#and the tumblr thing had an unknown source

[thebat-musicman]

Roy: Are you a cuddler?

Jason: I AM A MACHINE OF DEATH AND DESTRUCTION

Dick: Yeah he's a cuddler

[starseungs]

to love you like the snow melts. ksm.

kim seungmin x gn!reader — if seungmin wanted to be loved like a planet being discovered, he wanted to love you like the snow melted during the cusp of spring.

GENRE/S — fluff, maybe kinda emotional (or is that just me), slight college au mentioned in passing, he fell first trope • 1.1k words

WARNING/S — nothing really unless you're not into lovesick pining, story told in seungmin's pov, slightly unedited cz idk

( ✒️ ) happy seungmin day !! i think i dissociated while writing this fic cause man... i barely remember shit 😭 i originally had a plan going into writing this but it just got thrown out the window by my brain apparently (also this fic is inspired by one of the results in this quiz cause i loved the prompt i got so much) this fic is a bit short but i hope yall like it <3

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

Seungmin’s eyes love to rest on you. 

That was an undoubtable fact in his life—one that he, himself, doesn’t even know how it started. Yet, the acknowledgement of this unknown didn’t bother him at all. If anything, it was a source of comfort for him; a way of reminding himself of the joy in living. To Seungmin, one thing was for certain: He was given the gift of sight to experience you in your entire beauty.

He first met you in a university lecture, where you simply happened to frequent the seat just a row behind and two chairs away from where he usually sat. Perhaps he was enamored from the very beginning. It was like his gaze would always find a way back to you whenever you were in his immediate vicinity, reminiscent of a magnet longing to cling to metal.

That was also the way he took in your presence as a whole. Seungmin was a man starved for knowledge, desperately clawing for anything he could get to broaden his desired expertise that was you. He particularly loved the way your eyes drooped whenever the lecture of the day bore you, as well as your tendency to make origami on available paper during the times you could care less to listen. The latter always ended up with you blinking endearingly after a successful craft, glancing around the people near you to figure out who to present it to.

Oh, how he wished he had been over there instead, happily receiving a paper star to keep. However, it was your friends that surrounded you on a daily, barely giving you time to be alone. And maybe you didn’t want to be alone—another thing about you that he’d like to discover the truth to. But he thought that until the day he somehow found himself stumbling into your life, he’d have to be grateful to your friends for making you shine the way you deserved every step of the way.

So, imagine his surprise when he finally got the chance to make a mark in the vast expanse of your world.

The opportunity came in the form of a group project with you; the catalyst in which his whole life began to change. Friendly introductions of obligation quickly turned into incessant strings of conversation, bringing the two of you closer. The sheer pace of the development was overwhelming. Seungmin never thought his presence bore enough weight for gravity to grab him by the neck and lock him in the system of the star that was you. 

It was a trip and a half, consisting of countless miles to lap around with seemingly no end. So much, that he feared falling out of your grace—to be like a passing asteroid who foolishly dreamt of becoming a planet. Seungmin was endlessly yearning to solidify his place in your world, just like he always wanted. And still, despite that all, he didn’t show it. He merely laughed when you laughed, stayed silent when you needed silence, and experienced anger on your behalf when you couldn’t show it for yourself. 

Because Kim Seungmin knew that you needed to be loved patiently.

Even throughout the tightrope of uncertainty he walked months on like his life depended on it, he never once made it seem like he was waiting on a move from you. If Seungmin wanted to be loved like a planet being discovered, he wanted to love you like the snow melted during the cusp of spring. 

Seungmin knew that even with the shows of your cheery demeanor, your heart still remained frosted over from your previous winters. That even when your fingers danced their way to intertwine with his, there was still that moment of hesitation. He was forever thankful that you caught him from falling when he did, refusing to let him disappear into the abyss. Yet, who was lighting up the skies of which you lay under to stare at each day?

He longed to give you a love that was true. One where he showed you how warmth creeped in with small trickles of heat, giving you enough time to decide whether you truly wanted it or not. Love that was considerate in the way that it willingly warned you of its presence, but in a way that cupped your cheeks and sang you lullabies. To love you gently as to not sully your shoes with messy, muddy soil of the ground peeking out from beneath the snow. 

To Seungmin, there was no greater gift than being able to be the sign of your spring.

“Baby?” You called out to him softly, a flash of concern twinkling behind your gaze. “Is anything wrong?”

Seungmin feels like he was just coaxed out of a trance, previously being too occupied studying the details of you at the moment, as if he hadn’t already spent the past hour doing just that. A string of golden celebration banners made its presence known in the corner of his eye, briefly acknowledging the once-a-year greeting printed on them. The slight smell of smoke fully brought him back to his senses, finally glancing down towards the cake with a small lit-up candle you were presenting him.

Right. It was his birthday today.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “No,” he replies truthfully. “Everything is perfect.” Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, having trouble making sense of the situation. Seungmin has half a mind to think if you would forgive him if he tried to straighten it out with his thumbs as a tease.

“But, you’re not blowing out your candles,” you purse your lips in contemplation. He feels an unstoppable force creeping up to turn the corners of his mouth upwards. Did you even know just how much he loves you?

“I was just enjoying the view, that’s all.”

Your demeanor visibly brightens up. “Is the cake that pretty?” Was your smug question, clearly feeling proud of yourself. “I worked hard on that, you know?” 

Seungmin only smiles. Like he always does whenever it concerns you. That warm boyish grin he had paired with a certain fond look in his eyes that his friends never failed to point out just to fluster him into oblivion. But he lets them anyway. There was no way he could ever deny the truth of how strongly he felt for you.

“I know.” 

Because he always does. 

And as he leaned forward to feel the last heat of the flickering candle before it went out, he couldn’t help but think that the snow had finally melted. His wish had already come true.

“Happy birthday, Seungmin!”

Spring has come.

MASTERTAG ━ STATUS: OPEN — ASK OR COMMENT 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @wnbnny @xocandyy @minluvly @moon0fthenight @estellaluna @hanjsquokka @starlostastronaut @minsueng @l3visbby @myjisung @thecutiepieme @yaniiiiism

[fookinhellcurly]

LARRY RESOURCES: A beginner's guide

Important Note: There’s a lot of debunked information that might not have reached other Larries yet (for example, the “rejected on Christmas return call” twitcam situation). Always double-check what you share on social media and try to add context whenever possible to avoid confusing baby Larries.

Most importantly, remember: H, L, their families, their friends, and all of us fans—including your fellow Larrie friends/moots—are real people. This is real life. TPWK. 💙

────x────

I. BEGINNER RESEARCH

For easy digestion, I’ve included direct links and added credits wherever possible. There are other important discussions about the topics included here, but I only selected some 'quick read' ones where you can have the whole overview without scrolling through tons of posts. Other advanced deep dive resources will be added to the next section.

1. ANNUAL TIMELINES

Source: Cosmic Leeds Format: Video  Links: 2010 | 2011 | 2012 | 2013 | 2014 | 2015 | 2016 | 2017 | 2018 | 2019 | 2020 | 2021 | 2022 | 2023  Note: Road to Larrying starter pack. Great summary of the years’ highlights, but there are TONS of highly significant details (that were either not discussed or adds more contexts) that weren’t included, obviously for the sake of making a compact and coherent timeline. Source: BostonKatie617 (X/Twitter) Format: Excel Link: Larry’s Great Big Doc of Everything Note: Highlight - Collection of day-to-day evidence from 2022 to 2024 (as of writing) + promos from FITF and HH, etc.  Extra Source: Unknown (I’ll try to find the original source on Tumblr - I only got to save this link) Format: Excel Link: Solo OT4 Shows Note: Shows HL’s tour schedules and how they wrap around each other (newsflash, they fly together and support each other’s tours)

──

2. IMPORTANT LARRY PLACES AND DATES

Leeds Masterpost by alarrytale | Link 𓏔 Important Festival in Larry history.

Manchester Masterpost by bulletprooflarry | Link 𓏔 “All Along”. Ed Sheeran in Manchester.  𓏔 Supporting info - such as the timeline of Ed’s shows in Manchester that aligned with the timeline of creation of All Along - is on Cosmic Leeds’ video. 

Dallas Masterpost by ohthefond | Link | Extra 𓏔Kidd Kraddick interview. “Genuinely, seriously” ‘denial’. Glassy-eyed, wrecked H.

Australia & NZ Masterpost | Link 𓏔 Larry honeymoon extravaganza. 𓏔LOTS of iconic interviews and Larry on tour moments came from here.

France / Valentines Day 2012 Masterposts | mybodyfails | thisismyoneluckyprize 𓏔Famous one and only Larry interview. Mario Kart interview analysis. 

Jamaica Masterpost by cristinayanggirl | Link 𓏔 Yahoo UK Reaction | Link 𓏔 Receipt 1 | Receipt 2 (taken with huge grains of salt)

Belfast / October 15, 2015 Masterpost by bulletprooflarry | Link | Extra | Extra 𓏔 Belfast is the only 1D Concert that was ever cancelled. The fans were inside the venue and the opening act had already taken the stage before someone went up to announce that the concert was cancelled. The reason given was Liam apparently had diarrhea. Meanwhile, another media outlet was to take an interview with Niall and heard that he was the one who was supposedly sick. Believed to be related to BBG. 

──

3. TATTOOS

All about HL’s tattoos.

Tattoos Timeline by bulletprooflarry | Link

Tattoos Timeline by Cosmic Leeds | Link 

Gay Sailor (Nautical) Tattoo Discussion on Reddit | Link

──

4. 7 (x4) AND 28 REFERENCES

Significance of 28 / 7 (x4) to HL’s life. Harry instigated the 9/28 thing which led larries to dig more into the significance of the number.  

“28” X/Twitter Thread by teaandfrozenpea | Link

“7” Masterpost by so-idialed-9 | Link

──

5. LARRY’S HOUSES

They live together.

Houses Timeline by bulletprooflarry | Link

Cosmic Leeds’ Houses Summary | Link

──

6. CONCEPT OF HOME

‘Home’ as a recurring theme in Larry’s work. 

Home Timeline | Link

Still The One Timeline | Link

──

7. RBB/SBB AND THE BIG GAY WAR

Cosmic Leeds’ RBB/SBB Summary | Link

RBB/SBB for Dummies by louisandthealien | Link

Mr R.B. Bear & Co Financial Estimate | Link | Link 𓏔 Debunking the claim that it was ‘the sound guy’ who was behind the bears.

Fan RBB and Harry in 2022 | Link

──

8. MUSIC/LYRIC ANALYSIS, PARALLELS, AND OTHER DISCUSSIONS

Lyric analyses and parallels, mainly. Other music promotion-related discussions may be checked through other blogs’ tags (i.e. Gina - twopoppies, Daisy - daisiesonafield, etc - added in the ‘Advanced Research’ section)

Larrylyrics Tumblr Archive | Link

Bluewinnerangel Tumblr Archive | Link

Ella (ialwaysknewyouwerepunk) Tumblr Archive | Link

Gina/Daisy/Allie’s Tumblr Archive | Link

Cosmic Leeds’ Lyric Analysis Summary Video | Link

EXTRA: As for lyric changes, they could sometimes be subjective. Sometimes, what you read also translates to what registers in your brain, but if you hadn’t seen the text prior, your ears might hear a different thing. For me personally, the clearest lyric changes I love are as follows:

Lou’s “I LOVE HIM, I HATE IT” for Back To You  𓏔 Compiled Summary, Context, + Timeline | Link

Harry’s Juice Lyric Change 𓏔 SXM “Louis ONTO my drawers” (with BBC) Analysis | Link 𓏔 BBC “Lou baby I’m a whole damn meal” Live Lounge by tonix3 | Link

──

9. OTHER CODING / SIGNALING

Only adding some of the notable ones. It’s a big separate topic.

The Queer Code: Secret Languages of LGBTQ+ Art | Link 𓏔 Non-Larry related but a good video about queer coding

Harry and the Blue Bandana  𓏔 Summary by genuinelybelieve-blog | Link 𓏔 Timeline by bulletprooflarry | Link

Harry and Louis’ Blue | Link

Louis and Queercoding by No Stunts Magazine | Link

Coded Clothing Tag by Gina | coding | blue and green

Signaling Tag by Gina | Link

──

10. RECEIPTS

Collection of receipts/’proofs’ from HL, their families and friends, fans, and non-fans. Always take them with a huge grain of salt. 

Daisy (daisiesonafield) Tumblr Archive | Mobile | Desktop

Gina (twopoppies) Tumblr Archive | Mobile | Desktop

Larryreceiptsproof Tumblr Archive | Link

──

11. BABYGATE 

Big docs about BBG. Read with caution and respect. It’s a very sensitive topic, but most larries approach/touch this topic without propagating hate or disrespect towards F (he is just a kid), but more about understanding the concept of babygate in Hollywood in general, how fake pregnancies and babies exist in the entertainment industry, and how the management+media can easily manipulate the narrative of an artist’s image.

Complete BBG Timeline PDF (95 pages) 𓏔 Ideal starting point. Concise and coherent. 

BBG Masterposts by tellmethisisnotlove (approx 100+pages) 𓏔 Great supporting document to the one above.

BBG Slideshow (107 slides)  𓏔 Photo references and comparisons of the Clark’s and Tomlinson’s. 𓏔 It’s a good addition in my opinion since most comments we see is how F is a carbon copy of L, and having the photo references could help you form your own opinion about it.

Babygate Analysis/Conclusions: A Non-Larry Perspective 𓏔 Important read. Non-biased opinion from a non-larrie perspective.  𓏔 Have BBG tags of popular Tumblr blogs at the bottom.

The Big Kiwi Talk 𓏔 Mainly about H’s Kiwi. Highlighting this: H did the famous ‘Kiwi x3’ during HSLOT’s encore in July 14, 2018. July 14 is the anniversary of the beginning of BBG. 

BBG Quick Summary and Masterpost 𓏔 Quick-look reference. Some links might be dead.

Note that all of these are backed up with documentation and real pieces of information released during the height of BBG (pre and post-birth of F) - whether as a form of an article, a tweet, pap pics, etc. In the end, it’s all up to the reader how you’d analyze and take them all in.

──

12. OTHER TAGS TO CHECK

Check out the tags in the blogs cited under the Advanced Research section. There are too many to put here and/or hard to summarize, so it’s better to do deeper dives using the tags.

Beards and Stunts

Louis’ Sexuality

Harry’s Sexuality

Denials

Debunked 

Closeting and PR 

AND SO MUCH MORE. Take it easy - one topic at a time, as it could easily get overwhelming. This rabbit hole just gets deeper as you go, and don’t forget that we’ve condensed 15 years worth of stories.

[Part II—Advanced Research]

[torialefay]

🪐 Venus in Scorpio 🦂

(based on astrology) 🔞

✨bangchan x reader (f); this is literally just smut with a little bit of astrology lol

✨word count: ~3.5k

✨first part in a series!!! (The next ones won’t be so horny, i promise lol) Together, let’s take a look into chan’s natal chart to see what type of boyfriend he would be… this one just so happens to involve the smuttiest of the smut lol

✨i will give a brief synopsis of what each chart placement means throughout the series (for all my non-astrology friends out there <3) and how that would affect channie in a relationship :)

✨ author’s notes:

(1) i have seen some stays come to the general consensus that chan’s birth time is 8:54 pm, but i have never found a source where he states or confirms this. if you have the proof, let me know and i will re-do this post! otherwise, i do not want to speculate about birth time, as it can affect many aspects of his chart!

- *UPDATE*: some sweet stays confirmed this birth time! so we’re good to carry on :)

(2) since his birth time is unknown (to my knowledge), some aspects of his chart cannot be determined, such as house placements, ascending sign, etc. i will ONLY be writing about his definitive placements, which are his sun, moon, and planetary placements.

(3) the aspects in this reading are based solely on my opinions and interpretations! nothing about a person is set in stone simply because of astrology. please don’t use anything i say as canon :)

✨warnings: extreme smut. you have been warned; minors DNI!!!

Venus in Scorpio: Venus is the planet of beauty and love (it is the ruler of Libra, so of course!). This accounts for both platonic and romantic love.

-Scorpios are known for their moodiness, emotion, intellect, and captivating auras. They love and find beauty in the darkest of things… Think moody tumblr bf chan. This is literally his venus in scorpio

-Because Venus in Scorpio has a very dark energy, he will most likely be attracted to dark, feminine, alluring beauty. It also explains why he is attracted to the color black and wears it often.

As your boyfriend:

• chan is borderline obsessed with you. maybe actually obsessed with you. on a level that transcends superficial. he is obsessed with your soul. in a way, he feels like he can SEE it. he gets so frustrated with himself because he feels that he can never get close enough to you. he will never be close enough to you until he joins his soul with yours. he quite literally wants to consume your mind and spirit. to live with it- live inside of you- as if it was he himself.

• he is extremely possessive over you. he cannot even think about another man touching you. although he may not say anything at first, males giving you any sort of attention would deeply bother him, as he feels like your souls are tied to each other. and how dare someone try to take what is his.

• if he sees you with his members and thinks you are getting too close, he won’t bother mentioning it to you. he will take that member aside and establish some ground rules. it is fine to play around with you, but any emotional investment they make into you is not okay and will not be tolerated.

• he waits to have sex with you. for a couple of months even. the tension between you two is absolutely insane, but he waits. he wants to know you, body and soul, before he takes any part of you. because for chan, sex means something, he knows how amazing you are, that’s why he fell for you in the first place. and he wants to be perfect for you and fully know you before there’s no going back

• the first time you have sex is absolutely magical. Better than you could have dreamt. He wants to make it special for you, for his special girl. He waits until the right time and until he knows you are ready. He has planned a lavish date for the two of you, a beautiful private dinner tucked away in a forest, illuminated with what seemed like a million candles and dazzling lights. A private chef had cooked for you and left, leaving the two of you in each others’ company.

• Every night with him is special, but this night is different

• He is incredibly gentle with you all night, whispering how beautiful you look and taking your hand ever so gently into his.

• He makes sure to repeat to you how lucky he feels to be in this moment with you and how lucky he is to have you

• He looks so beautiful in the candle light, stars in his eyes that are focused on your own. Occasionally they peer down to your lips, but then slowly move back up to look into the deepest parts of you.

• After dinner, he swiftly peppers you with kisses and holds your waist with one hand, the other hand intertwining with your own. He leads you to the car and drives home, taking his time to make sure his girl makes it there safe.

• When inside, he continued the beautiful candle theme, now with flower petals and another new bouquet. He kisses along your neck until you sigh deeply and give in under the weight of his chest

• He gently sits you down on the bed while maintaining a deep kiss, cupping underneath your chin so gently that you thought he was scared to break you

• His tongue slipped into your parted lips, and something gutteral suddenly came out of him at the feeling of being inside of you in some capacity

• His grip on your chin started to become tighter, moving down to your neck. He couldn’t separate his lips from you for fear that you’d fall away from him entirely. He hung on to you for dear life. Hungrily tugging at your bottom lip, he tried to pull you as far into him as he could without physically devouring you.

• He started to get so worked up that he couldn’t bare it anymore. He needed more of you. He needed to feel you and to transcend you. His girl, and only his girl. He needed to make you HIS.

• His hands started moving down your body, grabbing firmly as if he wasn’t sure you were really there. Your shoulders, your collarbones, your chest. God, he couldn’t believe the way that you felt underneath him.

• “Can I?” He broke away from the kiss to ask you this much. He couldn’t bare the thought of you saying no, but he would never jeopardize this love he had for you. Love… Adoration… Wonder... Obsession…

• When you breathily panted out a “yes”, he made quick but gentle work to lift your dress from the bottom of your pelvis, all the way lifting it up over your head and off. So gently, so so gently so that he didn’t mess up a single hair on your beautiful little head.

• The way you looked under the candle light took his breath away. The curves of your body left him in awe. So unlike his hard, squared, and rigid frame. You were soft, you had shapes along the lines of you, and you were fucking beautiful, he thought. He could not believe you were really for him.

• He looked down to your breasts, then back up at you, again asking for permission with his eyes. With an approving nod, he reached out to hold one in each hand. Rubbing back and forth across your nipples over the protection of your thin bra. He just kept watching you, starved to know what reactions you would give him.

• He trailed one hand down until he was positioned right over your underwear.

• Looking into your eyes, searching for any kind of resistance in them, he slightly parted his lips and licked them, moaning ever so slightly while pressing his hand with a light pressure into the fabric of your underwear. You felt him almost pull back a bit, looking a bit dazed and slightly overwhelmed, so you pushed into him yourself.

• Staring at you from above, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His perfect girl, feeling perfect, because of him. He applied more pressure and watched as you started to grind against his hand. He let out a moan and felt his dick twitch just hearing your breathing start to quicken.

• He didn’t want to push his luck, but he also knew that he could do better. He could make you feel so so much better. Slowly, he put his other hand on your stomach to slow you from grinding down on him. His other hand made its way underneath your underwear and started to ever so slightly drag his fingers along the outside of you. Feeling how wet you were made him stop and want to fucking scream. To cry. He could barely understand the emotions he was feeling. He just knew that he couldn’t stop loving you if he tried. Now, he wanted to worship you.

• He inserted 1 finger slowly, letting you adjust. When your face started to relax and look like one of pleasure, his dick became rock hard. He needed more of you so badly.

• Once he knew you were comfortable, he added another finger and watched your face. He watched the way that it curled up and how your mouth dropped open. He noted the way that your eyes squeezed shut and how you sounded when you breathed out so close to his neck.

• He began to pump his fingers into you, slowly until he knew you felt good, and then picking up ever so slightly. He curled his fingers up slightly and waited for your reaction.

• Fuck, did he get a reaction. When he heard you whine his name, it echoed in his head over and over again. “Chan. Chan. Chan.” He has never loved hearing his own name more than in this moment. His perfect girl. He couldn’t control himself anymore.

• He started to slam his fingers into you and leaned down to take in the entirety of your mouth. He thrust his tongue inside, and sucked on every inch of your lips he could get ahold of. He didn’t care if it was too rough. He didn’t care about anything anymore other than marking you forever as his own. Marking you as a part of his soul, and him a part of yours. After tonight, you would be inexplicably joined forever, living as one. You wouldn’t have to be his obsession anymore if you lived in him. He would simply always have you.

• He pulled from the kiss abruptly and stared at your face. He memorized how beautiful you looked with your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Almost like you were possessed by him, he thought. And that is all that he wanted. He would possess every part of you. He began to stare at you, dauntingly. “Look at me,” he ordered sternly, until your head slowly came upward to hold his eye contact. There was something different in his eyes. Like he was hungry.

• “I’m going to count to 10, and I want you to come for me.” He didn’t ask for permission. He said it so matter-of-factly he could have been telling you his name. Something must have switched in him directly after though, following up with a low “Okay princess?”

• Surprised at his own switch, he couldn’t believe how you did that to him. How you activated so many different parts of his brain at the same time. How every inch of you controlled what little brain capacity he had left. His soul almost left his body when he heard you gather your small voice enough to say, “Yes, my love.”

• “10,” he said, almost sheepishly, as if waiting to see what your reaction would be. Pumping his fingers now even harder into you, you let out a small moan. It agged him on.

• “9,” he came in close to your ear, starting to lick and suck ever so slightly around the outside. Anything gentle about him had left his body.

• “8,” he dipped his tongue inside your ear, licking away in slow, tiny motions. He felt like he was savoring every second he could have with you. You felt too good underneath him to not tease you a little bit.

• “7,” he moved to the area between your ear and jaw. He bit and sucked at it. He sucked so hard you thought he would rip into you. Somehow he didn’t,

• “6,” he dipped down now to your neck, licking all the way as he went. Intermittent kisses and licks peppered down until he had found his target. The sweet spot right where your neck ended to meet your collar bone.

• “5” he bit down. The look on your face of pain with excruciating pleasure was all he needed to see.

• “4… almost there my sweet girl,” he breathed out against the new-forming bruise at the base of your neck. His fingers started to slam into you and angle in just the right spot. As he heard you mumble “fuck” under your breath, he pulled his face up to be right in front of yours. He wanted to see you when you came for him. He wanted to see you when you gave yourself fully to him.

• “3” he wandered his other hand down to rub small circles around your clit. Light enough to make you jump and writhe under his touch. He loved to watch you squirm like that. He loved the control he had over you. When he heard you mouth his name again, he started slamming into you relentlessly with his fingers. ‘Say it again, say it again, know whose you are,’ he thought to himself. “Hmmm?” He teased. “Fuuuuck Chris,” you cried out to him. This was it. He was going to fucking take you.

• “2… I want you to fucking take it baby... Take it for me. You can do it.” He continued to slam into you, fingers still making light circles on your clit. He had never seen a face in such ecstasy. He brought his face down until his forehead was touching your own. Nose to nose. He looked into your eyes like it was the first time he’d ever seen love. Real love. Real passion. He was sure that this was the first time had seen love. But even more, this was the first time he had ever known love. Love and y/n were synonymous to him now. He was never going to live without you again, not after this moment. He craved you and he needed you. He was going to make sure that he had you for the rest of eternity.

• “You’re mine,” he whispered against your mouth, and then bit down heavy onto your bottom lip, moaning into you. Heavy, like he was going to devour you until there was nothing left. Like you were the most delicious thing he had ever taken a bite of. And he planned to consume all of you, down to the soul. His bites were unrelenting, like he was starving for you this whole time. You couldn’t tell if there was blood. Shit, you couldn’t tell if there was anything even left, but you didn’t care. And he didn’t care. You were his. He suddenly pulled his head away and stared down into you. All of a sudden, you felt known. His fingers went faster on your clit until you couldn’t take it anymore.

• “1. Right fucking now. Let me see my perfect girl come for me.” He raised his voice. He watched you transcend. Jolts of lightning were rushing through your body. You felt all of your limbs twitch and then fall out, lifeless, like your soul really was gone. Chris took it. He took all of you and he was leaving nothing. He continued to pound his fingers into you until you had nothing left. You screamed, you cried, you cursed. You couldn’t stop. Wave after wave, it hit you until you were shaking uncontrollably. You tried to close your legs, to stop the overstimulation, but Chris held them open. He wasn’t leaving until there was nothing left of you. He felt too good and he was too good. You started to sob. You couldn’t hold it back. Tears streamed down as you held out for one last orgasm. “Chris please, Chris PLEASE,” you pleaded, tears coming out. “I- fuck-“ you felt another bolt of tingles shoot down your leg. “I’m almost done. Please… please, last time,” you could barely get your words out.

• It turned Chan on so badly. Seeing how gone you were for him. Seeing how much of yourself you had given to him. His baby. His girl. His immortal soul. Crying to him out of desperation and immeasurable pleasure. He was satisfied. And so with that, he bent down and kissed your forehead, then your tears. “Yes, my love, last time.” He pressed down hard onto your lower abdomen, just enough to give more pressure when he struck his fingers into you at just the right angle. It was absolute perfection, and pure bliss washed over you. One, two, three, four…. five pumps and you’re over.

• He leaned his head back and smiled ear to ear. You had started to convulse uncontrollably, squeezing hard around his fingers. ‘What a view’ he thought, eyes growing larger at the sight of your perfect body giving every last bit to him. You were exhausted. You were worn down. You weren’t even sure you were still in the world. But that was okay to Chan, he knew he now had you tied to his soul forever. It didn’t matter where you thought you were, because now, he would always be with you.

• Coming down from your high, you had tears still coming out of your eyes from the overwhelming emotion of it all. Your mouth was dry, heaving heavily to try and catch your breath. Your mind was trying to collect itself, slowly opening one eye at a time.

• Chan pulled his fingers out slowly, so as to make sure he didn’t hurt you. Once you came to, he gently grabbed behind you and sat you up. He laid your head forward onto his chest so that you could continue to collect yourself, wipe your tears, and get your breathing back to normal. He pulled your head close to his heart. You could hear it beating slow and steady. He then pulled you back ever so slightly and cupped your face. When he saw you with tears still in your eyes, he wiped them away with his thumbs.

• “Oh my sweet baby,” he whispered and brought his forehead to yours. You could see a tear starting to form in his eye. Then another. Then another. Chris was crying.

• “My sweet, sweet girl,” he repeated, whispering and trying to soothe you. He held onto your face even tighter. “You are so perfect for me, you know that? You did so perfect.”

• You nodded your head lightly, tiny tears still forming in your inner eye from looking at your tear-stained boyfriend. “I’m so in love with you, Channie,” you whispered, now cupping his face too. You planted a kiss on his nose. He grinned at your from underneath his eyelashes.

• “I’m so in love with you too.”

• “So, I’m yours now huh?” You laughed, wiping away your own tears.

• “You’re mine,” Chris said, leaning forward now and smiling into the side of your neck. He laid you back down onto your back as gently as he’s picked you up. “And I’m yours,” he said, now towering over top of you.

• He moved his body to rest between your legs. He planted gentle, soft kisses along your entire body. Any place he bit, bruised, or marked was now being pasted over by the whisper of his calm kiss. Starting from your neck, all the way down until he was face to face with the area he had just used to control you. He planted one last, gentle, sweet, loving kiss and raised back up.

• “You’re mine, and I’m yours,” he said, moving his body on top of you, trapping you in a cage of his limbs. He kissed your lips gently, so as not to hurt any bruises he may have given you. To him, you were the most delicate thing in the world. And you were his. He wanted to be fully yours too. He wanted to be etched into your soul, never to be removed. The thought of living this life eternally tied to you made his heart swell. It made his dick swell too. ‘Oh shit’ he thought. He had gotten so caught up in the moment that he wouldn’t dare ask you to do anything for him. But you felt the twitch. You knew better. You were exhausted, and he knew that. But in that moment, you didn’t care. You wanted to complete the perfect night.”

• “Baby?” You looked up at him.

• “Yes love?” He looked at you with all of the love in the world. He would bend over backwards just to hear you speak his name. Whatever question you had, the answer was undoubtedly, unequivocally yes.

• “I gave my all to you. It’s only fair that you give your all to me. I need you to show me how much you love me. Let’s commemorate the night.”

• He sat and stared at you for a long moment. ‘Let’s commemorate the night.’ You were right, he would give everything to you too. And then you would be one. Forever. His girl forever. Her man forever. He felt his soul latch on. You’re his. Venus in Scorpio.

Link: Venus in Scorpio: Part 2 - "The Night He Took You"

[impactedfates]

hola mijo 💓puedes hacer the tall males as dads? like for example welt, blade, jing yuan, luocha, dan heng i wish i could argenti to this list 🥰 but he not out yet so hottie okay gracias 🐾☝

★ A/N: Hola!! Yes I can :)) We all love a father figure right?

☆ Genre/Trope: Platonic + Familial

★ Format: HeadCannons (Separate)

☆ Warnings: None

★ Extra: Just HCs of the HSR men as dads, you can view yourself as their child or as their lover // I only did the characters that you've stated in the request excluding Argenti // Not proofread

Welt as a dad is a 10/10. He would be so supportive no matter what you'd want to be. He has his own child back in his actual universe after all and takes care of him so well.

He's the type to proudly show those messy drawings his kid makes to his friends and act like his kid is the next Pablo Pacasso even if all they drew was a stick figure.

He also wants you to try new things but he won't force you if you truly don't want too, all in all. Welts such a sweet and supportive dad <33

Blade as a father? Now I wouldn't say he's the worst but he's not the best either. Biological or not, if he was tasked to take care of a kid, he will. He may not understand much about how to be a good father he manages to keep them fed, clothes ect. And with the help of the other Stellaron Hunters they're taken care of well

.

.

.

Except when it comes to affection. He'll try his best but his job makes it hard for him to really be home and hang out with his kid, not to mention he still has that want to die. He's emotionally unavailable most of the time. He's trying his best but he won't be much good if someone were to want to vent to him (Sorry!)

He can also sound harsh in some of his words and the kid may not get the message he's trying to convey! He may say something he sees as positive but his tone and what not makes it seem harsh.

Overall? 7.5/10 as a father

Jing Yuan I think is also a great father! Though like Blade, his job does make him unavailable most of the time. Especially since he's a General.

BUT, we both know this man would drop anything if his kid were to message/call or anything of the source of they were in trouble. Even if it was to just make a complaint about the babysitter he hired to take care of his kid.

He does everything he should to ensure his kid is loved and taken care of, and sure he may not have as much time as he'd like to spend time with his kid, he tries his best.

As a father, I'd give him a 9.5/10.

I'm unsure what Luochas thoughts on about taking care of kids in all honesty. As a doctor himself, he is aware of the cycle of life but whether or not he wishes to be apart of helping the kid grow up is unknown.

I don't think he'd have any adopted kids or something like that, however if he were to get someone pregnant he wouldn't leave them. He was a factor in how the baby was made and if the other person wishes to give birth to said kid then he'll help.

He's not a distant father per say, maybe strict but he doesn't mean to come out as harsh. He does everything a father should do and encourages his kid to study and all. He's not the most amazing father to have, honestly his kids probably prefer their other parent over him (Unless they left him and he became a single father)

All in all, while he may not be the best father he's not the worst and probably is just your average dad. 8/10

I love Dan Heng so much if you didn't know (I say as if my tumblr theme isn't Dan Heng) and this isn't even a bias but I do think he'd be a good father.

He's so worried he won't be but he really is. He remembers everything his kid likes and dislikes and applies it when he's cooking or buying something in general. He won't force his kid to do anything they don't want and will help them study.

He'd be proud of his kids, even if their grades are bad. To him, as long as they tried that's all he cares about. He may struggle with showing his care towards them, however it's easy to see he's trying.

If I had to choose out of all the male cast who I think would be the best dad? Probably Welt. I mean from what I know he already has the experience with kids and now he's taking care of 3 more (4 if you wanna count Pom Pom)...but also it's funny to call him Grandpa instead-

[whencyclopedia]

Edward England

Edward England was an Irish pirate who operated in the Caribbean, the Eastern Atlantic, and the Indian Ocean between 1717 and 1720 during the Golden Age of Piracy (1690-1730). Captain England’s successful but brief pirate career came to an end when he was marooned by his crew on the island of Mauritius in 1720.

Early Career

Captain England has his own chapter in the celebrated pirate’s who’s who, A General History of the Robberies and Murders of the Most Notorious Pyrates, compiled in the 1720s. The book was credited to a Captain Charles Johnson on its title page, but this is perhaps a pseudonym of Daniel Defoe (although scholars are still debating the issue, and Charles Johnson may have been a real, if entirely unknown pirate expert). As with many other pirates, the General History is an invaluable source on England’s career, even if there are fictional additions to the factual information laboriously garnered from such sources as court records, official documents, and letters of the period.

Edward England’s real name was possibly Jasper Seager (or Seegar). Like many pirates of the period, England was obliged to join a pirate crew after the ship on which he was serving was captured. England had been an officer on a Jamaican sloop when it was taken by Christopher Winter, who was based at the pirate haven of New Providence in the Bahamas. The General History gives the following not unfavourable assessment of England’s character:

England was one of those men, who seemed to have such a share of reason, as should have taught him better things. He had a great deal of good nature, and did not want for courage; he was not avaricious, and always averse to the ill usage prisoners received: he would have been contented with moderate plunder, and less mischievous pranks could his companions have been brought to the same temper, but he was generally over-ruled. (114)

Following the successful attacks on pirates in their haven at New Providence (now Nassau) by Woodes Rogers, Governor of the Bahamas from 1717, England sailed across the Atlantic to continue his piracy elsewhere. Several merchant ships were captured in the Azores, Cape Verde Islands, and off the coast of West Africa.

In 1718, England himself obliged an otherwise honest man to turn pirate when he captured the Welshman Howell Davis who had been chief mate on a slave ship, the Cadogan of Bristol. The captain of the Cadogan was murdered, and Davis was given command of the slaver despite refusing to formally sign England’s ship’s articles and become a part of his pirate crew. Impressed with Davis’ courage, England allowed him to sail off. Davis ended up in Barbados where he was captured. Davis managed to escape prison, and he continued a pirate career on both sides of the Atlantic, a spree that ended with his death on Principe Island in 1719.

England was, for a time, an associate of the most successful of all pirates in the so-called Golden Age, Bartholomew Roberts (aka 'Black Bart' Roberts, c. 1682-1722). In the relatively small world of pirates, Roberts had taken over the crew of Howell Davis after the latter’s death. Roberts and England operated off the coast of Guinea, West Africa. England operated two ships: his own sloop and another prize renamed Victory. Command of the latter was given to John Taylor and together they raided the western coast of India and took more prize ships. When required, provisions were taken on board at the pirate base on Madagascar.

Continue reading...

[thevampiremarie]

treehouse chapter 34 (tumblr version)

🔞 Dream of the Endless I Lord Morpheus x reader 🔞

Unplanned pregnancy, SMUT

In the Waking World, Morpheus finds the cure to your recent ailment. Read on AO3 here.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, MALIGAYANG PASKO, HAPPY HOLIDAYS, AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL! THANKS FOR READING I LOVE YALL SO MUCH! One of my fav things about fanfiction is that oftentimes it can be a more ethical way to consume certain media, especially when the original creator is exposed for doing fuck shit. So consider this guilt free, cruelty free, organic Sandman! This chapter takes place canonically at a made up lake in the Philippines, which I modeled after Lake Sebu. Lake Sebu is notable for its significance to the local indigenous T'boli tribe, who are known as the Dreamweavers. Traditionally T'boli women weave t'nalak, a sacred textile made up of patterns that come to the T'boli weavers at night in their dreams. Thus Lake Sebu is known as the cradle of the Dreamweavers. Additional note: I had to change my usernames everywhere because I was being cyberstalked. As a result I accidentally broke all of my masterlist links, I fixed them

Reader POV:

Shortly after you lose yourself in the pale ivory maze of halls and doorways that capture you the second you step beyond the confines of your chamber, Morpheus finds you.

These halls are a labyrinth without a single splash of color to relieve the oppressive, endless uniformity. White tiles and black tiles forming a checkerboard pattern, then you turn down a path constructed of ivory and ivory alone, another of deep black granite without a shade of light or a window to relieve the deep shadows drowning you.

You hold your hand to your temple to stop the pressure building in your skull, pain churning through your nerves like white-capped waves. Your fingers come back damp with sweat.

It feels as though you’ve been swept away. Carried around the Dreaming by forces you can hardly comprehend, much less control.

Are you still asleep in your feather bed?

“Wake up,” You whisper to yourself. “Wake up.”

“You’re awake,” A deep voice says. The sound distorts between the skewed, unnaturally-placed walls.

You turn on your heel and find yourself face to face with the source of that displeased, rather put out voice.

Morpheus crosses his arms over his chest as he leans against a pillar with pursed lips. “I’ve been looking for you, darling. I had an interesting conversation with Johanna Constantine.” The blush drains out of your face.

Before you can respond, your stomach contracts and twists into itself. Before you even realize it you’re bent over in two, watching the apple cider splatter out of your mouth and onto the floor.

His cool hands pull your loose hair away from your face and back behind your head. “Hardly my best look,” You mumble as you bat away his helping hands and try to stand on your own. You should know better at this point. Morpheus isn’t easily deterred, especially when it comes to you.

He helps you stand anyway, shrugging off your rejection like water rolling off a duck’s back. “Unfortunately, no. But I’ve seen worse.” In your head, you translate that from Endless to English to mean ‘yeah, you do look like shit.’

Tactful as always. “It’s all your fault,” You mutter. When he offers an arm for you to slide under, you do so gladly, clinging to him like a lifeline. It even feels like one, like a lifesaver for two idiots stuck in deep water of their own making.

Your head hurts so much less when your eyes are closed to the Lovecraftian chaos in your surroundings. It’s second nature to bury your face into his shirt and let the soothing rhythm of Morpheus’s heartbeat distract you. “Come along,” He urges you, taking a few steps to some unknown destination without deigning to inform you where.

Despite the kindness in his voice and the softness of his shirt against your cheek, more comforting than any blanket on your great bed, you push back. “No.” Your feet stay where they are. Morpheus would not drag you somewhere. It would be undignified.

After a few seconds pass, Morpheus seems to come to the conclusion you had already decided; that you will not go. “Wait- stop-“ His arms sweep you up off your feet as if you’re nothing more than a flower to be plucked out of the ground.

You open your eyes to see his stupid smirk oozing with victory. “It’s for your own good, little darling. Or would you prefer I put you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes?” It would be even less dignified for you to be treated so and Dream knows you’d refuse it.

He continues on with no further resistance. You haven’t lost all your pride just yet. His lengthy stride carries the two of you farther in a minute than your legs could in an hour and your surroundings fade into a blur, like paint dripped into a bowl of water.

Morpheus doesn’t have to say anything for you to feel the stymied laughter moving his chest. “Stop gloating.” You poke him once, twice, three times. No reaction.

“I’m not doing anything.” 

“Yes, you are.” Your legs kick gently in the air to make your point.

Morpheus sighs under his breath and mumbles something that sounds like he’s calling you ‘impossible’. And as you’re very mature, perhaps the most mature person here, you decline to respond. It feels like you’ve won after all.

He pauses for a moment to glance at your surroundings. For all you know, you could be anywhere in the world. But you’re with him and that’s enough to keep you calm. For now. “What you have is called sleepy sickness,” Dream says. When he notices you staring, doe eyed and blushing from being carried in his arms like the queen he calls you, his mouth places the faintest kiss upon your forehead.

A humid breeze brushes your cheeks, warm as a hug and carrying the scent of dew-covered grass and clear running water. “It’s not that bad,” You mutter. You’re lying of course, just to be contrarian. It’s only fair to cause him half the headache he’s caused you.

Morpheus sets you down on a fallen tree trunk covered in soft, jade green moss. His hand lingers on your wrist, as smooth as polished marble, and then he takes a gentle, yet firm hold of your jaw. His fingertips barely skim your cheeks, close enough that you could kiss his hand if you wanted. 

Morpheus kneels in the dirt without a care, peering into your eyes for a long moment.

“I do expect an explanation on why it took that… exorcist for me to know you were suffering,” He tells you in a low timbre. “I cannot take care of my love, my queen, my heart itself, and the beloved child you carry without you… talking to me.” Silver moonlight highlights the deep, shadowed worry lines on his face. 

Morpheus has called you his heart. He’s wrong. You can see his heart still in him, cracked open for you to observe, not quite on his sleeves but beating through his chest.

Even you have to admit his admonishment is more than fair. No complaints. You duck your head. Anything to get away from his gaze. “…I’m sorry.” You are, truly. He stops your chin from dipping with the same soft touch used between lovers, between those who share knowledge of each other’s souls.

Morpheus hums softly. “Don’t apologize, and don’t do it again.” He calls you out as if he’s approaching a frightened deer, coaxing you towards him with sweet words, the hand cradling your face like petting the raised spine of that startled animal. “Now come - we will remedy your illness now. I’ll not have you spend another second in such a state.” His outstretched hand helps you to your feet.

A canopy of branches stretches above both your heads. The long, friendly finger-like branches of old growth trees dance and wave hello in the wind you felt earlier. Between the gaps in the large leaves, stars wink at you. Some of them even move, and you realize those unique flecks of light aren’t stars. They’re planes flying in the night and satellites spinning through space, chattering back and forth with each other and the rest of humanity.

You recognize the faint red glow of Mars and the pale yellow fleck of Venus in the dark firmament. “Where are we?”

It feels… real. It feels right. What binds your feet to the grassy earth, covered in scattered fallen leaves and the new buds of wildflowers is gravity, not magic mimicking it.

Morpheus leads you through the old growth trees without hesitation. “Ordinary mortals cannot spend unnaturally long periods of time in the Dreaming. It happens but rarely, most recently when I was imprisoned and unable to uphold the laws of the universe that separate the Waking World and the Dreaming,” He says without looking at you. His skin gleams like mother-of-pearl under the silvery moonlight. “The soul wants to stay as much as the body yearns to go. They grow sicker and sicker as the connection that keeps their dreaming souls attached to their waking bodies weakens. Eventually that connection snaps, leaving behind a comatose body and a wandering spirit in my kingdom with no name or face.” Such respectful words for a nightmarish fate.

Through the trees, the moonlight finds something else to reflect off of. The shine beckons you closer and closer, until you see a large, tranquil lake. The water is the clearest you’ve ever seen, tinged a naturally bright turquoise. Through the glass pane surface, you see the sandy surface of the lake bed dotted with small, smooth pebbles, at most a few feet deep. Vibrant pink water lilies spread open their great green pads at the lake’s edge and birds sing songs to each other in the trees. A white heron picks its way through the lake with meticulous, stilted elegance. It stops to consider the pair Morpheus and you make, then magnanimously decides to give you your privacy and fly away

Something stirs at your side, breaking the spell. You turn to watch, still dazed from the sweet, clean air, as Dream gathers your fingers and kisses them. “The only cure is to take you back to the Waking and allow your soul and body to rest as one, as they were meant to,” He apologizes. His lips are so pink, and his eyes are so wide.

“I can breathe again,” You murmur as your lungs fill with the scent of fragrant banana leaves and papaya trees brought out by the humidity.

It’s all real. You tell yourself that over and over. You sink to the ground and bury your fingers into the earth. When you rub your fingers together, you can feel the grains of dust separate and stick to the grooves of your fingerprints.

You want to touch everything. The rough bark on the trees, the ribbed surface of the lily pads. You want to smell the blossoms and feel the cool water of the lake wash away the clinging, disorienting remnants of the Dreaming from your mind.

Dream joins you on the banks of the lake. “I know,” He coos, dabbing away the sweat shining on your cheeks. “That’s it, darling. Feel better?”

Your dirt-marked hands meet his, seeking reassurance that he’s just as real as you. That he won’t slip out of your grasp and flee into the night like a stranger, now that he has delivered you home.

His palms only have a few lines compared to the meandering map of creases on yours and Morpheus patiently lets you explore them until you’re satisfied with what you find. You leave smudges on the backs of his hands. You go to wipe them off, about to mumble an apology, but Dream stops you. He wraps his fingers around yours even tighter, even as you protest that you’ll get him dirty.

“Now listen carefully,” He begins. His grip trembles, a single, uncontrolled movement in the edifice of composure. Chaos, barely leashed. “I want you well. I want you to smile and forget any time you were unhappy because of the Dreaming. But if you run, I’ll come after you. You know I will. Decide for yourself if you’ll take the relief and pleasure I’m offering, or if you want another chase and the tears that come with it.”

A dream is nothing without a dreamer. Morpheus has long since decided that you are his dreamer, so like all dreams, he fears your eventual abandonment. He fears you might decide that he adds nothing to your life and discard him, leaving him purposeless, a book abandoned on the shelf unread watching as you move on and never look back. Pick me up, his eyes beg. Read me, need me, keep me by your side. Find me a home in your home.

Later, you’ll blame it on the sweltering tropical heat. You’ll blame it on the silver tongue of the god of dreams, slithering its way into your head.

“Is the water swimmable?” You ask instead of answering. In the periphery of your vision, he nods.

So you rise.

What need is there for running? You’re home. The wind has danced through your hair before. The trees have whispered secrets to you since you were old enough to look up at their leaves and make up fairytales. You can empathize with how Morpheus and the Dreaming are bound together. You’re bound to here, birthed and raised here.

The sand grows damper the closer you walk to the edge of the water. It sticks to your toes in clumps. You shed your clothes as a snake sheds its skin. You leave them behind you, a trail of breadcrumbs followed by the sight of your back, bared to him.

You hear a sharp inhale. “Are you sure you want-“ Morpheus’s voice is strangled as if he’s fighting his own dark urges, extinguishing them so that the flames won’t singe you.

The water is much warmer than you thought it would be. It ripples gently across your skin and you walk further into the lake’s embrace.

Once the water envelopes your hips, barely brushing where your belly naturally folds over your hips, you turn to look at the god watching you on his knees from the shore.

You’re aware of everything- your nipples hardening, his narrowed dragon-like eyes feasting on your breasts, your soft arms and plush thighs, and a warmth stirring in your core that only Dream can awaken.

But there in your thoughts is the cold reminder of Johanna’s warning. There is no doubt that Morpheus has been cruel and capricious, carelessly tearing apart anything in his path like a tornado ripping trees and telephone poles from the ground.

But he’s yours. He’s pursued you, chosen you, fought for you. He loves you enough that he’s risking letting you go, where before he locked you in his realm like a songbird in a cage.

You hold out your hand. “Join me.”

Morpheus doesn’t make you wait a second longer. “As you wish, Basileia.” He practically rips his shirt off, losing a button or two in the sand in his haste to reach you.

The hard, muscled planes of his chest beckon to you. You could never get tired of Dream, of looking at him, of wanting him. He’s already half hard against his thigh and he walks into the lake with the smooth, prowling gait of a leopard stalking some helpless prey.

His arms catch your waist and pull you closer. You melt into Morpheus’s familiar touch, impossibly strong yet cradling you as if you were as fragile as spun glass. It’s not until you’ve tucked your head into the crook of his neck, his salty skin so close to your lips that you can almost taste him in the air, that Dream finally relaxes. The water wraps the both of you in a warm cocoon, heightening your senses. Every move he makes ripples against your skin and you’re so painfully, acutely aware of his hips, his legs, how close they are to your own…

Droplets of water trickle between your breasts. Dream follows their path with reverent, covetous eyes. Those beads of water are more precious than diamonds to him because they have the privilege of touching you.

Your skin is painfully sensitive. His grip tightens, shifts, he palms your ass and his other hand cradles the back of your neck, warm and possessive. The pregnancy hormones are no joke; you’re starved, desperate to take him apart with your teeth and hands, and to be taken apart in return until all you know is his taste.

You trace his arched cheekbones with damp fingertips and run your thumb over his plump, flushed lower lip. Dream’s white teeth glint as they sink into your thumb. Not deep enough to cut, but just enough to sting .

Your fingers slide through his dark hair. You graze his scalp with your nails, you pause to take a fist full and tighten your grip. You tug. Morpheus gasps, then curves his mouth into a lazy, listless smirk.

When he kisses you, you kiss him back furiously, your mouth dancing with his and one arm slung around his neck to draw him into you. You moan into the kiss and he hums at the back of his throat in response. Dream’s lips leave yours, much to your displeasure, only to settle on the top of your nose, then your eyelids, the corner of your mouth…

Water streams around your thighs as Morpheus practically drags you up, easily holding most of your weight with one of his arms. The heat in this place is such that sweating does nothing to cool your body, and the muggy air makes stitching yourself as close as possible to his body even sweeter. You bare your neck to Dream’s kiss-swollen lips and the hickies he sucks into your skin.

Your thighs quiver, each sensation so much stronger and brighter than they were the last time he knew you like this. A sweet, drawn out sigh tears itself from your chest as he bites down like a wolf marking his mate. Morpheus groans in return, mouthing against your skin like he’s starved. He mutters and growls as he makes his way past your collarbones and his hands shake where they cling on to you.

And when his nimble, clever fingers drift from your back to find your nipples, thumbing them firmly, you shriek and pull on his hair so hard his head snaps back. He stares back at you with eyes of inhuman obsidian and a furious snarl on his face at being denied your body. “Gentle, please, Morpheus. Please,” You whimper, trembling in his arms from the too-intense pain and pleasure echoing through your sensitive tits.

Your chest heaves. The air is so heavy that it feels like you can’t get enough of it into your lungs. Dream makes a wordless noise of an apology before lavishing you with kisses, his lips moving with the most careful pressure across your flushed breasts. “The shore,” You plead with him. “Take me to the shore, my love.” The endearment steals out of your mouth like a thief. It’s the only thing that cuts through Dream’s lust-filled haze.

His beautiful eyes lighten from black to deep sapphire and the silvery fangs you felt earlier at your vulnerable throat retract ever so slightly.

Before you can blink, Morpheus deposits you on the shore with your back to the sand. The stars above bear witness as he kneels between your legs spread open to invite him, joy and love practically fucking radiating off of him. What he told you in the aftermath of his forced unmasking was true. He loves you. No matter what you do or say, if you cry or flee, his love only grows.

His luminous beauty is so overwhelming that it eclipses the world around you. All you see is him. You reach up to make his perfect hair messier, to bring his perfect mouth close enough for you to kiss until he’s ruined.

You push on his shoulders until he rolls over. His strong arms take you with him and help you drape yourself in his lap, grinding your dripping folds into the thick, heavy weight of his cock.

Morpheus tries to reach for your hips first but you bat his straying hands away. “My tigress,” He moans as you show him what your teeth and nails feel like digging into his alabaster skin, running over his abs, returning in abundance the bite marks and hickies he left on you. Your tongue lathes over the red and blue bruises scattered down his chest, warm and wet, and Morpheus’s heart beats so furiously that you can taste his pulse.

“Stay,” You pant as you plant one hand into his sweat-covered chest. Your lips move lower and lower, leaving kisses along the deliciously-firm ridges of muscle that jump whenever you touch them.

You give into every possible intrusive desire. Your fingers trace his hip bones, the long, elongated lines of his thighs tensing as you wander closer to his flushed, veiny dick, and up again to that muscled v at the bottom of his stomach…

“It’s yours,” Dream says hoarsely, his eyes glowing in the night. “I’m yours.”

This is your world. Your home. And your Endless. Saliva gathers under your tongue and Morpheus beckons. He’s somehow even more desperate for you to carve yourself into his body and soul than you are to wield the knife.

You hover over him, about to take him in your hand. You’ve done horrible things for Morpheus with your hands. You ended a person’s life and you’d do it again if you had to.

The tenderness in his voice makes you weep. “I love you.” He knows. You don’t have to say anything in response. You just have to be here with him and be loved.

His cock is warm in your palm, so long and thick that you have trouble understanding how Dream makes it all fit inside of you. Your tongue darts out to lick the salty precum dotted on his shaft and your cunt flexes with need. Soon, soon, you promise yourself, you’ll let him fuck you into the ground until you’ve forgotten your name.

You watch him as you start at the base, kissing your way up his cock until you reach the fat, rounded tip. Morpheus inhales sharply and a brilliant red flush colors his cheeks. You slowly envelope the head of his cock between your lips and his fingers dig into the ground, trying anything to keep him anchored.

His eyes roll back in his skull like you’re quite literally sucking the soul out of him. You briefly flirt with the idea of pulling away, of depriving Morpheus of the sweet torture that has rendered him speechless.

But since you’re his queen, you can be benevolent if you wish. You’ll make him come so hard that no other woman or goddess will ever compare. You’ve never wanted to do this with a partner as badly as you want to do it for him.

Your hand works the part of his shaft you can’t shove into your throat. You build a strong rhythm, alternating between sucking his dick and running your tongue along the underside where the taut skin is most sensitive. His cock jumps in your mouth when you flick your tongue over one particular spot. “Fuck,” He hisses. “You’re so good to me, beloved…” His needle-thin fangs erupt again, only to dig into his bottom lip. Dream grinds his hips up, forcing another inch of his cock into your sloppy mouth dripping with saliva.

Your surprised moan is completely stifled by his thick, painfully erect flesh. He laughs wickedly and finally reaches for your hair. “I know your game,” Morpheus taunts. A faint tingle of pain flashes through your scalp when he wraps your tangled tresses in his fist and takes control. Saliva runs from the corners of your stretched, bruised lips with each thrust.

His salty, musky taste is addictive and you want more, more than what he’s giving you right now. You won’t be satisfied until he’s spilling his seed down your throat.

Your nails run down his thighs, leaving angry red furrows, and you bob your head, relaxing your throat so you can take him even deeper. This god, this great and powerful creature, full of magic and fury, groans and shakes underneath you.

“Wicked creature,” Morpheus accuses between gasps for breath. You smile up at him with your mouth full before returning to your feast.

You turn your spare hand to another task. You’ve never done this before, but Morpheus inspires a boldness in you, a mindless lust for moremoremore. He grits his teeth, holding back guttural moans. You reach out to cradle his heavy balls in your palm and carefully massage them while you redouble your mouth’s efforts on his cock. Your jaw aches something fierce and you gag once, and then again.

He cries out. You can read the thoughts painted across his face. You’re his confessor and his executioner. Only you have this power over him - to bring him to the highest ecstasy or to brutally cast him out of Heaven.

Your reward is so sudden that it surprises you. All it takes to send Morpheus over the edge, into the most beautiful orgasm you’ve dragged out of him yet, is that gentle caress. His eyes widen, glistening with tears, his pupils dilate. His silver tongue has fallen silent. His face contorts in exquisite agony.

He drags you forward until your lips touch the base of his cock and comes with a low, pained groan. Salty cum floods your tongue and you pull back in surprise. His cum drips down the column of your throat and between your tits. You cough, smearing more of the mess on your cheeks.

Morpheus doesn’t give you even a moment to recover. It must be unbearable for him to be separated from you, like breathing with only one lung instead of both. You carry half his soul. His heart beats in your chest. He kisses you and clutches your shoulders, your face. He licks his cum off your cheeks and drags his fingers through the remnants on your breasts. He brings his fingers to your swollen lips. You open your mouth even as your jaw protests and let him feed you his cum. Not a single drop is wasted.

You suck his fingers one last time before he withdraws them. Your doe eyes stare into his lidded, pleasure-drunk gaze. Finally, you answer him. “Perhaps I’ll keep you… if you make yourself useful.” A smile blooms on his angular face, more heavenly than an archangel.

Or perhaps he’s an incubus here to enslave you. “I’ll be gentle,” He promises. Moonlight flashes off his sharp teeth. Your nerves prickle at the contrast of his sweet words against the sheer primordial force that emanates off of him. Your animal hind brain wants to flee, but the rest of you wants to give in, to reach for the bright flame of his love and let it burn you.

His palm caresses your cheek, sliding over your skin as if you’re made of the most precious silk. But you’re not silk and this is not a dream. You’re real. Flesh and bone.

You look at him through your lashes as you sink your teeth into his wrist.

Dream responds as you want him to. His pale hand, white as a sword, around your throat, squeezing just enough to restrict blood flow into your brain. Your dark angel looming over you, the Endless simply taking your submission, not just demanding it.

When he guides you to lay on your back once more, you go gladly.

The stars in his irises glow as he takes in the sight of your breasts moving everytime you take a breath and your thighs slowly, slowly parting. “My poor darling, have you been this needy the whole time?” Morpheus asks in that low, raspy voice that makes your stomach twist with desire. His finger trails from your bent knee and down, down towards your inner thighs.

It feels like everything is too hot, too much. You’ve been wet since you took your clothes off, and after making him come so furiously, your pussy is practically crying for him to touch your folds, to fuck you, to remind you who you belong to.

He traces the arousal coating your cunt, playing with the slick but carefully avoiding your pussy. “Morpheus…” You moan, your nipples so hard that every gust of wind feels like the press of his mouth. Playing is a good word for it. Morpheus plays you and your body, teasing you with his hand as he wanders away from your hips and over your chubby belly, always touching, feeling. 

Your back arches in the sand. He’s the only one who can do this to you, you think. The only one you’d let have you in such an open, vulnerable way.

Just when Morpheus reaches the curve of your breast, he leans over you and holds your face with both hands. “You come first.” One of his thumbs hook into your mouth and pull your jaw open. You can feel the pad of the thumb wedged against your teeth.

You feel so delicate and fragile underneath him. So helpless, like a flower he plucked from the ground. Your cunt pulses in time with your rapid heartbeats. “Heed my words. You always come first. For next time,” Morpheus commands softly. He’s dead fucking serious.

Rushing sounds fill your ears. “But-“ You murmur around his fingers. You’re dizzy, drunk on the love painted so boldly on his expression. It’s like a solar eclipse. You can’t look away. You come first. That is what would please Dream more than coming himself. You find yourself nodding along.

When he bends down to kiss your forehead, it feels like a brand. You lean into the warmth and let it soothe you. “Obey me, beloved, and you will be rewarded with anything and everything you desire.” You surge forward to kiss him square on the mouth. His spit-covered thumb rests in the hollow of your throat.

Morpheus’s fangs prick your bottom lip and you whimper. It’s so easy to surrender to him and it feels so good. “Do you… enjoy that? Obeying?” He pulls away to ask with an uncharacteristic frown marring his smooth forehead.

You murmur something wordless and begging, then loop your hands around his neck, urging him to return to you. He raises a single eyebrow until finally, you turn your attention to the question instead of pouting over his reluctance to kiss you. “I do. I really- I think I do,” You whisper.

It’s the truth. It feels right. And for the most part- if you’re honest with yourself, for the most part, Dream has never failed you.

How do you reconcile these puzzle pieces together that just don’t fit? With each day, your rage and feelings of betrayal fade. Something new has been growing inside to replace it. A strange longing to throw your principles away and give in.

Morpheus nods soberly. “If you decide to keep me, Basileia, we should discuss this later, at length. I know that the relationship you expect might be different from what I can give you.”

It’s far too easy to read between the lines. “What can you give me?” You are critically, keenly aware of the implications of you asking. Why else would you want to know the conditions of a long term, most likely life-long relationship if Dream has his way, if not to seriously consider them?

Well. You’re seriously considering it.

He spreads his fingers out slightly off-center from your sternum, right over your heart. “What I’ve always given you.” He kisses the tip of your nose. Can you trust him with your heart?

Dream is trying to tell you with his actions that you can. That he wants to cradle your heart so gently and hide away where no one else can hurt it. He’d breathe fire on anyone who tried, even himself.

“Care, above all else,” He murmurs in your ear. His breath tickles your hair and you gasp. He kisses your soft, delicate skin covered in goosebumps as an apology.

There are spikes of white in his irises like the points of a star. A single black eyelash rests on his cheekbone. You wipe it away with your fingers, utterly fascinated by this strange new intimacy.

It’s so lovely to feel his radiant smile with your fingertips at the same time as seeing it.

You’ve missed it.

“Tending to.” Another kiss, this one on the edge of your jaw. You blush from your scalp all the way down to your toes.

“Possession. Belonging.” His voice drops to a growl and the fingers over your heart curl into claws. Morpheus buries his face into your throat. Some of his hair gets in your mouth and you giggle as you try to pluck it out. He growls again, this time properly, when you try to dislodge him.

His torso presses yours into the sand. He’s like a tall weighted blanket hiding you from the sight of the celestial bodies above.

One of his claws moves to your waist. They open and close rhythmically. Morpheus is kneading you like a cat. “Let me be your compass so you’ll never feel lost again, let me tend to your every scraped knee and anxiety. Trust me to give you commands for your well-being and to fix things when you make mistakes.”

How long have you waited for someone to say these exact words to you? How many years have you spent dreaming about this very moment, where someone grants you your truest wish; to never have to face the world alone? Not just at your side. In front of you, leading you into the future so you have someone to follow.

Finally, he kisses your lips. A chaste, almost innocent kiss, like between a husband and wife on their wedding day. “All I need is your submission to my authority. It’s too much to ask of you at this moment, but you should know these things about me so you can make your decision in the future,” Morpheus says softly.

All he ever had to do was ask.

“We can talk about it later.” You kiss him back firmly, dragging a low moan out of him.

“You’re not opposed?” He says between kisses, between your fingers threading through his hair and his knee nudging between your legs, giving you something to grind against.

Morpheus freezes when you smile at him, as if he’s been hit by lightning. “I’m not,” You promise, your eyes shining more than they ever have before.

He exhales an amused huff. He’s laughing at himself, you realize. “Later then, my queen.” He’s been so silly and wasted so much time. You laugh too, until the two of you are just giggling helplessly in the sand.

He strokes your belly for a moment, then bends and places his cheek over the curve where your baby is growing. Crickets sing and fireflies chase each other through the night sky. Something moist touches your belly. When he lifts his head, he tries to wipe away tears before you notice. You reach for him and dab them away yourself.

“I hope the baby has your eyes,” You whisper.

Morpheus’s hands are as warm as his smile, like a little candle flame in the dark flickering on its own. “I hope the baby looks like you, so the world can see how much I love its mother.”

Maybe his smile will light your way back to each other.

His face is the first thing to shift. His gaze narrows, his mouth flattens into a severe, imperious expression. “Now, where were we?” His muscles coil and tense as he rears up on his knees. His marble skin stretches taught over his prominent bones.

You suddenly remember watching him disintegrate the nightmare that haunted you so, how Morpheus took pleasure when it screamed in pain. This is the god-king, the careless devil, the eater of worlds.

He kisses your knee while massaging the strained muscles in your calf. “You- you were… ah… Morpheus, I can’t focus when you do that.” Your voice is hushed in prayer to the only god you care for. He kisses your thigh again, slightly above your kneecap.

You spread your legs wider, wordlessly begging for more of his attention. “I was instructing you on the importance of obedience, I believe.” He blows a soft puff of air across your heated cunt, and you squirm in the sand. The cold only heightens how sensitive you are.

Morpheus leans in to lick the trail of arousal that has been steadily dripping down your thigh all evening. He laps at your skin over and over in tiny kitten licks.

He waits until you’re looking at him to moan into your skin, his eyes wild with hunger. Another, longer lap of his tongue, still holding eye contact. He can’t get enough of your juices. He wants you to know how much he wants you. Morpheus wants you to witness his devotion. Not want- he commands it.

And still, he won’t touch your pussy. “That feels so good,” You whimper. You draw your legs towards you to try and urge him towards your core. Morpheus teases his fangs along your flesh. You can feel how sharp they are, how easy it would be for him to bite and puncture your skin. He would never, but the suggestion is enough to get your blood running hot.

Morpheus rises up between your legs to grab the long column of your throat. “As much as I love your voice, right now I’d like to hear it only when you’re screaming my name. Understood? Nod for me.” Your mouth waters as you nod. “Good girl.”

You almost feel like crying. This evening has been such a fucking rollercoaster and here you are, getting dicked down for the whole world to see. And Morpheus adores you so much that he wants to possess every part of you, to make you completely beholden to his will.

He releases your throat before grasping one of your heavy tits, palming it greedily. “Your body was made to be adored by me, to be loved and worshiped,” Dream hisses. He swats at your breast, catching your painfully sensitive nipple with the tips of his fingers.

You jerk upright and moan in surprise, making an embarrassing, slutty, needy sound. Pain and pleasure radiate from your swollen nipple and as much as you want to cower away, you want Dream to do it again…

He slaps your neglected other breast and you gasp, tears finally beading in the corner of your eyes. Your cunt drips all the way down to the sand under your ass. You pant, your tits bouncing with the moment. The motion draws an equal groan out of Morpheus and the desire burning in his blue eyes frightens you.

Morpheus leans forward to capture one of your nipples between his lips. He sucks gently, flicking his tongue over the hard, pebbled bud, and you arch your back. He switches to your untouched nipple, sucking and kissing over and over as you shiver and whine beneath him. Maybe he wants to make you come like this, untouched except for the sweet torture he’s subjecting your tits to. You try to grind your hips against his leg, to give your pulsing clit some relief, but he hisses and pushes your hips down with more force than you expect. Message received, though it turns you on even more.

You’re pinned down and there’s nothing you can do but submit. “I am utterly enamored by your breasts, your rich and luscious thighs, and the feel of your soft belly under my fingertips,” Morpheus tells you when he lifts his head. His hand makes good upon his word. His fingers caress your stomach, not just the roundness of your growing baby, but the folds of skin and fat that come with a body like yours, that the rest of the world often finds unattractive.

But he is Endless. The god of dreams himself. Humanity’s mirror cut out of black glass. And your body is so desirable to him that he knocked you up the first time and fucks you like he can somehow get you more pregnant each time. Morpheus kisses the skin below your belly button and you have a feeling that tonight, the whole universe is dreaming of you.

He raises his head and reaches out his fingers to tap against your kiss-swollen lips. “Dampen these for me,” Dream orders. They’re glistening with your saliva by the time he pulls them out of your mouth.

You prop your torso up on your elbows and watch Morpheus inhale quietly as he brushes the pad of his thumb over your clit. You bite back a combined moan of relief and surprise. He does it again, waiting for your hips to jolt and your eyes to flutter. His fingers caress your slick folds, luxuriating in the volume of shiny, sticky arousal that has dripped out of you. He kneels there for a long moment, just playing with you, and your lungs seize when he lingers too long rubbing your clit.

Then Morpheus very unceremoniously shoves one of his palms under your ass, tilting your pelvis up so he can eat you out better. His tongue wanders over your clit and between the folds he was so fascinated by earlier.

You cry out into the night, looking up at the stars while Dream makes you see stars. You moan again and desperately clutch for his hair so you can grind your clit into his mouth. He mutters something to himself, completely lost under your whimpers, before slipping two long fingers into your tight cunt. He sets a fast though gentle rhythm immediately, carefully curling his fingers inside you to stroke your walls as he fucks you with them. Each one of your cries is rewarded with the hot, wet pressure of his tongue or his fingers brushing the sensitive spot deep inside you. It’s almost like Morpheus is trying to make you come faster than you ever have before-

For a single, blindingly bright moment, your lungs stop. You can’t breathe. Your stomach wrenches violently and your walls squeeze his fingers so tight they start to slip out. “Come,” Morpheus demands, his gaze furious and fixated on your slack, pleasure-drunk face. Your pussy opens for his fingers and this time his grip on your thighs is too firm to wriggle out of, forcing you headfirst into the riptide of your orgasm.

Your high-pitched scream rings in your ears and you slump into the ground, boneless and exhausted. Morpheus withdraws his fingers and licks your folds clean, shushing you when you whine from the jolts of overstimulation moving through you. You’re so tired, but it feels so good.

He leans in for one more taste. This time, you tense and push his head away. Your clit is still humming with faint, delicious aftershocks, and even his breath puffing across your swollen folds is painful. Morpheus apologetically kisses your hip. “I could spend eons buried between your legs. Tasting you, touching you, inside of you. Perhaps I should relinquish the Dreaming to some other god so I can spend the rest of eternity serving you, hm? Would my queen enjoy that?”

Pebbles and sand dig into your back but you barely notice. You’re too busy blushing the darkest shade of red possible at the vivid imagery and his unrepentant lust. His smile is wicked. You’re both thinking the exact same thing - you perched on the throne next time, and Morpheus making you come on his fingers and tongue as many times as you can. Knowing him, probably until you black out.

You open your mouth to say something, but his command from earlier holds fast. You want to obey.

Then he nods, releasing you from it.

“Holy shit, I’ve never come that quickly before,” You sigh.

Morpheus straightens up and squares his shoulders. “I know,” He fires back with a lewd smirk, his lips still damp with your juices. Morpheus moans softly as you kiss him. You sweep the rest of your arousal off of his lips with your tongue, your own salty taste filling your senses.

You understand all those little offhand quips now, all the various odd remarks under Dream’s breath about your life and dreams. He knows. Literally. He has stood there in the back of your dreams and watched.

His cock is angrily hard against his pale thigh, flushed red with blood. Morpheus likes to watch. A shiver runs through you. Not a bad one. An eager one. “Fuck you,” You bite back. He’s never looked more beautiful to you, all messy dark hair and your crimson love bites dotting his pale skin.

After too many drawn-out whines and your hands eagerly tugging at his hips, much too far away from yours, Morpheus holds your thighs down. If you were more flexible, you’d have your knees pushed up to your tits.

Starlight shines between strands of his hair, surrounding his face like a dark halo.

Your lips part, wordlessly begging for a kiss. His broad shoulders press you further into the soft sand and he kisses you with fervor. “Be good,” Dream murmurs into your ear.

He eases his cock inside of you slowly. You gasp, your eyelids flutter. He rests his head against your temple, panting as your muscles flutter around his length. His hips cant forward again, nudging your clit. You clutch his shoulders to drag him deeper into your embrace. Your whole world narrows to just Morpheus; the weight of him against your ribs, the whole night sky contained in his eyes, the scent of his skin, his thick cock sinking as deep into your cunt as it can go.

You make a choked, keening noise when he shifts and inadvertently brushes against your g-spot. Maybe not so inadvertently. Morpheus does it again, languidly rolling his hips in a drawn out rhythm. Your stretched cunt milks him, trying to keep him with you, inside of you.

He buries his face in your hair spread out under your head. You feel his moans rumble in the crook of your neck, deep and desperate. It’s too much, too good, like blue flame burning in your veins, and you can practically feel him in your belly.

“Morpheus,” you sob, raking your fingernails down his back, anything to ground you, to keep you from losing your mind as he fucks you, forcing you to feel every inch sliding in and out.

Dream growls, gripping your hips so tightly he’ll leave faint bruises. He rests his forehead on your own and his eyes are screwed shut with pleasure. They shoot open when you scream, your whole body trembling. “Tight, fuck, so tight, feels good- that’s it, darling…” You hear him murmur, voice so low that he’s talking more to himself than to you. It’s like he’s praying to you, worshiping you at the altar of your body.

You spread your legs wider and meet each thrust, moaning in unison with him. The words “Love you-“ steal from your mouth like a thief, fleeing before you register they’re gone.

One of his hands slips between your hips to play with your needy clit. He circles the pads of his fingers over and over across your bundle of nerves, sending shockwaves through your whole body. The full length of his dick thrusts into you at the same exact time and you forget how to breathe; you can feel how tight the fit is, almost painful but not quite, riding that razor-thin edge of pleasure. A rush of slick gushes from your core and smears onto his skin.

Your head lolls back as your vision starts to go hazy around the edges. “Look at me,” Morpheus’s voice orders. You blink once, twice, too overstimulated to focus.

“Morpheus-“ You sigh breathily. “Ah-“ He switches how he plays with your clit, now teasing you with light, gentle touches so you can listen to him instead of being too cockdrunk to think.

Your lips parts, your tongue tastes the hot, tropical air filled with moans and lust. “Look at me.” You do. His eyes are so blue and bright that they almost blind you. His thrusts grow rougher, faster, and you shake in his embrace and wrap one of your legs around his hips to get closer.

The great, deep blue of the night sky, scattered with stars, is pinning you down and kissing your mouth. The wine-dark ocean lies between your thighs and fucks you mindless, pushing and pulling inside you like the tide.

High, keening noises fall from your open mouth. Your cunt sucks him in, pulsing around his length. Pleasure wracks your body, rushing through your nerves like white lightning. And still you stare up at him and the love for you that he wears so raw and undisguised on his godlike, unfathomably beautiful face.

You’re so close that you can almost taste it, you feel your stomach wrench and your thighs tighten around his hips. “Fuck, that’s it, make yourself feel good. Take what you need.” The sound of his low, raspy voice in your ear guiding you, talking you through it, tips you over the delicious, overwhelming edge.

Every muscle in your body holds itself taut as your orgasm shakes you like an earthquake. You bite into his shoulder hard enough to fill your mouth with golden blood. Your lungs fucking ache from screaming into his skin. He holds your hips down, never pausing the furious pace of his thrusts, and your cunt convulses once, twice. Your mind goes foggy and finally, finally, you can breathe again.

Morpheus comes as your body unlocks, the feeling of your pleasure around his cock too much for his self-control. He clutches onto you desperately, even tilts his head to the side to welcome your bite. Sticky warmth floods your body, once more marking you as his. Hardly a single drop of cum trickles from where he’s buried deep inside of you.

You whine as he suddenly pulls away from you, only to arrange himself on the beach next to you so he doesn’t squish your bump further. You rest your head on Morpheus’s arm and the two of you lie there for a while with intertwined hands as his index finger traces the veins on the back of your hand. The breeze feels cool on your skin - the feverish tropical heat has broken its grasp on your mind and your thoughts are no longer clouded and instinct-driven.

Dream speaks softly, almost fearfully quiet. “You said you loved me.” His fingertip stills where it is on your hand, and you keenly feel the loss of that simple affectionate gesture.

“I…” You begin before stopping just as suddenly. White noise echoes in your ears, a strange buzzing that grows and grows and keeps you from turning to see his face. You’re afraid, you realize.

“If you do not truly feel that way, don’t say it. Ever again. Please. I can’t-“ His voice breaks, breaking the static holding your tongue prisoner with it.

What are you afraid of? The truth?

No, you are not.

You pull your hand away from his. “Morpheus.” When you meet his eyes, he looks away.

He’s rambling now, panicked, rushing to get the words out before it’s too late. “I couldn’t bear it. Anything else. Tell me anything else.”

It’s not too late.

Your hand cradles his angular cheek. Pale blue veins stretch under his skin from his eye to his temple. You are the only person he will let close enough to see them, you realize. “I love you,” You say, waiting long enough to see Morpheus actually register it before leaning in to kiss him. You mean it, cross your heart.

YAAAY WE'RE IN THE KISS AND MAKE UP ERA NOW!!! Thanks everyone so much for reading, we're finally making progress. I'm really excited for what's coming next. See y'all next year!

[magpiefngrl]

hey! curious new writer here. which fix of yours were the easiest to write and which were the hardest? in what way?

Hello anon! Thanks for an interesting ask.

OK I'll start with the disclaimer that every fic has its difficulties as well as moments when it flows, but there have definitely been some that poured out of me with great ease than others which were a constant struggle.

The Miseducation of Draco Malfoy, my first drarry, was written at the height of my obsession and it poured out of me. I wrote like a fiend all day and would go to bed at night and reread what I wrote. I breathed that fic day and night for the weeks it took me to write it. It was also the most fun I had writing, prob because I was a complete unknown and there were zero expectations from me. Similarly, The Full Monty, written just after TMODM, was an easy fic to write. I remember I read the prompt and was immediately assaulted by images and started laughing on my own and was like, OK I need to claim this, the fic is writing itself.

Similarly but in a more tortuous way, dirtynumbangelboy poured out of me too. More tortuous because it took me ages to find the right beginning, and by then I was behind with my deadlines and got stressed. Also, I wrote it in a sort of dread of the Erised fest, because it had some amazing writers that year and I was intimidated. I remember my goal was to "at least not embarrass myself" .

But, aside from the doubts and stress, dnab itself flowed like nothing else. There are passages that I really love, even now years later, and they are exactly as they came out the first time. I did very little editing (compared to other works).

With The Boy Who Died I made a fun post on tumblr about a mdzs AU of drarry and then the idea wouldn't let me go so I had to sit and write it. Luckily it was summer and I didn't work and I could spend my days writing it. There were moments I got stumped but it mostly came out easily.

Finally, a lot of my short fics poured out of me in one go and came out almost perfectly formed. The Dare, A Perfectly Normal Reaction, and my MCD The Death You Carry are good examples.

Fics that took ages at first:

so my thing is that I have to find the right opening to begin the story, otherwise I can't proceed. I don't plan; the first scene/chapter is my plan. And sometimes I get stuck for yonks. With The Unquiet Grave I began with a Draco POV, him being a politician and Harry his bodyguard, had an interesting first scene and then---nothing. It's like I hit a wall. Zero words come. When I have this feeling, I know I need to go back and revise. Long story short, it was when I changed the POV to Harry that somehow the whole gothic mood came about and I felt the auspicious click: I got it. That's what the story is. A gothic romance. After that, it was easier.

The same thing happened with Hush, darling. I rewrote a first scene fruitlessly several times until a random bit of inspiration fell into my hands: the visual of a card game. I began with it and I let it guide me and the whole plot/stakes/cast fell into place.

Fics that needed a LOT of work and had to be dragged into existence:

The Gift is the first that comes to mind. First couple of chapters were pretty easy and then I was stumped. Writing it felt like dragging myself up a slope, step by step and also not being happy with anything, so that was fun. :/

The other is 9 ½ Days, which took actual years to finish. In that case the middle part was the hard one. I wrote the beginning fairly easily and the last chapters, the plotty ones, also flowed. But the middle. Zeus almighty. It took me years and I thought and thought and thought about it a lot. Finishing this fic was an immense relief but also a source of pride, especially because I really liked the result, and judging by the comments I get, people seem to love it too.

Thanks for an unusual ask! It was good to ponder about my fics and my writing process. The same issues seem to crop up with my original works too, and it's helpful to remind myself that I got over those issues before and I can get over them again.

[darkmagicmirror]

The Dark Magic Symbol and Alchemy

I've been wanting to make this post since before S5 and never got around to it, and I decided hey, might as well try to get it out before S6, at least. SO here it is. I know S6 came out today, but I haven't seen it yet, so shh, this still counts.

So in a Reddit AMA back in 2020, Aaron and Justin answered a question confirming that they drew inspiration for the dark magic symbol from the Rod of Asclepius and the Caduceus.

Just because of Tumblr image limits, I put the screenshot and symbols (linked in the comment) in the same picture, but you can follow the link to the AMA comment and look at the image there if you need a bigger version.

SO I got curious and started looking up some more info...

Here are just the first couple paragraphs of the Wikipedia pages for the Caduceus and Rod of Asclepius.

So at first glance, just like the comment in the original question says, the Caduceus is associated mostly with Hermes, and the Rod of Asclepius is associated with health care and medicine.

But a little further down the Wikipedia page, we get:

Although the Rod of Asclepius, which has only one snake and no wings, is the traditional and more widely used symbol of medicine, the Caduceus is sometimes used by healthcare organizations.

And it turns out that there's an entire Wikipedia page dedicated to the Caduceus as a symbol of medicine. So, already, upon finding this, I found it fascinating that the dark magic symbol is inspired by not just one, but two symbols seen as medical symbols.

Onto the article focusing on the Caduceus as a symbol of medicine, I go on to find this:

I have to come back to the Quicksilver thing, but first off, the being a symbol of alchemy is interesting to me. (Partially because I definitely think of Fullmetal Alchemist and the whole equivalent exchange concept there and the questions about whether people should be messing with life and death and how everything has a price -- all pretty relevant to TDP, but I digress.)

I looked at the article linked in footnote 16, which is titled The earliest medical use of the caduceus, and I found this fascinating image!

Most importantly, this has a single snake with two heads. Which sounds familiar!

I do think it's worth noting that the very first time an example of dark magic is discussed on screen, it's with the discussion of the two-headed snake, being held by Viren's staff. The spell isn't actually done, obviously, but it's the first impression we get of dark magic in the series!

Also I just find it interesting that the article mentions that:

Hermes had some medical roles in that he did assist in conducting the dead to the underworld and also received some credit for relieving plagues and epidemics in Asia Minor.

Another article linked on Wikipedia, called Snake and staff symbolism in healing, brings up the same point, saying:

The caduceus was indeed a magical wand, a gift from Apollo which protected Hermes and enabled him to guide departed souls along unknown pathways to the Underworld, and to awaken the sleeping. The latter aspect was sometimes associated with powers of resurrection — of awakening the dead, and also of curing the severely ill (Schouten 1967:119; Van Rooyen 1982:731-5).

So I just think it's interesting that it all ties into dark magic very well, especially considering that Claudia uses dark magic to resurrect Viren, and dark magic has been shown to be used for healing purposes (such as healing Soren -- both before and during show-canon).

The last mentioned article also goes on to mention the quicksilver thing, so I just wanted to say that I also find that particular point interesting considering that many people theorize that the different types of primal magic may have one underlying magical source that powers all of them, which to me reminds me of quicksilver being considered the basis of all matter.

But wait! There's more!

When I looked at the Wikipedia page for Alchemy, I found this interesting snippet:

An important example of alchemy's roots in Greek philosophy, originated by Empedocles and developed by Aristotle, was that all things in the universe were formed from only four elements: earth, air, water, and fire. According to Aristotle, each element had a sphere to which it belonged and to which it would return if left undisturbed.

This especially reminds me of the primal sources. Also spheres? Really? Funny how the primal stones are shaped that way,

The beginning part of the Wikipedia article also mentions how one of alchemy's aims was to create panaceas to cure diseases, and also that it played a role in the development of chemistry and medicine, which is fascinating!

And then I did decide to look at the Rod of Asclepius page as well, and it talks about how the snake and rod/staff were originally separate symbols.

Both the Oxford Illustrated Companion to Medicine and The New Medicine and the Old Ethics (links are to Google Books) talk about the snake/serpent as symbols of renewal/restoration of health because of how snakes shed their skin. The latter also has this snippet, which I think makes snakes sound like a great dark magic symbol as well:

Back on the Wikipedia page, it also says:

The ambiguity of the serpent as a symbol, and the contradictions it is thought to represent, reflect the ambiguity of the use of drugs,[8] which can help or harm, as reflected in the meaning of the term pharmakon, which meant "drug", "medicine", and "poison" in ancient Greek.[11] However the word may become less ambiguous when "medicine" is understood as something that heals the one taking it because it poisons that which afflicts it, meaning medicine is designed to kill or drive away something and any healing happens as a result of that thing being gone, not as a direct effect of "medicine".

I looked at the source A History of Medicine as well, and this was where it talked about pharmakon:

So it literally talks about magic there, which is really interesting to me.

Anyway!

TL;DR: All that to say that while the dark magic symbol obviously has influence from the caduceus and Rod of Asclepius, I think that the concept of dark magic in general also draws some inspiration from the meaning/history behind both symbols, especially with regards to the connection to alchemy, two-headed snake, and also the connection to healing/medicine.

Which all just contributes to my opinion that I hope the canon universe in the series doesn't eliminate dark magic use in the end but instead puts limitations on dark magic use so it can still be used for the healing purposes as well. And if alchemy ended up contributing to medicine, then... who knows?

... also that's without even getting into how the series refers to Sir Sparklepuff as a homonculus, which:

And the page goes on to mention the "Arcanum of human blood" so... yeah.

Lots to think about!

[blackoutdays13]

When it rains it pours intro

Ben Hargreeeves x reader mini series

Won’t be updated on a regular schedule (meaning it might not be complete)

Please be patient with me because I’ve never written on tumblr before, so I’m not sure how to make it look nice.

First person pov, and fem reader. Readers powers are electricity of some sort. Like a power source almost. But that doesn’t matter yet.

”When it rains, it pours” prologue

The distant sounds of cars honking fills my ears, and gentle drops of rain hit my face as I slowly enter a state of consciousness. I slowly open my eyes, and glance around to find myself in an unfamiliar alleyway. I bring myself to a sitting position, and think back to where I had been previously. 

It takes me a few moments to realize that it doesn’t look like I’m in Dallas anymore. Or at least not in the 60’s. I see in the corner of my eye a burned up briefcase, and I remember where I had been. 

Last thing I remember was being with Five, and Luther waits for the others. Klaus had shown up, and everyone else was missing in action. So Five had to get rid of the briefcase he had gotten. He must have hit me in the head, sending me through time cause my very last memory was of a black box flying into my face. 

 I wonder where the others are. Why am I here, and where even am I? I decide I might as well find out, so I walk out of the alley and glance around the area. It seems like the town us umbrellas grew up in… but something is off. I can feel it. 

It almost feels brighter out. The rain is more peaceful. Civilians seem much more relaxed, and comfortable walking the streets. They have their umbrella over their heads with a kind of unrecognizable confidence. If I weren’t apart of the small group of individuals who were “blessed” with special abilities I wouldn’t feel comfortable walking the streets. 

As more people pass me by I wonder more and more where I am. Or when I am. It’s clearly not Dallas, but something is too different for it to be home. I just can’t figure out what. That is until I see a big banner marked with the a big logo saying “Reginald Hargreeves Sparrow Academy”. 

“Shit” I mutter to myself. I look at this banner and see seven unfamiliar faces. Well six, and a cube? Why the fuck is a cube in this so called sparrow academy?

I look away from the banner, and pick up my pace. I don’t know where the hell I am, but I know this town. So I go the only place I can think of. I go to what was shortly know as home. 

After running through the streets I get stopped by an enormous crowd, staring at the sky and cheering. I get confused as my heart races in fear. only to see a small white towel fall from the sky. I look up to see a man, who I recognize as the front and center of the banner, standing on top of the mansion. 

I look at the building and see iron gates, with bird shapes crafted into the metal. No more umbrellas. 

I feel my palms start to sweat, and hear my heart pounding in my ears. I’m stranded. I mean there is no doomsday, but I’m alone. The Hargreeves must be lost in time, and stuck in the 60’s. Leaving me lost in an unknown world 

I’m sure maybe there is a chance they could come back, but I’ve learned not to trust time travel. I mean it got five stuck in an apocalypse, scattered us across the 60’s, and now has left me in a timeline similar to my own, but not quite right. 

As the rain starts to pour the crowd disperses. I’d rather not be seen by these sparrows, so I leave to. I don’t know where I’m headed, but sure I can figure it out.

Stop cause this was so cringe. My bad. Also anyone who wants to be tagged please let me know. @cherryinsalemverse @heymsperfectlyfine

[ivys-thick-juicy-thighs]

In The Low Light- Chapter 2

Photo credit and source unknown

Notes: tumblr is fucking testing my patience with this. This will be about the 6th time I’ve tried to make this post, so if the formatting is weird I am going to break something. Quality control by @pastlivesxpastlie (if you get a notification for this I’m sorry, I’m just updating stuff) thank you Professor Wolfie, you’re a saint and a lifesaver. Anywhoozle, this one has me allllll up in my feels. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Tags/warnings/etc: Biker!IV x Fem!OC, disordered eating habits but you have to squint, smoking, aggressive words of affirmation, sweet sugary fluff that’ll make you diabetic

Word count: 2368

Summary: IV takes some time over the week to show Sadie that she can trust him, he drives her home from work, and he asks her on a date.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The following day I found myself replaying the interactions with Mr. Numerals. He was clearly no stranger to dangerous situations and was not to be toyed with. He was about to offer to walk me home or something. Why was he so concerned with my safety? And my biggest question: why was he being so kind to me? He was obviously wanting to get something out of this for himself, but I was lost as to what. He didn’t act like a starving animal drooling over a piece of meat. He said it himself, he may be a criminal, but he isn’t a monster. Maybe he’s just genuinely being nice for the sake of being nice… I’m pulled from my conflicted thoughts by the sound of a customer obnoxiously clearing their throat at the pharmacy counter. I spend entirely too much time explaining to the senior gentleman that he didn’t have any refills left. When he finally leaves with a dramatic huff of frustration and a few colourful metaphors, I tell the pharmacist that I’m going on a smoke break. I take my name tag off, grab my cigarettes and lighter, and head for the front doors.

As I walk along the side of the building, my gaze focuses on the sight of a familiar looking motorcycle, the rider leaning against the seat. He’s wearing the exact same thing as yesterday—helmet on, the visor pulled down. In his hands is a cheap flip phone, and his fingers move deftly across the buttons. I bring my cigarette to my mouth and light it, inhaling deeply before speaking. “I thought I told you not to follow me.” I blow the smoke from my lungs and shiver as a cold breeze blows across the parking lot.

His obstructed face turns towards me and he reaches up to pull off his helmet. Underneath is the same mask as yesterday. “I’m not following you. I swear I had no idea you worked here.” Surprise colours his voice, and his eyes reflect this. I almost believe him.

“Mmhmm…” I walk to the wall of the building and lean against it, taking another drag off my smoke. My eyes catch on his, and I hold his gaze for a few seconds. “I’d tell you I believe you, but I’d be lying.”

He chuckles slightly and breaks eye contact first. “I don’t blame you for not trusting me, however I am being honest. I’m here to make a business deal. I didn’t know you worked here.” He brings his eyes back up to mine, and I see no deception in them.

I struggle to find something to say, and before I can, my stomach growls loudly enough for him to hear it, even from several feet away. I wrap my arms around myself as another icy breeze hits my skin.

“Have you eaten anything yet?” Before I can answer, he turns to the back of his bike, opens a large compartment, and begins searching through it. He seems to find what he’s looking for and turns, walking closer until he’s in front of me. He holds his hand out, one of those high calorie protein bars in his palm, though it’s a brand I don’t recognize.

“I’ll be fine.” I shake my head no at him. My stomach growls again in protest.

“Please, I insist.” He pushes his hand even closer. “You need to eat.”

I sigh, reaching out and taking the bar from his grasp, a small smile playing at the edges of my mouth. “Thank you.” I rip open the wrapper and take a bite. It’s chocolate and some kind of dried fruit. It’s absolutely delicious. My eyes shut of their own accord as I enjoy the taste. “Oh my god…”

I hear a deep chuckle from him and feel a flush in my cheeks. I open my eyes and find him watching me, his eyes crinkled at the edges from the unseen smile on his face. I pull my eyes away and look at my feet, the warmth in my face burning even hotter now. I take another bite.

I hear a faint buzz, and he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Unfortunately, I need to cut this short. Enjoy the last few bites, princess.” He gives me a small nod, and turns back to his bike. He picks up his helmet, but turns to look at me before he puts it on. “I like it when you smile. Your whole face lights up. It’s a beautiful sight.” With that he pushes the helmet over his head, settles into the seat, and the engine roars to life. He backs out of the parking spot, and drives away leaving me reeling from his compliment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day happens much the same. Only this time when I walk outside, his helmet is off and in his hands are a to-go cup from the coffee shop across the lot and another protein bar. He hands me both when I get close enough, our fingers brushing for a second before he pulls away.

“I didn’t know what you’d like, so I got peppermint tea with a little bit of honey. And another one of those bars.” His voice is soft, with a touch of uncertainty. His eyes avoid mine, and his fingers twitch.

He’s so charming. This thought flies through my mind, catching me off guard. “Uhm- Thank you, you didn’t have to get me anything.” My voice is hushed. “It’s too kind of you.” I step away, moving to stand against the building. A harsh cold wind blows over the parking lot, and I hold the cup close to my chest to absorb the warmth. I shiver hard and my teeth chatter together.

“Actually,” he rummages through the compartment on the back of the bike again, this time pulling out a small throw blanket. “I think I did. I wanted to make sure you had something to eat, and a hot drink.” He shakes out the blanket and walks toward me. He stops directly in front of me, and holds the blanket out with an expectant look in his eyes. “May I?” I hesitate for a second before timidly nodding and pulling away from the cold wall behind me. He drapes the blanket around my shoulders, pulling the corners across my chest and I tuck them under my arms. His fingers land on my shoulders and trace down my arms lightly, and I glance up to find his eyes on me.

A few moments pass before the words tumble out of my mouth. “Why are you being so kind to me? You don’t owe me anything. And besides, you said it yourself: you don’t need to clean up someone else’s mess.” I pause as I flick my gaze between his eyes. “What do you want from me?”

His hands drop from my arms and he lets out a small exasperated laugh; he shakes his head slightly and looks up at the gray sky. “Princess, I don’t want anything from you…it’s what I want for you. And that’s your safety. As for why? Well, I feel obligated to take care of you. Lastly,” he turns his eyes on mine, and I’m captivated by the intensity there. “You are a person deserving of kindness. You are not a mess that needs to be cleaned up. Do not take what I say to a couple of idiots for what I think about you. You would be sorely mistaken.” There’s a stern tone to his voice that makes me feel like a child in trouble. “Am I understood?”

I swallow heavily and nod, my eyes glued to his.

“Words, please, princess.” His eyes are still drilling into mine, and his voice borders on frustration.

“Yes, I understand.” My voice is quiet, and I can breathe again when he finally releases my gaze from his. I study my shoes, and I hear him heave a sigh.

“I should go. Keep the blanket, you need it more than I do. I’ll see you soon.” He puts his helmet on, and starts the engine, quickly pulling out of his spot and driving away. Once again, I’m left standing playing his words over in my mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the rest of the week, the pattern repeats. He hands me a hot cup of tea and a protein bar, and I pull the blanket around my shoulders. We talk about nothing special for a few minutes. He never stays for long, five minutes at most. I don’t question his motives, and I accept his offerings without hesitation. He makes kind gestures to me, and we share a few touches here and there that linger for just long enough. He never pushes any further than that.

Until Friday that is. “If you’re comfortable with it, I’d like to drive you home today. I don’t like the thought of you walking alone in the cold on such a busy street.” He’s leaning against the wall beside me this time. Today he has his own cup, and when the breeze blows just right, I’m greeted by the aroma of decadent hot chocolate.

I’m halfway through my tea, and swallow the last bite of the bar before I answer. “Sure, on one condition.” He looks at me with an odd combination of disbelief and curiosity. I hold his gaze with my own. “Tell me your name.”

He drops his eyes to the ground and laughs softly. “For now,” He looks back at me, and reaches up to his left shoulder and taps his finger on the numerals. “You can call me four. And yours?”

A small smile washes over my face. “Sadie. It’s nice to meet you IV.”

After a few more minutes of easy banter, he finishes his drink and makes for his bike, pausing and turning back to face me. “What time are you off?”

“I finish at 5:30”

He nods, and gets on his bike. “I’ll see you then.” He puts his helmet on and pulls out of the lot.

When my shift ends, I find myself filled with a strange excitement. I put on my warmer layers, and head outside to the usual spot.

He’s there waiting, an extra helmet under his arm. When I stop in front of him, he stands and flicks his visor up. “Ok, first off, you’ll have to take your hat off. It won’t fit under the helmet.” I take the woolen hat off, and stuff it into my pocket. “Now, you’ll have to tie your hair back. Or it’ll all push into your face and you won’t be able to see anything.” I pull my hair back into a low ponytail and look at him expectantly. “Perfect. This is going to feel a little tight at first, but it’s supposed to fit a bit snug. We don’t want it to come off too easily.” He places the helmet on the top of my head and gently pushes it down. Once fully on, he leans his forehead against mine, his eyes holding mine. “How’s that feel?”

“Good. A bit snug, but good.” My eyes flick between his eyes. They’re so pretty. I could look into them for hours. They crinkle at the edges with a hidden smile.

“Good.” He drops a wink at me, and leans back. His deft hands reach for the chin strap, fastening it under my jaw. Lastly he reaches up and pulls my visor down, then his own. “And we are good to go. Ready?”

I nod, “ready.”

He gets on first, and I climb on behind him. He shows me where to rest my feet, and I hesitantly hold onto his sides, suddenly overtaken by shyness. He turns his head towards me. “You’ll want to hold on tight, love. Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” I can hear the smile in his voice. I slide my arms around his middle and lean further into him. I catch a little of his cologne, and the heady scent leaves me breathless. I feel one of his hands come to rest on my forearm for a moment.

He asks me my address, and I freeze for a moment. Anxious thoughts flit through my mind but I push them down before answering him. The engine roars to life and we pull out of the lot.

The ride is short, much shorter than it would be to walk. When we pull into the parking lot of my apartment building, I feel a little disappointed that it’s over so quickly. We climb off the bike, and he takes off my helmet for me. I can’t stop the wide grin that consumes my face, and my cheeks hurt. It’s been a long time since I’ve smiled this much.

He takes his own helmet off, and his eyes have those little crinkles at the edges again, and my fingers twitch with the desire to gently brush over them. He’s so beautiful. “I’d like to take you on a proper date sometime. I hope that’s not too fast.”

My cheeks flush, and my eyes drop to the ground for a second before flicking back to his. “No, that’s not too fast. And I’d love to.” My face still hurts from the smile plastered across it.

He places a hand over his heart, closes his eyes and tilts his head back, while releasing a relieved sigh. His knees bend slightly before straightening again. “You just made me the happiest man alive, princess. How does tomorrow night, 7 pm sound? I’ll pick you up here?” He looks down at me, and his eyes are sparkling.

“That sounds perfect, I’m counting down the seconds.” He nods at this, and I take it as my cue to head inside.

As I go to walk past him, he catches my hand in his. I look at him, surprised by the prolonged presence of his skin on mine. His eyes lock onto mine, and he pulls my hand up to the mouth of his mask, pressing the hard material into my knuckles. I can hear the soft kiss behind his mask. “Goodnight, Sadie.”

My breath shudders a little, and my response comes out as a whisper. “Goodnight, IV.”

[mask131]

I love digging into Tolkien lore because it feels EXACTLY like doing research on any other mythology, Greek, Roman, Norse, Celtic...

You have all those big media adaptations you have to get out of your head to return to the actual sources.

You have all those epic tales and short stories and other main corpus forming the "certain" part of the text ; with then a flood of unfinished stories, fragments, drafts and other companion-pieces that either form the scholia or the apocrypha of the main texts.

You've got all the cultural parallels and mythological references begging for a mythology comparatist to come in.

You've got the complex theology and its evolution ; you've got entire maps of foreign lands you have to learn about ; you've got complicated family trees filled with characters that range from massively complex and multi-faceted to just one more name in the list.

You've got the dry scholars who enforce stern and biased beliefs ; you've got the weird fanatic groups that reinvent it all for vile purposes ; you've got your Youtube and Tumblr enthusiast who keep making their lore-headcanons ; you've got the intense debates about what is canon and what is not ; you've got people who try to share explanations about it but only massively simplify it all...

You have an entire world that had been built for decades and decades by a brilliant man, crossing all the genres from romance to tragedy passing by the epic and the fairytale ; to the point we have little bits of pieces about obscure corners of this world and some unknown character that never influenced anything in the big scope of things and yet they still have their own story...

You have heavily complex lore and background for entire cities, bloodlines, calendars, customs, laws, landscapes, and yet just as many mysteries and unanswered questions left for the imagination of those that would follow...

And as you keep digging, you find back all the elements from your favorite mythologies (Greek, Norse, Biblical, Arthurian, Finnish) but mixed together in a fresh, inventive, clever way, with tons of new inventions that became so iconic and so culturally people and so archetypally widespread... that it really does feel like you are looking at a mythology.

[bogkeep]

grousing about ai art stuff

every time i open twitter (my mistake) there's a new thread on how to spot ai art or ai photos by finding all the mistakes in it, and like obviously this is useful and it's good to watch out because they kEEP SHOWING UP EVERYWHERE AHHH HELL WORLD HELL WORLD, but it's also a little depressing that we're training ourselves to nitpick all kinds of details within a piece of art.

like even before the artifically generated image boom randos on twitter would reply to fully finished illustrations with the most asinine unsolicited advice possible. art's gonna be flawed sometimes! i'll draw someone in a weird pose because of vibes! i'll wing a hand! i don't fucking know what a house actually looks like!!! like yes of course the way a human artist creates flawed art is different from the way an algorithm doesn't actually know what anything looks like because it has no mind. it doesn't know shit. so it's not that it's UNRELIABLE but it's like. it's like... i've been telling myself and others every time i'm struggling to make something look Just Right that actually nobody i going to be staring as hard at my art as i am while making it. if i don't point it out people aren't likely to notice unless they are going through it with a fine toothed comb BUT NOW WE ARE DOING THAT APPARENTLY. WHICH IS ANYONE'S PEROGATIVE AND FAIR ENOUGH! PEOPLE CAN LOOK AT MY ART HOWEVER THEY WANT IT'S FINE

but it's ALSO so depressing to consider having to analyse every single piece of art you come across like that my goddddddd i just wanna enjoy it!! i wanna enjoy art!!!! i mean the main reason i finally stopped going on twitter regularly was during the NFT boom and i got so tired of having to vet every single artist i came across to make sure i wasnt retweeting nft stuff. like that really ruined my previously enjoyable experience of LOOKING AT NICE ART ON MY FEED WITHOUT PSYCHOLOGICAL WARFARE.

god another thing that happened during the dark nft times was how certain art styles tended to be nfts. and i don't mean the ugly apes and stuff, like of course there's those, but there were a lot of artists who sold their souls to crypto and there was just a certain Vibe to a lot of those styles. like i got a sixth sense for it, i would see a piece of art by an unknown artists and when i checked - yep, that was a crypto guy now. and you know what!!!! i hated that!!!! i hate that it ruined entire art styles for me!! AND NOW ARTIFICIALLY GENERATED IMAGES ARE DOING THE SAME!!!!! like what tends to tip me off is less because i spotted some wonky hand or a weird flap but because the style is a popular one for the ai bros to imitate. you know what i mean right!!!!!! it's kind of how the ai photos look a bit too clean and crisp and smooth in an unsettling way. it just pings the brain a bit.

ULTIMATELY the absolute main method i have for filtering away ai images isn't so much looking for mistakes, but by checking sources. it's the same way i check that i'm not reblogging from reposting accounts Because That's A Thing I Care About Too - if there's no description or the description seems off and i don't recognise the OP, i check the original post/blog to see what's up. if the image gives me a weird vibe, i check where it comes from and who posted it. oftentimes the comments on posts with ai images will point it out - they're not always accurate and there's definitely been times where people are a little too trigger happy to accuse art of being AI... but it can be a good lead or confirm suspicions. on one hand, i don't want to do detective work while im having chill scrolling time, but on the other hand - i already had this habit for other reasons, so it's less disruptive to me than the alternative. it also helps that it's very rare for ai shit to turn up in my tumblr feed. i don't want to keep looking over my shoulder!!

(also for anyone who wants a little bit of optimism in the middle of all this, here's an episode of Better Offline podcast that outlines how it's very unlikely for generative ai to actually get much better. here's the part two also.)

[armands-cuck-chair]

"'Exceptional negro.' 'Thank you, sir.' It was the call and response of my entire life. I had let them talk to me like that so long I stopped hearing it. 'Yes sir', 'of course, sir', 'subject, verb, agreement, sir', smile, nod, 'yes, sir.' They all came from the same organ inside me, an organ unknown to science at the time, because what scientist would look for an organ found only in black men who use their weakness to rise? But I wasn't a man anymore. I was something else. I had powers now, and decades of rage to process, and it was both random and unfortunate the man picked that night to dabble in fuckery."

One of my favorite Louis quotes of all time. And it makes me so happy when I'm watching black reactors watch this scene because it's obviously so cathartic for them. I like watching black reaction content for this show in particular, because it helps me as a white person appreciate the show on a whole other level that I would be incapable of on my own. It was actually a black acter that made me interested in watching the show in the first place!

I had seen gifs on tumblr and I wanted to get a feel for the show before I bought it. I was a fan of the 1994 movie and had read some of the book, but it did always bother me that Louis in both of those versions of the story was a slave owner. And especially in the movie, which adds that whole gross slave master/enslaved black woman romance racist trope that always made me uncomfortable, even before I could articulate why. (At least the slaves get freed and then they burn down the plantation? Seriously, don't get me started on that aspect of the 1994 movie.) I was really intrigued by the fact that the show chose to make Louis a black creole man, instead of a white creole man, and also the switching of the time period. But because some aspects of the source material were...not great, I was worried that that change might not have been handled the best. Vampire media oftentimes don't treat their black characters very well. So when I decided to watch reaction content of it to get a feel for the show, I wanted to hear a black perspective on it.

So I watched ShalayaHomebody TV's reaction first (also her Sandman reactions are so good, she is so funny, you should absolutely subscribe), and I was pleasantly surprised because, you know, the bar is in Hell. I immediately bought the first season and I have been obsessed with the show and have had The Vampire Chronicles brainrot ever since.

A while ago, I watched Syntell's reactions with Mikel Claire on his channel and I was sort of blown away by him saying this about the scene when Sam takes Louis's tickets to the Theatre des Vampires show in the fake fangs and white vampire makeup: "I wonder if that's like blackface to them?" Like, as a white person, my mind just straight up didn't go there, but as soon as he said it I totally got it. It made me think of how Josephine Baker had performed in blackface as a black woman, because she could get more money performing to white audiences and that's the only way white audiences at the time would watch anything having to do with black people. It made me look at the whole Theatre des Vampires differently.

After Claudia proclaimed that the trial was a stoning, Alex of Jessa and Alex Watch said: "No, it's a lynching!" And...yeah! It basically was.

I could keep giving examples, but I'm stoned and rambling and this post is already going to be incredibly long as it is. I just have a lot to say!

The show might not handle every single thing exactly right 100% of the time in regards to race, nothing does, but I really appreciate the show taking pains to accurately cover the typical attitudes regarding race in the time periods it's set in, including the present. That's not to say that any scrutiny or criticism isn't warranted, there will always be blind spots. And like I said, the bar is in Hell, but I think it's really cool and good that they took the time to sit back and say, "okay, how does changing this character's race change their history and how they navigate the world?" Especially when there are white supremacists in the US government who think teaching about the history and the structural nature of racism not be taught because it will "make white kids grow up hating themselves". 🙄

I don't know, man. I just saw people criticizing some of the Devil's Minion fandom for their treatment of Louis when I was browsing the tag and like...I don't want to contribute to making black fans of the show feel shut out and like they don't have a space in the fandom. It's like that meme: "I got so caught up in the euphoria of shipping Devil's Minion that for a moment I forgot racism exists."

I don't say it enough, but I love this incarnation of Louis and Claudia. I love that there are so many black fans who feel seen and represented. I love that the show isn't just a sea of 99% white characters like the books are, but keeping everything that makes the books compelling and great and then elevating it by making it more inclusive.

Don't sideline the black fans in the IWTV community. Watch black reacters. Engage with them. Listen to them. You might not agree with every take they have, but I promise you that it will make you enjoy the show from a whole new perspective.

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Hello! Can i request something where gabriel from ultrakill has found himself falling for a machine that loves to make art of any kind?

Anon you are spectacularly in lucky because recently (as in, a few hours ago) saw this Tumblr post that gives an idea of V1 being programmed with an understanding and appreciation for Music. That being said? I am taking this person's ideas and sprinting away with them (dear OP of that post: if you see this- I love you and you are oh so smart and inspiring)

That being said- let's get into it :D! Heads up in the beginning it talks about V1 as well, also using it/it's and they/them pronouns for Reader because they are depicted as a robot.

Gabriel x Artist Machine! Reader

Learning Something New

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Machines were cold, unfeeling robots. Their purpose is to destroy.

That's what The Angel Gabriel had initially thought as it had learned of one- V1. And subsequently it had originally appeared this was true. The first Machine he encountered seemed Deadset on destruction- But then observing it, He had made a discovery... In the way V1 Seemed drawn towards the Terminals and their off tune, Drawn towards his own Organ playing- in the way the Machine seemed to play unknown music from it's metallic hull, music Gabriel learned it was composting itself based on it's surrounding. Soon, The angel found himself with a new Predicament- a new thought to plague his full mind. It also learned it possessed curiosity, in the way it observed its surroundings, in the way it would seem out and look over points of interest.

Could Machines care for- And appreciate things like art? Did they know to enjoy? Did they have an understanding of emotions and feel them in some way, even if different than humanity once did?

He tried to dismiss it. Perhaps V1 was simply an anomaly of its own kind. It was apparently the first of it's model- perhaps it was broken, acting outside of what code would allow. As he wandered through the levels of Limbo, drenched in the blood of a recently slain council- he was trying to clear his head... And yet something caught his attention in what should be a destroyed, abandoned layer. He could hear... Music. Music being played from a worn down speaker.

'How Ironic.' He thought to himself. 'First the Infernal Machine investigates these things, and now I've fallen to as well.' Yet such a thought didn't stop him from locating the source of the sound, feet carrying him towards its source.. Turning a corner he was quick to discover a Machine in Similar make to V1, wings folded back and hull gleaming- yet it's hand was Stained Red. 'Blood' he remarked grimly in his own mind. His hands twitched, intending to draw upon Justice and Splendor... Intending to cease this Machines functions. Yet he didn't- merely observed as it crouched down and dragged it's fingers through the pooled blood of the filth and the reached up to the wall it was standing by, tracing the hand over the surface in patterns. The realization came swiftly after... This machine was drawing using the blood it found as paint.

Time stretched on as the once proud Judge of Hell watched this new Infernal device depict a scene with its found materials, listening to the song it seemed to play as their design took shape, something within its mechanical filings of 'memory' given form. The Scene of a Garden Sketched out in blood- it would have made him laugh if he weren't fascinated by the fact they were throwing him for a loop. One Machine liking Art was an Oddity... Two was a Realization. A Realization that what he had been told was another blatant lie crafted by those who used to be above him to control his actions.

Gabriel found himself walking away, but thoughts of the Painter Machine lingered, gracing his thoughts each layer he passed through with something drawn in blood as if it were ink. Scrawlings on walls, floors- even one on a ceiling which truthfully just Impressed him. Treading along he found the new Machine once more drawing on a wall and regarded it almost fondly, stepping a bit closer to see what it was drawing... this time- a step too close, a small stone sent across the ground by his foot. Within an Instant the mechanical head had swiveled 180° to stare at him and his intrusion upon their time, the typical music it would play coming to an abrupt halt. The head stretched out a bit towards him as if studying him. Gabriel found himself frozen in place, thoughts swapping between backing off quickly and drawing his blades to defend himself. Neither action was he able to do before it had approached him.

It seemed to study him and his form, stretching its neck at odd angles that had it been living it would have been very, very uncomfortable. Could he Strike? Yeah. But instead he found himself observing it back- internally chuckling at its height.. do they make these machines short on purpose? His laughter froze as it reached out to him, assuming it was meant to be a blow... But instead Gabriel watched as its hand covered in slick blood began to draw patterns on his white and gold armor as they picked back up playing the same music as it had been moments before, seemingly pleased with having a new surface to draw on. Glancing up at the wall it had been drawing earlier, he realized... It was drawing him. Seems machines can indeed feel curiosity as apparently- it went both ways.

Eventually he was seated on the ground so it could reach better, observing it- as it observed its new canvas in turn. Gabriel made a decision as his arm was lifted so the swirling pattern of blood could be drawn on the Armor's side- perhaps it's time he chose to learn more about the Machines inhabiting Hell- perhaps get answers to the rest of his Questions about them; Starting with this one.

He likes this one.

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By the way, these days that (thanks to hbomberguy's new video) many people are talking about plagiarism and stealing material without sources or obfuscating the sources, I'd like to point out how blatantly that happens here on Tumblr with images.

I follow various tags related to the contents of this blog, mostly the names of places in our country, and you wouldn't believe how many posts I get on my dash with "because you follow #[name of place]" and it's a photo of some completely different place, with no link to source nor name of the photographer, misattributed to a different location, even to a completely different country, or very often that is simply using that tag for ~aesthetics~. And I've also seen it the other way around, photos of our country and it says it's Italy, and the same happening with other pairs of countries. These posts also tend to come from the same few blogs: blogs completely dedicated to stealing photographers' and/or other artists' work, where post after post it's all they never say where they got them from. And, like in the case of some tags, it seems to me that often they're using these place names just to add on to the "exotic factor".

In the last months, I've also seen this happen increasingly more with AI-generated images. By not including the source and saying it's X place, they pretend it's not an AI but a photo. Some of them are very realistic (until you zoom in into the details) but some of them it seems to me like they shouldn't be believed, for example this one I got on my dash because I follow #Mallorca:

First of all, that's obvious AI (look at the flowerpots, the supposed hieroglyphics, and there is another bathtub in the next room, so this person has 2 bathrooms but neither of them has a door?). I had seen this same image as part of an image set being shared some time ago titled something like "Ancient Egypt-inspired interior design", which makes much more sense and was in fact the prompt for the AI to create it. This AI created a bathroom (bath-courtyard?) inspired by the aesthetic of Ancient Egypt, but somewhere down the chain of people sharing the images someone decided to say this is in Mallorca, for some unknown reason.

The thing is, this aesthetic has nothing to do with Mallorca. Mallorcan architecture doesn't look anything like this, but many people are reblogging it and still tagging it #mallorca, which I assume means they believe this is a real place in Mallorca or at least has something to do with Mallorca.

Most people around the world won't know what Mallorca looks like, what its architecture looks like, they probably don't even know what language is spoken there or maybe even where it is on a map. And that's normal, because we can't know about every far-away place in the world! I don't mean to shame anyone who fell for this. But if they don't know anything about it, from now on, will this Ancient Egyptian style be what they associate with Mallorca? Is this the kind of image that they will associate with the island?

I don't have any point to make with this post, I only wanted to share this situation as a reminder not to believe everything you see on the internet, and especially when they're not telling you where it came from.