoulder blades. You nuzzle your face against their vest, nearly purring as you do. The smell of Hanji’s skin, mixed with a little bit of sweat as a result of their nap awakens the butterflies in your stomach and the only thing able to bring you out of your thoughts is the broken sound of their voice.

“How long were you going to let me sleep for?” They whisper, a hint of desperation behind their tone and you notice they are shaking. You tighten your grip around them.

“For as long as you needed,” you respond and, at the sound of their quiet sob, your heart shatters. “You haven’t been eating or sleeping, you are drinking in the middle of the day and, well, you are pulling away from me.”

With a long sigh, they turn around, a defeated expression on their face, “Y/n, I’m a mess. I’ve always been a mess. I’m always overthinking things, I’m mean, I’m stubborn, please. I need to catch up on my work, it’s so much paperwork and it just keeps piling up…”

“Hanji, you’re spiraling,” you whisper, fingertips almost featherlike as they brush against their arm. You hope and pray and nearly fall to your knees begging that they will listen to your voice, that they will give you time to make your case and prove that they are so much more than anything they are thinking, but they continue.

“Erwin’s one mistake was making someone like me the commander,” they whisper in the most defeated tone you have ever heard. It’s like something in your mind snaps and you immediately grab a hold of their wrist, flipping them around before pressing your body against theirs on the table.

“Now you listen to me and you listen good,” your voice is stern in a way Hanji had never heard before, it’s filled with pain, heartache, and still so much love, “Erwin wouldn’t have made you Commander if he didn’t think you would be a perfect choice. And I agree.”

Hanji wants to protest, they want to contradict you but the desperate look in your eyes convinces them to remain silent. Instead, they focus all of their attention on your words, into the amount of effort it takes you not to break into tears as you listen to their self-deprecating words, the doubt in their mind. They focus on the way your lips move and how desperately they want to kiss you.

“You are the reason why we were able to eradicate titans outside the wall, you created the thunder spears that were enough to scare off the armored titan,” you continue, the trembling in your hands is so intense you can barely contain your grip on them but you don’t let go nevertheless, “Moblit sacrificed himself for you because he believed you could guide us towards the world outside the walls. Erwin entrusted the Survey Corps to you because you are the most brilliant person any of us has ever seen. Please, just… Tell me you at least believe me.”

They don’t respond, not because they don’t want to, but because their voice won’t come out. It’s as if their brain has lost connection with their vocal chords and all they can focus on is the tears that threaten to fall from your eyes. 

So in one swift move, Hanji grabs a hold of your wrist and immediately switches places with you. You can’t help but yelp quietly, especially when you feel their hands grasping at the back of your thighs as they lift you. Your hands reach behind you, carefully assessing the area while trying not to mix any of their paperwork, but Hanji doesn’t have a single care in the world that isn’t you at this moment.

Their eyes hungrily stare at your lips and, with a silent nod of their head, you push away all the papers that were once so neatly organized on their desk. Once you are sitting down and your legs wrap around their waist, Hanji wastes no time in sealing their lips with yours, a delighted hum escaping your body once they do.

You wrap your arms around their neck, allowing your fingers to venture through the messy strands of their hair. Their fingers dig into your hips, strong enough to nearly leave a few bruises but neither of you care, the need you have for each other overwhelms any and every other one of your senses.

Their tongue slowly glides on your lower lip before they gently take it in between their teeth, pulling the skin towards them. After a few seconds, they let go and immediately begin to silently beg for entrance, using the tip of their tongue to nudge your lips apart and it doesn’t take you long to indulge.

They pull you closer to themselves, your bodies pressed together without a single inch of free space as they hold you, nearly afraid that you might disappear the second they loosen their grip. It’s the first time you have kissed in what feels like forever, even if it has been just a few weeks.

You can’t help but focus on the taste of whiskey in their mouth, it’s completely different from anything ever made inside the Walls. It nearly tastes “expensive”, for the lack of a better word. It’s been hours since they have last taken a sip and the flavor is still so vivid on their tongue. So much so that it nearly burns once your saliva begins mixing.

It’s only when the need for air becomes unbearable that the two of you pull away, a small string of saliva connecting your bodies. You run your tongue over your lip, breaking that connection and still getting one last taste of them. The sight causes a shiver to run down Hanji’s spine and they smile, gently placing their forehead against yours.

“I needed that,” they whisper, a smile stamped across their face and you nod, “I’m sorry for pushing you away, I’m just… Having a lot of big feelings that I couldn’t express but I have you now.”

“It’s okay, just don’t forget that I am here for and with you, okay?” You whisper back in a love-filled voice and they smile once more, nodding their head as their grip around you tightens ever so slightly, “You still taste like home.”

“Yeah? And what does that taste like?” They chuckle, nuzzling their nose against yours, enough that you can feel their glasses against your face.

“Like expensive whiskey,” you respond and Hanji laughs, the sound you’ve missed most these past few weeks and you are reminded yet again that home is whatever, wherever and whenever you are with them. No matter what.

[milksockets]

why scan?

scanning is something i've done for probably about 12 years now (i'm ancient, for this site), with varying degrees of regularity, intensity, etc. it has ratcheted up since the dawn of 2023, though, which begs the question: why? why put so much time into what could not-wrongly be considered a passive activity, hunched over a piece of clunky machinery with the express purpose of preserving others' creations? the answers are several, and fascinating (not really).

i am a [sober] drug addict. anything i pursue, consume, create--more often than not--ends up taking on addictive qualities. i'll eat the same specific food item for a month, then never want to see, let alone taste it, again. i'll listen to one song on repeat for days until i'd rather hear nails on a chalkboard than have it shuffle on and assault my ears. one of the reasons that my scanning has increased in volume recently is that i acquired library cards to the 3 nyc library systems: nypl, brooklyn, and queens. as soon as i was able to, i pillaged + plundered those fine centers of learning, leaving any given library with as many hefty scan-worthy books as i could [barely] carry. here, finally, was a *free* way of obtaining more + more + more visual media to consume.

2023 saw me get my first legal, full-time job. as such, my adjusting to that hellish reality resulted in a steep decline in my own personal creative output. collaging, writing, and rapping all fell to the wayside as i slowly acclimated to a life of work that almost everyone else my age has known for over a decade is generally unbearable + detrimental to the maintenance of outside pursuits. in times of famine within my own artistic harvest, scanning, archiving, and sharing others' work is a means of feeling as though i am still contributing to the global oeuvre.

there’s an element of losing my mental self in a series of physical motions that becomes almost automatic after some time. “zoning out” is not something endemic to my daily life; if anything, i’m almost always too zoned in. relief is necessary.  especially considering the shitshow this past year has been in terms of my personal life.

i am a product of capitalism’s cultivating a craving for constant consumption. 

it seems that visual content is only going to continue to get more + more uninspired. has everything been done? did social media ruin it all? in any case, i feel a need to document the past. to a degree, it’s my version of doomsday prepping. (god forbid books go extinct altogether.) 

i have always gravitated towards solitary activities. this topic could be a thesis in its own right.

i thrive on external validation. this reliance is something i’ve improved upon over the past several years, but it hasn’t been altogether extinguished. even though the materials i scan are not of my own creation, i nevertheless feel a vague pride in showcasing them. occasional appreciation thereof satisfies this fixation on others’ attention, albeit in a diluted form. 

i am fortunate to live in a city bursting to the gills with cultural institutions. i am also lucky enough to have some disposable income that can be directed toward fulfilling my ravenous desire for visual media. 

((i keep getting messages about the specifics of my scanner + "process":

i have a cheap ass hp envy 6055e and i just use the software it comes with.

there's nothing special or fancy happening here, and i could definitely invest in a better and/or a large format scanner, etc. but i really just don't care enough and it's not like i'm getting paid for this lmao))

[undiscovered-horizon]

Rainy Season - Morpheus x Reader

[Spoilers for Brief Lives I guess?]

[MASTERLIST] | [Sandman-inspired playlist]

SUMMARY: Fed up with Dream's stubborn and at times childish attitude, you leave Dreaming. But when Morpheus's sorrow makes itself known, Matthew has to fetch you before the kingdom completely floods.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.7k

It’s a tumultuous morning in the Dreaming. Even if none of the dreams and nightmares are privy to the ongoing feud, they know something is wrong. It’s as though the air in the kingdom, the marrow of their bones, turned bitter last night. Their skin is crawling but the sun is shining as it did yesterday. They birds chirp the same song they had throughout centuries. And yet, against their better judgment, something is terribly out of place.

To be honest, you don’t even remember how all of this started but the damage is already done.

A frustrated scream ripples through your chest, "The world doesn't revolve around you!" You're fuming. There's only so much patience one person can hold and recently, Morpheus had proven himself exceptional at trying to reach its limit until he, unfortunately, succeeded today. "For someone who's supposed to know every thought ever entertained, you sure can not look past the tip of your own nose."

His eyes, cold and hurt, stare at you in utter confusion. Dark eyebrows furrow. "I do not know what you're expecting of me,” he states in an angry voice. It appears that he really does not understand the reason for your outrage. "I am not human, I am unable to look at the world as you do."

Of course he says that, you think to yourself. It seems to be his favorite line of defense. Dream of the Endless is a strange, eldritch creature. He doesn’t comprehend the world like a mortal does and, or some reason, he treats this fact of nature as an excuse not to try. At first, you thought it charming - to see the universe through the eyes of a creature you can barely begin to understand. Who wouldn’t? The strange wonder of the man in front of you made you seek his company again and again. Truthfully, there’s something poetic about it: the reason you’ve come back to him so many times might be the very reason you bid him farewell. For good.

"Good news, then: you don't need a cardiovascular system to exercise empathy.” Your sarcastic tone has an effect on Morpheus. He frowns, hurt by your words, only to grow angry that he’s so affected. Dream’s pride makes him want to not be influenced by your bitterness. Alas, he cares more than he’s willing to admit. "Not everything is about you, Morpheus, and until you realize that, I don't think we've got more to talk about. Goodbye."

Even after you shut the door behind you, the word echoes through the castle. The stone walls seem to whisper it back to Morpheus, rubbing the salt in his wound. How strange it is - to be haunted by somebody still alive. To be the king of dreams and feel hopeless. It would be funny if it didn’t make him want to be unmade.

A thunder rolls. A blue lightning splits the sky in two. Despite the lovely weather in the morning, it starts to rain in the Dreaming.

The storm doesn’t stop after a few hours nor does it cease after a few days. Black clouds cover the sky as they did four days ago. The only change is in the water level: the kingdom is flooded. When everyone thought the rain is bound to stop soon, no one minded much the rising tide. However, when the situation only worsened with no evidence that it’s going to improve in the near future, worried voices started to reach Lucienne. If the storm doesn’t cease in the next day or two, some parts of the Dreaming will share the fate of Atlantis.

If Morpheus knew he was being observed, he didn’t show it. Perhaps he doesn’t feel up for another confrontation. In any event, he remains still, standing against the balcony reiling, as his friends begin plotting:

"How is he?" Matthew whispers to Lucienne. "Has he moved from there at all? Ate something? Said anything?"

"That's three 'no's, I'm afraid,” she answers slowly. The librarian lets out a heavy sigh. "He's just dramatically standing there, wallowing in pity."

Dream really is 'just standing there’. Drenched. His hair and clothes are stuck to his pasty skin. It can’t be comfortable but it would appear that matters other than cosiness are on his mind at the moment. For the past few days, ever since you left, he hasn’t moved even a quarter of an inch. Truthfully, he looks about as alive as a marble statue, if monuments could appear excruciatingly miserable.

"Should we do something?" The raven continues. What he really wants to ask is 'What should we do?’ but Lucienne seems to catch the undertone of his words nonetheless.

"You could ask her to come back but no guarantee she'll want to,” she thinks out loud. "They've fought before but this time she looked really defeated."

Morpheus, although doesn’t need to breathe, sighs loudly. As he exhales, another lightning tears the sky apart.

"Alright, I'll try to convince her to talk to him again,” Matthew states. His worried voice makes him sound determined to have the two of you reconcile. "Hopefully, we'll be back before you need a canoe."

Lucienne doesn’t respond. As much as she doesn’t want to admit to her pessimism, she knows better than to have much hope in the matter of Dream’s love life.

Repetitive tapping on the window diverts your attention from the dishes you were washing. Seeing the black bird sitting on the outside windowsill, you quickly wipe your hands against the dishrag and jog to open the window.

"Matthew?" you ask in surprise.

He wastes no time pleading his case in a plaintive tone. "You gotta go back to him. Everything's gone to shit."

You furrow your eyebrows. Leaning against the wall, you cross your arms on your chest. "What do you mean?"

The raven hops closer to you. "It's been pouring nonstop since you left. He's just standing there, soaking wet and he won't talk to anyone."

It might sound sadistic but it’s a nice thought that he’s grieving your departure so severely. For what it’s worth, it means he’s not as blase as he likes to appear. Perhaps, Morpheus cares about you more than you’re even aware of.

"How bad is it?" you ask warily.

"How bad?!" Matthew screeches. "The House of Mysteries is so flooded, Abel is fishing."

It sounds like 'bad' is nothing more than an elegant euphemism. In his heartache, Morpheus is willing to let Dreaming decay and fall into partial ruin. If your accusation had been correct and Dream of the Endless truly is unable to care about anyone but himself, such a disaster would never have happened. A selfish ruler wouldn’t let his realm turn to rubble because of a broken heart. And if you’re more important than what he calls home, then…

"I'm assuming that's not a usual feature,” you give the raven a half-hearted response. The thoughts inside your head are in a painful turmoil, trying to lift the truth out of the indications.

"Yeah," he answers sarcastically.

Matthew glares at you in anticipation. Perplexed, you rub your arm without thinking much about it. Right, it's the mature and responsible thing to do but at the same time, why do you have to be the one to cave in every time you two fall out? If Morpheus cares for you as much as his dramatic show of pain and grief would suggest, shouldn’t it be him travelling across world and realms to reach you?

The raven cocks his head. Something about the look in his eyes changes as though his frustration has faded away or grown into desperation if not powerlessness. He’s tired and out of options.

"Alright, let's go," you say with a sigh. "But no promises. I still have pride and self-respect and he's still a stubborn..." you take a deep breath, "nevermind. Let's just go."

Miserable.

That's the only word that comes to your mind as you stare at him from afar. One would think that an entity of his sort can not be or look miserable but maybe this world is even stranger than you've thought. His clothes are drenched to the point of being see-through. Dark, once-tussled hair is now stuck to his face and neck. Dream's body looks even more stringy as his head is hanging low between his shoulders.

The rain is almost deafening. Your cautious, hesitant footsteps shouldn't be audible and yet Morpheus turns around to look at you when you come closer.

"I didn't think you'd come back," he says in a low, groggy voice. Dream's eyes, once blue and cold, are now red and unsettlingly vacant. Has he been crying? "What do you want?"

You take a deep breath. It was vain to expect him to welcome you with open arms. An eldritch being with a bruised ego and a broken heart could never make for a hospitable host. Even to those whom he misses the most.

"I still stand by what I said, it's just..." you hang your voice for a moment to find the proper words. Seeing him so broken by your fight makes some part of you want to renounce everything that lead to your argument. Anything just for him to be alright again. But the more reasonable side of you knows that such an action would only hurt both of you in the long run. "I admit, I could have said it in a more civilized way. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that harshness."

His gaze falls and Morpheus looks away for a moment.

Whether he's doing it consciously or not, the rainstorm ceases. Black clouds slowly drift away to uncover a clear, blue sky. Somewhere in the West, if there are cardinal directions in Dreaming, the sun is beginning to set. Despite the significant improvement, the air remains cold. A harsh wind nips at your drenched form. In a vain attempt to shield yourself from the discomfort of the weather, you put your arms around your torso. Still, your body trembles.

"Perhaps I should have put more effort into understanding your concern. I'm..." he turns silent for a second. His lips are apart but no sound is coming out of his mouth. Dream's hurt gaze meets yours. "Sorry," he whispers finally. Despite his voice being hardly audible, the weight of his confession is almost deafening.

"There's one more thing, Morpheus."

Those sad blue eyes stare at you in anticipation. The misery on his face makes you think that he's expecting to have his heart broken again, instead of mended.

A couple of grey clouds reappear above your heads. Oh no.

"I'm tired of always being the one to reach out," you confess. His gaze is too intense and you quickly look away from him. There's much on his mind. "No matter who's right or wrong, it's me who bridges the gap between us. Even if that angers me, I still do it. Every time. And I don't know what that says about me."

Your body trembles again but this time it doesn't go unnoticed by Morpheus. He, quite literally, pulls a coat out of thin air. Dream's movements are almost fearful as he cautiously places the garment around your shoulders.

"Perhaps in certain aspects, you are better than me," he answers quietly while fixing the coat to fit you better.

You know you're pushing your luck when you look at him again and ask a not-so-innocent question:

"You mean a 'better person'?"

"I'm not-" He bites his tongue just in time. Morpheus is not a person. Both of you are perfectly aware of it. But it was the mention of this very fact that had brought such disastrous rain to Dreaming. "Yes. A better person."

There's not much conviction in his words but there is, however, a silent promise to find it.

______

Now that I’m in mourning, I thought it fitting to finish reading "Brief Lives" and the bittersweetness of it felt all the more pronounced. Reading it prompted me to rewatch the show and long story short I’m kind of back in my Sandman feels.

[enviedear]

Hi!! Saw you wanted Jace requests, and I absolutely adore him soooo...

Something where Jace and the reader are training together(with war looming over them, the reader asked him to teach her some about sword fighting. She gets hurt somehow and she tries to hide it, but Jace notices obviously. So he's just like "let me see." And he tends to the cut on her hand or whatever wound you decide to give her and they're all sweet with each other.

Ahhh I love this man so much😭 Thank you in advance!💖

i really love hurt/comfort so despite the glaringly obvious fact that i could have combined this req with the other one abt training w/ him… i did not! i like to keep u guys on ur toes. i hope you like it nonnie <3

request (pls) ⊹ send me your thoughts

"you need to keep your stance lower," jace advises, his eyes keen as he watches your every move, “you balance will improve."

you nod, adjusting your position. the weight of the sword feeling foreign in your hand, but the resolve in your heart is unyielding. war is coming, and you refuse to be helpless. you refuse to be unable to protect yourself, or jacaerys.

you’re acutely aware of your betrothed and the kept dragons— fierce creatures. what you’re stranger to, is the looming threat of a war fueled by them.

you must be vigilant if you hope to survive.

"like this?" you ask, lowering yourself into a more stable stance.

jace smiles, a mix of pride and amusement in his eyes, "better. now, try to evade."

you raise your sword just in time to block his strike, the force of the impact reverberating through your arm. despite the intensity of the training, there's a strange sense of peace that comes from being close to him, from shared purpose.

hours pass, and your body begins to protest. muscles ache, sweat trickling down your back, but you push on, determined to keep going. you’re unsure if you’re torturing yourself at this point, head pounding.

finally you misstep, body unable to keep up with jace’s hits. your foot slips on the loose gravel, allowing jace's blade to catch the back of your hand, leaving a shallow but searing cut in its wake.

you bite back a gasp, quickly hiding your hand behind your back. "i'm fine," you insist, hoping he didn't notice.

but jace is not so easily fooled. he lowers his sword, stepping closer with concern etched on his face. "let me see."

you hesitate, but the sincerity in his eyes is impossible to resist. reluctantly, you extend your hand, revealing the bleeding wound. he takes it gently, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

"it's not deep," he says softly, examining the cut. "but you need to care for it." he leads you to a nearby bench, where he pulls out a cloth and a small flask of water.

as he tends to your wound, the world seems to shrink to just the two of you. the sounds of training fade, leaving only the quiet murmur of his voice and the gentle touch of his hands. he cleans the cut with care, then wraps it with the cloth, his fingers lingering on your skin.

"you didn't have to hide it," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "i want to help you, dōna dāria. always."

your heart swells at his words, the weight of the impending war momentarily lifting. "i know," you reply, your voice equally soft. "i just… didn't want to seem weak."

jace looks at you, his eyes filled with something deeper than mere affection. "you're anything but weak. it takes strength to face what you're afraid of. you do it every day with grace. i am beyond proud of you for that."

the sincerity in his gaze makes your breathing quicken, “thank you, jace."

he smiles, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "nothing to thank me for." he offers you his hand, “come, it’s growing dark, our chambers await.”

[agirlwithglam]

hard work? at least put in the work!

as my mom once said to me:

"forget hard work! at least do work"

please, for some of us, talking about "hard work" is far away for us. so forget about working hard. what about just working? not working hard, just doing at least something for your future, yourself, your family. or are you okay with being a huge disappointment to others and yourself?

just doing the bare minimum at least for yourself! you don't have to go over the top or make it so hard for you. at least put in the bare minimum so you don't have to live the worst life. okay?

doing at least 5 pushups + 5 squats a day

studying a bit for exams

saying one affirmation of self-love a day

if someone talks to you, don't try to run away from the convo.

all this isn't hard. its just what every human being should be able to you (not talking about anyone with disabilities, thats a different case). okay?

the first step to this would be to reduce the amount of screentime everyday. i don't care if its "educational" or "self improvement", thats all bs. whats actually gonna make a difference is that instead of tricking your brain into thinking you're doing something or telling yourself "i'll work my hardest tomorrow", you don't work your hardest today but you work.

putting in little effort is still putting in effort.

i know that a lot of you are gonna be like "no but i believe in myself that i can put hard work into something i care about!" so okay. good job for believing in yourself, love that. but... are you actually gonna do it? or are you going to continue to sit and watch "educational" "self improvement" videos because it distracts and tricks you into thinking that this is hard work?*

*don't get me wrong, of course if you used to be a person who scrolled a bunch of nonsense, the first step would of course be to change what you consume into something better. but there comes a limit where you have to actually get up and put in the work. simply changing what you consume isn't all you need to do. theres more steps to improving your life. just like when you start with a new skill; in the beginning you may start with something very simple and easy for you to do. but once that becomes your "comfort zone" (as in very/ much easy to do), you need to move to something that challenges you more. otherwise, you never grow.

sure, believing that you are capable of doing it is certainly the first step of almost anything, but believing isn't just enough. you gotta actually do it. you don't earn my respect by "believing you can do it" (what are you, a toddler?) but by actually executing your plan. and for most of us, it turns out that our definition of "hard work" is actually just watching "self improvement" all day.

so what am i implying here? :

if you believe you can actually do the hard work, then do it. do not waste another second on self improvement videos (remember; those are just meant as a guide, a starter. a place for advice). if however, you find that you finally realise that hard work isnt just watching self improvement videos and having to actually do something, then shut up with the hard work. at least do work.

xoxo, vanilla.

[ghousttm]

i feel like Evbo and Emf are different from most of everyone in parkour civilization, and it really adds to their dynamic

i like to think park civ culture is big on improving and looking after yourself and it makes most people not value one another or even have bonds or connections

This is especially apparent in the noob level where people would die quickly so its better to not get attached

and in the master level where you often form enemies than anything

even in the pro level its all about focusing on improving your own skills and doing your own thing. Most park civ citizens are closed off and dont bat an eye on other people, its the norm

Those two are one of the few people who helps others before themselves when it comes to it. I mean, theyre the only two people who actively did anything to fix the system

Evbo has always been someone who encourages others and wants to see others progress besides himself, indiscriminately

and emf seems to be someone who wants to help others (evbo), at first for the sake of greater good and a second time (jumping into the void) just because he wants to help his friend

Put two people who's whole thing is valuing another and have rarely ever been genuinely valued themself by others and you get yourself A Dynamic For Sure.

maybe emf's whole thing s'that he has always been one who helps the people he wants to succeed, but he never thought of himself succeeding anymore than what he already is. After all master is the highest he's sure he can get.. and his skills are very average for his rank. This is where he belongs, and he plays the part, as a small insignificant piece of a collective. He can't actually do more as himself, no that's evbo's thing! He's amazing and he's a walking talent, what emf is Supposed to do is support him!

But then suddenly, Evbo risked his life just to save him, and trusted him to be the new parkour champion

Him, emf, some nobody.

why? What did someone so great, someone who'd ascended above the highest rank he'd even known, see in someone so average?

but to Evbo, emf is so much more than average.

The average doesnt help him, doesnt believe in him, doesnt give him the chances to be able to be where he is at now, doesnt jump into the void like an idiot with no sure return. He's so so different than 'the average', Evbo has a trust and, dare i say, love for Emf that doesnt exist anywhere in parkour civilization

nowhere to anyone but to him and him only.

He was the first stars Evbo ever had seen. To evbo..

He doesn't look like the night sky,, the night sky looks like him.

They place a pedestal for one another in their own heads and i think that's precious.

In a civilization where everybody looks forward at the jumps in front of them and barely to their sides, to the people jumping with them

They look each other in the eyes, with a care and appreciation that's worth an extremely gay legend to be written about in parkour only to be summed up to "they were best friends" don't you know what it means to be more than allies in Second Era Parkour Civilization???

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

I was wondering if you could do a really sweet "reunion" between Eddie and his gf in the cafeteria. Like, maybe she had to go to the dentist in the morning so they haven't seen each other all day, and Eddie is all grumpy and snappy with the Hellfire guys and Dustin is like "what's the matter with him? Wake up in the wrong side?" and Jeff replies "woke up with no Y/N is more like it" and then she comes into the cafeteria and they behave like they haven't seen each other for months 😊

Request by @somethingvicked

Warnings: Grumpy Eddie, Fluff.

❤️

Eddie was in one hell of a bad mood. You had to leave early this morning for the dentist, which meant he woke up without you.

Not only had he woken up without you this morning, there was no sleepy morning kisses and cuddles.

You weren't cuddled up on his chest when he woke up, the two of you exchanging sleepy, kisses and whispers of love. Your morning ritual.

He hated going without his morning kisses from you. It was the best start to the day, his highlight of the day.

Everyone around Hawkins thought he was mean and scary as shit but you knew the soft side to him, with you he was as soft as a marshmallow.

Wayne takes one look at his pissed off face and hides his smile behind his coffee mug as Eddie heads into the kitchen for breakfast.

"In a mood this morning son?" Wayne asks amused.

Eddie grumbles and pours some coffee into his Garfield mug.

"What gave it away? " he replies sarcastically and Wayne chuckles.

"Saw your girl leave early this morning for her appointment, I figure that's why you're like a storm cloud just now?" Eddie nods and finishes his coffee wincing at the taste.

This is why he prefers a YooHoo but this morning was already shit so extra strong, black coffee it was.

His mood didn't improve in school, it got worse, Carver said some dumb shit to him, Eddie usually ignored the asshole but today he wound him up, just to cheer himself up.

As usual the douchebag went running to the safety of his friends. He knew Jason was secretly terrified of him, he backed down fast.

Being a freak had has its advantages.

By noon, he was grumpy as fuck, the constant chatter between the boys was getting on his last nerve.

"Jesus h christ. Would you shut the fuck up" he huffs at them as they chat.

Gareth snorts. "What's up with you man?"

"Nothing" he snaps and continues to eat his pretzels, he's impatient to see you. Being around you helps the chaos of his mind, calms down his restless energy.

He loves being with you-loves you so much.

Dustin turns to him, eyes wide and he chuckles nervously.

"What is up with you dude? Wake up on the wrong side of bed this morning or something?" Jeff snorts at this and Eddie glares at him.

"Woke up with no yn more like" Jeff supplies and Eddie huffs, a pout on his face and his annoyance growing. It's true but its not helping his mood.

"Dude, you're so whipped" Mike makes a face and Eddie is barely listening as you come into the cafeteria, his heart skips a beat and he grins.

"Princess" he gets up and rushes to you, he's like an overexcited puppy as he is all over you. Peppering kisses to your hair and his pout is replaced with a huge beaming grin.

"I missed you so so much sweetheart. I don't like waking up without you beside me" he murmurs and you cuddle into him.

"I missed you too Ed's. Ugh, I hate the dentist" you say this with a pout on your face, the pout that pretty much has Eddie wrapped around your little finger.

If you give him that sad eyed look too, he's a goner.

"At least it's over with now sweetheart, Are you sore?" he asks worried as you wince, touching your mouth.

"A little, at least my very sexy boyfriend can help me feel better" he hears Gareth and Mike teasing him about this, turns and gives them a fierce glare, that stops them in their tracks.

"Anything for you princess" he kisses your forehead and leads you to the Hellfire table, he's much much happier now his girl is by his side.

He'll happily dote on you all night when you go home.

💞💞

[itoshiexx]

mi vida

synopsis: sae never thought someone could become his life, but that changed when you came.

pairing: itoshi sae x gn!reader | words: 749 | warnings: established relationship, fluff

notes: welcome back to "things i wrote on a whim when my boss wasn't at the office"!! apparently i write a lot better in english without much planning, so yeah. this idea came to me based on a personal experience, since i call my boyfriend "minha vida" (which is the same for "mi vida"/"my life" in portuguese) and i never really thought i could consider someone to be my life before him.

i really really hope you like it, and i wanna thank you all so much for all the love you've given to Unworthy (but chosen), every note and follower made me super happy! &lt;3

and also, i'm so sorry if my description of the spanish culture is not accurate and for any english mistakes!

during his time in spain, sae learned a lot of things. mainly, how to improve his soccer career even more, striving to become the best in the world after already being the best in his country. 

he was a genius, of course, so it wasn’t really hard to learn the language or get acquainted with the city of madrid, which was a lot warmer than japan — in many ways. however, it was really fucking hard to get used to the customs of the spanish people and its culture, considering it was so different from the japanese. they were extremely welcome, and sae was anything but. if anything, he was even more closed than typical japanese people. 

in spain, people were always greeting each other with a kiss on each cheek, showing off bright smiles and making conversation with strangers. friends talked loudly among each other, giving hugs and always touching somehow. the concept of personal space? totally nonexistent. in short, it was weird. 

but nothing was weirder than couples. 

the concept of love was already foreign to sae. he didn’t understand how a feeling could envelop one so much and make it forget about the rest of the world. he didn’t know how such an abstract thing, with no sense of logic whatsoever, could be so overwhelming to the point of taking one’s life completely, until all you could see, think and feel was your significant other.

most of all, he couldn’t fathom how someone could become your life. 

“te amo, mi vida,” was what he used to hear an old couple say to each other. they were the owners of sae’s favorite restaurant, a small little place in the suburbs of Madrid, and always treated him with a kindness he didn’t deemed himself worthy of. 

at first, he wasn’t able to comprehend what the sentence meant. he could barely write it on google translate to try to get its meaning, and he didn’t really care enough. though, as the time went by and sae became more fond of the couple, he eventually gathered the courage to ask the woman about it. and he was very surprised to hear the answer. 

“it means ‘i love you, my life’,” she said, smiling from ear to ear and handing a glass of salted kombucha tea to sae. it was one of the reasons he adored the place so much — it was the only restaurant he found that served his favorite drink. 

the older itoshi could only stare, dumbfounded, and mumble, “…why?”

the woman laughed at the boy’s naiveté. “why, you ask? because that’s what he is to me.” 

sae only stared in silence, too stunned to speak.

“i… i don’t understand,” he confessed. it sounded silly, and kind of pathetic, but at that moment he didn’t really care. the woman gave another smile, this time an understanding countenance, and placed her wrinkly hand on his shoulder. 

“you will understand one day, boy. and when your person comes, make sure to bring them here, right? i’d like to meet them!” 

the soccer player wanted to tell her that it would never happen. that the itoshi sae had no time for foolish things like love, and he most certainly would never love someone so much to the point of seeing them as his life. his life was soccer, and his goal was to become the best in the world. 

there was nothing else. 

oh, how he bit his tongue. 

it was at the age of twenty two when he entered the restaurant once again, and this time, not alone. you were walking by his side, with your hand intertwined in his, chatting excitedly while he just listened. a small smile was on his face, and his features were impossibly soft, in a way they only got around you. 

you, who were light in the darkness, who were comfort after a long day of practice, who was the one he loved most. you, who was the definition of home in every sense of the word. the only one that could make his heart swell so much it made it hard to breathe. 

he pulled your chair for you to sit like a true gentleman, and sat right next to you, always in need to touch you somehow. a hand was placed on your thigh while the other one opened the menu. and he turned to you, voice gentle like you could break:

“so, what would you like, mi vida?”

you, who was his life.

© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.