#he’s my Blorbo I have to say. Blorbo from my thing no one cares about

[hyumjim]

MICHEL IS SO CUTE. MICHEL IS SO CUTE

[sparky-is-spiders]

Hi! I’m here suffering from lack of good Archivist!Sasha content as well 😭 On that note, do you have any fic on that topic you would recommend? Or just good Sasha fics in general, (or Jonsasha, if that’s your cup of tea)? Thank you in advance 😊

Tragically, I think there is a general dearth of good Archivist!Sasha content (and just about none of it Jonsasha content, as far as I can tell (and not only is Jonsasha my cup of tea, but the ONLY thing standing between it and the #1 OTP spot (currently occupied by JE) is the fact that the Jonsasha that I desperately crave exists in my brain and nowhere else)). Admittedly, I haven't looked very far into her tag yet (I should rectify that at some point tbh) but I've dug around the Jonsasha tag when I first got into it, and I know at least one fic where Sasha drifts towards Beholding through an interest in office gossip.

In terms of Jonsasha Ao3 has:

This very good Sasha lives fic where Jon shows up to Georgie's with an unconscious Sasha and everyone involved is very confused.

These two fics are cute also. The former is by @/suttttton and is them getting together, the latter is established Jonsasha from @/dickwheelie.

Eyevatar Sasha might actually be thinner on the ground (outside of fix-its where she solves everything and her canon reckless curiosity is completely ignored). Ao3 has:

This fic, which is Jongerry with outsider PoV Sasha. Just barely has the implication that she might be shifting towards the Eye (via prying into the lives of her coworkers) but gets a mention through sheer force of Excellent Sasha Characterization. I read this and I feel like I'm reading a fic from a Sasha Understander.

There's also this fic, which looks very promising but which I haven't actually gotten the chance to read yet, so I can't speak to its quality.

Unfortunately I've only gotten into Sasha fairly recently (especially as compared to Jon, who my brain latched onto in a deathgrip from the start), so I haven't gone through her tag yet. A scroll through the Archivist!Sasha or Beholding Avatar!Sasha tags pulls up a lot of fix-it and J//mart, which isn't really what I'm looking for from the concept. I'm sure there's more out there, and if/when I find them I'll come back to this ask probably, but I lucked into Reverse Nighthawks (I was on a Jongerry kick).

But god every day I wish that I could write romance and/or longfic, because about a year ago I read a Jonmichael fic that, when discussing alternate universes (where Jon ended the world) it's revealed that he once did an apocalypse out of love for his Archivist, Sasha James. And it was one (1) single line, but it struck me so hard because god. A perfect concept I think. The potential dynamics of Archivist!Sasha/Assistant!Jon are enthralling to me. Jon destroying the world (or helping her destroy the world? Cute date night I think: bringing about armageddon with your eldritch monster partner) for Sasha... anyway mostly I mentioned that one because My God if I have to live with that tantalizing AU rotating in the background of my mind 24/7 so do the rest of you.

[iamespecter]

Ah yes, the one guy I like vs the five other femme fatales

I did the thing that I saw one other mutual do!!! honestly, it was VERY hard to pick for most of these (save for Caine and Glamrock Chica) because I ADORE a LOT of characters. And doing this honestly makes me realize just how much I gravitate towards characters that are doomed by the narrative or their scriptwriters one way or another

My current favorite is Caine because it's pretty much self-explanatory, he is my current blorbo. My scrunkly. My precious lil scrunkler guy

Chica is my comfort character. She literally raised me alongside Freddy Fazbear when I was going through one of the toughest moments of my life, living with my abusive dad (and yes the chicken and the bear are so married to me and me only)

Master Tigress save me you were taken from me by the fourth film and I will NEVER live that down

Where do I even start with Six from Little Nightmares. By god, this poor yellow raincoat wearing child of mine. I both love and hate just how hopeless her story is. People say that the ending of the first game ends with her escaping via a boat, but I really don't think so. I think she's stuck at the Maw because I keep saying it, THE BOAT DROPPING THE GUESTS LEFT. THERE IS NO "OTHER BOAT". IT JUST DOESN'T MAKE SENSE. (before this becomes a ramble, I'm gonna stop it right there.)

I'm VERY guilty of liking Lucy Wilde from Despicable me because I hate the franchise (the first film was good), but by god, IS SHE THE FUNNIEST SHIT. To me, she literally carries the films she's in, she inspired one of my main OCs' humor and even appearance. I don't care about Gru, or the villains, or the girls, just give me more Lucy.

GLAMROCK CHICA MY BELOVED I AM GOING DOWN ON MY KNEES RN PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE MARRY ME I'M PUTTING ALL OF MY POINTS IN THE RIZZ STATS PLEASE JUST ONE CHANCE BABYGIRL OINE CHANCE GIVE ME ONE CHANCE (I am Glamrock Chica's #1 fan and I will always be angry at Scott for what he's doing to her and her variants)

sigh,,,, what I ever did to like such characters that I know will end up crushing my heart one way or another, I don't know but I do know that at the very least, I have the power to diverge from canon as an artist

[greentrickster]

Okay, so, been reading some good scumplane (OG!Shen Qingqiu/Airplane) lately, because in this house we support Airplane being loved by terrifying/terrifyingly hot men, but also, like... I do love Moshang just so so much as a ship.

And all this has awoken a mighty need in me.

A need for a Moshangjiu fic with scumplane getting established first and then bringing our favorite popsicle in on things.

Anyway, scenario! Shen Qingqiu starts noticing Shang Qinghua when they're disciples via the classic scenario of being smart enough to realize something is fishy about SQH being the only survivor of a demon attack, begins paying attention to his most anxious shidi, accidentally shows his most anxious shidi the simplest of Human Kindness, accidentally becomes shidi's favorite shixiong, accidentally becomes friends with shidi, accidentally catches feelings. Continues being a Sneaky Bastard in order to figure out what shidi is up to (and now also to confirm shidi is single).

Ah, shidi is entangled with an Ice Demon. This shixiong will make use of his scholarly peak's library to learn all and then decide to- wait. Wait, it's super violent by human standards, but is it- is this demon attempting to... court shidi?

...

Not if SQQ dates him first he's not!!!

There follows a whirlwind romance between SQQ and SQH where no one really knows what's going on, especially the two involved, it involves a lot of shit talking about everyone else in their lives, snacks, and accidental trauma bonding.

Also Airplane being Airplane and accidentally spilling that not only is he also kinda crushing (bad) on Mobei-jun, but also Mobei-jun's entire backstory and please, shixiong, I know it all looks bad but this shidi's house is literally the only place in the world it's completely safe for his king to sleep, everyone deserves to sleep without having to worry about their relatives murdering them for things that aren't their fault from time to time, right, shixiong???

Shen Qingqiu: ...goddammit, the demon's a fellow sad little meow meow. (only not in these exact words because he doesn't know these phrases, naturally)

In a wild, bold, and - dare I say it - shockingly sexy convolution of thought processes and ideas, SQQ manages to finagle SQH into letting him meet with MBJ (SQH nearly has a heart attack three times in the process but it's fine, it's cool, this is his life, this may as well happen, it's fine-).

SQQ: It has come to my attention that my shidi is spying for you on our sect.

MBJ: (glowering at SQH, who is cowering behind shixiong wondering how he got talked into all this)

SQQ: However it also appears that this is merely a cover story and the only thing you really do is use his room to nap. And also that you are quite fond of him.

SQH: (This is it, this is how I die. Again.)

MBJ: (...if I stare straight ahead and don't change my expression, no one will be able to tell that he's right)

SQQ: So anyway I think you should join Cang Qiong Mountain Sect.

MBJ: (gears grinding)

SQH: (squawking splutters of protest and confusion)

SQQ: (who speaks panicking!SQH at this point) Stop that, it's perfectly reasonable. He has the head disciple of our logistics peak under his thumb, it would be the simplest thing in the world for him to have you throw the sect into absolute chaos without even trying, then organize an attack, swoop in, and crush us all. He could have done it years ago, but he never has, he never even seems to initiate anything. I don't think he even cares about taking the Northern Throne, I think he's just incompetent about wanting to spend time with you. So he might as well just lie low until our shizuns ascend and then I'll take him on as a disciple on Qing Jing and you two can stop sneaking around like idiots.

MBJ: >8O

SQQ: Are you actually opposed?

MBJ: (folds arms and looks away sulkily, because like... it's true but you don't have to say it like that)

SQH: 8O ...reverse uno...

SQQ: What?

SQH: You're reverse unoing my blorbo!

SQQ: Quit making up word-

SQQ cannot continue because the System just presented the option to accept this potential new plot line (even if it does have the rather confusing title of 'Shidi Has Two Hands'), and holy shit, Mobei-jun seems to be potentially down for it, holy shit, apparently Mobei-jun actually likes me, holy shit, SQQ may have just solved all my problems-?!? This is great, this is fantastic, this is the best day of my life, this- is a long time I'm being allowed to be myself about all this, why is Shen shixiong not interrupting...?

Ah.

It is because I am kissing him full on the lips.

Cool cool cool.

At least I'm gonna die on a high note.

SQQ: O///O o_o (ahem) Shidi's- shidi's a really bad kisser.

SQH: Ah-haha, I can explain-

SQQ: We should work on that. Later.

SQH: (BEST DAY OF BOTH MY LIVES!!!)

MBJ: (I... did not actually hate watching that. Hm.)

Anyway, he agrees to the plan, SQQ and SQH start dating, some more time passes, the previous generation of peak lords ascend, the new generation take their places, and a week later Mobei-jun is an outer disciple of Qing Jing Peak.

The other peak lords are not amused, Qingqiu that is a demon, no.

SQQ: So what I'm hearing is that whole 'Cang Qiong will accept anyone from anywhere' philosophy was a lie then?

He's a demon!

SQQ: Children can't help where they're born. Now if you'll excuse me, I have classes to teach.

First lesson of the day is SQH and SQQ are a package deal, take it or leave it. Second lesson is no canoodling with Shang Shibo until you've finished with lessons and chores for the day. Third lesson is if you see any Bai Zhan disciples hassling our peak's disciples you can break their swords. Just snap 'em in half. Throw them off the peak. Don't kill them, but do make them cry.

SQH, meanwhile, has now seen MBJ in an outer disciple uniform and had a whole bunch of new awakenings on top of all the other things he already knew about himself.

And, in a twist of dramatic irony... Qing Jing's first disciple to ever have demonic heritage decides the dorms are a no-go after one night because, to him, they are broiling hot, how can anyone sleep in this heat, and chooses to go sleep in the wood shed instead.

[bengiyo]

Ben's Big BL Blurb

I was traveling for a few weeks, and there's no way I'm doing individual posts for every show I've been watching, so here's my thoughts on all of the shows I'm currently enjoying, in the order I'm most enjoying them.

Twilight Out of Focus

This show is fucking excellent. I'm not that keen on taking a break from our leads to see other couples, but I do like that BL continues to be the way that these guys are figuring out they're attracted to each other. Mao moving so smoothly into his boyfriend era, and knowing how he's feeling, has been excellent. I also really loved Hisashi knowing they needed to not be together all the time.

The Trainee

Jane is so attractive, and I'm so happy for Off. This latest episode was a lot of fun to watch for Ryan, because it's nice seeing him be more actively engaged in things happening around him. Pai seems far more settled now that she knows she has a place. Pah is clearly still a mess. Tae seems like he's good at what he does. Ba-Mhee falling for Judy is NOT IDEAL, and Judy is over the line.

Overall, I'm actually interested in seeing them mirror interns crushing on their mentors with two different pairings as a point of comparison. I also like how every week feels like the work goals make sense.

The Miracle of Teddy Bear

Besties, so much is happening in this show. There is daddy drama, wife drama, dead son drama, and so much more! These episodes are so long, but I'm really engaged with everything happening on this show. Job and Inn are really fucking good in this.

I Hear the Sunspot

I'm so glad that Kohei made his feelings clear, and I'm enjoying seeing Taichi figure out how to respond to them. We once again had a camping trip that did not give me what I wanted, but I did like Kohei being clear that he's still interested in Taichi. Finally, I liked the little confirmations that Kohei is taking to sign, and that Taichi is interested in that journey.

Knock Knock, Boys!

I'm so proud of Best! He has played Peak in this restrained way for so long, and it paid off in this most recent episode. I love that this story started with a gay man running from himself and his feelings, who then realizes that he can't run away from people who care about him anymore because they won't let him. I love that everyone being patient with him gave him what he needed to finally accept himself and say what he needed. I've really loved the way Thanwa tries to support Peak.

I'm also overjoyed for Almond and Latte, and I need them to fuck nasty before this show ends or I will be so disappointed. Latte is quietly one of my blorbos of the year with the way he is always clear about who he is and what he wants even as he is okay with where Almond is in the moment. They're an excellent pair.

Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko

RISA IS OFF THE BESTIE LIST FOREVER! I will never forgive her for outing Hiroko to Ayaka just so she could ask Ayaka to choose her instead. Also, fuck those Bettys at the bar, who definitely know Hiroko's business, and that she's not out at work. Why talk about her to a stranger who called her senpai?? I'm relieved that Hiroko knows that Ayaka likes women now, and am curious how we move forward at this point.

I also need to know who this woman was who hurt Hiroko, because nothing makes me sadder than when we have to hide from other queers.

Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding

Thanks to @isaksbestpillow I was actually able to start this on my trip. I didn't want to start a show on a trip, but I could not resist. I really love that Ishida is in his late 20s and struggling with direction and purpose after his initial plan blew up in his face. I love that he's recognized so quickly that he's developed feelings for Mitsuya-sensei, and I love that Mitsuya-sensei is open about who he is. It's about goddamned time that we saw an age gap story of this kind, because so many meaningful relationships I've had are with gay men older than me.

Takara's Treasure

This quiet little show makes me so happy every week. I just desperately need for Taishin to figure out what he's feeling, and for people to help him realize what he's feeling. Takara's my favorite kind of pretty boy: the ones who are obviously and poorly masking incredibly turmoil. I love that Taishin sees through this and wants to help Takara. Excited for him to get to take care of him when Takara gets sick.

Century of Love

I've been having a lot of fun with this show, but episode 8 felt like a huge wobble. I love that San was so committed to Vee the whole time, but the back and forth about the stone was tedious. San giving up the stone as a way to signify that he was over the memory of Vad was nice, but we didn't reconcile Vee's theft and the emotional cost of that.

Love Sea

MAHASAMUT!! WE FINALLY BEAT THAT NASTY OLD MAN'S ASS!! Mut trampling over a bullshit breakup and kicking Rak's dad's ass instead was so satisfying that it almost makes up for Mut having little identity outside of his relationship to Rake, or the terrible arc that Mook and Vie are having, over the last few weeks. I have been playing Stomp for the last few hours because I needed them to kick that man. Mut did not hit him enough.

New Shows

There's a bunch of stuff I have to sort out over the next few days. I'm not going back to My Love Mix Up TH, but I do plan to start 4 Minutes. There's also another J-BL in the grey I got some help finding called Sugar Dog Life.

Shout out to @lurkingshan for helping me watch a few things while I was gone, and also @twig-tea for keeping me apprised of which new shows I probably need to pick up.

[choccy-milky]

Random but when you post something I always get excited thinking it's a new chapter 😭 I'm literally waiting by my phone for it

BAHAH IM SORRY ANONS ITS COMING SOON I SWEAR!! but im glad ur looking forward to it!! my damn outline ALONE is 21k words (tho im really happy with it and im excited for yall to read it) and although i still have to finish it + the drawing, HERES PART OF THE WIP IN THE MEANTIME🥹💖(also anon, who cares if u think youre terrible at art... DRAW ANYWAY!!!😤& ILY TOO💖 )

im definitely gonna write them as adults, and have ideas for some side stories i wanna do!!! the one i mentioned in the wattpad comment would be in writing, because i wanna write about seb and clora finally deciding to have their first kid (along with the process😏😏😏😏) and how sebs breeding kink ass will react to doing the devils tango with clora when its ACTUALLY gonna make a baby LMAO. plus how his overprotective ass will act when he finds out clora is LEGIT pregnant while theyre travelling/on the JOB, rather than just a pregnancy scare like last time BAHA. so yes, overly excited seb will defs be a thing in the future LOL. (though there are things i am just gonna keep in comic form, like their kids and stuff, bc i dont rly have ideas for any sort of epilogue with that. so if ppl wanna know about seb and cloras kids, they can just look at my art once i finally draw and post them ^^)

IVE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS TOO and the hairclip would defs be different!! i just havent decided what it would be.... (bro's about go buy her something bedazzled from ardene or claire's or some shit 💀💀LMAO) as for the mascots, the snake for seb would defs still apply bc ive decided its their mascot for the school football team. but for clora no, i dont think bird/raven imagery would be a thing......tho maybe the school mascots can be the snakes AND ravens LMFAO. and then i can have seb look directly into the camera and say "well, clora, looks like we really are The Raven and the Snake."

@4ever2000lover BAHAHA YOULL SEE YOUR NIECE AND NEPHEW SOON I SWEAR!!! i have the sketches but i plan to finish them + post them once im done the last chap of my fic. but they ARE coming, i promise👀👀(and im rly excited for everyone to see their daughter and her name, bc im so proud of it LMAO. i used up my entire big brain quota for the year on it +the reasoning behind it🧠)

also @blue-space-dragon TYSM IM GLAD U LIKE MY ART AND HOW I DRAW MY BLORBOS🥹💖AND ALSO THAT U FIND IT APPETIZING LMAO😋💖

[madlori]

Ship dysphoria

Ok so a bit of time has gone by, and the 9-1-1 fandom is settling into a bit of an...existential crisis?

Because 90% of this fandom is built on Buddie. Buddie has always been the strongest driving force. We love our other blorbos, but it's Buddie that usually drives us feral.

Except...Buck/Tommy. OMG. It is WORKING for a lot of fans. (and JFC we cannot settle on a ship name. Tevan? Kinley? I'm gonna stick with Buck/Tommy)

A LOT of fans are having a "I'm a devoted Buddie shipper, why do I like this so much??" moment and it can almost feel like a betrayal, or that you're deserting the ship (the ship that, remember, Oliver told us to stay aboard).

And I think I can probably speak for everybody when I say that the last thing we want or need is a ship war in this fandom, something we haven't ever really had but which has torn other fandoms apart.

So I'm gonna put on my veteran-of-many-fandoms hat for a second and tell you a thing:

It's okay to ship Buck and Tommy. It's ok to do that and still ship Buddie. It's also okay to leave Buddie behind if it's not working for you anymore. It's okay to just tolerate Buck and Tommy and not really care about it, and stay focused on Buddie. You are allowed to ship however it works for you, and you are not limited to one and only one ship. If you decide you don't think Buddie will happen and you're going to cut your losses, that's okay, too. It is not a reflection on your character or something. You don't swear an oath of fealty to a ship.

We don't know how long Tommy will stick around, but Buck will still be bisexual. He may date another man. He may date a woman again. You can ship those things too.

But why is this ship hitting me so hard? I never thought I'd like Buck with another man! I'm so confused!

I get that. There are some reasons why that might be.

There is something very appealing about a ship that's canon. Some of you might never have had a canon queer ship, but the pull is strong. There's no guessing, no interpreting, no subtext-examining. It's there, it's real, you don't have to wonder if you're just overinterpreting things. Yes. Buck and Tommy kissed and are going on a date. Even if that's all it ever is, you'll never be accused of "seeing things that aren't there." Don't discount that.

Tommy, even in just 1.5 episodes, is a LOT more integrated into the firefam than any of Buck's previous girlfriends. Tim talked about not wanting him to be "siloed off" away from the main cast and that was exactly the problem with his prior girlfriends. Tommy is friends with Eddie. He knows Christopher and has hung out with him. He spent most of that loft conversation reassuring Buck that his place in Eddie's life was secure. He feels more like part of the gang than any other ones. That makes it easier to see him in Buck's life.

The mere fact of Buck's queer awakening is so monumental for so many of us that the character who helped him get there is going to naturally earn our affection immediately, and it's going to make you want that relationship to succeed, even if it's ulitmately not endgame for Buck. You want to see Buck have a good experience the first time out with a man. Of course you do.

And we just want to see Buck make out with a hot beefy firefighter. That is so valid of us.

Anyway. There is no need for a crisis. You can love Buddie with your whole heart and still be excited about this pairing, and want to see how it goes, and read fic about it. I may be writing a lil something myself.

You're good, fam.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

I’ve seen a few metas now that describe Crowley as self-loathing and…that’s not quite it to me.

Crowley for sure has Issues. He has a lot of anger and doesn’t always deal with it in constructive ways. He is hypervigilant as all fuck, and the fact that he is almost always correct about the amount of danger he and Aziraphale are in at a given moment just reinforces that hypervigilance feedback loop.

He has the hair-trigger flight response of someone who has spent millennia dodging oppressive forces that are more powerful than him, and this makes him default to RUN even when on some level he knows that is not the right response to a situation. He’s very aware that there are a lot of people out there who can hurt him, and there is no one coming to protect him. The only option is to try to avoid the blow.

And he is absolutely terrified of rejection, for very understandable reasons. This also encourages him to have one foot out the door of a situation, to pretend he doesn’t care, because if you leave first and actually never cared at all then you can’t be hurt. He is painfully aware that good things can be taken away from him without warning, that love that looks absolute can turn out to be conditional, because that already happened to him.

But. As much as I love a self-loathing blorbo, I don’t think Crowley hates himself.

Sure he talks a good game about how he’s not nice. But I don’t think, for example, that he thinks he is unworthy of Aziraphale’s love, that he is not good enough for Aziraphale because he is a demon or for any other reason. Because as far as Crowley is concerned, angels and demons are the same! All that good and evil stuff is just names for sides. I think he is afraid, because he’s still not sure, after all this time, if Aziraphale feels the same way he does, and broaching that topic is an enormous risk compared to just staying in the ambiguously-defined status quo they have now. (And then he works up the courage to do it anyway, and seems to have his worst fears confirmed.)

FWIW, I don’t think Aziraphale thinks that Crowley is not good enough for him either. Not at all. But I think Crowley might think that Aziraphale thinks that after the end of s2. And that really stings, because as much as they both gave lip service to the idea of “I’m good, you’re evil,” I think Crowley always assumed that Aziraphale saw through that when it came to him as a person, that it was just something Azirphale said and not something he really believed about Crowley, and now he’s not so sure.

I also think Crowley believes he did not deserve his fall (hot take: none of them did) not because he is extra-special Good, but because that’s a fucked-up thing for someone who said they loved you to do. While he is clearly still dealing with the trauma of it, I think he knows by now: I shouldn’t have been hurt like that. I didn’t deserve it, and it wasn’t my fault.

And so the horror of Aziraphale accepting the offer of going back to Heaven is partially I thought we both understood how this system works; I thought we were on our own side together and partially I can’t believe you’re going back to the people who hurt you and at least a little bit I can’t believe you’re going back to the people who hurt me. Do you think they were right?

(And Aziraphale doesn’t! He doesn’t think that! He thinks they were wrong, but he thinks they were wrong about Crowley, that it was an individual mistake and not a feature of a system that squashes questioning and nonconformity of any kind.)

I wrote a whole meta about “I won’t be forgiven, not ever” and “unforgivable, that’s what I am” in 2019 that I won’t rehash here, but tl;dr, I don’t think Crowley is saying that as a statement of his self-worth. I think he is saying, Heaven would never let me back in, and if they did, I wouldn’t go. Because I don’t want or trust the “acceptance” of people who don’t value me as I am.

And it’s part of the cruel dramatic irony of the Final Fifteen that one of the things that breaks them apart is that Crowley values himself enough not to go back to Heaven. Crowley, who we’ve seen will do almost anything for Aziraphale, says, No. I am not putting myself back in that abusive situation. You shouldn’t either; I really wish you wouldn’t; but if you do, I am still not going back there. Not even for you.

[toxictigertonic]

Alright, I've been cursed with new blorbos (don't worry DJ will always be my number one). Outlast trials has me in a chokehold, specifically Franco, but all the prime assets are running around in my brain causing problems. I'm subjecting you to my stupid food headcanons as a result:

COYLE

- This mother fucker drinks hot sauce. Like. Chugs the shit. You can't take him anywhere without him bringing a bottle of Tabasco.

- Takes his coffee black, but will add a little sugar if no one is looking. Can't let people know that he doesn't like plain black coffee.

- He feels like a big breakfast kinda guy, with all the fixings. If you took him to a diner that'd be what he'd get, no matter the time of day.

- Would he disgusted by energy drinks EXCEPT classic redbull. Now imagine this man hyped up on caffeine.

- Would still eat his scrambled eggs if he got shells in them. Would say some shit like "the shells put hair on your chest"

- Trusting this man to bake anything is a fire hazard, it doesn't matter if it's those pre cut cookie rolls, they're catching fire.

- Says he hates desserts then stares down a slice of pecan pie from across the room like it owes him money.

MOTHER GOOSEBERRY

- The only one I trust to cook tbh, and that's not saying much.

- If you took her to get coffee she'd get the sweetest thing on the menu (and Futterman would bitch and moan about it the whole time) or she'd get a chai latte. Futterman would demand a black coffee.

- I would trust her to make me an apple pie and then she'd put the drill in it bc the crust came out wrong.

- She feels like a woman who really likes jam. Maybe I am projecting but jam is cool.

- She will not touch an energy drink bc they taste bad to her, and bc Futterman would throw a fit about how bad they are for your teeth. No caffeine fueled death sprint for her, but based on her singing and the whole angel dust thing I don't think she needs it.

- I would make her pancakes she seems pretty cool.

- Likes the batter for desserts more than the finished products.

FRANCO

- God help us where do I begin

- On one hand I wanna say he makes some bomb ass Italian food. On the other hand I wanna say he burns cereal.

- Speaking of cereal, he's the kinda guy who let's his cereal turn to paste in the bowl before he eats it.

- Considering what we know about the wolf's milk drink, I'm frightened by this man's palette. Genuinely terrified.

- I think he would die if he tasted hot sauce. I think Coyle is aware of this fact and has plans.

- Give him an energy drink if you wanna see him start doing flips. He thinks they're gross but he's also like "fuck yeah pure sugar I love these"

- Likes his cookies so underdone that they're basically raw (me too chief)

- If you cooked him a homemade meal he'd cry while eating it. Then he'd get pissed because you made him cry.

- He's my little skrunkly doo so I'm feeding him wet plaster ❤️

If I'm wrong about anything bc it's actually stated in the lore I do not care tell Red Barrels to get their facts straight (/J I SWEAR)

I haven't had time to look at Gooseberry's or Coyle's lore so I don't know if they have some super important amazing cooking skills that I'm missing out on. Feel free to tell me if you think I'm wrong or have your own ideas about these idiots.

[hardly-an-escape]

Stormy Weather, or: Outside, the Wind (Inside, the Light) | Dream/Hob | 1600 words | Rated T

tags: I recently spent an evening without power therefore I must put the blorbos in a Situation, love confessions, first kiss, getting together, power outages, Hob Gadling throughout history, gratuitious use of mildly accurate Middle English

The wind tears around London like a living thing, a wild animal, a predator, intent on the hunt. It chases birds into their nests and people into their homes, moans around corners and rattles shutters, sending piles of leaves whirling into miniature hurricanes and whipping branches into a frenzy, sharpening its claws on roof tiles and telephone poles.

Except in Hob Gadling’s flat.

The New Inn, and the cozy home above it, is in one of those old buildings that’s actually been loved and maintained – thanks in no small part to Hob’s own care and attention. The walls are thick and strong, the roof is solid. The shutters may rattle, but the windows are double-pane; the curtains and carpets are warm and soft, and no drafts encroach on the sanctity of his living room, where Hob and Lord Morpheus, King of Dreams, are having a movie night.

It’s part of Hob’s concerted effort to introduce the Prince of Stories to the stories he’d missed during his imprisonment. Tonight it’s Blade Runner – the final cut, of course – which isn’t necessarily one of Hob’s personal favorites, but seemed to fit the stormy, rainy vibes of the weather. They’re installed on the couch, with hot chocolate and wine and snacks, which Dream has deigned to pick at. Harrison Ford is eating noodles and wandering through wet, moodily-lit streets. The wind is howling outside, but they’re safe and warm and surrounded by soft things and life is about as good, Hob thinks, as it ever gets these days.

And then his lights flicker. Once, twice; there is the impression of a sort of electrical last gasp, and the room is plunged into darkness.

The wind whips and the shutters rattle. A volley of rain spits itself against the windows.

“Bugger,” says Hob.

Dream says nothing, merely brings his wineglass – which had already been cradled in one elegant hand – to his lips.

“Hang on,” says Hob. “I’ve got some candles around here somewhere.”

He gropes his way to the kitchen. In one drawer he unearths some beeswax tapers and several tea lights, which he arranges on a plate. He rummages in one of the deeper cabinets and makes a triumphant noise as he discovers his prize behind disused mugs and a fondue set from the 1980s: a pair of old-fashioned brass candlesticks equipped with round reflectors, highly polished to catch the light and bounce it back out into the darkness.

“You are remarkably well-prepared for an event such as this,” says Dream, as Hob lights his various prizes and returns to the living room with his hands full of flickering flames.

“Well, you know,” Hob demurs. “When it comes down to it, I’ve lived a lot more of my life without electricity than with it.” He arranges the tea lights on the coffee table and sets the brass candlesticks on a nearby bookshelf. “You never really get out of the habit of preparing for the worst. Although I will say, these beeswax ones beat the hell out of the old tallow jobbies we had when I was young. Got ‘em from a local bloke who keeps bees not half a mile away, isn’t that cool? A beekeeper in the middle of London. There, now,” he says, and having arranged the lights to his satisfaction he plops himself back down on the sofa.

Outside, the wind wails. The lack of lamps on the empty street below and the gentle candlelight within make the night seem even darker, and turn Hob’s living room into something even softer and cozier than it already is.

Dream’s face, in the flickering candles, seems even more otherworldly than usual; and Hob, for his part, truly looks as though he belongs in another century. The very shape of his face has changed, somehow, into something older; taking on a new appearance in the candlelight the way a man’s tongue might curl differently around the syllables of another language.

“I miss it, sometimes,” he says lowly. “This kind of world. Before the wires and the phones and the cars. It was… quieter.”

“You speak often of your delight in change and progress. Do you truly long for your past lives?” asks Dream.

“Yes and no,” answers Hob. “Some things are better now, no question. Antibiotics, wouldn’t want to live without those again. Vaccines and X-rays and chemotherapy and antidepressants – almost all the medical stuff. Mass transportation. Cars and planes have never been safer. Honestly, I’ve never understood the people who moan about the olden days and oh, life was simpler back then. Don’t they know how many people died? How many kids? Because they caught a cold or fell out of a tree or had a case of the runs that lasted a little too long?”

He leans forward to adjust one of the candles, which is dripping unevenly, and when he sags back into the couch there is just the hint of a frown between his strong brows.

“And yet…” he says, staring into the flames, voice quiet. “Nights like this. I do sometimes think…”

Hob trails off for a long moment.

“There was a rhythm to life, back then,” he says finally. “You counted hours by the church bells and days by the tasks that needed done. And there was so much that needed to be done… cows milked and fields planted and clothes knitted or mended. And it was all so important, so… necessary. Regimented. But in the in between time – Christ! your time wast thine.” As he speaks, his voice has slipped into an older register: his Rs grown rounder, his vowels longer, curling from his mouth to mingle with the candlesmoke hovering over his coffee table. “I remember fair hours as a lad, even into my manhood, of which I spent lyende in th’ fields, watching ants in th’ grass. And later, too, we’d hie us to bed with the sonne, the fire banked in the hearth. An’ it happen that if we awakened before dawn, ’twas a simple thing to pass the time in simple ways, be it in prayer or in pleasure…”

The innuendo in his words is clear, but Hob is not looking at Dream; his eyes are unfocused as he stares into the middle distance, revisiting the past via candlelight. Until one of the wicks lets out a small pop, and flares, and he shakes himself, coming back to the present.

“God, sorry,” he says, voice back in the 21st century. “Woolgathering. I’ll go on for an age, me. More wine?”

But Dream’s eyes have also gone unfocused, his lips parted slightly, chest rising and falling with unnecessary breaths as he stares – no, gazes – at Hob. He, too, must shake himself into the present moment at Hob’s offer of more wine. He silently holds out his glass.

“May I ask you a personal question?” Dream says.

“Anything. You know that.”

Dream pauses. Sips. Outside, the sound of the wind has not abated; has grown, if anything, even more dramatic. There is the muffled sound of branches scraping against the side of the building.

“Why,” asks Dream finally, “do you pretend to yourself that you do not want me?”

Hob chokes. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Why do you pretend thus to me?” Dream pursues. “Who has known you longer than any being on this planet or any other; who can know your innermost dreams?”

“What do you mean, other planets?” Hob demands. And then: “Have you been peeking at my dreams?”

“I need not peek, as you put it, to see the truth of the matter. It is writ plain on your face and in your every word and deed. I merely wonder why this truth has hovered before us for over six hundred years and you have yet to press your suit. Do you doubt, after all this time, my affection for you? Do you find me – unworthy?”

Dream sounds, impossibly, almost uncertain. Even vulnerable. Hob sighs heavily and leans forward, elbows on his knees and face in his hands.

“I – God. Dream,” he stammers. “Yes, Christ, I am full of doubts. You stormed away from me when I implied you might be lonely, I… I have never, once, thought I had a suit to press at all. What on earth has brought this on? Now, of all times?”

“I do not know,” Dream murmurs. “Perhaps… this darkness is working on me, as well. Perhaps I am as susceptible to candlelight and nostalgia as the next anthropomorphic personification.”

He smiles, a little quirk of the mouth that contains worlds, and Hob leans over, listing helplessly into Dream’s space as the tapers flicker.

“Fuck,” he whispers, pressing their foreheads together, turning his head to butt his cheekbone against the sharp line of Dream’s nose. “Art thou rēal? Speak you treue?”

“Aye, my Hob,” answers Dream. “Min herte is treue and bilongeth to you.”

A sob catches in the back of Hob’s throat at the words. “Fuck,” he whispers again, “Dream, I’m yours. I am. I always have been. My Dream, min sweven, my leof. Alwei, allesweis…”

Their mouths find each other, then, finally, lip against lip and breath against breath. They kiss for a long, long moment, desperate and hungry and soft all at once, as outside the wind howls coldly around the corners of the New Inn, and inside the light cast by Hob’s candles bathes their whole little world in a cozy glow.

“Take me to bed,” murmurs Dream against Hob’s mouth. “Make me your lover. Show me how you pass the time by candlelight, and in darkness.”

“Oh, darling. Dearheart,” Hob answers. “Nothing in this world or any world past could make me happier.”

And he suits his actions to his words.

[bogkeep]

Would you recommend the SSSS comic? I know little of it beside the very beautiful artstyle and premise

to answer the question of if i would recommend SSSS as a comic: yes, yes i would.

a description for those who don't know: Stand Still Stay Silent is a post-apocalyptic horror + adventure webcomic set in the nordics (norway, sweden, denmark, finland, iceland) that have been isolated from the rest of the world and gone back to their old gods. the the world outside of safe zones is full of trolls and beasts - humans and mammals that got infected by a horrible virus and turned into monsters. the story follows a ragtag crew that ventures into the old world (derelict denmark) on an expedition to collect books.

the comic updated every workday until it concluded in 2022, and consists of two Adventures. the creator had plans for many adventures with these characters in this world, but ended it after two when she wanted to take a new direction with her life.

what i love about it:

- the art is GORGEOUS. it's been a huge source of inspiration for me. open any page and it's a masterpiece, and you will ask yourself "how the FUCK did she update this FIVE DAYS A WEEK"

- the characters are wonderful and endearing. i just, i love them so much. i am so thankful lalli hotakainen exists he is one of my #1 blorbos forever

- the world is so cool. the blend of chunky sci-fi and norse mythology fantasy magic slaps. it goes so hard. i fell so hard for this comic when i got to the big ferry ship with a viking style dragon head prow added to it. it's everything

- it really really gets nordic cultures. it's difficult to explain all the dynamics and nuances but it just gets it. it brings me as a scandinavian a lot of joy to read a story that speaks to my heart this way. the attitudes, the language barriers, the cultural differences... it was so refreshing to me in a media landscape dominated by american stories. when the pandemic hit, i decided to reread the comic because i found such an odd comfort in seeing how it depicted the scandinavian countries reacting to, well, a pandemic.

- there's kittycats

what i don't like about it:

- the most glaring and obvious flaw is that everyone in the comic is white. there's not a single character of color anywhere, not even i background shots or the prologue. there's no mention of the saami people (the indigenous people of northern europe), either. i believe this was done in ignorance more than malicious intent, but the implications are Extremely Bad and it's been bothering me (AND MANY OTHERS) since day 1. that is the number one caveat i will give to anyone wanting to check this comic out. i've been in the discourse trenches and i am not going to excuse this. it's just bad!

- you can tell in the middle of adventure 2 that the creator has kind of lost interest in the work, around the time when she found jesus i guess. like, very few people can keep up work on the same creative project for years and years and years and i think it's fine that she wanted to drop it, but it's a bit sad to see the comic dragged to its end like a limp corpse, and feeling like the creator no longer really cares about the characters.

- minna sundberg has said and done some questionable things, presumably gotten somewhat radicalised over time, and has also converted to hardcore christianity which is what her new works are about. there's nothing about this in SSSS - there is a moment of christianity represented in the story in a sort of mythological sense, just like the other religions, but this was written before minna's conversion. her new works... are a Choice. i have much to say about them, and i have, and im not gonna rehash it now.

SO YEAH hopefully this will help you take an Informed Choice! i got into this comic in 2015 and was deep in the fandom and it's for better or for worse part of my soul foundation now.

i also recommend A Redtail's Dream, minna's "practice comic" before SSSS, based on finnish mythology and the kalevala.

[writefightandflightclub]

Blorbo thought of the day #1

More: Steven Grant x GN! reader

Author’s note: Wanted to start doing a “Blorbo thought of the day” thing. Idea is that I will share a snippet of one of the many blorbo scenarios which pop into my head on the daily, but which I don’t have time to develop into a full fic. Sometimes it will be smut, sometimes fluff, sometimes angst, sometimes… a surprise? And I don’t mean literally every day, but whenever I can! This one turned into more of a smutty blurb, but I intend for others to be much shorter snippets, bits of dialogue, headcanons etc..

Who better to start with than Steven?

Steven is a gentle lover; until he isn’t. (In which you gag on Steven’s cock and it sends him FERAL.)

NSFW/18+ Minors interacting will be blocked.

Steven Grant is a gentle lover.

Until he isn’t.

You are on your knees for him as he stands in front of you. Hadn’t even managed to strip off his work clothes yet before you were stripping them for him. Undoing his belt, and peeling away his trousers and boxers. Pushing his back up against the thick wooden beam of his attic room and taking him eagerly into your mouth.

He’s soft. Careful. Always. Let’s you take the lead.

Tonight is no exception.

Steven rests his hand gingerly on the crown of your head as you suck him - nothing but a gentle, reassuring weight. His long eyelashes flutter as he flits his gaze over you; the angel -divine being- making him feel so good.

You didn’t care who came through the door, you’d said. Whether it was him or Marc or Jake - you were getting down on your knees. Had been thinking about it all day.

But you’d told him, when he walked through the door, that you’d been glad it was him.

He’s still not used to this. To being wanted. To how good your mouth feels wrapped around him. Being buried in you.

Steven is a gentle lover. Makes a point of it. Never wants to hurt you. Push you. Take anything you don’t want to give. Has never even considered getting rough with you.

But tonight, he can’t help but think about what it would be like… just to take a little more.

Maybe because he’s had a stressful day at the museum. Maybe because he’s been thinking about coming home to you all day too and relieving his frustrations.

Whatever the reason, Steven can’t help but think about it; because he knows that the others are rougher with you, sometimes. That they don’t treat you like you’re about to break - like he does.

What were the words he’d heard?

Jake: soft dom. Marc: service top. Him: vanilla, submissive.

And so, he can’t help but think about it, because if they’d arrived tonight instead of him, wouldn’t this all be different?

The thought of that, combined with the feel of your velvet lips and the welcoming, warm wet cave of your mouth makes Steven so hard he can see stars blur the edge of his vision. Makes him grow over eager as you work your pretty mouth on him, bucking his hips and driving his length enthusiastically home, deeper into the cave of you. His hand gripping the back of your head just a little tighter than usual in his desperation to come undone.

He didn’t mean to. Didn’t mean to translate this desire from out of his head into the real world. You didn’t expect it.

It takes you a little by surprise.

Enough, to make you gag on Steven’s cock, just for a second; until you are surging off of him, eyelashes wet as you blink away the instant, spiking surge of tears.

Steven means to say something. He really does. Feels awful. Means to say “sorry, love, I’m so sorry”.

To soothe you. To do something.

But he… doesn’t.

Because…. Fuck.

He liked it.

A lot.

To his great relief, you seem unphased too, your lips curling up into a little smile before you curl them once again around his girth.

You continue: still gentle, still soft. Still in control. Setting your own pace.

Except this time Steven is inwardly going feral.

The thought of you gagging on him again. The thought of you surging off of him because he’s too big. The noises you made. The feeling of your throat convulsing around his cock. Even the tears in your eyes and the thought that you want him so much you’ll try so valiantly to take him all.

He’s panting. It’s awoken something in him. He’s throwing his head back against the beam. Eyes are screwing shut. His teeth are biting into his lower lip. His fingers are curling into your hair and - oh God. It feels divinely good but he wants…

Oh God.

He wants to push you down on him until you heave with the swell of him and he’s resisting the urge and you’re sucking him so deep and he can’t take it because he wants -needs to- bury himself even deeper.

Needs more and he’s aching for it.

“-Steven,” you purr, looking up at him, lips plumped and glistening with spit and god. “If you don’t want to make me gag on you again, you can always just ask. I can tell you liked it.”

He opens his eyes. Looks down at you on your knees. His mouth dropped open in surprise, and his legs nervy and trembling. A wracked, disbelieving moan spools from his chest, his cock almost bursting at the thought of it. Of making you choke on him. “W-would you d-do that for me, love?”

Your eyes glint with mischief. With want. “Steven.” You kiss the swollen head of his cock, swirling your tongue around the contours of him until he twitches, nearly spilling himself right then. “I’d do anything for you.”

He releases a shaky breath.

Steven is a gentle lover; until he isn’t.

Until he fists his hand in your hair and drives you down on his shaft, losing all composure as he hears you, feels you, sees you gagging on his size, your hands pressed calmly to his bared thighs as he holds you there and you let him.

And, as he does you fold the flat of your tongue around him. Let him take you, fill you, fuck into the circle of you, your throat resisting; gagging on him.

Steven can’t take it.

Didn’t know he would like this. Never would have guessed.

But within moments, he is emitting a ragged moan. He is pulsing his hot release down your throat. Giving you everything, as you eagerly take it. Swallow him down, until he’s drained; empty. Your hands smoothing up and down his shuddering thighs. Your tongue cleaning every last drop of mess from him. Humming against his softening shaft.

“Was that good, baby?”

He thinks he might black out. Can’t speak.

Can’t speak; until he can. “Love. C-Can we do it again?”

Your mouth curls into a smile; before you wrap it all the way around him.

When it comes to you, Steven can never get enough. He always want more.

At the same time though, you’re more than enough for him.

You’re everything, and he’s so happy he was the one to walk through the door.

[cuubism]

home for the season (2.5k) (E)

some more Hope/Morpheus reverse AU, aka my most self-indulgent special little blorbos

--

Hope's favorite season is spring. Morpheus thinks this is horribly cliche, and has told him so. What's your favorite season, then, you Prince of Night? Hope had of course quipped back. Winter, I assume?

Morpheus had found himself blushing. ...Summer, he had admitted at length. Morpheus struggled to stay hopeful at the best of times, and in winter, in the dark, the cold, the late mornings and early evenings, it was even harder to find his way. Seasonal depression, he supposed. But summer...

It reminds me of you, he had said. How I feel... when I am with you.

Sweaty and overheated? Hope had said, but his expression was... Morpheus almost couldn't look at it directly.

Yes, Morpheus had said, and blinded by light.

Now it is winter, and Hope has been gone for three weeks. He is often gone. The other Endless, Hope has told him, have realms to tend to, actual places in the universe. Hope has no realm in that sense, his realm is the world, and the space among its creatures. Which gives him leave to live with Morpheus, but he cannot just stay in London all the time. He must go elsewhere, to places where he is very much needed.

Sometimes Morpheus goes with him, but he tires of so much travel. He has worked hard to build a tiny space in the world where he feels comfortable and it is difficult to be away from it for long. But more than that... he does not want to burden Hope when he is performing his function. He knows well that when he is there, Hope feels that he needs to... tend to him. To make sure he is okay. And Hope has other things he needs to be doing. Others he must tend to. Morpheus does not want to stifle him. Hope should be free. He was trapped once. Morpheus won't be the one to do it again.

He has not voiced any of that to Hope. Hope would only argue with him, or feel bad for needing to leave to perform his function. It is what it is. Morpheus has chosen to love someone so much grander than human, and that means he cannot always have him.

He misses him, though. He misses him so much, and especially in winter. He does not know how he survived decades between their meetings in the past.

But he persists. Because he loves Hope. And loving Hope is hard. It's so hard. But it's worth it.

It's been another two weeks--five total, now, since Hope left on his most recent voyage--two weeks of cold January wind and Morpheus spending his evenings huddled before the fireplace because he still can't quite get used to central heating, it is not as comforting--when Hope returns.

Morpheus is asleep, and is woken by a crashing sound in his living room, and Hope's quietly uttered fuck as he presumably stumbles back to his feet. Morpheus jumps out of bed and runs into the living room. He does not jump or run, usually, but for Hope, he does.

Hope looks up at him guiltily from where he's straightening an end table he'd knocked over in his rapid arrival. Hope does not need to travel by mortal means, he just appears. But he does not always have the best spatial awareness. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

"Please, feel free to teleport straight into my bed and wake me as much as you wish," says Morpheus.

Hope grimaces, plucking at his shirt. "I'm all gross, though.”

"I don't care."

Hope is not wrong about being 'gross': his white t-shirt is soaked in sweat, his hair and face covered in dust. Morpheus does not know where he's been. Selfishly, he doesn't want to. If he asks, Hope will doubtless tell him some horrible tale of suffering that may even end with Hope himself murdered in an atrocious manner. Something which cannot kill him, but which Morpheus finds distressing to hear about nevertheless. It's selfish to not want to hear it. But he has never been a very selfless person.

What he does do is hug him. This, too, feels selfish, though he doesn't know why.

"I should really shower," Hope says, but lets Morpheus hold him, and sighs when Morpheus cradles the back of his head. His anxious thoughts never seem to care that Hope cannot be killed. Morpheus worries for him anyway. Hope cannot be killed, but he can suffer. Has suffered.

"I am glad you are safe," Morpheus says.

"I'm always safe," Hope says. This is patently untrue. But Hope does not always like to talk about his past imprisonment.

Morpheus presses his nose into his shoulder. Hope smells like sweat and grime and dry heat. Morpheus just holds him tighter.

"Alright?" Hope asks, and Morpheus nods.

"I have missed you."

"Ah." Hope kisses his temple. "I missed you too, darling."

Morpheus indulges himself in holding him for another few moments. Then says, “You will want that shower, I imagine.”

“Yeah. Come with me? I did wake you up, though, so if you wanted to go back to sleep—”

“I will come with you,” Morpheus says. He won’t sacrifice his limited time with Hope for mere sleep. He can sleep the rest of his life, when Hope isn’t there.

“Good,” Hope says, with a smile, then takes his hand and draws him to the bathroom.

~

Morpheus is quiet while they bathe. This isn’t necessarily unusual for him, he’s reticent by nature, but still it pings something in Hope’s awareness. Then again, Hope did wake him up in the middle of the night, so maybe Hope is just overthinking. He’s quite good at that.

“Alright?” Hope asks, and Morpheus sighs.

“I miss you when you aren’t here,” he says.

It’s almost funny, the contrast between his always-solemn voice and the shampoo suds stuck in his hair, but Hope doesn’t laugh this time. “I know, darling. I’m sorry.”

“Especially in winter,” Morpheus continues, and then Hope feels stricken.

Oh. How did he not think of it? Winter is always difficult for Morpheus, the cold and early nights make it harder than ever for him to manage his depression. Hope can’t believe he thought it was a good idea to leave him alone.

“Oh,” he says, voice small, guilt rising. “Oh, I should have stayed with you, love, I’m—”

Morpheus stops him with a finger to his lips.

"You do not belong to me, Hope," he says quietly.

"Kind of do," Hope says.

"You belong with me," Morpheus says. A subtle but important correction. "At least, I should like to think so. I miss you. But I should hate myself were I ever to stifle you. It would be far worse.”

“Being with you isn’t stifling to me,” Hope protests, but Morpheus just keeps giving him that serious look. He sighs. “Fine. I understand what you mean. I can’t stay here all the time. But. I don’t like to think of you just here, hurting.”

It breaks his heart, it does, to think of Morpheus alone. He knows Morpheus survived centuries meeting him only once every hundred years, but still. It doesn’t mean he should have to.

“I am only being dramatic, do not change your behavior on account of my stupidity," Morpheus says, but his eyes look wet. "You have done nothing wrong."

"Can I at least give you a hug?"

Morpheus nods, and Hope pulls him into his arms. Soap smears between them, water slips, but Hope holds him tighter.

“Are you well?” Morpheus asks. “I do not even want to think about what horrible place you may have been.”

“No place is horrible, only its circumstances,” says Hope. “I won’t tell you about it, don’t worry.” The last thing Morpheus needs is more heavy things weighing on his mind. Besides, Hope is used to this. Being with Morpheus is enough of a salve for his wounds.

“Later, perhaps, you can tell me about the not-so-horrible parts of your journey.”

Hope kisses the side of his head, and gets a mouthful of shampoo. “Oof. Let me rinse your hair, you’re more soap than man.”

Morpheus submits to this, bending down so Hope can scrub his hair, and when he’s properly rinsed they both tumble out of the shower, tired, and dry off, and then Morpheus, taking charge of the situation once more, takes Hope to bed. Hope cuddles up to him, relishing in the touch of skin to skin.

“I’m glad I have you to come home to,” Hope tells him, lips pressed to his throat. Once upon a time he would just wander place to place, making friends wherever he went but never staying. He couldn’t have known how good staying might feel.

“Even when you are gone,” says Morpheus, haltingly, “you always give me a reason to stay.”

Hope kisses him, lightly at first and then deeper, sinking into Morpheus’s mouth. Morpheus is a lovely kisser, firm and sure and passionate. Hope curls a hand around his rib cage as they move together, and Morpheus tugs him closer by his hip, presses them up against each other, Hope’s leg slung over his, bodies entangled.

Morpheus’s tongue sweeps into his mouth. Fates, how Hope wants him right now, his surety. He wants Morpheus to command him to stay with his body, tempt him into putting down his sword, at least for the night.

Morpheus parts from his mouth to murmur in his ear. “You are beautiful,” he says, that low rumbling voice that Hope hears soothing him in dark moments. “When I am without you, you live in my every dreaming moment; these are more valuable than waking moments, you understand.”

He reaches a hand between them, wraps his long fingers around Hope’s hardening cock. Hope sucks in a sharp breath.

“Dreaming moments are more valuable?” he echoes.

“They are where... where I feel I am alive. Where I can create, and where I see shadows, but also light. And in every dash of sunlight I see you.”

“My tragic poet,” Hope murmurs, the words shuddering over the steady motion of Morpheus’s hand on him. It’s a soothing, sleepy way of working him, drawing Hope inexorably towards him like the pull of the deep sea. “I believe you are still wooing me.”

“I must.” Morpheus’s hips tilt in, his cock sliding against Hope’s, bellies rubbing. They move languidly together under the covers, warmth building between them. Morpheus takes them both in his hand and works them together; Hope just holds onto him. “I must. I must have you know. And see. You must see it.”

“I do,” Hope says, but he’s not sure he does. It’s hard to truly get inside Morpheus’s head. He does his best, but his understanding of Morpheus’s feelings is always imperfect.

“You must.” He twists his grip, drawing a gasp from Hope, who thrusts into his hand, seeking pleasure. Fates but it feels good to have something good and sweet and nice after the turmoil he’s wandered through these past weeks. He sinks into Morpheus’s touch, closing his eyes as they rock slowly together.

“Are you falling asleep on me?” Morpheus teases, as Hope just sighs, leaning into him.

“Your touch could lull me to sleep,” Hope says. But the edge of pleasure is just bright enough that he wants to chase it rather than truly fall into it. He twines his fingers through Morpheus’s hair, brings their lips back together. Kisses him as Morpheus builds the pleasure between them, strokes his thumb over him. Hope tugs on his hair, pulling a moan from Morpheus’s throat, bites it from his mouth, brings him ever closer with his heel hooked around the back of his leg. Being with him is sweet, and warm, and makes Hope shiver, the release of the tension he’s carried in him since he left. He gives himself over to Morpheus’s hands and it’s such a gift. If Morpheus thinks he is the only one gaining hope from being together he is wrong.

“Morpheus,” he breathes, as Morpheus’s lovely hands bring him quietly over the edge. He shudders, hands tightening in Morpheus’s hair. Morpheus strokes him through it, touch light. Moves close to press their bodies together and grinds into the crook of Hope’s hip. Hope tucks his face into his shoulder, breathing hard as Morpheus brings himself off against his skin. He moves so beautifully, he is so beautiful, Hope doesn’t know how he ever manages to leave him.

Morpheus comes with a gasp, and not long after Hope feels tears on his cheek, pulls back to look but Morpheus only shakes his head, eyes wet.

“Ignore me,” he says, when Hope meets his gaze.

“I could never. Your pain is too loud to me for that.”

Morpheus huffs. “I am not in pain.” Hope just holds his gaze, and Morpheus concedes, “I simply do not want you to go.”

“Not going anywhere for a while,” Hope tells him, though the thought pains him as well. He wishes so much, in this moment, that he could just stay with Morpheus. But when he stays too long, when he’s idle, he feels his function itching at him. He’s not meant to be only in one place, no matter how much he loves that place.

“I’ll always come back to you,” he says, not for the first time.

Morpheus presses his forehead to his. “I know. And I will persist, and think of you when you’re gone.”

“Oh, darling.” Hope takes him into his arms, heedless of the mess that’s still between them. Morpheus clings to him, wraps all his limbs around him. The press of his body is soothing. Hope does get lonely while he’s away. He makes friends during his travels, but no one is a substitute for his Morpheus.

“How about this,” he proposes. “I’ll try to come back to you more often in winter, when it’s hard, hm? Fates know I miss you anyway.”

Morpheus nods. “I would be. Amenable to that.” He runs his fingers through Hope’s hair, kisses his lips. “For now, you must sleep. And so long as you are still here in the morning, I will be at peace.”

“I’ll make you breakfast,” Hope promises, for Morpheus, the nocturnal creature, is never awake in the morning. Hope usually rises with the sun.

“See that you do,” Morpheus says, and settles down heavy against him. Hope does a little subtle magic to clean up so he won’t have to move him again, then draws the blanket over them, banishing the remaining winter chill. In the morning, he’ll light the fire, because he knows they both like it, Morpheus especially. And they’ll cuddle up and pretend for a moment that every day is like this, that their time together doesn’t wax and wane with the turn of the seasons, that Hope doesn’t have to go and Morpheus doesn’t have to struggle. In those fleeting moments, reality, fears, duty and heartache are put aside and all that’s left is their love underpinning it all, all that’s left is them.

[daddywright]

daddywright fall fic writing challenge

Because the Organization that Shall Not Be Named has embraced AI (among other sins), I decided I wanted to create a little challenge of my own that isn't just for November and contains prompts that I'd actually want to do as a fic writer. I did this for myself, but if anyone wants to try out any of these prompts, you're welcome to! Because I'm lazy, I'll be trying to commit to this all fall, and give myself a goal of 30,000 words. We'll see how that goes!

Some of these are 18+ prompt ideas, because I like to write explicit material. Take or leave them as you like.

As a way to get myself excited, I'm going to commit and post something by 12AM tonight (!) that falls along one of these guidelines. Stay tuned!

Write from a character's POV you've never attempted before.

Write for a ship you've never written.

Resurrect a character from the grave.

KILL a character DEAD.

Back to the Future: time travel shenanigans!

Share and develop a WIP that's at least 2+ years old

Fic inspired by a song you love.

Write a fic in future tense.

"He asked for no pickles" - Character A defending Character B (any level of seriousness)

Publish something from a fandom you've never released anything for.

Ask an artist if you could write a fic based one of their pieces you love!

For Want of a Nail: change one little thing from canon, and see what happens.

Write a crossover - if not a whole fic, then an interaction between characters from two different pieces of media

This Town Ain't Big Enough for the Two of Us: write a scene between enemies.

Self-Care: write a character getting comfort you could use in your life

Career AU: write a character with an entirely different career than their canon job

Babysitter Required: write a scene with a character that's been de-aged (through ageswap or magical means!)

Kryptonite: a character of choice encounters the one thing they can't tolerate

Live Cringe, Die Free: write an original character self-insert and have them interact in a scene with your blorbos

Knife to a Gunfight: write a scene where a character loses a fight

Passport: have your character travel somewhere you've been before

Because You Should: write a scene where the overlooked female character of a popular piece of media is the main focus

The Godfather: have a minor character play mom or dad to a child character for a day (reluctantly if necessary)

5+1 things: a classic

(18+) Laios Touden-core: Write an explicit scene with monstrous elements.

(18+) That Could've Gone Better: Write a scene that features some elements of bad sex. (Not sex written poorly, but sex that is in fact not good. They can talk about it, even.)

(18+) Write a scene featuring a kink that you've not written yet.

Werewolves of London: Your character has been struck by a curse. What is their terrible affliction?

AO3 Trope Bingo: write for a popular ao3 trend that's been around awhile (i.e., Sentinel/Guide, Hanahaki, Soulmate Writing)

To Shreds, You Say?: write a scene where a character absolutely ruins somebody else (ruin can mean whatever you want it to)

Halloween Special: write something spooky!

[sharkneto]

what about five made him ur blorbo…

Man, what made Five my guy.

There’s the surface level stuff – he hits a lot of tropes I love. Asshole with a heart, competent in everything but people, an assassin who gets cool fights to good music, teleports, last man in the world, has a fucked up wife situation. He’s a fifty-eight-year-old man who looks thirteen, that concept right there has so much to work through, all by itself.

All of that is really fun stuff, but under all of that, I think I can sum up why Five hit so hard with just that he has heart. The show could have gone the route of comic!Five – unredeemable bastard of a tiny man. That would have been fun, I love comic!Five, but he works better on a comic book page, where things can be more 2D. The change the show made – maybe on accident – is that show!Five loves an incredible amount, and that’s what hooked me hard. Sure, some of this is fan interpretation, but I think it’s got moments in-show to back it up. One of his first moves he made, when stuck in the apocalypse, was to make Delores – he has her within a few days of landing there. She says so much about him the second we meet her in the show - shorthand to tell us just how bad the apocalypse was, and that, when faced with nothing, Five makes a person he has to take care of. With that, he survived four decades as the last person on earth in dystopian hell before he could get back to save the world – so he says, at least, but he has always prioritized his siblings. They're his world. He’s not great at saying it, but he’s a man of action and his actions speak very loudly.

With all that love, comes a lot of grief, which is actually what keeps me going with Five. I’m pretty open that I’ve had a lot of grief in my life. I’m doing better, it’s been a number of years now, but grief doesn’t go away, and Five is an incredible vehicle for playing with and processing grief. Experiencing it, growing from it, moving on with life around it. And Five has so many layers of grief to play with. There’s the grief for his family who he found dead when he was 13, grief for the world because it all ended, grief for the life he lost, grief for the life he had to live, grief for what he’s had to do, grief for his body and his situation. How do you keep going and move on after experiencing such loss? I find it both cathartic and motivating to think about and sit in that space.

He's a walking tragedy and I adore him for it. Character of all time.

[hey-i-am-trying]

ME RANTING ABOUT MISINFORMATION ABOUT BAGI AND WHAT NOT

A missing piece people don't realize about the workers' murder arc is that Bagi was not all that bothered by the workers' death at first, she was more worried about how Cucurucho would retaliate and also by the cannibalism, because yeah, cannibalism doesn't exactly scream mental health.

It was seeing the grief of the living workers that changed her profoundly, it filled her with guilt. And I cannot help but think of young Bagi who didn't have a body to bury, didn't have closure, and refused to even acknowledge the possibility that her brother was dead, being so moved by such an open sight of mourning.

Bagi ran herself stressed not knowing a way to help Cellbit AND stop the murders, she refused any solution that would harm him, she went after talking with people who were close with Cellbit and whom she also trusted to not turn information to the Feds. I am sick and tired to people saying "Bagi told random people about the murders". List of islanders Bagi actually told: Roier, Bad, Pac, and Mike. All who were in one way or another connected to enigmas themselves. People who she knew had more information about Cellbit past or that she thought deserved to know for their own safety.

Bagi never called Cellbit a monster or even insinuated he would hurt the eggs, I really don't know where this misinformation came from. In the separate scenes of Bagi and Bad confronting Cellbit they were they quite literally saying he was more than a murderer, and that he was being consumed by his history of violence

(Also, I get it that watching your blorbo drown in blood is fun and all. But like, did you watch Cellbit's story and believe he turned back into a murderer and being brought back to the violent cycle he was forced into is a good thing? Did watch him seeing his childhood room for the first time and asking himself what he did to deserve to be taken away from his family and made to kill people to be able to survive? Did you see that and then when he told Bagi he didn't care if he died again because he died enough time and did not get that Cellbit murdering people is also him losing grasp on the importance of life itself? Did you not get that this was not a developing arc for him? This was him at his fucking worst after having the best things in his life taken again, again and again. Murder was not enrichment for him, it was a poison that killed parts of him too)

Anyway. That is for now. I think. Just a lot of shit I needed to get out of my chest.