#like the marge Simpson meme

[eat-your-ego]

Ahfkdhdkdbxkabxjsndb

Celentano Woodworks

[soysaucevictim]

I just needed to doodle the worm in my brain again. :,D

[xoalsox]

240706 waterbomb minho (x)

[cuubism]

some canon-verse trans Hob for the lovely @five-and-dimes who recently got top surgery! 🥳🥰 congratulations, I'm truly so happy for you, my friend. please accept this humble offering

--

“So, it actually started on a dare,” Hob says, on the day he tells Dream the story of him. Or of this part of him, anyway.

Normally, Hob gets a bit guarded the first time he tells someone he’s trans. It’s hard to predict with absolute certainty how people will react, especially ones he’s just become romantically involved with. He’s had it go poorly, to say the least, in the past.

He doesn’t feel that way with Dream. It’s not because there’s so much trust between them—they’re still new, after all. No, it’s something about Dream himself. For all his prickly and standoffish nature, being close to him feels like sinking into a warm lake, into a dark sleep where secrets and hidden wishes float up like glowing reeds to the surface. Deep, personal feelings feel safe with Dream; he cradles them in his hands and soothes them. Or that’s how it feels, when Hob is touching him.

Personification of dreams, indeed.

“A dare?” Dream echoes.

“Sort of," Hob says. "Got frustrated with people saying women should or shouldn’t do this or that or the other thing, so I decided if they felt so strongly about it I’d just be a man. Moved somewhere no one knew me, dressed differently, got stronger, practiced the sword—and that was that. No one seemed to care much, once you were at war. So long as you could swing a sword and not get yourself killed.”

“A choice, then,” Dream says. He’s listening very intently, hands folded on his knees, untouched tea on the coffee table before him.

“At first. Was only after I’d been living that way for a few decades—before and after we met—that I realized while there might be a handful of women out there living as men for the freedom of it, that they didn’t all like it. Given the choice they’d rather just be women in a more equal world. You know?”

Dream hums in understanding.

“But I didn’t want to go back,” Hob continues. “I felt like... who I'd become was the truth of me all along.”

“Identity, while not wholly immutable, is resilient against adversity and circumstance,” says Dream. “You found what your heart wanted you to be, if in a circuitous manner.”

“You seem very unbothered by it,” Hob observes, sipping his tea.

Dream frowns. “Why would I be bothered by it?”

“Dunno.” Apparently he can’t fully shake that this’ll put a wedge in us feeling. “People sometimes are. Feel deceived, or something like that. So they say.”

“If they are deceived, it is by their own assumptions,” Dream says, with disdain. “You should be as you dream yourself, Hob. No more nor less. Put aside these petty physical trappings.”

“I do actually have to live in these ‘physical trappings’ even if you don’t, you silly thing.” He can’t help laughing. “Besides, I rather like being some kind of living creature in the world, rather than what? A ghost? Best I can do is make this body as close to how it should be as possible.”

Hob’s come to like his body, for the most part, in the form that he’s made it. He didn’t always. But he needs a body of some kind to be alive, and he likes being alive. So what he couldn’t change, he made peace with.

Besides, they have hormone treatments nowadays. Brilliant stuff. Makes it so much better.

“Anyway, now you know. I wanted you to. Since we’re together.” It’s still a marvel. Together.

“Thank you,” says Dream, with evident sincerity. “It is a privilege to be gifted your secrets.”

“Not really a secret, but I get what you mean.” He takes Dream’s hand, just to touch him, and admits, “Telling it to you is like… I don’t know. Feels like when I was younger and first admitted out loud, ‘I’m a man. I want to stay like this.’”

It hasn’t been a proper secret in a very long time. But giving it to Dream is like the freedom of releasing a held breath, even so.

“I am the harbor and cradle of dreams,” Dream says in reply. He traces his fingers over Hob’s. Does Dream’s strange form just spring from the ether? Hob wonders. Or does he have to choose it? The way Hob chose his? “Dreams of being and becoming… these are most precious for they grow from tough soil. I can only protect them, I cannot create them. You must do that. And I expect that were I to find you in the Dreaming, there would be a fantastic garden there, indeed.”

Dream himself is the most fantastical thing. “Well, darling, just know your work is appreciated.”

Dream’s lips tip up in a tiny smile. When he meets Hob’s gaze again, his eyes have gone dark and starry. He folds Hob into a hug, and—

oh, it’s like being hugged by the universe itself.

Hob feels the light breeze of a warm dark night, when he’d lain by the dying fire in a war camp in the French countryside, and looked up at a million stars and first whispered to himself what if this is really who I am? Dream is that breeze and those stars. The dying embers that had lit him as he’d run his hands over his body and felt it differently than he ever had before, and been terrified because what would it mean?—but also thrilled and alive. Dream is the night wrapping around him in that moment, the night that was listening to his dreams no matter how quietly he admitted them, Dream is that and more and the voice in his heart telling him it would be okay.

A younger, more uncertain Hob would have needed this. Hob now is older, and he already knows who he is and what he wants, but he falls into Dream’s embrace all the same. A tear slips from his eye, and Dream kisses his cheek, wiping the tear away with his tongue before leaning their heads together.

“I could craft you any body you wanted in the Dreaming,” he says lowly. “However I think the one you have made with your own hands is more remarkable.”

Oh, God, he’s going to tear up again. “Dream, you are the most beautiful, wonderful thing.”

Dream hums in pleasure at the words, and lets Hob hold him close, lets him cradle his head to his chest, a dream kept close to his heart. One that he knew as soon as he saw it walk into the White Horse. Sooner even than he truly knew himself.

Then Dream looks up at him with a hopeful expression. “With these truths revealed, are we able to be intimate?”

Hob laughs so hard he has to tip his head back against the couch. “Wow. One track mind with you, isn’t it? I spill my heart and that’s what I get?”

Dream grumbles, tucking his face in against Hob’s neck to press his lips to Hob’s throat. “I find myself impatient of late.”

“Knew all along you were only with me for my body.” He’s grinning, though. Can’t stop.

“Well. Considering it is such a lovely one.” He plucks at Hob’s shirt buttons. Lecherous little nightmare.

It feels fucking good, though, to be desired.

“C’mere, then,” he says, and drags Dream into his lap.

Dream settles there with a purr, starts playing with Hob’s hair, but says, “I would not truly derail this moment, nor distract from your feelings if you do not wish it.”

“Oh, I wish it. You’ve no idea how much I want you right now. You’re like a prize.” He cradles Dream’s beloved face between his hands. “Stick around for long enough and you’ll get the most incredible Dream at the end of it.”

“Or at the beginning,” Dream says, and Hob’s heart swells so much to hear him voice that that he has to kiss him.

When he does, Dream makes a low, pleased sound, settling deeper in his lap. Yes, this moment, this life, is certainly the prize for all of those years hanging onto those dreams:

the dream of his lover

and the one of himself.

[dawns-beauty]

I wanted to put this mod on my big mod list, but it was hidden at the time.

It adds a little cozy spot for Paarthurnax to chill at. That's it.

Paarthurnax's Perch

[littlemaple]

im thankful for tumblr because i cant let my family and irl friends/acquaintances know how absolutely unhinged i actually am

[dawnedon]

"My bonded legendary killed me."

[fayevalcntine]

@thefairylights replied to your post “.”:

Like how good is the dick game because it’s gotta be like the best drug ever if everyone wants it

​I have a lot of questions re: how they'll do Akasha if the show gets there (one of the primary ones being the casting because it's become a somewhat iconic character because of Aaliyah, and the character's origin story from the books can look pretty outdated), but regardless they will have to at least cast an actress from MENA region if they're following the book, which leads to the question of how they'll even do Lestat's backstory with her.

[queenofbaws]

Lyrics of this dumb-funny song I found the other day *How the hell you spell chauffeur? Chauffeur. Ooh fancy-pants rich McGee over here. Fuck you!* Use how you will ^^

Hope your weekend is super so far!

"Blankets," he said, just like that too, not impressed or happy or mad or sad or anything, "hotter'n Satan's asshole out here, and your mother sees fit to send me over a pallet of blankets...there's a punchline in there somewhere, but I'll level with you Bobby, I am too old and too tired to look for it."

"It gets cold in the winter," Bobby argued, dropping the boxes, "and Ma said they're duvets, Uncle Jack, not blankets."

He didn't look up from striking his match, didn't even move his face all that much, but Bobby heard his teasing clear as day as he muttered, "Du-vays, well la-di-dah-di-dah, look an awful lot like blankets to me," around his cigar. "Here's a lesson I don't think Constance ever stopped to teach you - probably because she thought you might start catchin' wise to her hoity- and toity act - but you can put lipstick on a pig, you can slap a wig on it too, that don't make it Miss America."

He couldn't help laughing at that, stretching his arms out from the weight of all those boxes of crocheted duv - blankets, yeah - before clapping Uncle Jack on the shoulder like the good old days, snickering, "Know what - s'good to have you back!"

"I'd say it's good to be back," Uncle Jack started, taking a solid puff off his cigar before returning the smack, "but that'd make me a goddamn liar, so pardon me if I just nod my head and start pickin' through these du-vays like I'm grateful or something."

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

[infini-tree]

persephone in indie games my beloved...........

[traceamountsoftimetravel]

Is it enough to just say you like something and not have to have it be some kind of academic exercise?

[ghosthost--withthemost]

💌

x

What I love about your blog - the fact that you're not afraid to post OOC stuff. I myself am a little nervous to post too much things about my life outside of roleplaying because I know some people don't like seeing too many ooc posts, though I don't see why cause personally I love to read posts about how everyone is doing!

What I love about your muse - Honestly, I don't know a lot about your muse, but I kinda love the idea of a cute lamb being a cult leader :D the game itself seems really interesting too

What I love about YOU - You seem really friendly! Also, you send in a lot of asks and trust me, it makes me REALLY happy! We havent rped yet, but if you ever want to (or if you want to chat ooc) HIT ME UP!!

[ratasum]

My curse is having become a big fan of asura. They're awful little gremlin sharkrats and I'd die for a lot of them.

[noiivvern]

I don’t even think I have a blorbo/comfort character what ever you call them

[loving-delusions]

my minecraft obsession is coming back hhhnngggngng

this is all character.ai's fault

that and qsmp

fucking hell

[emotionalsupportdman]

“And somewhere inside that living plane, we see a smile flash across someone’s face.”

me: JOHN HUNGER JOHN HUNGER JOHN HUNGER JOHN HUNGER JOHN HUNGER JOHN HUNGER JOHN HUNGER JOHN HUNG-