#This is the most I've written in ages

[reikurusu]

OMG GURL GO LOOK FOR ANOTHER JOB 😩 sheesh your work sounds a lot. and boss looking for you on a Sunday too?? 🚩🚩🚩

Aww Chromie, that's so sweet of you to send!! <3 T_T

The thing is, I actually really like my job! It's just been stressful lately.

We've had a colleague who's been out for 8 months because of burnout, so it was just me working full-time, a colleague who works part-time and a third colleague who works 4/5 but who's close to retirement so she... doesn't really do anything. Like, the bare minimum and even that's a lot to ask. Like, literally shopping online and booking trips the entire time she's there and it doesn't matter at all if anyone says something about it (and she's not the friendliest person around tbh) -_-

So because of that one colleague's absence, I technically had to work 6 out of 7 days to cover the opening hours of the library I work at (the almost-retiree covering most of the other hours, pretty much the only thing she's good for) + I had to cover the absent colleague's workload because my part-time colleague took on the head of dept tasks and didn't have time to take on even more because she works somewhere else as well. So it's been a lot. But luckily there were days I could leave early or take a day off (my overtime was just building up the entire time). So it sucked and it was tiring but all in all it wasn't too bad. I was alone at the office a lot of the time, so I could manage all of my work without distractions.

But since July, we have a new head librarian and he's... let's call it enthusiastic. In August, the colleague who was absent started again, but part-time for now. So we're almost fully staffed.

The thing is... Our head of dept wants to organize a lot of things. Because we were severely understaffed, we didn't organize any activities for almost a year, which he wants to change. So he organised author readings, wants new things in our collection, wants all classes of the elementary schools in the neighbourhood to be able to visit,... And he all wants it immediately.

He also started right when the part-time colleague had two weeks off, so I had to train him after only being there for like a year and half myself + having spent a large part of that time alone at the office. And I hate training people! So that wasn't fun. And during the times he is/was alone during opening hours and I'm not there (like during the weekend or something) and he has a question, I told him to call me so that I could help, but jfc dude you've been there for like 3 months already! Figure it out and don't call me on my only day off??

My one part-time colleague does a lot, but because she works part-time, she can only do so much. So our new librarian gives her extra work but realizes she can't do it all.

The almost-retiree doesn't get any extra work because she just doesn't care and wouldn't do it anyway (she's been there for 30 years!! She hates the job, literally calls people who read nerds(???), hardly does anything but apparently they can't fire her?? Fcking government jobs and their idiotic rules. I bet she's buddy buddy with the mayor).

And because the colleague who had burnout only works part-time and can't be given too much work because 'what if she can't handle it' or 'isn't healed enough to deal with a big workload', our head librarian has been giving me a lot of extra work because I'm the only other full-time person there.

I have my own work (adult non-fiction books), + still part of workload of the colleague who was absent for months (I have to order dvds, games and comics (+ maybe manga in the near future which is actually cool)) as well as covering shifts during opening hours and what not.

I like having a lot of work, so I always have something to do. But it sucks when someone constantly gives you extra stuff to do on top of your regular work, while not or hardly doing that to the other people there, and then has the audacity to send an e-mail telling you which things you have to prioritize, as well as the order in which to prioritize them. That's just insane to me?? Especially since I have my own to-do list and I know what I have to do and what's more important than other things. I just don't like someone looking over my shoulder like that.

I'm focused more the tasks he's been giving me than my own work! I have a delivery of books and comics that I have to put into the system that's been standing there for over a month because I just don't have the time to do it. I have to go through the old books and see which ones I should write off for our book sale in a month, but I just don't manage to get to it due to all the other stuff I have to do (and I have two weeks off in a week so I just can't do it).

On top of that, I also have to apply for my job! I'm working on a temporary contract right now and they want to keep me on a contract of indefinite duration, but because it's a government job, I have to apply for it and go through the whole process again!! And other people can apply for it as well, so there is a chance someone better comes out of it. So I have some low-key stress for that because I don't want to have to find a new job right now.

And I haven't even mentioned friends who constantly want to meet up and do things like I have nothing else to do on my days off

I hate being a people pleaser. I just can't say no or tell people that it's a lot because I feel like it's expected of me. Which really sucks. I should enter my villain era or something but I'm too much of a goody two shoes to do that aarrrhhhhh!!

Sorry this got so long... I feel like I needed to vent a bit xD Thank you so much for looking out for me, Chromie! It means a lot!! <3 x

[vaguely-concerned]

every so often, varric will write a black fox story. not anything fancy or for publication or anything, just for fun and because he knows hawke has a soft spot for them. ("an intrepid hero getting into and out of all kinds of trouble and the merry band of misfits following inseparably in his wake? can't imagine why".) some of them are experimental, some of them are straightforward retellings; they're generally pretty short and quick to do, so he allows himself to play around with form and genre and language more than he does in his professional work. stretching over the span of almost twenty years as they do, they contain some of his favourite pieces of his own writing, and some of the most '...was I huffing lyrium fumes or drunk or both for this one, hawke? what the actual hell is this' pieces. hawke keeps every single one of them. varric speculates that this is either because they're just that sentimental, or possibly that it's for future blackmailing purposes. he usually has one ready for their birthday. they have so much blackmail material on him anyway by this point, he figures, what's one more piece of ammunition going to do one way or the other.

varric finishes one of these black fox tales a couple of nights before he brings rook with him to minrathous — the last one. it's about the very last black fox story, the one where the black fox and his friends all disappear together into the depths of arlathan forest, where those in the know say you can find them to this very day, if you know where to look, or if you ever find yourself in trouble and in need of a helping hand. they'll turn up to aid a traveller in need, and disappear back between the shaded trees again once the day is saved, squabbling all the way, seeking treasures and unlikely quests yet unfound and unimagined.

they say on some days, you can hear them as laughter and friendly bickering on the wind from a couple of clearings over. it's not the end, it's just other adventures, some other place. that's the thing about stories. they're funny that way.

(once he wrote a book for his mother on her deathbed and read it to her through the comfortless and drawn-out hours of the troubled nights, and he burned the book the day she died and never spoke of it again.)

after he finishes the manuscript, he sits with it for a long time in the quiet and the candlelight before he wraps it up properly and sends it off back home to kirkwall. he attaches a note -- a story, to the best of all my stories, the one I'd tell forever if I could. take care of each other while I'm gone. first one to arrive saves seats at the bar, right? happy birthday, and send all my lack of love to the merchant's guild, as always. —Varric

he sends that to hawke. just in case. and then he gets up and he goes to find rook — it's time to get going.

[femalefemur]

Raw Meat

18+ minors do not interact!

warnings: cannibalism, raw meat, meat fucking, necrophilia (?), please let me know if i missed anything!

thinking about that slippery slimey feeling raw meat has and how simon would absolutely love it.

he's cutting up a leg of lamb and the slip of the meat makes him wonder what it would be like to stick his dick into it, if the slide would be just as good as a warm, wet hole.

he can't help it when he gets so hard he just pulls himself out and slides his aching cock right between two slices of meat like a makeshift fleshlight, fucking it until he's cumming so hard he can't think straight.

the next time he thinks about it is when he's sitting next to johnny on their way back from a mission, watching the sweat drip down his sergeant's neck, making his skin glisten and simon wonder if his flesh is just as supple underneath.

he can't stop himself from inviting johnny back to his place, corning him like a scared animal in his kitchen. cleaver in one hand and the other wrapped around his sergeant's throat, squeezing hard enough to turn the man's face red as he claws at simon's arms.

droplets of simon's blood hitting the linoleum before he swings and cleaves into johnny's leg, a strangled gurgle of a scream leaving the man's lips as simon squeezes his neck harder, the pain and lack of air making him pass out.

body limp as simon picks him up and places him in the bathtub before he's sawing into johnny's femur. watching as johnny's blood pours from his body and swirls down the drain, already hard from the smell of blood and the feeling of flesh under his hands.

doesn't even make it to the kitchen, tosses the decapitated leg out of the way before he's shoving his fingers into the wound on johnny's body where his leg used to be. the man's body limp and pale, pulse so weak it's barely noticeable.

simon feels around for a while, feeling the meat and sinew under his hands, the squelch as he pulls his fingers out before shoving them back in, tearing a hole for his cock.

groaning as he licks his fingers clean as he shoves his dick into the hole, the taste of johnny's blood better than anything he's ever had and the feeling of his flesh wrapped around his cock feeling like heaven.

he doesn't last long, the warmth of johnny's now dead body, the feeling of his blood lubricating each thrust and the texture of his flesh all too much, too perfect.

he fills the hole, watches his cum leak from it before he kisses johnny, tells him he'll be right back before dumping bags of ice on johnny's body and taking the leg into the kitchen.

he savours each bite, johnny's flesh tender and warm, the juices coating simon's tongue as he eats, straining against his pants as he devours his sergeant.

his voracious appetite only sated by the taste of johnny, the weight of him in his stomach, the feel of him around his cock. he licks his lips, scrapes off the last of his dinner into his mouth and heads back into the bathroom.

[emmavakarian-theirin]

spoilers for tevinter nights but wait wait WAIT

did lucanis really pull a blackwall lmao

[dairine-bonnet]

On Dantooine, before Kotor 1:

Bastila *to Darth Revan, who's trapped in a force cage*: Behold a list of your sins! *holding out a datapad in front of Revan's eyes*

Darth Revan *speaking proudly, barely glanced at the list*: Actually, this looks like a list of my achievements!

[marshmellowtea]

giving into my baser instincts and impulsively creating an au where noah is chris's ten year old, chubby cheeked adopted son who follows him around during total drama and helps him torture their teenage contestants (much to chris's pride and joy <3)

[immunetoneurotoxin]

ENTANGLEMENT | Part I, Chapter I

A Portal/Half Life Universe Fic from Chell's Perspective Rating: Explicit Overall Word Count: 10,730 Chapters: 1/20 Where to Read: AO3 | Google Drive | // ?UN?/KN@?#WN

SYNOPSIS

Location Unknown, Michigan, USA.  Aperture released her, set her free. That ought to have been the end of it. But cast out into a world rendered unrecognizable after a mass extinction level event, Chell is forced to fend for herself, navigating a war-torn world in the aftermath of the seven hour war that devastated the states in a bygone era.  Mere days into her newfound experience on the surface, Chell finds bizarre technology inside a Michigan radio tower, discovering that the same interdimensional forces that started the war were still around, scouring the area in search of technology from the facility she hoped to never see again — Aperture Science.  With no choice but to go back to the facility to deliver a dire warning, Chell tightropes on the cusp of two worlds, unaware of the consequences of pursuing the past and surviving an uncertain future alongside an unlikely ally.

It's finally here!! A former roleplay thread with @sarcasticgaypotato turned novel, this story follows the events of Half Life 2: Episode 2, and is an inspired continuation of the ending of Half Life: Alyx from the perspective of everyone's favorite Aperture-dwelling characters. Chell, whose mission is to protect Aperture technology from getting in the hands of the Combine, must also act as GLaDOS's protector and keep her safe. GLaDOS, on the other hand, has to figure out the complicated ways of the world from a new perspective - literally. This story is friendly to those who don't know Half-Life lore, and a treat for those who do! This story is a close-to-canon survival novel fic with ChellDOS as a major focus. Full of survival, interactive elements, complicated feelings, and a beautiful slow burn robot/human love story. <3

[floridazcrazy]

Yall I'm thinking...

Oliver Bearman realizing hes falling for his rookie, wonderkid teammate; who happens to be 17 yo girl! Kimi. If they do get together Ollie realizes they're on borrowed time together until they both reach f1 (not if), where the stress of hiding a relationship and representing such heavy teams would tear them apart. lmao

Everyone saw how brocedes tore themselves apart because they loved each other, but not enough to lose. girl!lewis ofc

Smth Smth bearnelli brocedes parallels. girl!Kimi expected to be the next verstappen-esque prodigy whilst carrying a flop era merc and Ollie is in tifosi hell.

girl!Dino needs to come get her man b4 I do smh *shakes head* speaking of I was thinking of her w/ either Paul or Ollie. Paulito bc they were attached at the hip at prema and Ollie bc he deffo used to like her or still kind've does neowww. Do y'all understand?/ No ? IDC!!!

[mllekurtz]

Neve/Rook || M || 1.8k || complete || no archive warnings apply

After the end, there’s a new beginning. A couple of affection-starved women with a penchant for deflection try to figure it out.

[nymika-arts]

wip wednesday

tagged by @rewritetheending, @buckactuallys, and @mellaithwen thank you lovelies 🥰 i've been in the midst of tearing apart my outline for a while to get the middle to work properly so i haven't had much to share, but i think i'm finally getting somewhere with it again, so here's a little section of dialogue

“Makes you wonder though, right?” Buck asks. Bobby’s eyes bore into him. “Like, what’s the point? What’s the reason? I’m here again, five years later, like death just spat me out, decided to give that plane full of people a second shot, when anyone else would be lost forever. What do I do with that?” "I used to think the same thing, you know,” Bobby says. “Why me? Why me and not them? What was so special about me that God chose to save me—instead of my wife and my kids?" Buck looks down. He knows the story, they all do at this point, but he doesn't think he's ever understood it as much as he does now.  "I thought it was a punishment at first. Like I had to make up for all the pain I caused before I could move on. Later, as things got better and I had you guys to help me out,” he nudges Buck affectionately with his elbow, “I took it more as an opportunity. To do better, to not waste the time that I was given. But the reality is—I just got lucky. It could have gone differently in so many ways, but it didn't. “My point is that there isn't always a reason, or a lesson to be learned. Sometimes things just happen and you have to learn to live through them.” “It feels different, it feels like I’m cheating,” Buck says, shaking his head. “You survived, you know? You were at least an active participant in living through the shit that happened to you.” "What, like I earned it somehow?" "I don't know, yeah, maybe. I mean, what did I do? I just sat on a plane while it landed five years later than it was supposed to. I didn't even notice." "I don't think you have to earn your own life, Buck."

i'll tag @renecdote @deareddie @bigfootsmom @tawaifeddiediaz @fcntasmas @like-the-rest-of-la and anyone else who wants to share! 💖

[return-of-the-prodigal-daughter]

What if I said I started writing a Thirteen fic...

[dancedance-resolution]

i started a supercorp portrait of a lady on fire au like three years ago. i'm never going to finish it, but the writing style is pretty cool, so i want to share it. so um enjoy the prologue and a bit of chapter one?

---

Prologue. Bonnelles, France. 1786.

“First, my contours,” Kara said, her voice soft and level. She looked out upon the dozen or so young women, their eyes darting back and forth from their papers to Kara herself. “The outline,” she continued. The increasingly swift sound of scratching charcoal prompted Kara to further instruct, “Not too fast. Take time to look at me.” She paused. “See how my arms are placed.”

At that moment, Kara saw the painting.

She swallowed and took in a breath; she schooled her expression before letting out the air with a pathetically soft “My hands.” Her students’ gaze followed her verbal direction, now observing as Kara’s fingers curled with remembrance. Their own hands now began to sketch the slope of hers—the slope that had once coaxed breathy moans from a lover, the slope that had once created that very painting in all of its hollow longing.

Kara felt her heart rate accelerating, and her attempts at calming deep breaths only made her shoulders shake unsteadily. “Who brought that painting out?” Her eyes darted around, landing on each possible offender, as she tensed her core and adopted a stern countenance.

Every student dutifully turned to look at the work.

It was an especially young girl who finally lifted her hand. “I brought it. From the stock room. Should I have not?”

Kara’s “no” felt like a brick, its weight threatening to pry tears from her reddening eyes. So Kara took another swallow, a handful of blinks, a few more steadying breaths.

“Did you paint it?” the girl asked innocently. Nia, her name was? She stared at Kara, oblivious to the flood of sound overwhelming Kara’s mind and echoing in the cavern of her heart.

“Yes,” Kara uttered softly, the word barely audible as they fell from her lips. “A long time ago.”

Nia’s head snapped back to examine the painting once more. It stood on an old but sturdy easel, tattooed and scarred but still standing. The artwork itself was brooding, with a white sun bleeding into a dark vignette. Heavy clumps of clouds occupied the sky and caged some of the sun’s rays, so the fire burning behind the woman was bright enough in comparison to create a dragging shadow of her figure. The flames crawled up the back of her windswept dress, bringing sharp tension to an otherwise lulling, melancholy landscape.

“What’s the title?”

The sound of the sea began to swell in Kara’s head. Her lips trembled. Her body unwittingly swayed slightly. “Portrait of a Lady on Fire.”

---

Chapter I. The island of Brittany, France, and the surrounding sea. 1779.

Kara squinted into the distance, her face scrunching up a bit as she desperately tried to shield her eyes from the harsh glare of the sun on the water. For all its gorgeous teals and sparkling peaks, it certainly did make her wish for one of those brimmed hats the rowers were all wearing. With every one of their paced paddles, the cork-like little canoe bobbed haphazardly. Kara rather felt as if she were in the wine glass of a thoroughly drunken Marie Antoinette.

At least she wasn’t prone to seasickness.

She still felt quite unsteady, though, being thrown about and forced to pathetically grab onto the boat’s low walls. She leaned forward, trying to regain her balance and ground herself despite the absence of ground.

The wooden pallet holding her canvas was, apparently, as unstable as she was, and the next thing Kara knew, it had been lurched off of the boat like vomit from a drunkard. Kara watched helplessly as it thrashed among the choppy waves, the sea carrying it a few feet from the boat.

The chief rower met her desperate look with exhausted resignation; he ceased his paddling as Kara shed her overcoat and placed a precarious foot on the edge of the canoe.

With a strained creak from the boat’s wood, she jumped into the water, dress billowing behind her. Her first gasp for air upon emerging from the water was audible; she could feel the effort in her throat. Her arms moved in laborious little arcs as she slowly made her way towards the floating pallet and finally made a desperate reach for it. Kara’s fingers grasped onto a wooden board, and she pulled herself up onto it with a grunt.

---

The incessant wind upon the sea was certainly not helping Kara. Dripping wet, she wrapped herself up in her overcoat in a pitiful plea for warmth. She held the edges of the garment up to her lips, the sensation of the dry fabric bringing her some comfort as she closed her eyes and left herself to the mercy of the mighty sea.

But the interminable rocking of the feeble boat wouldn’t allow her any rest.

Kara wasn’t very religious, not anymore. Yet, the sight of the cliffs and coast of Brittany moved her to relieved prayer.

---

The sun had already begun to set as Kara trekked up the sandy coast. Her legs ached with every stumbling, unsure step—maybe she was a bit seasick after all—and her hands were tired of having to grip her full skirt to keep it out of her way.

She paused on the rocks, taking a moment to manually wring some of the water out of her skirt. She filled her lungs with an arduous breath before slinging the rope holding the pallet over her shoulder. Next came the fabric sling, which housed her trunk of personal items—she positioned it on her back with careful poise.

The journey up the cliffs and towards the trees was exhausting. Kara’s skirt required repositioning every few seconds, the rope was digging into her shoulder, and the pallet and trunk slammed into her back with each wobbling step. By the time she reached the straight path up to the residence, her breaths were heavy and pained, and the sun was nearly fully hidden beneath the horizon.

A soft light emanated from the windows above the mansion’s door, helping Kara feel a bit more secure as she knocked. A short blonde woman answered her summon and introduced herself with a flat “I’m Eve.” She opened the door a bit wider and gestured with her body for Kara to come in.

Eve held a small candle as she guided Kara up the stairs, the sounds of their shoes echoing through the grand yet starkly undecorated hallway. The walls of the stairwell were cement bricks, and the wrought iron bannister was rather plain and geometric.

They came to a stop in front of a similarly void room, bare save a few heavy curtains and a daybed. The raised panels along these walls matched the white-painted wood of the window frames, and they gave the chamber some elegant character.

While Eve entered the comparatively less intimidating room, Kara stayed back a moment, taking in the shafts of muted blue light from the windows and the contrasting warm glow of leaping flames from the central fireplace.

Eve crouched down to poke at the fire as Kara set down her belongings. “It was a reception room,” Eve explained. “Though I’ve never seen it used.”

The fire crackled pleasantly. “Have you been here long?” Kara inquired.

“Three years,” Eve answered, directing her attention back to the fire.

Kara peeled off her overcoat and draped it along the wainscoting. “Do you like it here?”

“Yes,” Eve said simply as she stood up. She turned to Kara, meeting her eyes now as her hands smoothed over her skirt. “I’ll let you get dry.” And with a nod, she was on her way.

Kara watched her every step.

Once the door closed, she hastily began removing her overskirt. It fell to the dark herringbone floor with an unglamorous thud.

---

There was no method or grace to the way Kara wrapped her hand around the rusting crowbar, but with a few jerks, she’d managed to successfully pry the top off of the pallet.

After setting down the wood cover, Kara extended her hand, letting it fall clumsily onto the slick canvas in front of her. It was still wet, and her hand’s small circular movement caused moisture to pool at her fingertips, as if her touch had beckoned the water. So her hand withdrew, and Kara slid the canvas out from its container. Her eyes danced over the surface as she considered how to dry it, holding it in front of herself like the Communion host of an evening Mass.

---

Kara decided to accompany her drying canvas, which was now positioned next to the fireplace. Stripped naked, she sat in front of the fire and pulled her legs towards herself—she was vulnerable, sitting there bare and in a new environment, and the action made her feel a bit more small, compact, and safe.

Kara set down her candle so she could light her tobacco pipe with the flames. Her large, smoky exhales grounded her, in a way, with the familiar sight and smell acting as a sort of sedative. And she stared forward, expression blank but unmistakably worn.

---

Kara walked barefoot along the cement floor, making her way through the hall and to the pantry room wrapped in nothing but her robe-like smock.

[bayetea]

I already know I'm gonna feel bad in not including whichever works in the dp collection but the dialogue and sentence/paragraph construction stuff has been a frequently recurring thing that obligates me to remove works from inclusion

[boltlightning]

r.ebirth is a bad game except for when it's not trying to be a good game. when it's trying to be a good game it sucks and when it's bad it's bad. but when it's not trying to be good it's so good

[pit--rat]

the worst part about his books is that the tragedy feels necessary. like it's not just an element of the story, the characters need to be broken, beaten, damaged beyond repair to have any hope of winning

alex wouldn't have been strong enough if he hadn't been torn apart and stitched back together, been through a hundred fights and had his body warped beyond recognition. wouldn't have had the hope to fight without the image of donovan, not really there but always at his side

it's even more literal with the fury. they needed to embrace their emotions, the good and the bad, the love and the tragedy, to even stand a chance. and would they have succeeded without rilke? without her madness and her sacrifice? wothout killing lisa, and losing schiller? i'm not sure

and even then, these kids who gave everything would've been left with nothing if not for their sacrifices. without simon, finally free and willing to let go, without daisy, taking on the angels and saving the boys from the fury, none of them would ever have a life again. they could've given everything for a world that never thanked them

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

Opinions on Dream? :^

SO many feelings about him omgg rant under cut please forgive me

okay so i don't really talk or draw him much cause honestly,,,most of the times i just think he's a bit....boring? or more accurately plain? not in a mean way either but just in a 'fades into the background' type of way like don't get me wrong!! he's a really nice friend to his peers, his feelings about his powers and aura making his relationships harder to navigate and trust along with his whole conflict with nightmare and morality about what's good and bad IS very cool!! and i love it whenever they write him to be complex and not on this black and white mentality or when he's just straight up following along his friends with no free will or with a dubious purpose without ever addressing his issues or feelings! it's just unsatisfying to me :')

or when they're making him the 'naive' and oblivious, (sometimes childish?) character being marked as the obstacle and villain along with the other star sanses from the fic's pov, always talking about doing good things while fighting his brother and not hearing him out about the balance, (and for weak reasons most of the time. like it's been so long and you STILL haven't sat down with him when he's, generally, basically begged you to just have a talk? guys please :'( ) or when they go for the victim sad dream always missing the old nightmare, where corrupted nightmare is the incarnation of evil, with no sympathy or emotion except anger and sadistic glee, killing and hurting everyone and dream's just trying to protect the multiverse and dream's always been in the right. such extremes!!!

LIKE!! i hope i'm not the only one that thinks a 500+ year old should have had enough time to idk. learn things? about people and manipulation and deceit? after knowing what the villagers did to night? about the bad things in the world and how there's a lot of grey areas in life and that he maybe reflected on his past enough to process and ask himself if there should to be a convo to settle his differences with nightmare (and you can make nightmare the stubborn one too! or have them BOTH be petty and imperfect and have some things wrong and some right at the same time like why do i always see the good guy vs bad guy cliché with these two when they're the perfect example of why positivity doesn't have meaning without the negativity!! as long as there's a satisfying evolution or growth that doesn't leave me empty i'm good yknow?)

plus i believe dream really isn't as dumb as people view him. i do get some of you saying he probably can't read or write since that's actually a pretty interesting idea to explore! but in general please let him have emotions other than pure sunshiny happiness or endless sadness like he's gotta have more depth than that! let him make mistakes, have flaws that don't just make him the bad guy that's always in the wrong by default, and be angry or suspicious or jealous or bitter or battling his mental health problems/depression or malicious or smart or witty or mischievous and silly or sarcastic or ANYTHING dude i just want him to be put into different scenarios where he can be serious or lighthearted like it doesn't even have to be long or perfect but make him feel real.

it could definitely be that i don't read or see much art about dream or really look for it hard enough but also i just. i feel bad for even saying this fr and i wanna be honest about why i don't enjoy most stories about him cause he always gets the worst treatment along with ink!!! especially ink omg the poor guy has it the worst i think like wow do they mess him up :'(

always one dimensional in non shippy fics, or too plain or easily replaceable by other, more entertaining people in the significant other's life in most of his ships like man. i have read fics out there that made me genuinely FEEL and root for him and love his character so much it restored all hope for me!!! but i can only name one on top of my head and the others? it's been so long i don't even remember their names i just legit feel terrible cause i love him still and i can't find many headcanons that fit my interpretation of him yknow?

not to say people who write him very happy, mislead or sad are ruining him like that's silly- if i see something i don't like i just. move on bro i wouldn't force people to feel or think the same way i do about him cause anyone can have whatever headcanons they want!!! just talking about what i personally look for in him and why i can't exactly find it since most of the stuff out there just isn't my cup of tea :')

hopefully i didn't set anyone off with this rambling opinionated essay i just pulled hhh xD i know i know he's a popular character and i know a lot of people like dream so *sobs* please please recommend me artists and fics about him that you think is good it's been so looong since i've read or seen anything new that makes me attached to this little guy aughg<33333