#gone to therapy

[stump-not-found]

mabel pines #1 hater

[greenglowinspooks]

To be honest. DCxDP where the reason Danny meets the bats is Ace the Bat-hound

Like, just think about it for a second. Danny is in Gotham for college, or maybe he just moved out to find a city where having mad scientist parents isn’t actually that unusual.

He can see ghosts.

The ghosts know this.

Now he’s getting harassed left and right by spirits trying to get closure. Fine, whatever, most of them are a one-and-done type deal, and the amount of ghosts trying to get his help steadily decreases.

Except for this one very stubborn dog.

It just keeps showing up and leading him to crime scenes! He doesn’t know how many “anonymous tips” he can call in to the cops before they trace his phone! And this dog, this incredibly good boy, will not stop trying to help the city. He’s never met anyone with such a strong sense of justice, let alone a dog. Can dogs even have a moral compass?

And so Danny just accepts the fact that Ace isn’t going anywhere and becomes his reluctant sidekick/dedicated medium. He leans into the whole thing, dressing up in a mix of traditional magic-user attire and accessories that pay homage to the ghost dog.

He becomes somewhat well known. The psychopomp detective following around the shadowy figure of a German Shepard? That’s unusual! That’s weird! I mean, it’s not the weirdest thing in Gotham, sure, but he’s a new vigilante and he’s got a ghost dog that people can only see when it’s around him. Someone’s gonna notice.

Damian, as Robin, is the first to reach out to him.

Ace doesn’t know Damian but he does know a Robin, and while this isn’t his Robin, he’s still friendlier than usual. Danny’s panicking because oh god the bats are here and also is this kid gonna steal my ghost dog, Damian is absolutely delighted by Ace, and Ace is just happy to see a Robin again.

Damian decides that the psychopomp isn’t a danger to anyone, and there’s no reason to put this encounter into his reports, really, and perhaps Danny can help with some of his cases in the future.

Danny is sweating bullets because Damian basically tells him that he’ll keep him secret as long as he gets to play with Ace. Ace is happy that he’s finally getting some bat affiliated crime-fighting assistance.

And so, Danny is now both Ace AND Damian’s reluctant assistant. At least whenever he’s in trouble, he can always call a middle schooler to help him.

(Is Robin even in school? He’s out patrolling damn near every night, and he stays out late as hell. Does he have a bedtime? He should.)

Eventually it gets to the point where Damian is going over to Danny’s house. When he first sees it, he has a damn bitch you live like this moment, to which Danny responds that not everyone has the money to afford a nice place. Damian counters that he could at least take the time to clean up, and Danny replies that he’s working, going to school, and being a vigilante assistant to a ghost dog, something’s got to give.

Danny nearly has a heart attack when he checks his bank account the next day and sees that someone transferred him 10,000 dollars.

And so they get into a routine. Danny and Damian fight crime with Ace at night, and occasionally Damian stops by during the day to play with Ace and have Danny help with his homework.

(Damian is smart enough to do it on his own, but some of the instructions are written incredibly confusingly, and he would never admit to needing help to his family. Danny is just glad that the kid is in school and cares about his education, blissfully unaware that he’s basically emotionally adopted him.)

Damian is used to being in Danny’s company.

Eventually, when going over a case with the family, Damian absentmindedly remarks that he’ll have to ask Danny about some of the clues that they might be missing. Nightwing asks who he means and Damian makes a face like he just swallowed a lemon.

Cue shitstorm.

Who is “Danny?” Why is Damian willing to ask for help from anyone, much less someone outside of the family? Does he know who Damian is? Has Damian been compromised? What the hell is going on?

Damian now has to explain that Danny is the psychopomp with the ghost dog who he might have met hunted down while on patrol and conveniently not mentioned, but he’s not a bad person, really, and he lets him play with Ace, and he’s been quite helpful on certain cases due to his ability to talk to ghosts.

Bruce insists that the family meet Danny. Damian, hoping that he won’t just skip town the second he hears the news, relents.

Danny is surprisingly eager to meet the bats, considering his earlier fears.

Damian, blissfully unaware of what’s coming, sets a time and place to meet.

Once everyone is there, he gives Bruce the earful of a lifetime.

Robin is in middle school! Danny knows that there’s no way to stop the boy from going on patrol, but you could at least shift his schedule so he gets enough sleep on school nights! Does the Bat even know where he is half the time?! (No) And why isn’t he comfortable asking his family for help with both cases and homework? Did they ever even notice how much time he was spending at Danny’s house? If Danny was a bad person, he could have seriously hurt the poor boy! Shame on you!

Nightwing is mortified that Damian didn’t trust him enough to tell him about any of this. Red Hood is laughing his ass off, because yeah Danny is making good points but he’s also chewing out the literal Batman. Tim is recording the whole thing. Steph is delighted by the absolute gall of this Danger Twink™️, and already planning to add him to several groupchats. Damian is more embarrassed than he’s ever been in his entire life.

You, he points to Nightwing, did your academic life feel supported when you were a Robin? Nightwing is too stunned to speak. Red Hood, eternal shit-stirrer, says that oh, we all prioritized patrol over our education, that’s just how it is. Red Robin actually dropped out of high school to avoid distractions, did you know that?

Danny honest-to-god shrieks at this.

He finishes his angry rant and leaves, everyone too stunned to stop him.

And as it turns out, Tim wasn’t the only person recording the whole thing.

The entire internet is blowing up with Psychopomp The Danger Twink™️’s rant. People are taking sides. Things are getting messy. Red Hood literally admitting on-camera to previously being a Robin is somehow not the main focus here.

Eventually someone connects some dots from the video, as well as stories circling the internet about the psychopomp. A ghost dog named Ace, who is the literal only reason that the psychopomp is fighting crime at all, which seems incredibly fond of Nightwing and Robin.

A crime-fighting dog who wants constant attention from both the current and original Robin.

Oh my god, Ace the Bat-hound died and became a crime-fighting ghost.

And, somehow, that’s still not the strangest thing going on in Gotham.

[annabelle--cane]

I would also like to give celia props for how not insane she seems to be. if I went through months of personalized torture, lost most of my memories, got taken in by a cult for protection, got dragged back into the torture, survived to see my world saved from the malevolent entities, somehow tripped and fell through a portal into a brand new world where the malevolent entities existed again, was completely alone, managed to find the alternate version of one of my old cult leaders whom I'd previously known as infallible and all-powerful only for her to be a paranoid low-key conspiracy theorist, and had to raise a newborn by myself while working an evil night job that I was in constant danger of losing because I kept teleporting sixty miles away in my sleep and almost getting hit by trains and cars, I would mentally and physically shatter into a million tiny pieces and begin to haunt highgate cemetery.

[lygma-nygma]

Being a batfam fan is funny because people will make a post like “here’s my headcanon-“ and it’s just something that’s directly canon to the story then post about major canon events and get everything wrong.

[muyru-iru]

Commander Fox: I was rejected too, Bly. It happens to everyone once in a while. Commander Bly: HOw?! You never loved someone out of your range! Commander Fox: I tried to send a decommission request for myself. It was denied right away. Bly (as a brother): ...Fox. Why.

[pyralart]

I've always thought he acted like a child...

Also killing him isn't enough, I want to see him break down and cry.

I made a part two!

[galaxyspark-6e16]

"John Dory had so many questions, but he couldn’t keep himself upright as he collapsed to the earth beneath him. Branch was alive; he was alive and he missed him."

@thatbennybee when i tell you i was holding my breath during this chapter like omg😭😭the tears keep pouring and pouring and man… i relate to john dory an unhealthy lot and his caracterisation in this fic feels point on and i really hope its get better for him down the line.

pss go check out her fic its AMAZING!!!!

[gold0venice]

Oh my god I have so many thoughts, but I am running on four hours of sleep, so here we fucking go *screaming, sobbing, crying*

1. Determination vs Desperation

I know that Ivan made a very big and impactful decision in the previous round, and honestly I can see that through Till’s expressions during the video. Mizi might have been a symbol of salvation to Till, but Ivan (and his death) was his reason to go ahead, fierce and determined and powerful. However, Ivan’s death is also a testament of momentum as well as desperation. Till is determined and desperate to survive and live. But this is made also absolutely obvious by the appearance of Mizi, which I will get into soon. Anyways, also in sense of colour scheme, Till switches from green to yellow/orange. We have also noticed the pattern of red, orange and yellow with Ivan’s and Ivan vs Till rounds. It’s as much as a homage but also a haunting, “the fiery thrill blazes out to the sky”. It’s like Till’s and Ivan’s memories and their lost future haunt him, and have left him “(leave no) regrets”. Perhaps not leaving with Till? These regrets and memories are both his strength and weakness, but Ivan gave him the will and reason to fight back. In this way, Till also seems to be wearing a branded armband of his segyen (sorry if it’s misspelt 😭). In a way he is literally playing the game like Ivan did.

At the same time, these are very bright, memorable and fierce colours that stand out, which made me (sadly) believe he would survive. This is also a contrast to the blues and violets of Luka, which are more mellow, but we soon see it is a growing determined movement. It is mellow because it is unassuming, and this sneaks up on Till twice, when Luka imitates Ivan. In a way this is sadly ironic, as Ivan never thought he would be a traumatic point for Till (lmao babe said what to Sua???), but that pain was exploited anyways by Luka 😭👋🤧

2. Musician’s choice

Till playing the guitar in this video made me blush (please don’t judge me, I love him so much), but more than that I love the implications of the instruments here. Firstly, both Till and Luka play strings instruments. The violin is classical, the guitar here is electric. They are already in juxtaposition with genres (and personalities lol), but they are still strings (singers for the competition), and fit together very well. You could say that the instruments resemble and are metaphors for Luka and Till. What I most like about this scene is that it is more like a battle between music prodigies, which was very exciting, because we have never seen these two interact before.

While both Luka and Till are amazing and well recognised artists, you can see the differences that separate them. Luka is all out confident, in control and powerful vocalist. Till is the same, but there is sense of desperation and a crippling anxiety, even as he plays the guitar. It looks like a fake confidence as much as a hidden fear. Both instruments work well together but the musicians are in different positions. I also have an inkling that Luka picked the violin on purpose. It is a contrast to Till’s already seen powered playing with his guitar in his round, but we have never seen Luka playing the violin, which gives the element of surprise, and a first step to shake up Till.

3. Grief on Stage

Alien Stage is merciless. Luka himself is a result of this system as a merciless manipulator. Luka imitating Ivan is terrible, and also turns on Till’s not fully registered trauma from Ivan’s death. Ivan is haunting Till, even after his death, and it has been clear for quite a while that Till actually cares for Ivan quite a lot. About haunting, figuratively and literally, Ivan’s red pupils resembles the red glare of the camera that follows Till in all his moments, his strength and weaknesses. The same red is reflected in Till’s pupils, which is so funny (I am in tears) because it really emphasises the pressure, stress and panic, but also letting go because it’s overwhelming him. Till’s pain and grief is an open wound that he tried to patch up too fast, and now it’s bleeding out and over the bandage.

The song title and lyrics also play into this idea as “in a blink gone” is quite literate. Till blinks and Ivan is shot. Till blinks and Ivan dies. It’s the shock of his death, and adrenaline that makes his body language so interesting in this round. Here in this scene Till is hunching over in pain and grief and haunting, and Ivan (masqueraded by Luka) acts into this. A well imitated Ivan with no look of love or adoration or even obsession, an empty shell, that Till falls into, relaxing for a second into the touch, just a for a second, “don’t miss the moment” . Till falls into a cobweb that he can’t get out of (maybe he doesn’t want to)

4. Death on Stage

Now to the part that made my heart blow up. In Alien Stage there are only winners, losers and those who manage to get away. The thing about Till’s death that made our hearts stop and my legs to give out is that Till was actually close to be one of those who got away. Till sees Mizi in the audience (also noticed the detail of the red glare becoming pink?) and he immediately jumps back into focus. He was almost there, just for one second. It is tragic and unfair and depressing. Till becomes a loser in the game on stage, one among the countless victims and dead in Alien Stage. Mizi actually had a chance to be his incarnate salvation, his saviour, but time gets away from them, “the clock goes tick tock tick tock blink, gone”. Mizi was there to catch him, she was reaching out to him, ready to get him away. It’s too late, in a blink he is gone in front of her like Sua.

5. Time and Winners in Alien Stage

Now, there are clear winners in the rounds, but in the long term of it, there are no winners. You can’t win. Mizi tries to win the game by saving Till, but Alien Stage wins, because it needs a winner and a loser. His death is like an afterimage of Sua’s death. Mizi getting saved by the rebels is out of luck and element of surprise. Till not getting out was intentional and foreseen by Alien Stage. In our case it as foreshadowed by All-in,covered by Till. The green splatter of paint (or should I say blood?) was a clear indication as well as the red taped name on his neck.

Till does not get freedom until after death. Till, Ivan, and Sua manage to escape the system only in death. None of them had enough time to actually live, they have always been on borrowed time. The “leave no regrets” also heart wrenching. So yeah the title ‘Blink gone’ plays into the idea of death and morals very well. Mizi is left last standing. Mizi’s friends are dead, they are gone in a blink.

[smokey07]

Suddenly check book 4 the Odyssey

So you’re telling me that we could have had the interactions of at least 4 children of the Trojan war heroes???

With Telemachus- Odysseus’ son, Hermione- Helen and Menelaus’ daughter, Peisistratus- Nestor’ son in Sparta that the same time???

And all we need was Neoptolemus- Achilles’ son to actually drag his a$$ to Sparta to get married instead of staying in Myrmidons????

Idc I need them to talk the f out about how their parents were gone for all of their life.

[cuubism]

thoughts had while traveling turned into a ficlet

[E]

-

After university, Hob had always kind of assumed they'd end up in the same place. He doesn’t know why he was so foolish as to think that. But he was always foolish about Dream.

Hob had stuck around in London. He liked traveling, liked seeing new places, but London was home. And it was nice to feel like he had roots somewhere. Like he was maybe sort of building a life.

Dream, meanwhile, had essentially vanished.

He’d picked up some kind of remote editing job that he could do anywhere on top of his writing, and took full advantage of it to bounce all over the globe. Hob didn’t even know all of the places he’d lived, Dream moved so often.

He’d been in Los Angeles for a while and apparently hated it. He’d been in Singapore for about six months at some point. Then he’d been in Istanbul— or was Istanbul before? At one point he’d been in a rural village in Slovenia.

(Hob got emails about these things.)

Then at one point, he’d been in Paris, which at least seemed to suit him a tiny bit better. Still hadn’t last long, though.

Now, Hob’s not sure where he is. He tries not to take it personally. Tries not to take it like he wasn’t enough for Dream to want to stay. Dream just had some things to figure out, he thinks. That’s all.

One day, seemingly at random, he gets a FaceTime call.

“Hob.”

Hob squints at the screen. It’s very bright. He can barely make Dream out. “Where are you?”

“Rhodes,” Dream says.

He pans the phone around to show Hob what must be just about the most gorgeous beach he’s ever seen. It’s a little cove with fishing boats bobbing, water still and sun-drenched.

Dream turns the camera back around. He looks like he’s been crying, eyes red-rimmed, eyeliner smudging. He’s sitting on the sand, phone propped on his knees.

“What’s wrong?” Hob asks, alarmed.

“Is it better,” Dream wonders, “to be full of despair on a beautiful beach, or does it not matter?”

“What d’you mean?”

Dream wipes at his eyes. “I. I thought if I just went. Somewhere. That it would get better. Death even said. Try changing your environment. I did. I did.”

“You did, you went to a lot of places, didn’t you?”

Dream nods, and sniffles. “Why didn’t it fix anything?”

“Oh, darling.” So that’s what it is. He’s just running away from himself.

“What is wrong with me,” Dream continues, “that. I am sat watching the sunset in one of the most beautiful corners of the world. And I feel nothing.”

“It’s not the corner of the world that's the issue,” Hob says, and Dream sighs, sniffling again.

“I want to go home,” he says, despondent.

“Come home, then.”

“Is that still with you? After all I’ve put you through?”

“Yeah, Dream.” To my peril. But Hob will never be able to turn Dream away. “It is.”

Dream nods. “Okay.” Then he stands. “I suppose I may as well go for a swim, while I am still here.”

“Not going to drown yourself, are you?”

Dream huffs. “No.”

He risks the fate of his phone taking Hob with him, though. Holds it above the surface as he treads water, hair increasingly fluffy and clumped together from salt.

“It really is gorgeous,” Hob tells him. The water is so, so blue and the sky so wide. “You’re making me jealous.”

Dream smiles faintly. “You would enjoy it better than I.”

“Maybe. I’m enjoying watching you though.”

“Oh?” Dream raises an eyebrow. Only his throat is visible above the water, but it’s enough. Hob can imagine the rest. His attraction to Dream’s never wavered. “Tell me more.”

“Come home and find out instead, idiot.”

Dream smiles. “Hmm.”

“Oh yeah, hmm.”

Dream’s smile widens. God, he’s so gorgeous. “You’re making me want to leave now.”

“Do it then.”

“Okay.” He starts swimming back to shore, and Hob laughs.

“I missed you, you maniac.”

“I missed you,” Dream echoes.

“S’gonna be okay, yeah?” Hob tells him. “So Rhodes didn’t fix anything. It’s alright.”

“It’s alright,” Dream echoes, eyes looking misty again.

“Just come home.” Hob can’t promise to fix anything. But he can promise Dream a home.

“Yes,” Dream agrees, sea water flowing around his throat, sunset in his hair. “Yes.”

-

Hob half-expects Dream actually won’t. That the flash of melancholic clarity will give way to his usual method of running, that Hob will get an email that he’s now in Samarkand or somewhere and isn’t actually coming “home.” Maybe London isn’t really home for him. He hasn’t been there in years anyway. Maybe.

But one day Dream wanders into the pub they used to get Friday drinks in, the pub Hob’s taken up bartending in, partly for the extra cash, partly to feel closer to Dream.

Hob drops a glass when he sees him, Dream flinching at the crash where he stands in the doorway. Hob ducks behind the bar to clean it up, heart pounding. God, he’s actually here. After three years.

When he stands again, Dream is standing right before the bar, looking uncertain. He’s terribly underdressed for the weather, hair damn from the rain, black t-shirt sticking to his shoulders.

“Um,” Hob says, wringing a bar towel in his hands. “Get you your usual?”

Not that Dream’s usual is necessarily the same, after all this time—

Dream leans across the bar and hugs him.

“My usual,” he says, voice so close to Hob’s ear now that he shivers. Dream’s damp hair tickles his cheek. Hob ought to get a towel and dry him off.

He hugs Dream back, leaning awkwardly over the bar. “Missed you.”

Dream hums, finally releasing him. He takes a seat on a bar stool, a faint smile on his face now. On instinct Hob takes off his sweatshirt—New Inn branded—and gives it to him.

Dream takes it, gaze lingering on Hob’s face as he pulls it on. He immediately looks less frigid, though.

“Is it still the driest red on the menu that you want?” he asks, and Dream laughs.

“Yes.”

Hob pours him one, sliding it across the bar. Their fingers brush. It feels, almost, like no time has passed at all. Nothing changed.

“So,” Hob says, grateful there are no other customers awaiting his attention. “Rhodes?”

“The last of many,” Dream says wearily.

“Looked beautiful?”

“Yes,” Dream agrees, and sips his wine.

“So.” It’s hard to ask what he really wants to ask. Are you actually back? Are you actually here for me? “Are you. You have somewhere to stay?”

“I am not wandering the streets,” Dream says with a half smile. “I have a hotel room. For now.”

“Still itinerant,” Hob says, before he can think better of it, and Dream’s smile turns sad.

“Yes.”

“Learn anything?”

“I learned that moving about doesn’t fix anything when the problem is inside of you,” Dream says. Hob winces at the phrasing of it. There’s no problem with you, he wants to say. But he understands what Dream’s getting at. “I do not know what does fix it,” Dream continues.

Hob doesn’t either. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be in Dream’s head. “Try staying here, then,” Hob says. “What’ve you got to lose?”

Dream studies him. “Indeed.”

It really does feel like nothing and everything has changed between them. But maybe not everything. And maybe it’s okay.

He rests his hand against Dream’s on the bar. “Finish your wine,” he says. “And come home with me.”

Dream takes a final sip of his wine, eyes locked on Hob’s over the rim of his glass, and licks the red droplets from his lower lip as he takes Hob’s hand.

-

Hob has him bent over on the bed, bobbing his head on Hob’s cock, before they’ve had the chance to pass more than a few additional words. Dream seems not to need words, anyway. His expression is finally slack and peaceful, neck craning, eyelids fluttering, as he takes Hob’s cock down, down, down, Hob’s grip tight in his hair. He hasn’t lost any of his skill in these intervening years, apparently. Or his enjoyment of it.

“Yeah, that’s it, darling,” Hob praises, thrusting up into his mouth. “Good. You’re so perfect at this.”

Dream whines, the vibration traveling through Hob’s body, reaching awkwardly around himself to press needy fingers to his own hole.

“I’ll do right by you, darling, don’t worry, come here.” Hob pulls Dream off and hefts him up, sitting back so he can settle Dream in his lap. “Don’t worry, love.”

Dream looks down at him with wide, dark eyes, breathing hard, mouth open and wet. He swallows, says, voice thready, “I need you in me.”

Hob’s heart thumps, hard. It hurts. “I know.”

Dream pushes his cheek into Hob’s temple, lips smearing saliva over his skin, clutching so tight at Hob’s shoulders it hurts. “Hob.”

“Shhh.” Hob holds him close as he works him open, Dream crying out and clutching at him with each touch. God, Hob remembers what he was like. He really hasn’t changed at all.

When he finally sinks Dream down onto his cock, Dream lets out a long moan, then goes slack again as he shivers. Hob tries to breathe evenly and stay still, letting him adjust, no matter how good it feels to be buried in him again.

“It has been too long,” Dream says, when his breathing’s evened out.

“Didn’t have tons of adventures on all of your travels?”

Dream shakes his head. “Not the same.”

It’s not the same. No one Hob’s hooked up with in the intervening years has been the same, either. No one else makes this feeling rear up in him, like he would do anything for the man in his arms, like he would dash himself to pieces just to have him. It might not be a good feeling but Hob wants it nonetheless.

He doesn’t say all that. He says, “It’s not, no one takes me like you do, I’ve missed how gorgeous you are bouncing on my cock, missed how perfect it feels to fill you.”

“Yes,” Dream says. “It’s so good. I missed that. Please, Hob.”

Hob hefts him in his lap, bouncing Dream on his cock. Dream cries out, holding to him tight. “Yes—!”

Fuck, he feels good. He’s so pliant and wanting, need burning in his fingertips and his wet panting breaths by Hob’s ears. Hob would give him anything in the world.

“Came back just for this, didn’t you?” he says. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes, yes— I missed— oh, Hob!” This as Hob nails his prostate, Dream wailing and clutching at him. Yes. Hob remembers exactly how it feels to make him feel like that. God, it’s everything to make him feel like that.

“More,” Dream begs. “More, harder.”

Hob will give him more. More and more until he’s full up on it, until it’s enough for him to feel satisfied, enough for him to cease his wanderings and stay.

He fucks Dream harder until Dream’s reduced to incoherent wailing, throwing himself into Hob’s touch like to feel nothing and everything is a relief. And Hob feels everything, too: the tight heat of Dream’s body, the dig of his fingertips, his wet panting breaths—and more than anything, the overwhelming want. He wants Dream. He has always wanted Dream.

Dream comes first, pushed over the edge with Hob’s hands on his waist and his cock rubbing over Hob’s belly. He cries out, and then wraps his arms around Hob’s shoulders, holding tight as Hob chases his own completion in his body.

Hob closes his eyes as he comes, just floating in the feeling of having Dream around him. He’s missed that so much. He’s missed Dream so much, in these years he’s been left behind.

He doesn’t realize how emotional he’s gotten about it until he feels Dream’s fingertips tracing over his cheeks, wiping away tears.

“Sorry,” Hob says, voice choked, holding Dream close even as he gently slips from his body.

Dream strokes his hair. “Perhaps I ought to go,” he says quietly, but makes no move to get up. “I fear I am being unfair to you.”

“I’m the one that told you to come back. Wanted you to.” Even if it just breaks his heart all over again, when Dream decides he still isn’t happy, and can’t stay.

“Even so.”

Still he doesn’t move to get up. Hob runs his hands up and down his back, just feeling him.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Dream continues some time later, still stroking Hob’s hair. Hob’s long since buried his face in Dream’s shoulder. “How you. Can feel content.”

Hob barks a laugh. “You think I’m content?”

“Are you not?”

“I don’t know, Dream.” Content to be here, in London, maybe, to not need to uproot himself, chasing some nebulous sense of better, but content? While knowing Dream was out there somewhere?

“My mistake,” Dream says. He rests his cheek on top of Hob’s head. “Perhaps there is no contentment, then.”

That makes Hob laugh for real. He finally lifts his head, looking Dream in the eye. “You’re the most dramatic bitch I’ve ever met. ‘There’s no such thing as contentment'? Dream.”

Dream smiles, then leans in to kiss him. Hob sighs into the brush of his lips. There is such thing as contentment, he thinks.

“What if I don’t leave this time,” Dream says, when their lips part.

“You mean it?”

Dream nods, forehead leaning against Hob’s. “I am. Tired. And this. Is the first moment I have not felt fatigued in longer than I can remember.”

“I’ll have to tire you out better, then.”

“Hob.”

“I’m kidding you, love.” Really, all of Hob is leaping in cautious joy. Could Dream truly mean it? “I want you to stay. Let’s get cleaned up, yeah?”

Dream nods, and lets Hob help him up. They make their joint way to the bathroom, where Hob pulls Dream into the shower with him, and they hold each other close under the warm spray, and Dream washes Hob’s hair with careful focus, mindful of tugging it. Afterwards Hob gives Dream some pajamas to borrow, for all of Dream’s things are still in his hotel room. Dream cuddles up to him in bed, hesitant at first, until Hob opens his arms and assures him of his welcome.

The feeling of Dream laying his head down on Hob’s chest is heavenly. It’s dangerous. But it’s so good.

"I'm sorry," Dream murmurs, into the dark.

“For what? Leaving? You don’t have to be. It’s your life.”

“I don’t know quite what for,” says Dream. “I feel I am wavering about and dragging you along with me.”

“Maybe I want to be dragged along.”

Dream lifts his head to give him a look. “Precisely,” he says, and Hob feels skewered. Seen in his pathetic wanting. Like if he had more self-respect, he’d hold his inconsistent friend at a distance, not invite Dream right back in to break his heart again.

Dream’s decision to leave the first time wasn’t even about Hob. They weren’t really together, more on again, off again, falling into each other and then away. “Friends with benefits.” Only Hob had always cared more about the ‘friends’ than the ‘benefits.’ Maybe if he had made it clearer, Dream would have stayed.

Maybe he needs to stop making it his fault, when it wasn’t about him.

Only. The fact that it wasn’t about him also means that it was.

“Why didn’t you stay?” he asks, grip tightening around Dream’s shoulders.

“I wasn’t happy,” Dream says. The words feel like a shove to the chest. “I didn’t. I did not know how to fix it. I tried to leave. Then I tried to leave again. Only. You can’t leave yourself.”

“What makes it different this time?”

If London— if Hob— didn’t make him happy before—

“Maybe nothing,” Dream admits, quietly, still lying on Hob’s chest. “Maybe it was a futile chase from the start. And I should give up trying.”

“Dream—"

Dream plows on, as if he needs to get it all out. “I called you because. I was staring out at the ocean. I felt nothing. But I thought, ‘Hob would like it.’ And when I showed you, that did make me happy. For a moment. And when I told you how I felt… that made me happy, too.”

Hob wants to say something, but his throat is too tight. God, Dream always finds new ways to break his heart.

“I think that maybe contentment is not… for me,” Dream adds, fingertips stroking lightly up and down Hob’s side. “But the closest I've felt, in fleeting moments, is when I am with you.”

“Dream…” this time it comes out as barely a breath. “My love.”

“Still?”

“Yeah. Always.” Maybe Hob doesn’t have very good self-preservation. But it’s Dream. It’s always been Dream.

“For me as well,” Dream says, and Hob lets out a long, heavy breath.

“Now you’ve got to show me Rhodes in person,” he teases, to break some of the heaviness in the air.

Dream’s smile curves against his skin. “You will like it.”

“I’m sure.”

“I think I will like it more with you there,” Dream adds.

“Yeah?” Hob says.

“Mmhm.”

“I think you just want to ogle me on a beach.”

“If I’m to be in a beautiful place, I ought to have a beautiful man as well,” Dream says. The feeling of his rare smile still pressed to Hob's chest is devastating.

“Completes the picture?” Hob asks, chest tight.

“Yes.” Dream wraps his arms around him and cuddles in close. “I believe it does.”

[aphelea]

imagine the government basically kills your husband and the only therapist they can send you to is the guy who literally put him in that position

[hughmanbean]

False Corpse and Supposed Defilings of a Collegue and Child

So, we all love misunderstandings and miscommunication. Obviously. So, Danny's ghost form is very much frozen at 14, and he is working with the Justice League on the basis of Ghostly MattersTM. He was able to make a duplicate of himself for class because he had to help the League with a very important matter with guidance from Vlad, but it was very much rushed and just outright died at the end after it got back.

So Vlad has to bury it, but someone sees him doing that. Anyone, really. Dash, Lancer, Val, someone not in the know. And Danny isn't seen for a while. The League do not think Danny is an immortal God, and "know" he's a dead trans boy from Illinois who wants to save people.

He makes offhand remarks about Vlad, and even if the two of them are on good terms now Vlad's actions seem outright despicable without context. Danny's used to Vlad's ridiculousness so he doesn't see him in that light and can't really conceptualize that it could even be considered.

"You know how it was, obsessed with me and my mom, despised my dad. Said I took after her."

"Oh you know, he made a daughter with me, not that I had a choice in it. I love her with all my heart, though."

"Yeah, he was a real fruitloop. Ranting about I would be his and all that."

This is very much concerning so the League, so they investigate, and the person who saw lets it slip. They also do spot Ellie, and she just chats with Danny's work friends she heard so much about. Doesn't outright say she talks with Danny still, or she knows him presently. Says how much she loves her papa, and hasn't seen her dad in forever. (A collective wince from the JL since, well, said dad is dead.) Mentions how Vlad's a bit stressed, probably from DalvCO contracts. They also see Vlad acting so goody goody with the Fentons, take that as you will.

[kalinara]

Sometimes Baby Clops is very relatable.

(All-New X-Men v2 #14)

[bloomfish]

I think one of the worst moments in buffy history is them framing xander's speech about riley in into the woods as like... correct in any way. it makes you really dislike Xander (even more). Buffy's boyfriend literally cheats on her with vampire prostitutes lol and then tells her that if she doesn't forgive him on the spot he's leaving forever. and then we're supposed to buy that Xander is correct in saying that it's all Buffy's fault and that she should run after Riley to beg him to stay?

It's sooo infuriating how Riley is framed as 'the one who got away' when really he's 'the one who was so cripplingly insecure that he couldn't handle his girlfriend being stronger than him and having her own problems because he's made his entire identity about his girlfriend instead of getting the fuck over himself'

the real reason why xander doesn't want buffy to dump riley's ass as she should is so clearly because he projects onto riley. subconsciously he thinks that if someone 'normal' like riley can be with buffy then he also has a shot. newsflash it wasn't riley being 'normal' it was riley being an insecure condescending freak just like u

[yutamayo]

[mewguca]

Eternal Enigma doodle but he's that fuckass twink from Alien Stage

EE belongs to @ideavian