#might really be absinthe
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The proper way to serve Hi•C Ecto Cooler 😎🚫👻🍊🟩🥤😋👍🏻💜
#Ecto Cooler#Hi•C#Ghostbusters#drinks#slurpoes#funny#retro#5 1/4 inch floppy#retro physical media#aesthetic#might really be absinthe#absinthe
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I’ve plugged Pierrot Perfumery (formerly GoblinCrow) before, but I just want to say how unabashedly generous they are with orders - I ordered five small samples of their latest scents and they sent me two additional samples and an ENTIRE bottle of another. They doubled my order and everything smells beyond divine.
Queer-created, queer-approved. Genuinely unique, often bizarre, perfectly strange fragrance. I’m not at all compensated or even encouraged to advertise; I’m just very happy to do so.
#I have samples of nearly every fragrance they’ve made so far#they have a lot of fandom scents#as well as queer history scents#just really quality stuff#fragrance#indie fragrance#L’Heure Verte might be my new favorite as a photorealistic absinthe#but Hallowtide Bride surprised me with how deliciously that clove note is#tell them Oz sent you
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#first off: IM FINE#i got two emails from tumblr support with that weird 'so you might be unstable' feature#and for what its worth thank you to whoever reported it but its not necessary#i mean if i was really gonna off myself i wouldnt put it on tumblr#if AND IF i had liek. an actionable plan i would just do it lol.#but ANYWAY#not the poit of this post#tho#vent#and shit#anyway#i have no future#yknow?]#like i am not fit to live in a society#and it sounds melodramatic but ive given it a lot of thought#im too.... mentally ill i GUESS to hold a 9 to 5 and have a life beside that#for example#i literally cant stnd reality unless im on some kind of drug#tonight its a bottle of wine and absinthe and a tab of lsd#which is like worrying to my day to day function but it makes me want to be alive so i guess its a net positive#i suppose thes no real need for me to post this#but i long for a connection yknow? somebody to read it and shit#im just. so fucking tired#in other news i bought dd2 and tbf beside the animations nd the relationsship system its a bit of an downgrade#text#man idk#im p drunk rn
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i should listen to the scheherazade song cycle more often....
#maurice ravel#the big wave motifs in asie live rent free in my head#i forgor it was from maurice i thought i was just a fuckin genius when my brain randomly plays it in my head#*wave motif plays in my head* “woah this orchestration is so pretty what the fuck is this from did i make it up??”#but unironically scheherazade bangs#the flute in the enchanted flute is the flute ever!! the colours are so pretty!!! it's a green like absinthe-#-and it's striking against the rest of the orchestra which is the colour of sandstone!!! it looks really nice!!!#also l'indifferent proves to me that while maurice might or might not be a fudanshi he wouldve read BL for the literary value#personal tags ->#maurice tag#i talk about music#talking abt the colour of music is fun i wish everyone could see it too. maurice paints such pretty pictures!!!!
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losing my mind over the idea of Lucifer being swerved every time by an oblivious reader. He “casually” drops how he used to pull wives at the drop of a hat and reader just goes “that’s great Lucy ☺️” and wanders off while bro is going through the stages of grief
I just love the idea of like, a Reader who GENUINELY IS oblivious and isn't trying to troll him by any means, you ARE just completely unable to fathom this man is coming on to you or legitimately means the things he says.
You're sitting there after Husker made you a tequila for the first time and you're sipping on it and Lucifer's just plopping down in the next stool over, "there was once a time in the past I shared a tequila with a woman, and, well, let's just say 9 months later my daughter Charlie was born!" and you reply without any hesitation at all, "yeah! you know, this is my first time trying tequila but I think it's really nice, although everything Husker makes me is pretty tasty so I've been trying lots of new stuff recently! like the other night I had my first shot of absinthe with Alastor and the taste was so--" and Husker is FACEPALMING and Lucifer is... honestly I think it would be really cute if he ADORES when you show your interests and passions when you start ranting about stuff, so he's like, even when he's mentally gritting his teeth with frustration, he'll be sitting there watching you doe eyed for as long as you want to talk, entertaining any of your long winded tangents or rapidly changing conversational topics
Ugh... you don't understand... the allure of being a tiny fragile human and he's. Well also tiny but he's this ancient inhuman creature who's also just A Silly Loving Family Man. Like. He's ALL POWERFUL. He can pull you into a singing dancing musical where he can make whatever he wants appear, he CAN basically warp materials and reality however he pleases, like... just...he's the small full package who probably HAS a full package if you know what I mean 😏 don't even look at me but characters like him n deku got me thinking about being fawned over by cute guys who are shorter than you but can absolutely easily overpower you without breaking a sweat and are more hung than nature should really allow
Seduction can be a fine line between sexy and cringey and can you imagine he says something to you that just, it just does NOT land. He's got you on your back in your bed and he's above you, with his hand directly under your chin, and he purrs that he wants to plant his seed directly in the fertile soil of your garden and you just LAUGH IN HIS FACE, like "BITCH WHAT?!" Like you CRUSH HIM, FATALITY, man is suffering psychic and emotional damage, you are chipping away at his health bar as you sit there "Haha, you're so goofy Mr Morningstar 🤣 you always know how to make me laugh" and he's HUFFING and laughing in frustration, "OKAY, let's try this again! When I'm done with you, Charlie might have a new sibling on the way!"
"Awww thank you! Charlie's already like a sister to me but I'm glad you're seeing it literally 🥰"
Can you imagine it. The ultimate cockblock. Giving him the ultimate swerve, hitting him with the ultimate grand slam, "YOU'RE LIKE THE FATHER I NEVER HAD" like, how can he possibly stick his dick in you now he knows you see him as YOUR DAD 🥺❤️ He can't VIOLATE his BABY (or can he 😳🤔)
Can't stop thinking about Reader who is completely unaware that this man is unhinged levels of Down Bad until the very moment he's wrestling you down to either fuck you or have a full on love confession. You're just goofing around and palling around and occasionally giving him hugs where you smush your titties or whatever in his face because he's the perfect height and you love to tease him and, then, to YOU, he's 'suddenly without warning' trying to kiss you, say all these passionate things to you, putting his hands in places they've never been before--
I'm still hung up on... the idea of Lucifer impregnating the Reader and you have your little you know cute apple womb tattoo and. I just know he'd be fussing and cooing and like ANNOYING levels of lovey dovey, baby talking your belly before you're even showing. He'd wanna get married with a big fancy flashy wedding to show you off. He'd wanna announce to all of Hell he has a new spouse and want everyone to fear/worship/respect/adore you. He's making this baby SO MANY GIFTS with his own two hands, you have no idea. Duck themed cribs, duck themed onesies, duck themed ducks, he'll make it all! In fact he'll make too many! But, still not enough to satisfy him! Everything has to be perfect, for you, for the baby, for his growing lovely family!
I dunno. Don't expect me to be normal about the fact the man can shapeshift either... he's about to slither right into my incognito tabs...
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Stolas: A Gradual Descent to the Bottom of the Bottle
This post analyzes Stolas's situation with alcohol and discusses whether the show effectively represents this systemic issue, and what it implies about real life.
The take is certainly not unique, but I decided to post it anyway to spread awareness about how subtle, seemingly harmless, occasional drinking can seamlessly turn into a full-blown addiction over time.
TW: substance abuse, addiction, alcoholism
Is Stolas an alcoholic?
The answer seems obvious at first. You look at him—all posh, intelligent, and articulate—and you might think, "He doesn’t look like one." You won’t find him, Satan forbid, somewhere under a porch, or truly dependent on the bottle, like drinking during the day—or not absinthe, anyway.
Sure, he drinks sometimes, but it’s fine . . . right? Everyone drinks sometimes. Everyone deserves to feel a bit happier after something bad happens once.
Or twice.
Or thrice . . .
. . . Oh.
Not so obvious anymore, eh?
The real issue here is that the answer is kind of between 'yes' and 'no.' My TL;DR is that the show makes it pretty clear his drinking is becoming problematic, but it’s not quite there yet. And it will become alcoholism soon enough if nothing changes.
I think what we see happening to Stolas right now is an excellent, textbook example of how people end up there. So let’s get into his head, explore where he stands, and what it means for us and for him.
It starts easy
It doesn’t happen in one day. It's not like you get up early one especially glum morning and decide, "Hey, that's a good day to ruin my life!"
It's a vulnerability that makes you susceptible to drinking. Constant pressure. Anxiety. Depression. Trauma.
And you might find yourself wanting to do everything, anything, to get it out of your brain. Not think about it for one evening. Forget.
What a pathetic fucking man!
Her attacking you, whether physically, verbally, in public or private. You, having no one to turn to, having no way to mend it, having to keep up appearances for your kid.
We all have bad days. Bad situations. It’s not to say that one wild night is inevitably going to turn you into an alcoholic. But when you allow the bottle to be your crutch for life, when it becomes a habit to avoid uncomfortable, traumatic events, then . . .
Then it turns into a coping mechanism
You know, it’s . . . it’s simpler. It’s comfortable. Soothing.
You can’t kick her out of the house. You can’t make the man you love love you back. You can’t get a support network because she ostracized you from royal social circles and made a laughing stock out of you.
But you can forget. Forget that one excruciatingly humiliating night. Where not only was all your dirty laundry thrown out on the dance floor for everyone to see, but also, that said romantic interest made it clear it’s only about sex.
You used to have a smoking wife, a kid, you had it all! I hope you didn't give it up so you and him could get it up
Stolas, don't act like what we have is anything but you wanting me to fuck you, okay? You make that really clear all the time.
Forget well enough to fall asleep drunk on the floor among the only living beings who didn't run from you yet. Maybe only just because they are in pots and don't have legs.
And it spirals out of control
Things get gradually worse. Your only lifeline—your . . . uh, romantic interest and daughter—fall out of reach. He finds every reason to avoid you. She hasn't visited you since that LA incident.
Your only power move with a divorce request turns into a lengthy, exhausting proceeding and leads to an assassination attempt. Your—what are you even anymore?—romantic interest pretty much ignores your distress call, or so you think.
You go with a showdown. You can't stand the ambiguity anymore. You want to know whether there's something behind your transactional thing. It's either 'yes' or 'no,' and . . .
It doesn't end too well.
Lastly, you go to a party to try to unwind (or at least be polite, because it's rude to ignore invitations). But your ex's (???) ex acts cruelly, and you don't feel comfortable there. And the wound is still fresh, bleeding . . .
Fuck it, the absinthe won't cut it. Beelzejuice it is then.
And here we are, back to our starting question
Stolas wears a functional alcoholism guise. Or dangerously close to it. Because that's what I believe is going on.
He is still a functional member of society, but he is shown not being capable of processing his trauma without the bottle in hand. And, as things get worse for him, we see the bottle or the glass or any other alcohol container more often on the screen.
For now, he's hanging on, but it's just a matter of a flip switch—the moment when every second of his life will start to feel unbearable without alcohol, simply because there are no other ways to cope.
It's worth noting, though, that Stolas isn't the only character depicted struggling with the urge to drink away his problems.
The most obvious example is Verosika, who is a severe case of alcoholism. We won't delve deep into her character since I want to focus on gradual decline rather than the end result, but we rarely see her without a bottle. There are a couple of scenes where she doesn't hold one, but these moments are situational. She's also been to rehab at least once and only got out because of her reputation.
But there is another character I'd like to dissect, because this will answer the lingering question, "Is there a way out?"
Blitzø, and why he didn't fall victim to this
We saw Blitzø drinking too, at the Bee’s party. To a rather disturbing degree, actually.
But why does no one say he has an alcohol problem, even though he did use alcohol as a coping mechanism?
Because Blitzø is an example of how the addiction might be prevented and what ultimately makes a difference, a turning point.
To start off, we first see him not in the bar. We see him at home with a pint of melting ice-cream. Dude sugar-bombed himself to sleep . . . after the already mentioned disastrous date with Stolas at Ozzie's, that is.
And then he gets a call from Loona, who asks to pick her up from the party. He has no plans to stay there whatsoever.
But what changed his mind? Pressure did.
He was pressured by both Loona and an old acquaintance to stop by. (I stress that no one is wrong for this, by the way—he still had the agency to turn the invitation down.) He reluctantly agreed to one drink . . . which we know how ended.
It's much harder to keep it to just one drink when you're sad and alcohol makes you feel better. Nobody wants to be sad.
But with all that said, Blitzø is extremely resilient. In contrast to Stolas—who is strong in his own way but slipping despite all the privilege, magic, and immortality that Blitzø thinks make him invincible—Blitzø never let that one drinking occasion become a habit.
Because he has a support network. However closed off he is, he has his business to take care of, Loona, and M&M. He has things he likes to do and he has people he cares about.
Stolas has all the money in the world, but no friends or activities he could look forward to. He doesn't seem happy with his royal life at all, referring to himself as an owl in a gilded cage.
So the difference is, essentially, this: Blitzø has alternatives and doesn't see alcohol as an outlet. There is a wonderful post from @warblogs17282 which has similar points I make, but also, it shows another angle of Blitzø's relationship with alcohol—his, unfortunately, long history with addiction in family. So that contributes, too.
Is Stolas a lost cause?
Gods, no. But it’s definitely a problem by this point.
Is he an active alcoholic? Maybe not yet. He isn't Verosika yet. But he is getting there, which I think is the point the show makes.
Alcohol might be a one-time patch on especially rough days, and you might wake up the next day strong and aware enough not to make a habit of it. But the problem is, Stolas already has a habit, and he doesn't have anything to replace it.
To solve it, he needs just that—a replacement for the bottle. Someone who cares. My hope is that one particular red lizard will share his pint of ice cream and his love. And maybe then, grim days won't be as grim anymore, even when the absinthe stays in the store, or wherever these royals get their alcohol.
Closing note. Why it’s important to talk about this in real life context
Warning: Extreme TMI
I had an alcoholic in the family, and this topic triggers me because, for him, it also started as "no biggie."
He was still functional for years, coming to work regularly. But he was slipping. He drank more, skipped work, and eventually became unbearable for his family—my family, even if not immediate. His wife requested a divorce. He got isolated. He drank even more. Eventually, he got fired because it's not appropriate for a director to skip work and reek of ethanol. The smell was so strong that people couldn't be in the same room with him. He tried other jobs. He aced interviews thanks to 30 years of experience and a solid background. But he got fired again because he couldn't live up to his legacy anymore. At the end, he descended into what you would call full-blown alcoholism.
So, you followed his story, and my question is: Did it start here, when he couldn't help it anymore? Or did it start a couple of years before that, when alcohol became too comfortable as an outlet for struggles?
I've had rough months too—with the war in Ukraine and everything happening with my family—when I realized it became comfortable for me to drink my problems away. Because it works. Because it’s pleasant not to deal with anything, to force your brain to shut up and be happy for one evening.
And it's terrifying to realize I had (thankfully, I don't have anymore for a long time by now) those patterns of thinking: "Jeez, I just want to drink and forget this happened."
Because I saw where it leads. And the farther you go, the harder it becomes to say 'no.'
So please, pay attention to the ones you care about. Pay attention to yourself.
#tw alchoholism#tw substance abuse#tw addiction#this has gotten really personal#but I hope I got the point accross#a random fact - this owl forced me to learn how to spell absinthe properly. I mean. Write it down without looking it up in Google XD#Gods Stolas of all drinks you've chosen the one with the batshit spelling#of course you have#forgive me making jokes about this#but I couldn't NOT mention it#helluva boss#helluva boss spoilers#helluva boss ozzie's#helluva boss queen bee#helluva boss the circus#helluva boss full moon#helluva boss apology tour#stolas#blitzø#stolas goetia#verosika#helluva boss meta#akira's whimpery metas#stolitz#stolas x blitz#blitz x stolas
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I might sound extremely European, but I don’t think Stolas is an alcoholic
After years and years of fandoms i realized there is a deep difference between “American-alcoholism” and “European-alcoholism” and a normal amount of alcohol for an European person is seen as borderline alcoholic behavior for Americans. (Like we could have this very same discussion when talking about Game of thrones to say something - or honestly real life to a certain extent).
But I’ll only focus on Stolas because I’m seeing this used as a trope in many, many fics and it’s something which I wouldn’t say “bothers” me, but makes me really uncomfortable.
Now, let’s focus on the occasions in which we see Stolas drink.
1) The “not divorced” party
2) After ���Ozzie’s” (off-screen but heavily implied in the “day after” sequence)
3) Apology Tour
To these instances we can add a couple of implied ones
1) Ozzie’s at the restaurant when he orders wine
2) Apology Tour in the first scene where a glass of wine is showed on the table by Stolas while he’s chilling by the pool
Now, if we focus on the first three instances, two of them are parties, social situations in which people would normally drink just for the sake to get drunk (especially if they are not having a great time but want to fit it, something Stolas suffered his entire life!), and the third situation is right after things went incredibly shitty with the man he’s in love with!
As for the others two, ordering wine at Ozzie’s is a way to A try to get Blitzø’s attention and B get himself out of an uncomfortable situation with the waiter; and the beginning of Apology Tour is just another reiteration of the situation in The Circus (post breakup).
And even if the only moment he’s shown to be absolutely plastered is in Apology Tour and generally alcoholics drink to the point to completely forget themselves. Not to mention that we are talking about a universe in which heroin (AKA the most addictive substance ever) barely cures an headache! (source: Unhappy Campers)
Alcohol isn’t that addictive and I’d dare say in the Hellaverse wine could equal water?! Not to mention that it’s implied that powerful/royal demons have fastened healing which would clean their systems from alcohol as well.
Confirmed alcoholics in the show (such as Verosika) drink Beezlejuice instead of human alcohol which I suspect is stronger than absinthe. (And anyhow it’s only Blitzø who ends up completely drunk, not Bee, and I somehow imagine Goetia’s biology being closer to Sins’ than lower hellborns).
I don’t want to police anyone in their fanfics, but just express my opinion on the matter since I just think the term alcoholic is generally thrown too easily around.
* we can discuss Stolas has other issues which should be addressed when it comes to addictions (such as the random amount of Happy Pills he ingests) but simply alcohol isn’t one of those
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Via dm's between @inneskeeper and I.
Hell yes, let's get to it. I couldn't find any pineapple vodka at the store, so I'm going to sub out 21% pineapple rum.
Anyways, I'm thinking 50ml pineapple and coconut rum, 15ml each blue curaçao and gin.
I literally missed the word "stirred" until I was pouring it into my glass of choice, so props to me.
It's uh. It's damn sweet. At ~24%ABV, the alcohol isn't overpowering, so the characteristic piña colada duo comes through first. They're both rums, so it's backed by a lot of sugar. No surprise there.
The blue curaçao isn't really present (except visually) so I think I should've increased it. If I try, I can identify its notes, but it's pretty shy.
Gin is a fascinating choice to add to this drink. It grounds the rums in herbal notes and pulls the flavor together. It's not quite enough gin to specifically taste the juniper, but I mixed a taster without it and I can taste the difference.
I like how this drink centers two sweet flavors and then uses herbal and bitter flavors to temper it. I kinda wonder how related liqueurs (e.g. Amaro instead of curaçao, or tequila/absinthe instead of gin) would play in this drink.
Overall, I really like it. I might have finished it before I finished this post and uhhh yeah 2-3 of these would have me acting unwise. It's probably going into my personal cocktail book as a staple.
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Some of the Batfam members if they were alcoholic drinks
Did somebody ask for this? Absolutely not, but I love drinking and I love the Bat-fam so:
Bruce Wayne as Amaro: It's a strong liquor, it tastes bitter, that's why it might be unlikeable to some people, but actually it has his benefits if taken after dinner, making you feel better after a long, stressful day.
Jason Todd as Absinthe: A spirit which is illegal in some countries due to his high alcohol content, if you're not careful, it can be fatal even after a few shots. It just reminds me of the brutal manners that Jason used to have in pre-52 as Red Hood. Reminds me also of the Painting "Absinthe" by Edgar Degas which represents my mood after reading UTRH.
Tim Drake as Midori: A really sweet and tasty liquor, not really strong, but quite unique considering his unusual colour, which reminds me of Tim as Robin in the early comics: someone who stands out with his optimistic personality and different backgrounds
Cassandra Cain as Wine: This one is personal, it's a drink that you can underestimate at first, but it's actually really strong, it's not a drink for getting drunk, it's something that you need to know to understand. It's also pretty versatile, based on the food you're eating or the event, you change the type of wine, similarly, Cassandra Cain adapts her fighting style based on her opponent
The other two that I don't want to explain too much:
Alfred as Rum: gives me old sophisticated man vibes
Stephanie Brown as Ginja/Ginjinha: idk funny drink
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“Well, that was … something.”
“Admit it, Sherlock, you liked the museum. After all, we just spent about three hours in quite a small and cramped establishment.”
“It was a bit sensational.”
“Says the man who lives in a flat that could be just another room of this museum.”
“We don’t have a ‘mermaid’ at 221B, nor a real shrunken head. Anymore.”
“Well, you do have that mermaid costume in your collection, and as for the shrunken head, Sherlock, I told you it wasn’t human. Might have been a monkey or something, or just a really withered old fruit. Anyway, wanna stay and try some of their ‘award winning Absinthe’?”
“As tempting as that sounds, I’d rather return to our very own cabinet of curiosities and open that bottle of Laphroaig I nicked from Mycroft.”
“Excellent idea.”
“You’re hoping to get me drunk enough to wear the mermaid costume, aren’t you?”
“Idea never occured.”
For this month’s @sherlockchallenge : Museum. The Viktor Wynd Museum of Curiosities is a real place in London. I’m pretty sure Sherlock would love it.
#sherlock#sherlock fanart#johnlock#london#viktor wynd museum of curiosities#last tuesday society#john watson#drawing#ink#watercolour#ficlet#sherlockchallenge
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A Page from the Diary of Sam Manson
AO3
@aggressivelyclueless
July 21st, 20XX
Thanks to our ~wonderful~ mayor, I now know that some plants do… things. To ghosts. Even if they weren’t grown by ghosts. Between that and Undergrowth…
I’m going to start a log of different plants and their effects on ghosts. I’ll be using ethical and scientific methods, unlike some people. I won’t say their names.
Jack and Maddie Fenton.
Oh, no~ Did someone hear that? Someone said some names, oh, no~
I’m never going to be able to let Danny see this.
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July 23rd, 20XX
I did some research and I have some simple things that are supposed to affect ghosts. Evil spirits. Whatever. I don’t actually believe this stuff changes what it does based on the morality of the ghost it’s being waved near, but who knows? Ghost stuff is crazy, sometimes.
I’ll make a list of what each thing is supposed to do, and then once I’ve tested it I’ll come back and make a new list. Also going to count stuff that’s supposed to ward off fairies or witches, because why not.
Rosemary - Supposed to ward off evil spirits, the evil eye, and witches, sometimes dropped into graves to keep loved ones from being forgotten.
Sage - Wards off spirits. <- Apparently this is only white sage and it’s usually misused. Hold off on this.
Mountain-Ash (Rowan) - Keeps you from getting lost, wards off witches, fairies, or other supernatural things. Works as a ‘portal’ between this world and the next. Definitely check this out.
Wormwood - Wakes the dead. Also in absinthe. Hallucinogenic, maybe. Ew.
So much crazy poisonous stuff. I’m 99% convinced they only thought this had anything to do with ghosts or spirits because it would kill you dead.
Also hallucinogenics.
I’m not feeding Danny anything I know is hallucinogenic.
Actually, I shouldn’t feed him anything at all.
Elder - Makes ghosts angry if you burn it. Apparently because witches live in it.
I don’t know. A lot of this sounds really stupid, now that I have it all written out.
Ugh. I’ll try it anyway.
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July 24th, 20XX
Got Danny to cooperate.
Rosemary - No effect on Danny either way. Did not help him remember his English vocab. Actually, he got worse. Also, he ate it on a dare from Tucker.
Mountain-Ash (Rowan) - Gave Danny a branch, which initially seemed to do nothing, until he started waving it around like a wand and said ‘open sesame.’ Then he passed out and a huge natural portal opened and didn’t close for an hour.
I’m exhausted.
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July 31st, 20XX
Convinced Danny to help again. Bribery always works eventually. Even if they say ‘never again’ at the top of their lungs a hundred times.
It’s for his own good, anyway.
Wormwood - Got Danny to go to sleep and then threw some on him. He stayed asleep. Even when Tucker squished some up and held it under his nose.
Now I feel bad. He doesn’t sleep very much.
Shoot.
I’ll leave elder for tomorrow.
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August 1st, 20XX
Elder - Danny just stared at me like he was really tired. His ghost sense went off like a second later, but I’m not sure that’s related.
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August 2nd, 20XX
Rosemary - Handed some to the Box Ghost after asking if he wanted some. No change. Brought it home to his ‘wife.’
Since when is he married? And why is Danny making that face every time we bring it up?
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August 7th, 20XX
Had a wonderful talk with Dora! Got a few new things to try. She said that funeral flowers make ghosts sleepy. It might be a little hard to test this with Danny, seeing as he’s always sleepy.
There are a lot of different funeral flowers, though. I’m thinking I’ll get a bouquet of one each and see if that makes Danny fall asleep faster or slower. I should probably test a few different times, too, to get an average.
I want to test: lilies, carnations, mums, glads, roses, hydrangeas, and forget-me-nots.
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August 8th, 20XX
Lilies - 10 minutes to naptime.
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August 9th, 20XX
Lilies - 30 minutes to naptime.
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August 10th, 20XX
Lilies - 25 minutes to naptime.
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August 11th, 20XX
Danny has pointed out that we should measure how long it takes him to get to sleep without the flowers, first. He has a point.
Tucker’s going to set something up on his PDA to monitor things better. I’ll still write the results in here.
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August 27th, 20XX
THERE WAS NO DIFFERENCE I HATE THIS.
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August 28th, 20XX
Danny thinks the funeral flowers have to be ones from an actual funeral. How do flowers know they were in a funeral? That doesn’t make any sense.
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September 3rd, 20XX
Apparently the funeral flowers from actual funerals do work as advertised. Just. Why.
At least I got this before school started again.
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September 29th, 20XX
Dora sent me a book on ghost herb lore. She says she’ll try to get me some ghost plants, too.
I really like some of these. But others just freak me out.
Ghost-nip - Induces euphoria in ghosts when they eat the stamens. This somehow makes the ghost start producing pollen???? For the plant????
Tattoo rose - Grows under the ghost’s skin and bursts out when it blooms. At least it’s not a perennial? The heck?
Blood poppies - Blood blossoms, but they put the ghosts to sleep instead of torturing them. Doesn’t sound completely horrible, but ghosts exposed to them don’t wake up until they’re removed. Keep Danny away.
.
October 1st, 20XX
Turns out tattoo roses come in many different shapes, sizes, and colors. In related news, guess who’s going to the Far Frozen for emergency surgery? It isn’t me.
We might be here a while, because he got really stabbed by that one guy, so the seeds are deep.
Borrowing some books from the Far Frozen library.
Winterbloom - Kind of like snowballs in the real world, but bluer. Only grows when it’s freezing.
Iceflower - Kind of flower that only grows around ice-core ghosts. Apparently it is a flower and not just a type of ice formation. Frostbite gave me some seeds.
Snow strawberries - Also called blood-on-the-snow which I like way better, honestly. The yetis use it for deserts but also food dye. They’re vegetarians. All their meat is fake.
Take that, Tucker. Maybe I’ll eat some just to freak him out.
Extra note: Tucker successfully freaked out.
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*Deep disappointed sigh*
I was thinking that I'll be sitting here at this time, writing about finishing another amazing drama, but instead I'm sitting here, absolutely baffled and beyond dissapointment and confusion.
What the hell just happened? That what what I've asked right after finishing the final episode of DFF. And the worst part is that I will actually never know what had happened.
Honestly, the drama started getting worse in episode 10. That was a whole mess (I've written entire post about it, read HERE ). Episode 11 was good in a terms of what it gave us, but it was at very wrong place. It was truly bad choice for the pre-finale ep, that was supposed to build up the tension for the final ordeal, so this Tee backstory felt anti-climatic.
And today, the finale came and it felt like I clicked on the wrong show. Am I really watching DFF? I asked in disbelief. I just couldn't believe what I saw.
I try to go one by one.
Starting with Fluke. That was actually the part I liked. He was the bywatcher. He just watched. So it was really good choice to let him stab his eyes out. But I hated that he didn't even know about it, since he died (most likely) while still being high on absinth. I HATE the choice of having him die. Him living blind, not being able to be a doctor would be such a great punishment for him.
Top ... Well, first of all, how are you still alive, buddy? But given the amount of people (1) that took way too long to die, I guess people in DFF universe are just slower at dying from very obvisouly fatal wounds. Him killing himself and taking Fluke with him was okay, I guess? I mean we know NOTHING about Top, so how could I know what is in character and what not?
Tee and White. Oh boy. I knew right away that us getting the emotional backstory of Tee is not a gift, it would come in an exchange of an inevitable traumatic experience. But this was not what I expected at ALL. If everything else was perfect, this would fit well. I feel like it's a good scene and great punishment for Tee to live with. ... If we KNEW what happened to Tee... but I'll get to that later.
(also like... White's character is so ... idk, he's just a random, innocent dude, who is there only for the purpose of dying ... not the mention he was really annoying to me at the beginning, like what was that about?)
Now here it comes. Jin. I ... I can't say much, because I think even Tumblr would ban me if I went into detail. Let's just say I did not expected Jin to be horny on main. I still don't understand how Jin was the one who posted the video (we had some evidence it might have been someone else), but if he did or thinks he did, it only makes sense his fear would be related to it. But even so, I think his fear should've been more about him not protecting Non. We know that Jin liked Non and wanted to protect him. So why is his biggest fear everyone knowing he's horny on main? We know from Copper himself that Jin should've been percieved as a good character, but him fearing that what he did to Non happens to him is sort of selfish and absolutely not something I thought about Jin. But let's be honest, bad writing was screwing Jin over since like ep 6 (and it was doing it even harder than Phee) (sorry for this one, I'm leaving the room now).
Now Phee. His fear is obvious and he's the only one getting out of the hallucinations and saving the day. (probably) I didn't understand his momentarily need to save New??? Like buddy, you are in this mess because of him??? But him getting the antidote, saving Jin and then coming back for Tee: amazing, hot, I loved it. Only sad that was like 2 minutes of this tragedy.
New. Oh, New. He was a guy broken beyond repair and I knew he will go. I mostly hoped he would end his life himself after realizing what he did and what happened to Non, but he was too lost for that. But I'm okay with his ending.
FINALLY the holy grail of dissapointment. The ending itself. It suddenly cutting to "2 Years Later" got me thinking That's it??? It didn't even have the shock point, because I was confused the entire time. I was thinking why on earth would you end it like that? Why are PheeJin having happy ending (not that I didn't want it, but not like this, not like this, mate) and why is Tee having the bad ending (really, why?) and like what happened? What did police say? Why we skipped two years ... and suddenly BOOM, they smacked me across my face with that "oh, how did we get out then and why is Non over there?" ending. Like WHAT?
HELLO?
REALLY?
Like you really made me sit through 11 episodes, making my judgement and assumptions about every single character, wanting their ending to be whatever I felt they deserve and instead of giving me the shock, happiness, sadness of what you cooked for them you GIVE ME NOTHING?! OF ALL POSSIBLE CHOICES, YOU GIVE ME NOTHING?!
Is this like write your own ending thing or-? WHY WOULD YOU JUST LEAVE ME HANGING.
Not to mention there are lot of things unexplained.
Was Jin the one who really posted the video? There were lot of contradictions to it.
How on earth did New manage to prepare everything and hurt Por? We just heard it from Phee, who couldn't have possibly known. And some things like weren't adding up, even if we have the hallucinations thing.
What happened to Keng? Like, is he dead? But we never saw the body. Really, what's with him?
Who are the survivors? We might assume Phee, Jin and Tee, but are they? Are they all dead? What happened to them? This was literally why we all were here and we don't even get that answer?
That ending was soooooo anticlimatic and out of place. This kind of ending can work, but in a slasher movie where we don't care about characters that much and we are there just for the blood and murders (A Nightmare on Elm Street does this wonderfully, for example) but not in a drama, where we spent HOURS learning backstories of each character (except Top, like who is he?) and want to know what is their destiny.
It's like if the ending of Harry Potter was Harry and Voldemort about to fight, then cut to the 19 Years Later scene, but Harry sees Voldemort on the platform and then cut to broken Hogwarts and then end credits. Like, nah, that doesn't work.
I don't want to make my or yours suffering any longer that needed, so I will end this here. I'm very sad, very disappointed and very confused. I feel like I was robbed. This drama was so good, but the writing team just gave up somewhere around episode 9. It's like when I think of good plot for a fic, but don't come up with the ending and have to write just whatever to not leave it open.
Yep, thank you for reading this. The best part about this drama was without the doubt being able to share my thoughts and theorize with everyone. Thank you guys for it.
Special thanks goes to my beloved friends @tbhimnoteasyonmyself @ayansbff @jeffsatursgender and @toonstuna, who were watching each episode along with me and today (and not just today, for like past month and half) were very nice, kind and patient to listen to me ranting about everything for hours (as they were all ranting themselves). Love you all, guys, really <3
Thank you everyone who has been through this with me. Hopefully next time we will meet again at something less disappointing.
Baya!
#dead friend forever#dff#dff spoilers#thai bl#dff the series#thai drama#dead friend forever the series
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songs i associate with redacted audio characters - speaker & listener edition
oh yeah baby, we back for round two
im not gonna include a singing voice claim for everyone this time around, but some of these might have them in there. also, im only doing three speaker characters this time around because im also including three listener characters. but, i will include four songs for the listener characters. just for funsies.
!! CW FOR SUI/ MENT !!
geordi
hate myself - dodie
; my poor sweet geordi. my little man. this song is far too relatable enough as is, but i have a feeling our resident tetris boy would relate very much to this song. specifically the chorus—“when you go quiet i hate myself” is almost literally about how geordi felt when he was first getting used to cutie’s silence. i can imagine how vulnerable it was for him. he’s getting better tho! which is exactly what i wanted!
voodoo doll - 5sos
; so a bit of a weirder pull for him, i like the idea that in the days after meeting and getting cutie’s number, his thoughts were just plagued with images of them in his mind. do i think they put them into his head? no, but this was early cutie, so it could have been possible. but i like the idea of one of geordi’s thoughts just going all conspiracy over why he kept thinking abt them.
wish me luck - wallows
; another sad one for our tetris boy, and this might even be sadder than the dodie song. i love wallows, theyre probably in my top fave artists, and all their songs are sooo good. this song just screams geordi to me. the genius lyric website says that this song is about “the narrator [is] asking for support and validation from a loved one during times of struggle and self-doubt, whilst talking alot about encouraging self-awareness and speaking out about inner conflicts and problems”, which. i mean. yeah, thats geordi and cutie alright! i imagined this when they were slowly starting to talk to each other again but were still really nervous about what the other would say.
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sam
leaving lonesome flats - dierks bentley
; so this song is. alright so its from the second trolls movie. BUT HEAR ME OUT OK. this is my sam singing voice claim and i think its damn near perfect. i would have done bentley's song “what was i thinking?” instead but i think the trolls song fits better. something about running and coming back, etc etc. listen, this song is just really good, and i think it makes sense for sam. that’s the only explanation i can give here dhsjdhjd
she keeps me up - nickleback
; i was not a fan of nickleback for a while, and now im kinda vibing with some of their songs, but this has such big sam and darlin' energy to me. like, look, darlin' is canonically hot as fuck (as confirmed by porter), and i really just think this song fits really well with their dynamic.
believe me - james and the shame
; so we're all in agreement that sam definitely has some kind of religious trauma (most likely catholic/christian) right? anyways, i only recently got into gmm last year, and when i heard this song i was like “there’s no shot that’s rhett from gmm”. knowing that rhett writes this from the perspective of someone healing from a religious past that was harmful was really empowering, and i think that it fits sam really well.
━━
blake
absinthe - idkhow
; this song is just cult leader energy. i know he isnt a cult leader really, but like. i mean. sometimes i think closeknit might see blake as some kind of deity or god to worship. but i can imagine blake lowkey liking having that kind of power for one reason or another.
how i’d kill - cowboy malfoy
; this to me suits blake because of the tone shift in the song. where it goes from slow and almost eerie to a bossa nova jazz type swing to it. to me, it reflects how blake is really like: the way he was around sunshine vs bestie, like in his “two sides to a yandere” audio.
if i killed someone for you - alec benjamin
; uh. well. i had this song on the playlist before the “for you” audio. and then the audio happened. so. blake-core i guess??
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darlin'
vampire - olivia rodrigo
; this is such an obvious fucking song to put for them but also i do not care it still fits. this is about quinn, obviously, and i think it especially hits hard after listening to their second vid with sam and how they mentioned finding another vamp that quinn had slept with. like, was this another manipulated vamp? this song just hits differently when you think about darlin'. and also, even if it’s overplayed, the song slaps.
paul revere - noah kahan
; there are definitely other noah kahan songs on my tank playlist, but this one is just such a good depiction of who they are. them coming back to dahlia, people recognizing them but them saying they’re not from dahlia, how dahlia doesn’t feel like home, like—something about that just really hits me in a way that i love.
howlin’ for you - the black keys
; this is my “darlin's go-to karaoke song” song. imagine them kinda drunk, feeling themself and having fun, singing this in front of their pack, and especially in front of sam. like it’s such a good song for them.
best friends - grandson
; this is here because in my little universe, darlin', david & asher were in a band as teens, and they covered this song. but also, this is such a teen!tank song. this was probably playing while they beat up tires in an abandoned parking lot. like i imagine david wasn’t as much a rule breaker as asher, milo, amanda, christian, & tank were, but you gotta admit their friend group were probably hellions in their own right.
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honey
disco man - remi wolf
; this is a good song that fits honey in my eyes. it’s sort of like about guy from honey’s perspective from earlier in their friendship/living situation. learning that the guy who won’t stop flirting with you with the cute smile is a creative writing major probably made honey regret crushing on him asjkgfhjks.
lego ring - faye webster & lil yachty
; ok this actually is inspired by oh, baby, baby by lovelylonerliterature because that is one of the best guy/honey fics i’ve read in a while, but i think honey learning to be softer and be a bit silly with it is so wonderful. also, i like the idea that guy would joke propose with something silly like a bread tie ring or a lego ring but honey would fully take it as a promise for the future and just break guy. what can i say, i like making our pizza boy flustered. and so do they.
“listen to your heart.” “no.” - cheekface
; this is just based on vibes. guy sings most of the song, honey only sings the “no” lines. i’m a genius.
soft bitch - rio romeo
; awww, honey you sap you! no but seriously, i imagine that honey often thinks about how much guy has changed them for the better. and they haaaaate it. y'know that one tiktok audio where someone’s like "he makes me smile—OH WHAT THE FUCK"? that was honey when they realized they had a crush on guy. and this song kind of embodies that too; honey isn't used to being sweet, but being with guy has made them into a sappy person, which they never thought they would be, and how much they actually enjoy it.
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freelancer
just existing - daysormay
; so not only is this my favorite song at the moment, this is also my freelancer theme song basically. the lyrics "it always took too long to learn how to slow down / chasing shortcuts and serotonin touchdowns" and "maybe i lost drive / i'm searching every day for relief / and chasing a break that i don't really need" feels like our resident (and chronic) overworking deviant. this also works when you think about freelancer singing this and each of the verses matching with one of the D.A.M.N. crew boys.
my body - young the giant
; a song about feeling the need to overwork yourself to get better at something because you have a fear of failure and falling behind, in my freelancer playlist? how ridiculous! /j no but in all seriousness this song is a perfect depiction of their need to keep pushing, keep working, to be perfect. i think even when they know they’re good at something, they have to be better. they need to be better to prove themself.
empty bed - cavetown
; so this is a bit more of a depressing and sad song for freelancer, but one i think still makes sense. this reminds me of early s3!freelancer, still healing from the inversion and terrified of everyone they love going away. how they grew up, how they hide their pain as best they can so they don’t bother anyone with their problems, but how they dont want their friends to deal with that kind of pain. how they don't want the D.A.M.N. crew to be in pain, but was so hesitant to let the others know their own pain.
babyface - artio
; so i found out abt artio recently, and when i looked them up on tiktok and saw the lead singer, rae, i immediately said “oh, that's crow!” (for those who dont know, crow is the name of my freelancer-sona). this is very specifically for my freelancer-sona, but i think it stills works for canon!freelancer. how their people pleaser tendencies can make them so quick to change themself for others but how they’ve slowly grown to be more confident in themself.
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this took. far too long hdsjhd
i am still considering sharing my spotify link on here, so if you want to see which of the redacted audio character playlists are on the app, pls let me know!
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ok i’m soooo curious what crowley’s plot will be next season though, cause the last two it pretty much always related to aziraphale. i can’t see him working with hell again?
oh the possibilities are endless, but no, i don't think he'll actually start working with hell again. only stuff coming to me at the moment are stupid things gjfdkngjfdks like
s3 will start with him looking out the window, the camera circling around him, showing the passage of seasons like he's bella from twilight fjgdksgds
and then we see he actually manages his time really really well:
monday - get blackout drunk at nina's, miracle absinthe in the six shots of espresso and ruin the mood for every other costumer as you pass out on the table. get yelled at
tuesday - get blackout drunk in the apartment that you can't bring yourself to make yours again
wednesday - sleep it through (might last more than 24 hours)
thursday - sneak in the bookshop and get blackout drunk while muriel pretends they're not seeing you
friday - get blackout drunk on wine alone at the ritz. make the waiters forget they were supposed to close 4 hours ago
saturday - get blackout drunk at the cottage you got years ago after the apocalisn't, just in case you and your angel needed to get away from london
sunday - sleep. cry
#good omens#ask#desperate demon acting desperate#not manifesting this btw i want to see him be fucked up but not this much gfdjgnksd but still its funny to me
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well @nyxneon, this fucking website ate your original ask, but I FINALLY filled the prompt you sent me weeks ago. sorry it took me so long, I accidentally took "anything involving intoxicated Hob + sexytimes, be it dream sex, a fantasy, real, whatever" and... turned it into like nine pages of tender emotional sexy feelings? and dancing to old jazz music? whoops?? | rated E for sexytimes | 2900 words
- - -
Kind of Blue, a kind of fire
- - -
Some people might think that after six hundred-odd years of immersing himself in human pleasures, Hob Gadling would have calmed down about some things.
Those people would be wrong.
Food? Get out of town. The quality of food, the sheer variety that’s available within walking distance of his flat — it boggles the mind. Hob still dreams about the first time he’d had really good sushi. The part of himself that will always be a medieval peasant almost weeps every time he buys strawberries and pineapple in the middle of winter. He loves it all — gourmet four star restaurants and the cheapest fish-and-chip shop in the neighborhood. And one definite perk of being immortal is that he never has to think too hard about his cholesterol.
Alcohol? Obviously. There’s nothing like that particular soft fuzzy feeling that comes with a few glasses of wine or a good whiskey. Hob’s favorite day of the month is when the staff of the New Inn gets together for a taste test to choose the next round of beer and wine specials (things occasionally get raucous). He’s tried everything, from mead to absinthe to bathtub gin to the finest wines, and he’ll try them all again. And again… immortality benefits include not worrying overmuch about his liver or his blood pressure.
Sex? Well… perhaps the less said there, the better. A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, after all; and whatever else he is, Hob would like to think he’s still a gentleman. Suffice to say he has had plenty of experience and very few complaints.
Of course, it just happens to be during one of those New Inn taste test evenings that Dream walks through the door. Hob immediately waves him over to the table where the staff are gathered.
“You are busy,” says Dream, sounding almost uncertain. “I will return another time.”
“No, no! Join us, by all means,” says Hob eagerly, kicking out a chair for Dream and carefully ignoring the significant looks several of the waitstaff are exchanging as he introduces everyone. By now they’ve seen his mysterious friend enough times that the rumors about Hob’s Man in Black are rife. “You might even come in useful. Do you know anything about wine?”
- - -
It’s some hours later, after many rounds of tasting, after his staff had been poured into taxis and Ubers, that Hob finds himself in his own living room, one last nightcap of very good whiskey in his hand, flipping through his record collection while his oldest friend, the Lord of Dreams, reclines on his comfy old couch.
“I think the last thing I put on for you was Duke Ellington, yeah? A couple of weeks ago, was it?”
Dream has shed his stiff coat and his arms are distractingly white and slender in the gentle lamplight of Hob’s living room. One ankle rests on the opposite knee and a glass tumbler of whiskey dangles from long fingers. Hob has never seen his friend look so… decadent. So relaxed. He tries not to stare.
“Ah! Here we go,” he says, emerging from his shelf of records with Kind of Blue in hand. “I haven’t played this for you yet. This was… 1959. It doesn’t get much better than this.”
He pulls the record from its sleeve, places it reverently on the turntable and gently drops the needle. A moment of static; then quiet, warm piano chords fill the room. Then the drums and the soft thrum of an upright bass. Then the first clear notes of Miles Davis’s trumpet pierce the air like arrows.
Hob feels marvelous, soft and loose-limbed. The wine and the whiskey buzz through his veins, softening the edges of the world and wrapping everything in velvet. He takes a sip from his glass and lets the music seep into his muscles like a warm bath as he starts to move to the rhythm. Hob lost any semblance of self-consciousness about four hundred years ago and he takes the idea of “dance like nobody’s watching” very seriously. Even if the nobody who is watching is the mystical being he’s been more or less in love with for centuries.
So he carefully doesn’t think about Dream watching him from the sofa. He deliberately doesn’t notice the two tiny spots of color blooming high on Dream’s devastating cheekbones.
Things between them have been different, somehow, since Dream’s return, but this feels… different. Almost dangerous, as though Hob is full of something flammable and Dream is an open flame.
Hob is just drunk enough to decide he doesn’t care. He tosses back the last sip of his whiskey like he’s throwing gasoline on a fire, sets aside his glass, and holds his hand out to Dream.
“Come on,” he says, a little breathless from the long swallow and the liquor and the music. “You can’t listen to Miles Davis and not dance.”
And Dream, in turn, drains his glass and puts it down, and takes Hob’s hand, and allows himself to be pulled to his feet, allows Hob’s hands at his hip and on his shoulder, and the spots of color on his cheeks bloom infinitesimally larger.
With the grace born of inebriation, Hob hooks one ankle around the leg of his coffee table and kicks it to the side, clearing a dance floor for himself and the man in his arms, pretending he is not staring, pretending he is not thinking about gathering Dream closer to himself, chest to chest and hip to hip and thigh to thigh.
For several long minutes they sway decorously together, inches apart, as the strains of “Blue in Green” float through the air around them. Hob tries very hard not to gaze into Dream’s eyes and is, again, just drunk enough to convince himself he’s doing a very good job.
“Well?” he says eventually, throwing an arm over Dream’s shoulder, emboldened by alcohol and jazz. “How do you feel about Miles Davis, then?”
There’s a pause.
“The music puzzles me, somewhat,” says Dream. “I suspect I will need more time with it.”
Another pause. Dream’s next words sound as if they are being dragged out from somewhere deep inside him.
“You puzzle me, Hob. I do not quite… understand how I feel when I am with you.”
“Do you need to understand? Is it not enough to just… feel? Or maybe you need more time with me, too,” he says teasingly.
“Hmm. I am not sure that time would bring clarity.”
They shuffle through a few more quasi-dance steps. Hob takes a breath and dares to draw Dream ever-so-slightly closer.
“Describe it for me.”
There is a long pause, during which Hob is not sure whether Dream is thinking or plotting his escape route. Finally, he speaks.
“I feel… warmth. Impatience. Contentment and dissatisfaction in equal measure. Calm, and yet…”
He trails off. They are very close now, feet stilled, but hips and chests swaying minutely yet to the music. Hob has stopped trying not to stare into Dream’s eyes.
“God, you’re beautiful.”
The words slip out before he can stop them, but he can’t make himself regret it, or try to take them back.
“You’re drunk,” says Dream fondly.
“Ah, but in the morning, I will be sober,” says Hob. “And you… will still be beautiful. Besides,” he adds. “You’re a little drunk too, don’t lie.”
“Perhaps,” murmurs Dream. Hob stares and stares. The spots of color on Dream’s cheekbones have spread across the stern bridge of his nose and down the slopes of his cheeks, a pink blush like sunset reflected on snow, and his pupils have almost swallowed the pale blue-grey of his irises.
“Dream…” says Hob. Their faces are close enough now that he can feel the other man’s breath on his cheek. “If I’m reading this wrong, stop me, but I think if I don’t kiss you right now I’ll—”
He doesn’t have to figure out the end of that sentence.
Dream leans forward, closes that last scant inch between them, and their lips meet and it’s (God, it’s perfect) it’s soft and gentle and — it’s not a chaste kiss, exactly, Hob thinks he has maybe never felt less chaste in his life — but their mouths aren’t even open, no hint of tongue, and Hob still feels as though he has suddenly developed a high fever.
And then Dream pulls back, and his mouth is very pink. Hob’s hand has drifted up from Dream’s hip to rest on his chest and a distant part of his brain wonders why it’s heaving under his fingers, why he’s even breathing when he doesn’t need the air. Everything in Hob wants to lean in, to chase after Dream’s mouth, capture it and keep it captive for as long as he’s allowed.
But before he can do that, Dream’s hand comes up to cup his face, long fingers stroking down the stubbled strong line of his chin; and this, too, is soft and gentle, until (until) the pad of Dream’s thumb catches on Hob’s bottom lip, and pulls it down, and something dangerous flashes in his eyes, that same flame Hob saw when he put down his drink and held out his hand to pull Dream off the couch.
And then Dream surges forward like a wildfire. And Hob is the one held captive, and this — oh, this — this kiss is hot and wet and promising, Dream’s tongue slipping into Hob’s mouth and Dream’s teeth catching on Hob’s lip where his thumb had pressed down, Dream’s arm snaking around Hob’s shoulders to crush them closer together and Hob’s hand trapped against Dream’s chest and flexing helplessly in the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer still.
Dream tastes like whiskey and a clear, high trumpet note.
Hob is dizzy in a way that has less to do with liquor and more to do with the way Dream is shoving a thigh between his legs and grinding their hips together as though he’s trying to fuck him through two layers of denim.
- - -
They do make it to the bedroom, eventually, although Hob is dimly aware that he will have to replace the glass in at least two picture frames that they knock off the wall during their progress down the hall. Half of their clothes have disappeared along the way: Dream’s boots to some ethereal netherworld and his t-shirt yanked unceremoniously over his head by Hob’s hungry hands; Hob’s button-down shirt hanging open — half the buttons gone now — his shoes kicked under the couch and his belt already loosened.
Dream tumbles to the bed first, one arm above his head, one knee canted up. He looks like a painting — although Hob’s distracted brain can’t quite place the artist — his pale skin covered in blue and orange from the combination of moonlight and sodium street lamps streaming in through the bedroom window. A thumb caught provocatively in the waistband of his black jeans.
Hob pauses, there, swaying slightly under the power of the whiskey in his veins and the man in his bed.
“Is this real?” he whispers. “Is this really happening?”
Dream frowns, a miniscule line between his brows.
“Have I underestimated your level of intoxication?” he asks.
“No… no, it’s not that. Not at all. It’s just…” Hob places a hesitant knee on the bed. Clears his throat. “It’s just that I’ve had this dream before, so many times. Of you; of, of this. And I know you’ve said that dreaming is just as real as waking, but… I just… have to know for sure. That we’re in my world.”
Hob is horrified to hear his own voice break, to feel the beginnings of tears gathering in his eyelashes. He is unprepared for the smile, warm and genuine and a little sad, that spreads across Dream’s face.
“Oh, Hob. My friend. Come here to me,” he says. “Let me show you.”
Hob crawls up the bed and into Dream’s open arms the way a drowning man might crawl onto a dry shore. Kisses him, open-mouthed and hungry, like gasping for air.
Dream draws his shirt carefully down the lines of his shoulders, casts it aside, tightens his arms around him, drops gentle kisses on his cheeks, the corners of his mouth, his teary eyes.
“How long?” asks Dream, voice tender and rough. “How long have you known? How long have you waited for me, my Hob, my dear heart?”
“I think I’ve been waiting for you my entire life,” Hob says, laughing damply into the crook of Dream’s neck, kneeling at the confessional of love and liquor. “I think… I think this is the reason I wanted to live forever. To be here, now, with you.”
“I’m sorry,” he sniffs. “This should be fun, and, and sexy, and I’m being all wet and emotional.”
“No. Do not apologize,” says Dream. Hob’s fuzzy brain finally makes the connection: the light through the window is blue and orange like a Van Gogh. His hands on Dream’s skin like sunflowers, like wheatfields. Dream strokes long fingers through the soft strands of Hob’s hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
- - -
In the living room, side A of Kind of Blue has come to an end. The record spins quietly and inevitably on Hob’s turntable; only the slightest catch of static on each rotation indicates that it is still moving at all.
- - -
In the bedroom, both men’s jeans have been tossed into the corner. Dream has two fingers inside Hob and is on the brink of adding a third; Hob twitches and gasps softly under his ministrations as Dream drags his mouth delicately along the hard length of his cock.
“Fuck. Fuck—” Hob pants. “Dream. I need… I need you. I need you. Please…”
“Patience.”
“Don’t you fucking — tell me — to be patient — ah! — you fucking ass.”
Dream withdraws his fingers, twisting them as he goes, adds the third as he thrusts back inside, crooking them in just the right way to have Hob whining at the stretch and pushing his hips desperately up, first into empty air and then onto Dream’s tongue as it circles lightly around the head of Hob’s weeping prick.
“Oh, but you are so good at waiting,” croons Dream into the soft skin of Hob’s thigh. “My patient, constant Hob, waiting for me. So good.”
And fuck, Hob should not find that as hot as he does, but oh, he does — the combination of praise in Dream’s voice and pleasure from Dream’s fingers making him bite hard on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from coming on the spot.
He reaches down blindly, filled with the need to feel, to touch, strokes through Dream’s hair and along the softness of his throat and the sharpness of his collarbone, grips his shoulder and draws him up. And Dream is kissing as he goes, kissing Hob’s hipbone and the comfortable divot of his waist, kissing his ribs, nosing through the soft hair on his chest, grazing a nipple with sharp teeth, and Hob would be embarrassed at the noise he makes if it weren’t for the fact that it was swallowed immediately by Dream’s mouth on his, warm and wet and wanting.
Dream’s fingers withdraw again, and he pulls back from Hob’s mouth and sits back on his heels where he is kneeling between Hob’s thighs spread wide. Hob drinks in the sight of him, thin and powerful and painted in ethereal light, and then Dream grabs the bottle of lube and slicks his hand and strokes himself, twice, three times, dark eyes pinning Hob to the pillows, and Hob’s brain shorts out, just a little bit, like a candle flame flickering.
When Dream slides inside him it is slow, careful, a scant tender inch at a time, a plush and slow series of piano chords. When they move together it is a little faster, like a jazz rhythm, slightly syncopated, halting here and pushing there, the percussion of breath and heartbeat driving the meter of their coupling. When they come it is a crash, a crest, a not-so-silent wail of an inner trumpet reaching its peak.
- - -
After — several minutes after — Hob (who, again, would still like to consider himself a gentleman) reluctantly detaches himself from the mattress and Dream’s clinging arms and fetches a large glass of water and a warm wet flannel, with which he gently cleans both Dream and himself before tossing it toward the laundry hamper.
He slides back between the sweatdamp sheets and Dream immediately shoves up against him, an arm across his chest and a leg twined around his and a lovely pale face pushed into the crook for his neck.
“Wouldn’t have picked you for such a cuddler,” Hob says drowsily, pulling the blanket over them as Dream tightens his hold.
“Hmm. I will endeavor to continue to surprise you,” Dream says, and his lips move against Hob’s pulse in a way that almost makes him want to do it all over again. Almost. The spirit is willing, et cetera, but the flesh is… sleepy.
“Do you sleep?” murmurs Hob, halfway gone now to Dream’s own realm. The blue and orange shadows in his bedroom have blurred together and faded into warm shadows. “Will you stay?”
The fire Dream sparked and fed inside Hob has been sated, banked, put to bed to glow in waiting for another day.
“I will stay.”
[Read on AO3.]
#the sandman#dreamling#my writing#dream of the endless#hob gadling#I don't have anything interesting to say in tags right now... I hope you like it! I'm going to bed! <3#ahahaha wait apparently this is my 666th post??#now I'm SUPER MAD I didn't time it so my Hob's Halloween 666th birthday fic was nr 666#curses!!!!!#hardly an answer
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copypasting my extensive wine headcanons here in case anyone out in the world wants to adopt them
Pink: this is just juice of a plant. Like some soft drinks, there is a small amount of caffeine, but for the most part, it’s basically the same as apple or grape juice. Feminine drink.
Orange: structurally this is identical to kombucha, in that it is a nonalcoholic (or at least so negligibly alcoholic that it doesn’t count) beverage that is made via fermentation. But its cultural place is akin to ginger ale in that it is just a soft drink people drink when not drinking alcohol and that it has a reputation of soothing stomachs. This is the go-to beverage of people of any gender looking to have a sober drink.
Yellow: the default masculine drink. Made from lavis grains, it’s beer. It’s essentially beer. About the same strength as beer, drank from pint glasses, steins, and once Roshar invents cans it will be drank from those as well. Customary beverage to enjoy during duels. Unlike beer from Earth, people very rarely drink this to get any more drunk than a pleasant buzz.
Auburn: traditionally made from fermented simberries, but can be made from any fruit that when fermented ends up with between 10% to 15% abv, this is the default feminine drink. It really functions almost identically to wine on Earth. It is drunk from glasses analogous to Earth wine glasses. There is a large culture of auburn wine snobbery. Though it is concretely a feminine drink, it is not unheard of for men who are a touch effeminate to sneak a glass or two of it.
Red: you’d have to be insane to drink red wine on its own. It is used near exclusively in mixed drinks as the alcohol base to a fun fruity beverage. Mixed often with pink wine, fruit juices of all kinds, and occasionally wild card picks like sow’s milk or Shin creations such as “coffee”, it is there to provide alcohol to women who cannot stand the taste of alcohol.
Sapphire: wines of red strength or stronger are considered liquors, and sapphire wine is the unequivocal Man’s Wine. It is quite strong, but there is still a veneer of drinking it for the flavor. It is made of the same grains as yellow wine, but distilled instead of fermented. Traditionally drunk on the rocks out of what an Earthling might call a whiskey tumbler.
Blue: this stuff is not as strong as violet wine, but still quite strong. Its closest Earth analogue is a strong rum, made out of a sugarcane-like plant that naturally carries fruity undertones. This is the usual alcohol base drunk in mixed drinks by men; a popular drink will have two types of blue wine mixed with a couple flavors of fruit juice for a Vorin-friendly Mai Tai. It can also be drunk out of shot glasses as a party beverage, but this is less common.
Violet: violet wine is a gender neutral beverage, allowed to be drunk by both men and women. This is because the creators of Vorinism understood the necessity of all humans to have a surefire way of getting drunk quickly. It is roughly analogous to 100 proof vodka in both taste and creation, although in rare cases some violets can reach the 130 proof heights of absinthe. It is made from blackthorn berries, which on Roshar can get distilled to death like potatoes can on earth but like i dunno how that's possible i dont know jack shit about plants. sorry. This makes them perfect for creating the strongest liquors out of. “Glasses” of violet wine, drunk at feasts as a power move, are a mixture of violet wine, blackthorn juice, and lots of water. It is traditionally drunk hot, and nobody likes it like that but everybody pretends to. Nine times out of ten, violet wine is drunk out of a shot glass. It is known for tasting bad. Occasionally, it can be found in mixed drinks in the place of red or blue wine.
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