#Hourglass Cinematic Universe

[alwaysinstyle]

Hourglass Style First Kiss

Unsolicited Hourglass lore? Absolutely.

I was telling Nina about this earlier and it was fluffy enough to get me out of jail for the contents of chapter two, so everyone gets some fluff now.

So.

When Stan and Kyle were sophomores in high school, they weren’t together yet but as we all know, they were mutually pining like crazy. It was also around this time that Stan was really leaning into painting and goddamnit, he REALLY wanted to paint Kyle. Naturally, he begs Kyle to come over and sit for a painting under the guise of needing to practice painting other people (like, DEFINITELY not asking to paint you because you’re perfect and beautiful and a work of art and my MUSE or anything).

Kyle agrees, albeit reluctantly, because he was really going through it at the time and struggling with body image issues. He felt ugly as hell and did not want to be painted, but let’s face it, he was also down bad for Stan so he COULDN’T say no.

He’s sitting across the room feeling stiff and awkward as hell while Stan paints him, but eventually, he kind of gets lost in Stan’s eyes, because while that man is at work painting his muse, he just looks SO IN LOVE. So ENAMORED. And Kyle could FEEL THAT. Somehow, as insecure as he was about himself, he didn’t feel scrutinized while someone legitimately lingered on his every feature.

When Stan’s finally done painting, he asks Kyle to come see the finished product, and Kyle is… awestruck. He sees something he had never seen before. It WAS him, but he was… beautiful? Him??? Beautiful??? Stunningly gorgeous??? This body and face that he HATED?

He turns to Stan with tears in his eyes and says, “It’s beautiful.”

They hold each other’s gaze longer than they ever had before, and Stan replies, “*You’re* beautiful.”

SO LOST IN EACH OTHER’S EYES they just keep staring until Stan says again, softer, “You’re so goddamn beautiful, Ky.”

And then it’s like gravity. Their lips press together.

[themotherofhorses]

au where aemond targaryen finds himself in the mcu world and meets and falls in love with a young ex black widow agent whose adopted father is eyepatch wearing nick fking fury.

[lavellans-loft]

Hi everyone! This is my first official post on this blog!

My name’s a work in progress lmao, but you guys can call me V, Leddie, or Val! I’m a freelance concept artist and illustrator currently looking for work!

My commissions are closed at the moment, as i’m still getting everything in order so I can start them. But, I am part of a bunch of different fandoms if you’re interested!

I’ll tag them below along with some of my most recent work!

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: Spiderman sits up a little, wincing all the way; puts his back against one of the two miserable trees, trying to calm his breathing. "You can go," he breathes out, choking back sobs and probably pain too. "You- you can go, I'll be- I'll be fine, I'll be fine, I'll be okay, I swear." It sounds rehearsed; or, no, familiar. Like he's been in that position a thousand times; like he's encountered a thousand people who wanted to save him, but didn't know how, and he turned them all away with a clumsily-executed reassuring lie. "I can't just leave you," Eli retorts, and then crouches down to face the man, startled into action by indignation. "You're- you're bleeding! And it's cold, and- I can't just leave you." "I'll survive!" exclaims Spiderman, gesturing towards his timer, eyes wide, like the fact that he's guaranteed a worse moment sometime ahead in his life is somehow reassuring enough for Eli to leave him. (or: the AU in which everyone has a timer on their wrist, counting down to the worst moment of their life.) (or: in which a civilian stumbles onto an injured Spiderman, and they have a conversation.)

Author: @amazaria

[scifrey]

Cling Fast: Chapter Nine

By Losyark The Sandman (Netflix with some sprinkling of comics canon, and Gaiman Cinematic-Literary Universe canon) Dreamling (Hob Gadling x Dream of the Endless | Morpheus) Unfinished (tentatively 10 chapters) PG-13 (for now) Unbeta’d

Hob throws the door of the flower shop open hard enough that it rattles in its frame.

“Sorry!” he shouts. “And sorry, I know you’re about to close, I was stuck at work for hours and I just–” He looks around the shop, realizing that he is utterly, utterly out of his depth. “I need help.”

From somewhere behind a jungle of ready-made bouquets, massive ferny house plants, shelves of cute succulents in pots, and buckets of individual cut flowers, an amused voice calls: “What'd you do?”

Hob puffs up like an affronted pigeon at the assumption that he’s only here because he’s done something wrong, until he remembers that, actually, he’s only here because he’s… well, he hasn’t done something wrong, it’s not his fault that he didn’t understand Morpheus’ overtures. 

But he might have been a bit of a knobhead last night and that he does need to apologize for.

Hob knows the way he lashed out at Morpheus isn’t entirely fair. Even if, on some counts, it was probably true. He has no idea of Morpheus’ feelings have been growing as long as his own have. If his regard for Hob was planted at that first meeting, and if it’s been sprouting slowly, climbing towards the light and warmth of Hob’s own metaphorical fire, and has just now blossomed.

Maybe Morpheus didn’t understand yet why hearing of Eleanor upset him. Maybe just as much Hob hadn't understood yet why Morpheus walking away from him that night had hurt in return.

They… they have to talk. Everything that is British in Hob curdles at the idea of having to discuss his feelings, but he’s not a medieval peasant any more. He can be emotionally aware and available, when he tries.

But first, Hob needs to make sure that Morpheus understands that his message was received loud and clear. Received and reciprocated.

Hob winds his way through the overgrowth, and finds himself at a back counter. The emo hipster manning said counter–and the Asian guy is definitely a hipster, umber-coloured beanie firmly in place, dark fall of hair obscuring his face, and matching vest showing off two full sleeves and vibrantly coloured tattoos depicting everything from flowers to books, hourglasses to compasses–doesn’t even look up.

“I need a sort of like… bouquet.”

The hipster snorts, and keeps his eyes on the massive book in front of him, where he seems to be totting up a row of names. Every few lines, he strokes one out, seemingly at random. “You’ve found yourself where you need to be. What’s it for?”

“I yelled at… at a friend who was making, uh, overtures,” Hob confesses breathlessly, tugging at his ear and feeling a right tit. “But I didn’t know he was making the overtures, and I want to apologize for not knowing and make it clear that I feel the same way. He likes flowers. Well, he likes the symbolism of flowers, I mean.” 

Hob fumbles his phone out of his back pocket, then opens the app he’d downloaded that afternoon. It’s a floriography catalog, which allows you to look up plants by their meaning, or snap a photo of a bloom and explore what that particular flower means.

When the hipster doesn’t stop what he’s doing to look at the phone, Hob barrels on: "I need something that says, I don't know, like, I'm sorry I'm so dense and I'm sorry it took so long, but now I realize that our love is fated and like, you're my… you're my…."

"Destiny?" the hipster intones, with a knowing smirk curling his lips, the only part of his face Hob can see.

"Yes! That!" Hob cries, slapping the counter excitedly, like the gif of the cat with the bongos. “And I was thinking, Shamrock, for light heartedness, and Arbor Vitae for undying friendship, and especially Sweet William for gallantry and lovelorn heroes, and masculine beauty because, whoo boy, yeah, and…” Hob stops shyly, realizing he’s rambling. 

The hipster is smiling as he continues to tot up his rows of names, at least.

“And Ivy,” Hob finishes seriously. “The one above all else. Please. If we could do that.”

The hipster doesn’t move away from behind the counter. He does, however, stop tallying.

“Money is no object?” Hob adds, holding up his credit card.

Without looking up, the hipster plucks the card from his hand and says, “Come back in an hour.”

*

The bouquet that the hipster florist hands Hob an hour later is… well, it’s not beautiful.

It’s a sort of freakish amalgam of very meaningful flowers with very little thought put into their aesthetic arrangement. Tied with twine and wrapped in plain brown paper, there are actual sticks poking up out of the top in a spray that makes the whole bouquet not all too dissimilar to a hedgehog.

But the message, as far as Hob can tell through the app, is spot-on.

“The hell is that?” Patrick asks, as Hob cuts through the pub with his prize.

Hob ignores Patrick’s squawking and ducks into the kitchen and snag something for dinner, instead of having to make it himself. He’s too keyed up for that. 

“That’s a no, by the way, if you’re thinking of changing the decor as well as the food in here, Bob,” Patrick pushes when Hob reemerges with a covered plate in his free hand. “That's hideous.”

“It’s not for the pub,” Hob chuckles. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. Be a lamb and open my door for me?”

Patrick gives the bouquet a wide berth, and punches in Hob’s keycode and holds open the door to his private entrance. “How’s the shoot going?”

“Crazy,” Hob says. “I’m going to eat this and go right to bed. I feel like I’m far overdue for some time in slumberland.”

“Sweet dreams, then,” Patrick says.

Hob grins beatifically at him. “I’m planning on it.”

*

Hob devours his curry in about five minutes flat. He showers and changes into his fanciest silk PJs, gulps down two sleeping pills, and falls asleep clutching the monstrous floral creation to his chest like a funerary arrangement.

Soon after, he opens his eyes on the Darkling Beach. He's nestled into the Dream Sand with the Sea of Imagination kissing his bare feet. The bouquet is here, but instead of laying on his chest, it’s now all around him. A garden oasis has sprung up from the flowers. The twigs have become a privately enticing copse. The Ivy has curled and tangled in on itself to create an inviting little dome over the resulting bower. Hob stands and brushes the sand from his clothes, impressed with the Dreaming's inventiveness.

He looks around, but he is alone on the beach, as he expected he would be. He ducks under the vine arch, and dreams up a plush, luxurious sofa in ruby-red velvet, double wide and with angled arms perfect for leaning back against. Beside that, he wills into existence a small table with a sweet chilled Retsina wine, two thick-cut sapphire goblets, and a small pewter tray of gently steaming venison pasties.

Then he closes his eyes and, gently and deliberately, thinks as loudly as he can: I'm ready now.

The sound of the wind picking up and sand rustling across leaves reaches Hob's ears before he's even opened his eyes.

“You’re determined to fatten me up,” Morpheus says, appearing in a gentle swirl of sand and ink-in-water mist. He is standing just outside the archway on the beach, giving Hob the space he had demanded.

“They’re just really good,” Hob says, turning to offer up his friend a beaming grin. “You’d know if you tried them.”

Morpheus tilts his head like Matthew, and considers Hob from behind the invisible line in the sand that Hob has drawn.

"Please, come sit with me," Hob says, and perches on the sofa closest to the little table.

Morpheus tilts his head the other way, regarding his offerings.

Hob is no petitioner, no sycophant, no priest.

But he would lay a sacrifice for his god, if Morpheus would accept it. There is wine. There is food. And there is Hob himself, ready to lay bare on the altar of Morpheus' regard and do whatever it takes to regain the friendship he needs more than that wine, or food, or even air.

For a split-second Hob is afraid that Morpheus is going to spurn him. That the apology bouquet was a ruse. That Morpheus is actually furious at him for daring to shout at one such as he, and has lured Hob here to punish him. That Morpheus is about to tell him to go to hell and stomp off in another strop.

But then Morpheus glides into the bower, and sits beside Hob. He doesn't crowd him. He remains cautious arm length away, and Hob tries not to be disappointed.

Baby steps.

Hob has to remember that he hurt Morpheus' feelings, too. 

Hob lets Morpheus settle and take in the greenery around him. He focuses instead of pouring the sweating wine, and picking a perfect-looking pie.

And then Morpheus gasps.

And there it is, Hob thinks smugly. He hands the pasty and goblet to Morpheus, who takes them unthinkingly, because he's too busy staring around the bower, eyes and mouth dropped open in wonder.

"Do you like it?" Hob asks, and they both know he's not talking about the delectibles. "I had it made for you."

"Hob," Morpheus' voice crackles, "It is… you have…"

"I even know what they all mean this time," Hob chuckles. 

Morpheus turns to face Hob, clearly at a loss. He seems to remember all at once that he's holding something. His eyes drop slowly, reluctantly off of Hob's face, and to what he's holding. Hob reaches out to relieve him of his delicious burdens, but then all at once, and with no grace whatsoever, Morpheus jams the whole pasty into his mouth. He chews stubbornly, flakes of crust falling off his chin, gaze locked on Hob's like a challenge.

Hob bites his lips to keep from gawfawing at the spectacle of the chipmunk-cheeked being before him, trying so desperately to hold onto his dignity around his mouthful and utterly failing. That's fine, though. Hob doesn't need Morpheus' veneer of prideful dignity. He would much rather have the messy, uncertain, selfish, narcissistic, secretly self-loathing, solicitous man he's shared a year's worth of Tuesdays with.

"It is delicious—" Morpheus puffs, spraying crumbles, and then coughs. 

Hob gently pushes his wine goblet up towards his mouth by the base, and Morpheus takes the hint and drinks to wash away the last of the pasty. Then he keeps going, and drains the goblet. If Hob didn't know any better, he'd say that Morpheus was nervous. Perhaps he actually is.

Morpheus wipes his face clean, and sets aside the goblet. Then he makes one of those frivolous human gestures that he bothers with so rarely, an aborted reach for Hob's shoulder that Hob wishes he'd let land.  So he reaches out, and takes Morpheus’ hovering hand. He guides it to his shoulder, and settles it there.

"Hello," Hob says quietly.

"Hello Hob," Morpheus says. "I am glad you are here. And I am… very glad that you have chosen to accept my apology." Morpheus' hand slides upward, cupping the side of Hob's neck. He shudders at the firm, cool touch.

"I'm sorry I lost my shit at you," Hob replies, reaching up to cup Morpheus' the back hand with his own. "I was scared, and after some reflection, I realized that you would never have let anything happen to me. I would have preferred a little more communication, but I know you wouldn't have exposed me like that without first making sure it was safe. And… and I have to thank you for Harriet, too. She's… you were right, she's a good defender. And she's fast becoming a great friend. It wasn't fair of me to say those things I did. I don't really think you're that cruel."

Morpheus's eyes flutter shut. "I will be honest and tell you that some small part of my motivation for pushing you to do the show was as you say. Your heart was still full of your grief for them, and I foolishly, selfishly thought that as such, you would have no room for me."

"Ah, that's the thing with human hearts, my friend," Hob says, gently brushing his thumb over Morpheus' knuckles. "They can expand to hold as much love as they need."

Morpheus startles at the 'L' word, but he doesn't open his eyes.

"Once again, Hob Gadling, you teach me much about humanity."

"It's what I'm here for."

"Yes," Morpheus concedes. "But that is not all you are here for. And I am sorry that I have treated you as if it was your only worth to me, and in the world."

Hob chuckles, and scooches forward to rest his forehead against Morpheus'. He reaches out and cups his friend's marble-pale neck in turn, and Morpheus mirrors him by cradling his own hand as well. Morpheus' eyes remain closed, but Hob doesn't dare look away now. Starlight escapes from between his lowered lashes, and Hob wants to remember every microsecond of this moment.

"To be fair, every time we met I've been either a braggart insulting your sister, a literal flea-ridden lout, a crass boor, a starving, mannerless beast, a literal slaver, and a—"

"A man who has genuinely striven to better himself each and every meeting, to make of himself a kinder, gentler, more generous soul. And when you turned that kind generosity at me, I spurned you."

Hob laughed, and finally let his eyes slip closed, if only so he could focus on the sensation of his palms sliding up Morpheus' neck to cup his smooth jaw. "I can't blame you if you barely tolerated me for the sake of a bet, before. But then you put mistletoe in my bouquet. "

"I did."

Hob's fingers curl of their own volition, digging into Morpheus flesh, but he only tilts into the pressure, begging for more. "I didn't even know, I didn't know that this was something you could feel. That this is something you might want." Hob hitches one leg up onto the sofa, folding it under him so he can press closer.

Morpheus swallows hard. "It is."

"Then why did you push me away? Before? I tried to kiss you, at the dream of the feast."

"You were delirious. You could not consent."

"How chivalrous."

Morpheus is panting now, his hands over Hob's shoulders, hands drawing down his arms and back against, squeezing. His chest is thrust forward, hips restless on the sofa, trying so hard to be still, to wait. 

“And for that misapprehension, I truly am sorry. I thought you knew how I… I thought I was welcome,” Morpheus chokes out. “In your bed, I mean.”

Hob presses his forehead against Morpheus' shoulder, breath heaving, drawing in the scent of ozone and flowers. He's losing the thread of the conversation, but he doesn't want to stop it. Not yet. Not while he still has his courage screwed to the sticking place.

"That made you think that?”

“I laid out my feelings for you, and you did not object.”

“A lack of a no is not the same as a yes,” Hob says in gentle rebuke, and he wants to bite, he wants to lick and nip, so he bites the inside of his own cheek instead.

"Lucienne has well scolded me for my presumptions," Morpheus admits contritely. His fingertips dig into the muscles at the base of Hob's spine, and Hob can't help but throw his head back, arch his spine, and whine at the way it tugs him closer. "And Matthew has taught me the phrase: 'You know what assuming does'."

"It makes an ass out of you and me," Hob finishes, panting up at the sky. "Yeah. That's fitting."

"Hob—"

"Okay, that's enough talking about our feelings. I think we're good now," Hob says, and surges down to mash his lips ineligantly against Morpheus'.

Morpheus inhales sharply through his nose. He drags Hob toward him so roughly that Hob ends up half-tumbled in his lap, his own fingers digging into Morpheus's cheeks to hold him still. Hob tilts his head, opens his mouth, and groans when Morpehus opens up under him immediately. Hob pushes his tongue against Morpheus' teeth.

It's a fucking terrible first kiss, but who cares? It's followed immediately by a second one that's much, much better, and then a third that's frankly incredible. Morpheus' mouth tastes of buttery pastry and port sauce, and he keeps making noises like a rumbling panther.

"Fuck, that's sexy," Hob wheezes, sucking on the salt air of the beach.

Morpheus pulls back to drink in the sight of Hob, flushed and half-wrecked already. Morpheus is losing coherence again, his irises glowing an eerie bioluminescent blue against the deep-space of his sclera.The inside of his mouth is the black of deepest space, shading outward on his kiss-bruised lips. Pink flags across his nose and cheeks, leaks like sakura petals into the under-water slow wave of his hair, which has grown to rise and feather around his head in a dark, eldritch halo.

"I want to consume you," Morpheus warns Hob. Black mist creeps up around them, wrapping them in a floral-smelling cocoon. What little of the sky Hob can see has overcast, diamond-bright bolts of lighting chasing one another playfully between the silver clouds. "If you let me, I will not stop. I am selfish, Hob Gadling. I am stubborn. I am demanding."

To prove his point, he lifts hob by the waist as if he weighs nothing, and presses him firmly in his lap. In this moment, Morpheus has a (more or less) male form, and under Hob's arse, the proof of this is hot, and hard, and definitely noticeable.

"I think I'm just as stubborn," Hob counters, running his hand through Morpheus' amazing hair, watching it bob back upright with each stroke. "And I think it's about time you had someone in your life you can't boss around."

"I am a king. I am bound always to my duty. I am Dream, and Dreams are me, and I cannot neglect, or abandon, or harm my dreamers."

"I would never ask you to, and a pox on anyone who would," Hob gasps, as Morpheus' hands—are they hands? They may be something else, some other limbs, or maybe it's many hands—roam his back, his thighs, his calves, massage his arse and squeeze his biceps. It's like Morpheus, now that he's been given permission to touch, has a desperate need to touch him everywhere, all at once. "Besides, I'm gonna have to throw you over for marking and lesson planning sometimes."

"I am not human."

"Yeah, I'm getting that," Hob chuckles breathlessly. "And darling, please let me assure you, I am very, very into it."  He lifts one of the hands—yes, this one is a hand—and presses it against his throat, encouraging Morpheus to unbutton him.

Instead, the beautiful nightmare beneath him wraps his long fingers around Hob's throat and squeezes, just a little, just enough for it to be exciting. When you've lived forever, sometimes you need to skirt closer to extremes to really feel anything. And this, this is the most extreme and wonderful thing Hob's ever experienced in his life. Just as Hob considers gasping for air, Morpheus lets him go and starts plucking at the front of his shirt.

The pajamas are wrenched downward. Hob wriggles to help Morpheus get it off his arms, but then the shirt is being twisted. Morpheus knots it up at the small of Hob's bare back, trapping his wrists and hands, pulling his arms tight, forcing him to thrust his chest out, keeping him immobile.

Hob's own cock, which has been very, very interested in the proceedings so far, throbs. "Unf, Morpheus, love, yes but… please, touch me."

"Oh, with great pleasure, mine own," Morpheus says with dark sensuality, and in an instant, every stitch of clothing between them succumbs to dream-logic's evanescence.

One of the smoky limbs wraps around Hob's wrists to replace the disintegrated shirt, keeping him bound, as two more wrap around his thighs and lift him just enough for a human-shaped hand to slip around his hip and between his cheeks. Something cool and slick on Morpheus fingers makes Hob whine and writhe, and try to press back onto the digits.

"May I, inamoroto? Will you let me in?"

Morpheus scrapes his teeth, sharper now, almost prickling, along Hob's throat. He mouths at his clavicle, bites his shoulder hard enough to draw both blood and a moan from Hob.

"You're already in me, so much, so much more than you know," Hob chokes out, gasping and swallowing, hardly able to keep the plot. "Every choice I've made, every journey I've taken, they've all been with you in mind. I haven't done anything in six hundred years without wondering if you'd approve, or if it could make you smile. I—"

"Hob," Morpheus huffs a laugh against Hob's shoulder. "I'm asking very specifically in this particular situation if I can fuck you."

"Oh, well, yes. We can do that, too."

Hob looks down at Morpheus. Morpheus looks up at Hob.

Hob infuses as much tender affection and admiration into his gaze as he can. In turn he is rewarded with awe and love so deep and honest that Hob wonders how he could ever have thought that the Endless couldn't feel the way Morpheus clearly does.

And then the first finger is breaching Hob's body. It feels so good that he groans and flops backward in Morpheus' many-limbed hold, trusting his lover to support him and position him to his satisfaction.

Morpheus takes advantage of his bared and vulnerable belly to lip and suck at Hob's nipples. This soon has him squirming and grinding down on Morpheus' thighs, desperate for something, for anything—

"If you let me have this, I will want it always," Morpheus warns, even as his hand draws away and Hob's legs are splayed open for the nightmare King's pleasure.

"You can have it."

"I will keep you forever." He pulls Hob down, slowly, slowly, not giving him time to adjust to the stretch and weight of him. Doesn't matter. This is a dream. It just feels good, and good, and good, and goes on, and on, deeper and deeper.

"You can have me!" Hob whines, circling his hips, desperate for what little motion Morpheus' terrible grip allows. "Only please—I'm so close already—please—" he sobs.

"I am as hungry as a black hole and I will not stop until everything you are is subsumed by me, submissive to me, is mine to cherish and to protect and to please."

"Dearheart," Hob stutters as his peak crashes closer. "Don't—ah—don't you think I already know that? Though we're gonna talk about—christ, there!--we're gonna talk about what you mean by… by submissive because you know I like it both ways and I think—"

Hob doesn't get to tell Morpheus what he's thinking, because Morpheus suddenly draws him into a crushing hug, burying his face between Hob's nipples, and goes rigid. The sky splits open. Fireworks streak and scream through the darkness, popping the sweet clear pink of a greek wine, the deep red of a full-blown rose, and the deep sleepy amber of a cold beer in a sunny pub garden. The clouds burst into a shower of silver dust and rain down on the landscapes and denizens of the Dreaming. The sky clears and the stars burn bright and true.

Morpheus stills entirely, immovable as the marble statue he resembles. Which is not fair, it's not kind, because Hob is so close, so close—

"You bastard," he hisses. "You fucking tease, don't stop, don't…"

"Take your pleasure of me, then, Hob Gadling," Morpheus commands with a smirk, still shuddering down from his own release. He lays back against the arm of the sofa, and stretches like a cat, arms above his head, expression challenging, cock still hard and hot, and smokey limbs still trapping Hob where he is. "Or do you regret it already?  Pledging yourself to me thus for the rest of your immortal life?"

"No!" Hob shouts, feeling his muscles seize, his balls draw tight, the lightning arc down his spine. "No, of course not, I… I have… oh, my going I'm going to… I have so much to live for!"

*

In the afterglow—and it's literally a glow, because Morpheus so pleased with himself that he is radiating silvery light like a fallen star—Hob runs his fingers through Morpheus's bird's nest hair, as Morpheus has his head pillowed on Hob's furry chest.

Above them, the sparkle from the fireworks have joined together in a dance, ribboning across the sky in lazy, satisfied arcs, forming an indolent aurora borealis.

"Wait, wait, you had to hold negotiation talks with your siblings over me?" Hob says, trying to get his sex-stupid brain to follow the thread of Morpheus' confession. He's wrung out. Even in his dreams, half a dozen orgasms is a lot for a man of his age. "Is that where you were the week you were away? When I saw the stained glass?"

"Those were the sigils of my siblings, yes," Morpheus allows. He sits up to sip from the goblet of wine, and then presses the rim of the glass to Hob's lower lip so he can drink, too. "I expressed my intention to court you, and my youngest siblings contested my right to claim you as a vassal of my realm."

"You told them before you even asked me?" Hob asks, miffed by the high-handedness of it. He'd be more miffed, of course, if all of Morpheus' grandeur and affrontery weren't just for show.  Hob has learned in the last few hours that his beloved enjoyed being held down and swived just as much as he enjoyed doing the swiving.

"Be assured, I value your opinion, and your independence, erastis," Morpheus says, leaning across his chest to set the goblet down on the little table. Hob takes the opportunity to pet down Morpheus' flank, to give the beautiful pale globe of muscle a loving squeeze. "Yet you have spent as much time in Despair's domain as mine, for your grief is deep and darkly encompassing. So too Desire's, for you lust for life and the hedonistic pleasures it provides is glorious and brightly burning. And then as well Delirium, for she is still Delight in all the ways that matter, and your giddy, unrepentant joy in all the experiences that life has to offer you, sober or not, falls within her purview."

"What about the other one?" Hob asks gently, cuddling Morpheus close and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. "I think I've spent a lot of my time with Destruction, too."

"The Prodigal did not attend the summons," Morpheus answers sadly, after a long silence. "Though I think he too would have claimed you as vassal, for you create as much as you destroy, and no creation can come without first sweeping away what was before it. Destruction is not always a bad thing."

Hob thinks of their meeting in 1789 and agrees.

"Only Death and Destiny did not wish to contest my claim. And so in the end it was decided you would be vassal to all, for of all of humanity, you are the most human. You have resided in each of our realms, and been both our antipode and antithesis."

"And what does that entail? Am I going to have to serve them? Am I going to have to serve you?"

"You need not be my vassal to be my beloved," Morpheus says, as if it's obvious. "And my sister Death has impressed upon me that I, erm, I need not be so possessive of you, agapitos. You may live your life as you always have. The difference is that my siblings may choose to appear to you. They may call on you, or ask boons of you, and provide boons of their own as well."

"Translation: be prepared to have the in-laws drop by unannounced."

Morpheus chuckles, and Hob preens to have made him laugh. "They… would like to be seen by you. As you see me."

"What does this mean for, uh, this though?" Hob waggles a finger between them, illustrating the connection they have. "What are we now?"

Morpheus looks up at him, mercury on his lower lash line, but a smile on his lips. "I am yours. And you are mine."

"Sounds good to me," Hob says, settling back into the sofa more comfortably and pulling Morpheus half on top of him. It has been difficult, and anxiety-inducing, and terrifying, and wretched, and amazing, and awe-inspiring, but Hob has been hollowed out these last few weeks. And now he is ready to fill his heart again. "I'm your nebbish professor-slash-television presenter and you're my King of Dreams and Nightmares."

"Mmm," Morpheus agrees.

"Wait," Hob says, snapping upright, tumbling Morpheus onto the carpet of shamrock and clover under the sofa. "Does that make me a consort? You made me a, ivy crown, does that mean I'm a—"

He jolts awake before he can finish his sentence.  Hob falls back into his pillows, covers his face with his hands, and laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

PREVIOUS | NEXT

[thatonepersoninthebackoftheroom]

This is what I think the zelda games should look like as a cinematic universe. All series will have a different actor playing Link unless specifically stated that they are the same Link.

Movie: About the creation of the World, TriForce, and how Demise was sealed the first time around by Hylia and the First Hero.

The Zelda Series begins with Skyward Sword having 1 or 2 seasons, depending on how much is put into the episodes

Movie about the Zonai and the sealing of Demon King Ganondorf beneath the Hyrule Castle

Now, the Hero of Men that happens before Minish Cap could have his own movie, but I don't think it's necessary.

Minish cap would have 2 seasons by itself, and then the same Link would transfer over to Four Swords for 1 more season.

Four Swords Adventures would be a movie, same Link as the Minish Cap and Four Swords.

Ocarina of Time, I think, should have 3 seasons. Season 3 being the shortest as it will have the alternate timeline endings and give us a little preview of what they all look like.

Majoras Mask is a movie with the same Kid Link from Ocarina of Time

A Link to The Past would be 1 season, but that's alright because this Link gets a good couple of seasons.

Then we have the Oracle of Ages/Seasons which would be I think 1 or 2 seasons depending on what they do with it. Same Link.

Links Awakening, I think, would do well as a movie, but it could probably be 1 season. Same Link.

A Link Between Worlds would also be 1 or 2 seasons. Same Link.

Tri Force Heros is a movie. Same Link, but he's got buddies that look very similar to him now.

The Legend of Zelda gets 1 season. With a different Link

The Adventure of Link is 1 season as well, same Link as LoZ

Twilight Princess gets 3 seasons, 1st beign the creation of the Twilight Realm, 2nd being Twilight Princess, and than the 3rd being what happened after.

Windwaker is 1 season

And Phantom hourglass is a movie with the same Link

And then I think there should be a season where that same Link and Zelda explore the Seas and find new Hyrule.

Than Spirit Tracks is a New Link, and it 1 season.

Than all the timelins converge with a movie of Hyrule Warriors.

And then either a movie or season of the Hero 10,000 years before BoTW

Breath of The Wild is like 2 seasons

And then Age of Calamity is a movie with an alternative ending to the first 100 years of Breath of The Wild. Same Link, but different

And finally, Tears of The Kingdom is 1 or 2 seasons with ties back to the movie with the Zonai

Anyway, that's that. I'm pretty happy with it, but feel free to add your own thoughts and stuff to it. Also, Nintendo should hire me to voice act/act in it. Because I think that would be cool. Shout at Nintendo for them to make this!

[alwaysinstyle]

hi ana! would you mind telling us a little bit about how your hourglass styles look and dress? i was thinking about drawing them!

My dear, I must start by saying I am KICKING MY FEET WITH EXCITEMENT and I hope you know you are BRINGING MY DREAMS TO LIFE by drawing Hourglass Style. *cries*

And now to answer your actual question lmao.

As far as a physical description of Kyle goes, I went into rather alarming detail in this post which explains how I generally imagine his appearance, and everything I said there absolutely applies to HCU Kyle.

When it comes to our dear Stanley, this man is probably the most conventionally attractive of the gang. Like, this mf walks around looking like a damn Disney prince. He’s got those dazzling blue eyes, effortlessly perfect “messy” hair look, an adorable dimpled smile, a subtle cleft chin that highlights his beautiful jawline, all that jazz. In terms of stature, he’s quite tall — definitely got a few good inches on Ky. He’s also muscular in a slightly more obvious way since he goes to the gym regularly (I force him to go every day to make sure he can keep up with the Style Carry™️ quota). Now I definitely don’t picture him to be like RIPPED BODYBUILDER SHOWOFF MUSCLES MAN by ANY means, but you’d look at him and definitely know he’s in hella good shape. He can really throw Kyle around with those strong arms and they both love that hehehe (oops I made this slightly NSFW pretend that didn’t happen kids).

In terms of how they dress, we know our man Stan loves band tees and in general t-shirts that show off his arms a lil because he knows Kyle loves it — which is the same reason he wears his damn gray sweatpants around the house all the time. He knows EXACTLY what he’s doing lmaooo. If it’s a little chilly out he’ll toss on a hoodie most likely. When he’s at work or out and about he’s still a pretty casual jeans guy, probably a plain nicer t-shirt or a simple long-sleeve is the move.

Kyle wears sweaters and khakis/nicer pants and shit like that pretty often, because he wants to legitimize himself at work and in general look presentable and respectable. He just FEELS better if he looks at least semi-put together. Around home, though, he loves putting on Stan’s sweatshirts that are way too big on him. He’s adorable in them obviously and he’s happy because they smell like Stan. :)

[tiredfoxtf]

Set It Off is truly one of the my all time favourite bands. I really cannot tell you which one of their albums slaps more. On top of it, they have such amazing singles like Fake Ass Friends and Punching Bag. I just vibe with their music so hard.

Midnight album is Literally a part of my personality now. Midnight Thoughts? Hourglass? Lonely Dance? Killer In The Mirror for Universe's sake?! FOR YOU FOREVER? GO TO BED ANGRY??? NO DISRESPECT??!!! STITCH ME UPPPPPP.

But like also there's Elsewhere where EVERY SINGLE SONG SLAPS SO HARD. And Better Than This is literally me, this song is made for me and about me, you don't get it.

There's Also Cinematics and yeah sure it's their most popular album with such hits as I'd Sleep When I'm Dead, Distance Disturbs Me, Partners In Crime and Kill The Lights.

And there's Duality that brought us the delight that is Wolf In Sheep's Clothing. But it also has Why Worry that I loved since MIDDLE SCHOOL (I barely knew english back then and barely listened to english songs). And N.M.E and Ancient History and Bleak December.

I just really love SIO can you tell.

[inherstars]

Hi, I'm Nicole / InHerStars.

Until I can come up with something more clever to say, here is a master list of some of the fandom stuff I've written (links are to Ao3, you can find me there as ABeckoningCat.)

Full disclosure, this isn't a fandom blog, but stuff does occasionally get tossed around for fun.

The Last of Us Rest (Joel & Ellie) - Sickfic fluff New Season (Joel & Ellie) - Sickfic angst & fluff Swimming Lessons (Joel & Ellie) - Fluff Future Days (Joel & Ellie) - Angsty fixit fic Ghosts of Winter (Joel, Ellie, Tommy) - Angsty Ellie, vengeful Joel Spring Thaw (Joel, Ellie, Tommy, Maria) - Angsty sickfic The Hourglass (Joel, Ellie, Tommy, Maria) - Angsty sickfic

Prospect (All Ezra & Cee - read in this order) Ten Questions (More or Less) Learning Curve Unbecoming

Gears of War Unknown Issue (Marcus and an OC) - Set 25 years after Gears 3. Second Harvest (a follow-up to Unknown Issue) Midwinter (a follow-up to Second Harvest) First Birthday (a drabble response, also set after the above fics) Joy (Marcus, Anya, Baird, Cole) - Drabble, set after Gears 3 Long Way Home (OCs) - Set shortly after E-Day Afterglow (OCs) - Set after Gears 3 Rise and Fall (J.D. Fenix, Kait Diaz) - Set before Gears 4 Memento Mori (J.D. Fenix, Kait Diaz, Reyna Diaz) - follow up to Rise and Fall

I also have older fics set in the Aliens Universe, the Aliens Prequels Universe (Covenant), the Alien: Isolation Universe, the Arcane Universe, and -- to my vague dismay -- the Marvel Cinematic Universe. But those are really old, so please don't torture yourself. Or me.

I also have a slew of original stories and novels available in various formats on Amazon.com. But listen, if you see something you want to read on Amazon? Don't buy it. Just tell me and I will literally send you a digital copy. I'm not even kidding, save your money and just enjoy the damn book.

[mrnerdteacher]

A Cosmic Hourglass Half-Full: A Spoiler-Filled List of Everything I Appreciated about "Quantumania"

“So… what’s next… Secret Wars?” As someone whose feelings for the last two Marvel movies can be described as “mixed at best,” I was surprised to find myself uttering these words outside my local Laemmle.

It was 3 pm after a matinee showing of “Ant-Man & The Wasp: Quantumania”, and while I found the movie heavy on the green screen and light on just about everything else, I was already looking forward to reuniting with my college friends for the next entry in ever-expanding Marvel Cinematic Universe.

It was at that moment that it occurred to me: the MCU, for better or for worse, is no longer just a franchise of movies and tv shows. They are cultural events. They are a recurring reason to gather with friends and family, and they give us something to talk about besides climate change and the price of gas. For this reason, attending a Marvel movie is almost like a sporting event. Sometimes, as with the case in Quantumania or Dark World, your team has a bad day. But that doesn’t mean you quit being a fan. It’s just more of a reason to celebrate franchise-defining moments, ala No Way Home or Endgame.

Therefore, in the spirit of optimistic fandom, here is a SPOILER-FILLED LIST OF EVERYTHING TO APPRECIATE ABOUT QUANTUMANIA, in order of appearance. Because yes, we lost this round, but the game definitely had some highlights…

-Jonathan Majors as Kang the Conqueror-

Simultaneously the movie’s greatest strength and most glaring weakness is the way it left you wanting more from the MCU’s newest big bad. Can an actor nail all his lines, even without things like motivation or context? Apparently, yeah. Majors might not actually have much to do in this movie, but you’ll struggle to take your eyes off him.

-Look Out for the Little Guy-

Scott’s post-Endgame memoir has been a running gag in the MCU for awhile now, but seeing Rudd ham it up in a Barnes n’ Noble is joy in its purest form. If this didn’t make you smile, I think you got the wrong theater…

-William Jackson Harper as Quaz, the Telepath-

Yeah, I didn’t know that character had a name either. Still, this Good Place alum delivered the laughs with every line. I think we’d all watch a comedy sitcom set in the quantum realm if Harper was the showrunner.

“Like Stuffing a Turkey”

Whatever discomfort we endured watching Michael Douglas double-fist a pair of gummy worms was paid off in perhaps the greatest “I’ll drive” moment in movie history. I’ve never heard an audience cheer for anything stranger.

All Things M.O.D.O.K.

While Cross’s freakish appearance provided some of the movie’s best visual gags, writer Jeff Loveness also deftly turned Yellowjacket from a D-list villain into one of the most entertaining and memorable characters in the entire MCU. And his death scene? Instant meme material. It was THAT good.

One in a Million Paul Rudds

-Remember that iconic Infinity War moment when Doctor Strange tells Tony that there is literally a one in 14 million chance that Thanos is defeated? Well apparently there’s also a one in a billion chance that Scott keeps his job at Baskin Robbins and never becomes Ant-Man in the first place. That’s pure comedy.

What about you? Which moments saved the movie for you, if even temporarily?

[ao3feed-stevebucky]

my whole world in your eyes

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/wW6gKYS

by JaeB

”Tonight is about celebration. For their future and making it back together.”

 Or: Steve & Bucky are finally reunited and Steve doesn’t want to let this moment go to waste. (picks up right after black hourglass)

Words: 1260, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of be my escape

Fandoms: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Phil Coulson

Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, On the Run, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Explicit Sexual Content, Top Steve Rogers, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Soft Bucky Barnes, Slightly Chubby Bucky Barnes, He Just Gained a Little Weight, Feminine Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Loves Bucky Barnes, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Marriage Proposal

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/wW6gKYS

[yeobloom]

🌕⏳ GUIDE TO ATEEZVERSE 🪐✨

Part 1. { fever series - masterpost }

Hello! Welcome to a short guide for ateez cinematic universe ~ or how I call it: ateezverse. You may be new to the fandom or just genuinely interested in ateez storyline. That’s fine! It’s a little bit confusing not gonna lie, but! I can try my best for you to understand the basic background 🌿

Let me introduce you the plot:

Our world is fragmented in multiple dimensions and realities. You can travel through them with a cromer (⌛️) which can also send messages through dreams depending on the moon phase.

Okay! That’s the plot line of this multiverse. Now let’s introduce the main characters:

CHARACTERS

ATEEZ | BLACK PIRATES

CENTRAL GOVERMENT | AI GUARDIANS

There are more secondary characters, but the names listed above are the main characters you should know first.

ATEEZ: here ateez are a group of young boys who meet at a warehouse where they hang out and forget about their personal problems for a moment.

CENTRAL GOVERNMENT: this government rules in an utopian world that takes place somewhere in the future after an industrial revolution. Because of it they create an IA system to make everything in this world predictable and monitored, the only thing they found unpredictable were human feelings. To stop this variable they forbid all kind of entertainment (music, dance etc) so they can oppress human emotions and make them controlled living machines.

BLACK PIRATES: we knew them as hala halas at the beginning but they actually have a name. They are a group of rebels against the tyrant central government that try to irrupt the utopian world by introducing music and entertainment to the city. They are considered an anomaly and are put on a wanted list, however they are hard to catch since they own a cromer⏳ and can travel through dimensions with it. They were previously called the “black fedora men” too.

AI GUARDIANS: These creatures are android humanoids built by the central government to capture the black pirates and the cromer. They don’t have a face and previously got named “white-masked man” or “masked-clad giant”

DIARY ENTRIES

During Fever series, in the diary version of each album, we get to see notes from ATEEZ and the situation they are living.

Fever part.1 - Every member struggles with own insecurities and personal problems. We know there is an intense fight involving Jongho and Mingi, and later the warehouse is closed causing the group to distance themselves.

Meanwhile, in what seems to be a dream, Hongjoong meets a “black fedora man” who tends him an hourglass ⌛️ and tells him that this item “connects the world”. A little dazed by the sudden intrusion Hongjoong asks for explanation, but “the black fedora man” disappears and the cromer starts shining. In that moment the rest of Ateez enters the room and they all travel to another dimension.

Fever part.2 - Because of them having the cromer now, the guardians find them and go after them.

While running away they meet other characters along the journey that confronted the central government and were punished instead (Left eye + Grimes Siblings, whom we never see in their MVs). Now more than ever ATEEZ are willing to destroy the utopian dimension.

However, the ai guardians find them while they are resting and steal the cromer from them. At the same time, the black pirates are captured too so they seem to have all under their control. After some discussions and collecting information, ATEEZ are told to go to ia guardian’s bunker to get the cromer back. This place is in the middle of an island, and when they arrive they see ai guardians drunk by the smoke from burning memories of people, their “energy”.

- Fever part.3: they finally meet the “black fedora men” in the bunker, they are trapped in what looks like a glass prison. They succeed to free them and get the cromer back thanks to Yeosang who separates from the group to look after it. He gives the cromer ⏳ to Hongjoong but is suddenly caught by one of the ai guardians.

The guardian wants to exchange Yeosang’s life for the cromer. Hongjoong agrees but when the exchange is about to take place, Yeosang grabs the cromer and turns it the other side while the guardians chase him. He breaks it on purpose as he sees himself being dragged to another dimension with the guardians while ateez are dragged back to their dimension.

GREAT! This is what we know from the diary notes during Fever series. But on the other side, this is the easiest part of the story as it is just the beginning.

I think knowing this part is really important to know the dynamic between ateez/black pirates and who the real enemy is here. The rest is still to be connected, although we now know that the reason Yeosang is trapped in the glass prison is probably because the guardians put him there. And in say my name ATEEZ ask help to themselves as Black Pirates to save Yeosang.

I’ll update and change things as soon as the plot also gets updated. And I’m thinking on doing a master post analyzing kingdom performances too, so I’m sorry if this takes longer 🥺🧡 and if I got something wrong I’m sorry, I had to resume a lot of information so maybe I missed something.

other parts for this guide

[ao3feed-stony]

waning

by meidui

When Tony started to fade away, Steve realised it didn’t matter how tightly he held onto him. There was no coming back from this. If there was ever one mind that came close to a cure, it was slipping now, like sand in an hourglass, counting down until everything is gone.

Words: 622, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of drawing down the moon

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark

Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Additional Tags: Alzheimer's Disease, Memory Loss, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Angst and Feels

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/37173841

[medeafive]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Explicit Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Sharon Carter (Marvel), Helmut Zemo Additional Tags: Not TFATWS compliant, POV Bucky Barnes, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Hourglass necklace, Red Room Romance, Memory Loss, Hallucinated shower sex, Dreams, Angst and Feels, Shame, Guilty Pleasures, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Post-Canon Fix-It, Fix-It Summary:

It starts inconspicuous enough. He stuffs the hourglass necklace into his pocket almost on accident and it's his business if he decides to wear it, right? After all, she died to bring all of them back so it's only fair to honor her. Even if he starts dreaming about her and hallucinating her, that doesn't mean anything. He never even knew her, beyond trying to kill her. It just feels right. And the- yeah, no, he's definitely going insane.

Or: What if the necklace Bucky wears in The Falcon And The Winter Soldier is actually an hourglass necklace?

[unsettledreads]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Additional Tags: Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Romance Summary:

Peter's soulmark could be just about anything, he tells himself. An lopsided hourglass that could be just two triangles if you squint or if he flexes his thigh. It doesn't matter anyway, since his heart will never be theirs.