#apologies to the public

[kiddiesmores]

College!Ted NSFW under the cut, sorry i just needed to get this out, didn’t even care to edit anything LOLLL

Can’t stop thinking about college bf!Ted and you having sleepovers at your apartment. After freshman year you signed a lease at one of the nearby apartments with 3 of your friends, Ted doing the same.

So now you don’t have to walk across campus to sleep in a twin xl, y'all can just walk across the street! The thought of him lounging in your living room with your roommates (you’re all in a big group of friends) while you’re out, waiting for you to get home, to which you get upset when you do get back from class and you find out they smoked without you. Fuckin losers (they sparked up again when you got there, you’re fine)

Parties at your apartment are the best too, he’ll come over early, drop off a spending the night bag in your room as if he doesn’t like a solid 50 feet away your place, help set up the beer pong and the big jug for drinks that people paid $5 for, alcohol ain’t cheap!

When the party's over and you and the roommates congregate in your room to talk about how great it was while Ted uses your shower, albeit he’s still a little tipsy but he gets himself clean no matter what.

And he’s a GOSSIPER!! Talking about all the people he saw eyeing each other and how he caught people making out on the side of the house.

He takes your job in the morning cleaning up because your ass isn’t getting up, be serious.

When you miraculously make it down the stairs, sporting one of his shirts and some boxers, he returns back from the dumpster after taking out the third trash bag for the girls.

Yall look at each other for a moment, a soft smile on his face as he walks over to the stairway to lift you in his arms.

“Morning baby!” “Mornin..”

Then proceeds to give you a wet kiss on the side of your face making you groan and try to sleepily push his head away.

He laughs and carries you to the kitchen, asking if you’re hungry for anything to which you grimace, the thought of eating anything right now actually might make you throw up, and you’re on a no throwing up streak and it won’t end now.

You pat his shoulders, telling him to put you down, remembering you forgot your phone upstairs.

When you retrieve it you see that your roommates have left, the life360 you’re all on saying they all left the ‘traphouse’. You see in the gc that they said they’re going out to the store for a bit, and that they’ll be back in an hour or so.

But you know them, it’ll be longer. Which is good for you, great actually. Making your way back downstairs to find Ted making you both a toasted cinnamon bagel with cream cheese.

You look at him hungrily, not because of the food, but because of how bad you’ve been fiending for him. Everytime you guys wanted to fuck, your roommates would want to hang out, and you love them too much so you hold off on dick for them. And if you went to his place, there was too much testosterone from him staying with tucker, schlatt and charlie. So sex at your place is the go to.

He notices you, smiling as he puts your plate down in your spot, “I know you said you weren’t hungry, but I still think you should eat a little somethin, just to ease your stomach!”

You look at the plate, then back at him, sauntering over to wrap your arms around his neck.

“You know..” you mutter, pulling his face closer, “They went to the store for a bit..so we have a good hour or two alone…”

His cheeks redden a bit, coy smile on his lips as his hands grip onto your hips, “Yeah? What do you wanna do baby?” his voice rumbles in your ear, his grip tightening as he pulls you closer. “Want me to fuck you? Want it right here or can you make it up the stairs?”

You groan, hopping up and wrapping your legs around his waist, giggling as he rushes you up the stairs with a firm grip on your ass, your laugh echoing in the hall as he slams your door, throwing you down against your bed.

He can’t stop kissing you, sighing heavily against your lips while you grip onto his back, tongues sloppily gliding over each other while he presses his bulge against your sex, feeling yourself get wetter by the second.

“Fuck, I need you so bad.” you breathe, watching as he tosses his shirt off. He looks so yummy, his happy trail leading down and hidden underneath the band of his sleep pants, tent in his pants almost painful to look at.

He presses it against you, making you groan and push your head further into your silk pillows. He wastes no time pulling your boxers down, seeing your glistening cunt that’s been aching for him for so long.

“Fuck baby, how long you’ve been waiting for this hmm?” he chuckles, putting a pillow under your back . “Too fucking long.” you whine, watching his face make its way between your legs.

He laps at your pussy, your legs over his shoulders, a bit hiked up as your hands grip his hair, holding his face down as you moan and grind on his face. His glasses are pressed into his face, groaning as his hips roll against the bed while he finds salvation in the taste of your pussy, sucking your clit hungrily while his hands grip your thighs, squeezing the sides of his face so he can’t go anywhere.

The noises drive you crazy, the wetness from the smack of his lips against your wet cunt tied in with his groans as he grinds his hips into your mattress.

His tongue fucks you through your first orgasm, making you a little embarrassed at how quick you came already but it’s not your fault, you’ve been deprived of your man for too long.

He groans as he licks you clean, eyes lidded as he pulls back with your cum all over his mouth and chin. He lowers your legs back down, sliding his sleep pants and boxers off in a swift pull, almost slipping because of your silk sheets, making you laugh a bit to yourself.

Your laugh dies down as you take in his naked body, cock hitting his stomach as it’s finally released from its prison (his boxers)

Your legs slowly fall apart, inviting him inside. He grumbles out, “Wait a sec.” before grabbing one of your stuffed animals that held a secret compartment for where you hide your condoms. Your roommates love to snoop to find out if you and Ted actually get freaky because they’ve never heard you guys have sex, and you wanna keep up the mystery for as long as possible.

He grabs one, rolling it onto his aching cock before lining up at your entrance.

He slips in slowly, hissing at how warm and tight you felt around him, “Fuck baby, missed this.” he grunts, watching as your eyes roll, feet curling at the fullness. He doesn’t push in all the way, slowly thrusting half his length in and out of you while you whine and writhe beneath him. Your shirt has ridden up, your tits on display for him to lean down and suck on your hardening nipples.

The sounds of his cock sliding out of your pussy drives you crazy, feeling your head go dizzy as you clench around him.

“Fuck- fuck Ted, what’re you going so slow for, fuck me hard.” you huff, chest heaving. He chuckles to himself, groaning as you tighten, “Just trying to make sure I don’t hurt you baby, but if that’s what you want..”

His hands slide under your hips, lifting them up as he slips all the way in, making your head fall back with a loud moan, feet planted and curling into the sheets as he begins thrusting at a relentless speed.

Your tits bounce as he fucks you, legs lifting to wrap around his waist, moaning pathetically as you grip onto his back to pull him in for a hot kiss.

Neither one of you could keep up with it though, moaning against each other's lips as he hits the perfect spot deep inside you.

His glasses are fogging up, chest pressed against yours as he plunges deep into your aching pussy. It’s almost animalistic, his large hands gripping into your hips that will most definitely bruise later.

“Ted- Ted- Ted-“ “Yeah baby? Keep makin those pretty noises for me, you look so beautiful right now. Feel so fucking good, Imma give you whatever you want, whatever you want baby, fuck.” He babbles, hips stuttering as he feels himself getting closer.

You’re not far behind, head beyond dizzy from how good he feels, eyes rolled back blissfully as you can’t stop the pathetic broken moans from escaping you. If it didn’t feel so good your pride would probably be long gone since you pride yourself in keeping yourself quiet.

He slips two fingers in your mouth for you to suck on, which you happily take, tongue gliding between them as you keep heavy eye contact with him, lidded eyes gazing at each other as your tongue licks the tip of his fingers.

He moans at your lewdness, popping his fingers out your mouth before putting them in his own, making you moan.

“Teddy, m’so fuckin close..” you whimper, teeth sinking into his shoulder as you try to stop yourself from moaning too loud.

He huffs in your ear, lowering your hips down and holding your knees up to your chest, plowing down into your dripping pussy.

You yell out for him, strings of curses and pathetic moaning escaping you as you can feel yourself tightening around him, “Mmfuck, ted m’coming, coming!” “Me too princess, fuck, tighten around me like that again- good good.” He breathes

You don’t even process your orgasm at all, hitting you like a wave as you gush around his thick cock, mess spreading on the sheets beneath you that you’re gonna be mad as fuck about having to change later.

Ted cums soon after, a couple more thrusts before he buries deep inside with a deep groan before his cum splurges inside of you, breathing heavily into your ear.

The two of you lay there for a moment, lazily making out as he pulls out of you, pulling the condom off and tying it before tossing it into the trash next to your bed.

He collapses next to you, still breathing heavily when he pulls you against his chest, soothingly rubbing your back and whispering how much he loves you while peppering kisses on your forehead.

Your eyes lazily peer open, peeping the harsh bite mark you left on his shoulder, a tired chuckle escaping you, “Might wanna put something on that, think I broke skin..” you mumble, finger lightly grazing the bite making him laugh to himself. He runs a hand through his hair, fixing his glasses on his nose and inspecting the bite with a low whistle.

“Looks like you tried to take a chunk out of me!” “I did.”

He laughs, pulling you into another soft kiss, shifting to let you lay beneath him while he hovers above you.

You hear the life360 notif go off, signaling your roommates are back home again, making you groan.

But Ted doesn’t seem to get the hint, mouth moving to press kisses into your neck. You let him, duh, lightly tugging at his hair as you feel him getting hard again.

“Think you can give me one more round baby?” He mutters in your ear, lightly nipping your lobe making you laugh softly to yourself.

“Why? You gonna get off on the thought of people listening this time?” you tease lowly, lightly sucking on the skin of his neck as he does the same to you. Feeling yourself get hot at the sound of his groan.

What you don’t hear in the midst of riling your boyfriend back up, is one of your roommates walking up the stairs to barge into your room.

“Y/N we got you- AHHH!”

“AHH!!” you and Ted both yell back, eyes widening at the sight of your roommate who’s now covering her eyes. “I didn’t see much! Sorry! Sorry!” she stutters, navigating her way out and slamming your door, hearing her harsh stomping as she sprints downstairs, probably warning your other roommates about the two of you.

You let out a groan, rubbing your face with a small laugh, “Fuck, now they know we have sex for real!”

Ted laughs at you, kissing the side of your head, “Well at least the blanket was covering us for the most part..”

You hum, looking up at him for a moment, taking in how good he looks.

“Well…If you wanna keep going..” you whisper, hand cupping the back of his neck to pull him back in for a kiss, lips just centimeters away from his. “I can be quiet.”

He smiles devilishly, “Yeah? That turned you on didn’t it? And here you are trying to talk about me.”

“I have no idea what you are referring to.” You mutter, pulling him back into a kiss with a smile, you’ll just have to beg for forgiveness later.

[piss-stained-jorts]

"i wanna see something other than the same edgy horror stuff when a beloved character becomes public domai-"

FUCKING MAKE IT, THEN.

the literal only difference between you and those horror directors who took mickey and winnie the pooh and made them into the horror you hate so much is that they made something and you didn't.

MAKE the romcom. MAKE the deep and existential meta horror you want to see. MAKE something cozy and child friendly. MAKE MAKE MAKE MAKE MAKE

don't just sit there and bemoan the things you don't want to see! MAKE THE THINGS YOU DO WANT TO SEE. BECAUSE NOW WE CAN MAKE ANYTHING. THAT'S THE FUCKING POINT!

YOU DON'T NEED PERMISSION. YOU DON'T NEED TO BE SOMETHING FIRST. JUST MAKE WHAT YOU WANT TO SEE.

YOU CAN'T STOP AN ARTIST FROM TAKING A CHILD FRIENDLY THING AND MAKING IT INTO HORROR. THE LITERAL ONLY PERSON YOU CAN STOP, AND ARE STOPPING, IS YOURSELF.

DON'T FUCKING WAIT FOR SOMEONE ELSE TO MAKE IT FOR YOU. PICK UP A DAMNED PENCIL/KEYBOARD/WHATEVER AND MAKE THAT THING YOU WANT TO SEE, GOD DAMMIT!!!

[gojonanami]

thinking about mindreader!nanami getting flustered every time he comes to his favorite bakery because the cute baker, that he has a crush on and who always gets him his favorites, has every explicit thoughts when her mind wanders — and soon, she starts to have some not so innocent thoughts about him—

thoughts that keep him up at night — as he touches himself under the covers, and wonders when he will get the courage to ask you out.

[il-predestinato]

Max: "Sorry about Turn 1."

Charles: "I would have done the same."

SOBBING - I'm sorry, but I fucking LOVE them.

🎥: Red Bull Racing (2023 United States Grand Prix, post-sprint)

[ayatheav]

Laid to rest

[izzystizzys]

Half the jobs Fox is sent on are not within his jurisdiction. This certainly isn’t.

Planetary protection unit, they said. Military police. Orbital security force.

And now Fox is being pointed at Count Dooku on some backwater planet and told to fetch. How the mighty have fallen.

He’s pretty sure Kenobi, Skywalker and their units could’ve karked this all up perfectly fine on their lonesome; they don’t need three Guardsmen there to watch them do it. But the Chancellor says jump and Fox surpressed the urge to bash his head in with a durasteel chair. So it goes.

Which is when things start going terribly, terribly wrong, of course.

“Is that Spinder?!”, Skywalker exclaims, arms wheeling out in the air wildly to try and catch his balance. “The Count fucks?!”

Across the room, Cody rips his helmet off, several shades redder than a baseline human should be. “The Count fucks my brother?!”

Two lightsticks hover uselessly in the air, Skywalker’s zig-zagging in a relentless hum with his gesturing. Fox stands stock-still, in the hope that maybe he’ll spontaneously turn invisible if he does. Around them, 501st and 212th troopers gape through helmets. Behind him, Nuisance gasps for air amidst screaming laughter.

Ping, went Fox’s comm unit, in that unmistakeable lascivious jingle sound. Ping, answered Count Dooku’s within a split second. Match found close by.

For a moment, Fox considers what it would be like to run at the Count’s lightsaber at full speed.

…not like that.

“Count”, Kenobi says, with a face like he’s bitten into a rotten fruit. Not that Fox knows what fruit tastes like. “This is a highly… unexpected development.” He fwoosh-es his lightsaber shut, obviously having given up on fighting. “I’d call it a conflict of interest, but I’m not sure that applies?”

“Oh, it’s gonna be a conflict of something, for sure”, Cody hisses, fists clenched at his sides. He looks about ready to boil over, with Crys and Waxer inching closer in preparation. “What have you done to my brother, you monster?!”

“I don’t think you want to know that, Commander”, Nuisance gasps out between barks of laughter, proving why he’s eternally Fox’s least favourite. Cody’s splotchy red complexion slowly fades into ghostly white as a sheen of horror settles over the room. “Thanks for the fancy chocolate bouquet last week, Count!”

Dooku, who has been thus far staring at the floor with an empty thousand-klick stare, looks up at that. Fox has seldom seen a man that defeated outside of the mirror, he has to admit - but shudders when he remembers exactly what the chocolates were for.

Oh Force, he’s sexted Count Dooku into buying him gifts. Does that make him a Seppie spy? Traitor by proxy?

“I feel”, says the Count, gravely, still holding his long red laserknife in a white-knuckled death-grip, “that I have been taken for a fool.”

“Uh”, says Fox, nervously. All eyes snap to him. Oh Force, oh Force, oh Force. They’re going to invent a whole new kind of decommissioning for this and name it after Fox.

“Is it really scamming if you actually get what you pay for?”, asks Grids, considering. Fox slowly pulls off his helmet just for the comforting feeling of burying his head in his gloved palms. The sounds of a struggle ensue, and Kenobi makes a choked-off noise. Maybe if he’s embarrassed enough he’ll give himself an aneurysm.

“Grandmaster, why are you paying people for naked pictures of themselves on the holonet?!” Kenobi asks, despairingly. “Aren’t you a little old for that?”

“Oi, no one said I was naked!”, Fox exclaims, head whipping up.

“So naked”, Nuisance laughs, palm thumping against the floor. He might be crying.

“I’m not decrepit”, the Count blusters, and Skywalker makes a gagging noise. “I have - there are needs, and they are perfectly natural!” It takes three troopers to restrain Cody from launching himself at the Count.

[cozyaliensuperstar7]

More and more well known people in the sports world are deleting their tweets about Imane Khelif. What does that do?

What they should be doing is publicly apologizing to Imane for making these insulting comments.

They should publicly apologize to the transgender community.

I feel so bad for Imane. These people ridiculed her because she doesn't fit what they think a woman should look like. They have a preconceived notion of what a girl is supposed to look like and in their minds Imane doesn't fit that so she must be transgender or as they said, she's a man.

What is so hypocritical is a lot of these female athletes have dealt with that type of criticism themselves. They know how it feels to be a female athlete being called masculine. It's really disgusting that they would do it to someone else.

Remember who these people are who quickly mocked and ridiculed this 25 year old woman who just wants to enjoy her Olympic experience.

I really hope Imane wins the gold medal.

[islandfailure]

the lawyers everyone

[moontyger]

Testing conducted by the Food and Drug Administration on pasteurized commercially purchased milk has found genetic evidence of the H5N1 bird flu virus, the agency confirmed Tuesday. But the testing, done by polymerase chain reaction, or PCR, cannot distinguish between live virus or fragments of viruses that could have been killed by the pasteurization process.

The agency said it has been trying to see if it could grow virus from milk found to contain evidence of H5N1, which is the gold standard test to see if there is viable virus in a product. The lengthy statement the agency released does not explicitly say FDA laboratories were unable to find live virus in the milk samples, but it does state that its belief that commercial, pasteurized milk is safe to consume has not been altered by these findings.

“To date, we have seen nothing that would change our assessment that the commercial milk supply is safe,” the statement said.

The document was long on assurances but short on details of what has been undertaken or found. It does not specify how many commercial samples were taken or in how many markets, nor does it indicate what percentage of the samples were PCR-positive for H5N1. The statement did not indicate if the testing suggested the amounts of viral genetic material in the milk were low or high.

Furthermore, the statement did not reveal if the milk products were purchased in parts of the country where outbreaks have occurred, or in areas where cows haven’t been seen to have been infected.

I put this in the tags but I guess it is worth saying here as well: I am not trying to panic anyone, but this definitely seems like something you should know if you are in the US. The milk supply is not definitely unsafe, but they don't know it is safe yet either, so make your own choices based on that.

[watchyourbuck]

911 characters as Tumblr posts | 3/20

[sugenberry]

"The bloke had no idea who's car it was and made it up" "He probably thought he was funny" This is the sassiness that powered Logan into SQ2.

Alex having the glee of a sibling who got the other blamed for something 🤣

[ygamiraito]

one of the coolest & most iconic things harlan has ever done in his life as an author and a visionary was write publicly in bookstores! here's a clip that i found that i wanna show you all :3

[royalarchivist]

I love the QSMP. Not only has it introduced me to many amazing international creators, it's also introduced me to the French and Brazilian community, who are so sweet, funny, and chaotic in their own unique ways. I love seeing fans sharing their culture and learning from one another, and I myself have learned a lot this past year. I think it's incredible how QSMP brings so many different people together – all of us united in our love and passion for this project and its goals.

But passion can often evoke strong emotions, and these strong emotions aren't always positive.

The past few months, I have seen multiple waves of hate, bad-faith generalizations of communities, and racist remarks directed at fellow fans – especially those who are part of the French / Brazilian community. This kind of behavior is inexcusable, and is in direct conflict with the mission of QSMP, which is to break language barriers and unite communities.

We are a global community with a variety of people from different backgrounds. Miscommunications may occasionally occur because of cultural differences and/or language barriers, but we should use these moments as opportunities to learn and engage with other people rather than assuming the worst about them and starting fights.

Although certain issues can be resolved with communication, sometimes it’s better to block and move on. Avoid spreading negativity or hate, and save yourself the headache of interacting with people who are just looking for someone to argue with.

No matter what community we're a part of or what languages we speak, we're all here to have fun. Please remember to be kind to each other. We have more in common than we have in conflict.

[ravenoftheskyes]

This just in: Twitter claiming that headcanoning a character as bisexual when she has no canon sexuality is lesophobia and erasure!

[blackkatdraws]

Unreleased TSP Love Plague AU art

❥ Love Plague AU explanation

❥ Love Plague fanfiction written by Vellichorom

There is a Discord server for this AU to roleplay and share art but please know that it's in a state of indefinite hiatus!

Just message me, Indigo-art, or Vellichorom for the invitation! (Their @'s are all right down bellow :)

———♡

People featured:

@deviousnarrator

@indigo-art

@vellichorom

[cuubism]

inspired by this Hope!Hob piece by @mashumaru, have a little reverse-verse fic, Hob as Hope of the Endless and human Morpheus

(reverse-verse Hope and Morpheus are my special special little guys, I wrote an extremely long fic about them before. I think about them all the time and at this point they're basically distinct from Dreamling in my mind 😂)

cw hate speech, homophobia, slurs, violence. it's pretty brief though.

--

At this point, Morpheus is no longer shocked to come home and find Hope sat at his kitchen table, knuckles and brow bone bloody, drinking tea as if none of that matters. It still rankles him, though. Bloody. Injured. Always.

Morpheus sets down his messenger bag in the hall with a thump and bypasses Hope entirely to go right for the first aid kit on the top shelf in the bathroom. Hope turns to watch him pass, a forlorn little look on his face. No, Morpheus tells himself, he does not get some sweet little welcome home kiss if he’s going to come back like that.

“Must you insist,” he says, as he drags the kit—packed full, always—off the bathroom shelf and trudges back into the kitchen, “on always starting fights?”

Hope pushes his half-drunk tea away, pouting. “I don’t start them!”

Morpheus sits in the chair next to him and just looks at him.

“…Okay,” Hope concedes. His lip and brow line are bruised. There’s dried blood under his nose. Morpheus wishes this wasn’t his natural state. “Sometimes I throw the first punch.”

Morpheus sighs, tearing open an alcohol swab and starting to wipe at the cut on his brow.

“…Most of the time,” Hope admits.

“Hope,” Morpheus says, exasperated, and Hope cringes.

“You know I can’t really be hurt,” he tries to explain. “I’m not human. Besides. You think I’m just beating the crap out of people for no reason?”

“No,” says Morpheus, and wipes at his split lip with perhaps more force than necessary. “I do not.”

“Besides, I don’t kill people and I don’t like when people do it around me either. It’s not about fighting, I don’t enjoy fighting. It’s about taking a stand.”

“You do enjoy fighting,” Morpheus accuses. “I have seen you.”

Hope ducks his head. “It’s not about that, though,” he insists. “Listen. You know I never really finish these things, but it’s my role to start it. To show that these battles can be fought. And that it’s worth standing up.”

“Bar fights, such a noble cause,” says Morpheus dryly, and Hope tucks his forehead into his shoulder. Morpheus can’t help himself, his hand automatically goes to the nape of Hope’s neck, fingers combing through his hair.

“You attract violence to you,” he says quietly. “I have seen it.”

Hope sighs. “Did you really think that people would like Hope? Sometimes they want to give me a hug but more often they just want to punch me in the face.”

“I thought you were meant to inspire,” Morpheus says, and it’s a little bit mocking of things Hope himself has declared in the past but Morpheus is listening.

“More like get in the way,” says Hope, his face still pressed to Morpheus’s shoulder. He sounds despondent now. Morpheus supposes people instigating fights with you simply because of your nature wouldn’t be pleasant. At least when people instigate fights with Morpheus, he’s usually done something to deserve it.

“You are not ‘in the way,’” he says. “If you are, then you are meant to be there. Like when you stepped into my path.”

“‘Least you didn’t punch me,” Hope mumbles.

“I considered it.”

Hope huffs. He pushes himself upright again, shaking his messy hair out of his eyes. He is so beautiful, even still speckled with blood and grime from the fight. Especially like that, if Morpheus is being honest with himself.

“So long as you never hated me,” Hope says. His voice is fragile now, and it hurts Morpheus’s heart. Hope is like a radiant sunbeam, and still more often than not people are only trying to throw shadows over him.

“I could never hate you,” he says, and Hope’s expression softens. Morpheus kisses him lightly on the lips. “I do not think they hate you either. You are… challenging. Just being around you… it is a confrontation in its own way. Especially for those who may have pushed you aside.”

“Even for you?” Hope says.

“Especially for me,” Morpheus tells him. He leans his cheek against Hope’s, overcome with fondness. Fondness that is greater for how frustrating Hope has been to him over the years, during those times of darkness. “It is how you saved me.”

“You saved you,” Hope says firmly. “But if I helped, then I’m glad.”

“Always.” Morpheus kisses the hinge of his jaw. “What would I do without you?”

“Now you’re just coming on to me.”

Morpheus hums, not disagreeing.

“Admit it,” Hope says, tangling fingers in Morpheus’s hair. “You’re into it. When I come home all bloody.”

“Mm. I am not.”

“Oh, you are. I can tell.”

Morpheus skates a hand up along his thigh. “Hm. Perhaps it makes you seem very fierce.” He kisses Hope’s mouth this time, swipes his tongue soothingly over his split lip, tasting just the tantalizing hint of blood. Leans in and—

“Ow!”

Morpheus pulls back, raising an eyebrow. Hope looks sheepish, pressing his hand to his nose, which Morpheus had bumped. Hope’s non-human body will heal quickly, but for now his nose remains at least partially broken.

Morpheus keeps giving him an unimpressed look. “I see you are gravely wounded.” Hope catches him by the hair before he can truly pull away, and he smiles. “I suppose… I will have to ply my mouth elsewhere. If you promise to be more careful.”

“For such a reward I’d promise anything,” Hope swears, and Morpheus obligingly sinks down, hands on Hope’s thighs. It is hardly a hardship.

“You do like this,” Hope swears. “Don’t try to pretend. You’re so transparent.”

“Perhaps you once punched a man in the face on my behalf, and perhaps I found it titillating,” Morpheus says, and Hope laughs. “Is it terrible if I wanted you to break his nose? Perhaps I am terrible. You do look appealing with blood on your hands. If it is not your own.”

Even Hope’s own torn, bruised knuckles do stir something in Morpheus, a fierce pride and terrible heat. But he worries for him also.

“Liar,” Hope crows, gleeful, “hypocrite. Terrible lecturer. You love it. You know you do.”

“Do not get yourself horribly maimed in a bar fight,” Morpheus orders. “However…” he takes one of Hope’s hands, kisses his knuckles, lets his lips linger there for a moment. “If you must be righteous and full of passion, then I will soothe your injuries later, oh knight of promise.”

“Terrible incentive, now I’m going to get worse,” Hope says. He caresses Morpheus’s cheek, thumbs at the corner of his mouth. His look on Morpheus is so fond, always. Then he says, “Alright, darling, for you, I’ll be careful.”

“Thank you.” Morpheus leans his face against Hope’s thigh, lets Hope play with his hair. In a moment he will indeed ply his mouth upon Hope’s body as promised, in a moment he will indulge the spark that Hope’s fierceness lights within him. But for this moment, he just stays close to him, a gentle valley in the topography of Hope’s violence. Morpheus has never been gentle for anyone before. He finds he likes it.

Hope leans down, smiling, and kisses the top of his head.

~

Morpheus does not like to be “out and about.” In fact, he generally detests it. But Hope likes to be out among people and Morpheus likes to be with Hope, so sometimes he goes. Besides, he likes to see Hope happy.

The White Horse is a safe space for them, anyway. Morpheus does not feel so uncomfortable there as he does at other crowded, loud establishments. He sits in his usual corner seat at the bar, nursing a drink and working on his writing, leaning lightly against Hope’s shoulder as Hope chats with whomever has come up to him now. He tends to attract people wherever he goes. Fortunately, no one has tried to start a fight, this time.

Hope leans in close to his ear. “Get some air with me?”

Morpheus smirks. Inevitably, getting some air will turn into Hope pushing him up against a wall and kissing him senseless. He is hardly opposed to that series of events.

Cold air washes over him as Hope leads him out to the back garden, around the corner to a private spot in the alley by the inn. It makes his hands feel even warmer as he takes Morpheus by the hips, leans him up against the wall as expected, thumbs stroking over his hip bones under his shirt. Morpheus smiles to himself.

“Did you get bored?” he teases.

Hope kisses his cheek, then his jaw, leans in close to his ear. “Hardly. You know my mind is always on you no matter what. But you were being so patient.” He tugs on Morpheus’s ear, then goes to his throat, kissing along his pulse. “How could I not reward my darling?”

“Knowing that I am the one you will go home with is its own reward,” Morpheus murmurs. He trails a hand up Hope’s back, pulls him close so their bellies are pressed together. “So many of those people in there want you. I see it. But they do not know that you are already taken.” It makes him feel privileged. And hungry.

Hope laughs. “Possessive little bastard.”

“Yes.” Hope is so radiant. To be the one chosen by him… it makes Morpheus’s soul sing. “You are mine. I am yours.”

“Yours,” Hope agrees. With that he moves to Morpheus’s lips and kisses him deep. Morpheus hums in pleasure, opens his mouth to him. Tastes the beer lingering on his tongue. Sinks into the press of Hope’s fingers on his hips, and—

“In public? Disgusting.”

Hope pulls away from him, and Morpheus grumbles in displeasure. Hope turns to the mouth of the alley, where a strange man is standing, expression of, indeed, disgust on his face.

When they don’t respond, the man steps closer until he's almost in their space. Hope’s jaw clenches but, perhaps remembering how Morpheus had chastised him for always getting into fights, he doesn’t yet react.

“Can we help you?” Morpheus asks. Not politely.

“By taking that somewhere else,” says the strange man. His tone is aggressive. And most of his attention seems to be on Hope, rather than Morpheus, which Morpheus doesn’t like. Morpheus has noticed before that Hope’s presence inspires ire to jump to action as often as it inspires positivity and good works. But this is the first time he has seen such outright aggression.

Maybe some people really do hate Hope.

“Mind your own business,” says Hope, stiffly.

“You fags shouldn’t be allowed out in public, it’s an insult to respectable people.” He’s still primarily looking at Hope, and it's hard to say if it's because he is the one who looks more traditionally masculine between the two of them, or if it is because of the inherent draw of Hope as an Endless. “Should fuck a real woman instead of that.”

Hope takes a quick step forward at the man’s words, expression hard.

“Hope—” Morpheus starts. Do not get yourself hurt again, he means to say. As much as I enjoy you defending our honor I also like you well. For Hope may have supernatural qualities that prevent him from dying but he is not invulnerable. His powers lie in his empathy, his charisma. Emotion and community. But he takes a punch like any other man. Comes home to Morpheus with a black eye like anyone else would.

Hope stops sharply as if caught on a leash. And Morpheus immediately regrets speaking, for the other man crows in victory.

“What are you, his little bitch? You a man or not?”

Hope flinches despite himself. Not, Morpheus thinks, because he cares so much about a stranger’s sense of masculinity, but because he prides himself on being able to handle himself. On being able to defend his lover. On being able to stand on his own feet after being broken down into shards by his imprisonment.

Morpheus often feels anger, is too quick to it even, but he does not often act on it with violence. It is not so much that he disapproves of violence as that he dislikes the attention associated with causing a scene, and, being rather slight, is usually at a disadvantage in any physical confrontation besides. Cutting words are his weapons instead.

But watching Hope shrink back, the hurt that flashes over him—a terrible spark jumps inside Morpheus. Hope is stronger, is better, than any person he knows. Has been through hell and come out of it still with more empathy than Morpheus has ever possessed in his life. Morpheus will not watch him made small.

He steps forward and punches the man square in the nose.

He hears a crunch. He’s not sure if it’s the nose, or his own knuckles. The man wheels back with a shriek, clutching his bleeding nose, and Morpheus stumbles back, too, shaking out his hand.

Hope has his hands over his mouth in shock, eyes wide. “Holy shit.” When he drops his hands, he’s grinning. “Holy shit.”

Holy shit indeed. Morpheus watches the man scamper off down the alley, casting one last dark look back at them. His hand hurts, he might have broken it—but the adrenaline pumping through his veins is much louder. He can’t quite believe he did that.

“How’d that feel?” Hope asks. He is a terrible influence sometimes. Always roping Morpheus into doing terrible things, like wanting to live.

A smile tugs at Morpheus’s lips. “It felt… good.”

“Yeah?” He’s still grinning madly. “Let me see your hand.”

Morpheus shows him. Hope prods gently at his knuckles, and winces.

“That’s gonna hurt for a while,” he says. “Your punching technique is terrible.” He kisses Morpheus’s hand anyway.

“Now you understand how I feel when you come home bloodied,” Morpheus says.

Hope’s eyes are sparkling. He does not seem like he’s learned a lesson from that at all. “Oh, I do.” He leans in close, presses his lips to the corner of Morpheus’s mouth. “You were…” his voice is a low hum, “incredible.”

“Do I get a reward?” Morpheus asks dryly, though his breath quickens at Hope’s proximity, the heat in his voice.

“For defending my honor? Anything.” He takes Morpheus’s uninjured hand. He smiles. He’s altogether too excited about Morpheus punching someone. Which only makes Morpheus want to do it again. Terrible influence, Hope. “Come home, and I’ll show you.”

But Morpheus catches him when Hope starts to tug him away. “Here.”

Hope raises an eyebrow at him, but he does look… interested. “Something to prove?”

Morpheus draws him close again, leans back against the wall so Hope is caging him in. “Perhaps I simply want you, and I do not care who knows about it.”

He touches low on Hope’s belly, his hand hidden between their bodies. He is not willing to truly expose them—though they are somewhat sequestered in the alley at the moment—but to play with the idea is… arousing. He wants Hope to touch him. Here, in their place. After Morpheus has hurt someone for him.

He cannot blame Hope for this. Morpheus is just a terrible influence upon himself.

“Menace,” Hope chuckles. “You’ve no high ground left, you know that, right? You’ve obliterated it.”

“I never did,” Morpheus says, as Hope lets him draw him in and kisses along his neck. “Always you have been the better of us.”

“In terms of exhibitionism, maybe,” Hope says. Even now, he won’t let Morpheus truly criticize himself. “I could be persuaded, though.”

With that, he slots their lips together. Sucks on Morpheus’s lower lip as he pushes him harder against the wall, Morpheus’s back scraping the brick. Morpheus groans, pulls him close by his hips so Hope’s swiftly-hardening erection is pressed against his, and Hope’s breath hitches against his mouth.

“Should I give you a proper reward?” Hope murmurs.

“Yes,” Morpheus breathes. “Hope—”

He loves Hope so much. He wants Hope so much.

“Vicious little thing, I love you so,” Hope says. And then, in the darkened alley by their favorite place, with his hands and mouth and the weight of his body and his devotion, he goes about showing Morpheus just how much.