#millies dream

[thisismeracing]

good morning I just woke up from a dream where I met lando norris and for some reason he was flirty, followed me from both a burner account and hi ls real account and kept messaging me (?)

[beehunterkisser]

they just buried someone

[rationales]

Megan Thee Stallion (ft. Flo Milli) Roc Steady

[kemetic-dreams]

Honoring the 1st US Army African Female Pilot - Millie Bailey. She served in WWII and was 104 years old when she passed away in May of 2022. Show this Beautiful Woman some Love! RIP. Thank you for your service to our country and freedom for all.

[embalmedprincess]

[jaembun]

this moment with you.

unstoppable force (opening shift) vs immovable object (sleepy boyfriend mark) ！⠀⸻⠀mark lee x gnr ⠀ fluff est. rs ⠀ wc 1.4k ⠀ now playing . . ☆

생각⠀blonde mark gmfu he’s literally the love of my life

the sound of your phone’s alarm had never been a particularly welcome thing, but that morning the harsh vibrations coming from where it lay face-down against the wood of the bedside table seemed to irritate you more than usual.

a flailing hand of yours reached clumsily up to grab the device, hoping you wouldn’t drop it and risk waking up the boy still currently sleeping behind you, with his arms wrapped snugly around your stomach and a leg lazily tossed over your hip. once it had been successfully stopped you flopped onto your back to stare up at the ceiling, contemplating whether you really wanted to get to your opening shift on time or if you could get away with staying in bed just a little while longer.

the sudden thought of your manager’s condescending questions about where you’d been when you finally turned up, however, was enough to put a sour look on your face and act as the incentive to make you peel back the duvet and gently extract yourself from mark’s arms.

which, as it turned out, was a decision that almost immediately was met with objections from your boyfriend. while you were busying yourself with finding clothes to wear for the day he had seemed to sense the distinct absence of you in his arms (despite the pillow you’d hastily replaced yourself with) and made a whiny noise of displeasure, catching your attention. you couldn’t help but crack a smile at how unaware he still looked of everything, hardly opening his eyes but pouting all the same, face red from the warmth you’d shared, and a mark on his cheek that looked suspiciously like the pattern on the collar of the sweater you’d worn to bed to sleep in (nights were cold in december, after all, and the heating in mark’s apartment could use some work to say the least).

“hey, sleepyhead.” you hummed, taking a few quick moments to debate with yourself over which shirt to wear. “i’m opening, so i gotta run. you’ve got your day off today, though, so why don’t you go back to sleep?”

he only groaned again in answer, and you snickered as you left him to complain into the sheets while you ducked into the en suite bathroom to wash up. when you returned you found that mark had not in fact gone back to sleep, and was instead trying to blink himself awake—the opposite of what you wanted.

“don’t want you t’go.” were his first words of the morning, voice still a touch gravelly from sleep. you tried to hold back your laughter when he only became more indignant as he continued. “i hate your job. for real.”

that made you laugh as you struggled mildly with the fiddly buttons of your shirt, seeing as your job in question was a relatively harmless convenience store gig. “coming from kpop idol mark lee himself? i don’t think i’m as bad as this whenever you’re on tour.”

a blatant lie, but you hoped it would sneak past him in his half-asleep state. you were just as bad whenever he had to leave early (or late—it seemed the idol life didn’t have much consideration for whatever their stars may be doing in the times they called on them) for schedules, and probably worse whenever he was away in different countries performing to millions.

thankfully mark didn’t notice the untruth, only huffing in annoyance before making a motion alike to grabby hands in your direction, beckoning you back over to the bed. “c’mere. please?”

“so clingy,” you teased, running a hand through his blonde hair as you complied to his wishes and sat down to tug some socks on. “what would your work husbands say about this?”

“screw my work husbands.” he mumbled, bleary eyes finally opening fully (albeit slowly) as he took the opportunity to ditch the pillow he’d been reluctantly hugging in place of you and snake his arms around your waist again. his tone melted into the whine it’d been when you’d first left the bed, fingertips curling into the fabric of your shirt and syllables dragging on when he spoke. “why d’you have to go? it’s cold without you, and my bed’s too big for just me.”

“woe is you,” you deadpanned, reaching down to gently pry his palms off of you. but before you let him go completely you pressed a quick kiss against the cold metal of the rings adorning his fingers that he’d forgotten to take off the night prior. a giddy-sounding noise bubbled out of mark at the sensation, and you bit your lip to stop a smile spreading across your face, one that would make you look so obviously in love it be would be embarrassing.

the bed creaked as you stood, and you found your eyes drifting from cabinet to cabinet, the open wardrobe to the (near overflowing) box you crammed all your jewelry into. if there was just one more thing you could add to your attire, one more ring to slide onto your fingers or a last minute change of your shirt, then maybe you could linger a little longer. 

stay with mark a little longer. 

you didn’t know who you were fooling with your nonchalant act, because it certainly wasn’t yourself. you wanted to crawl back into bed with him just as much as he did, wrap your arms around his waist and drink in the warm feeling of his skin and faint smell of his cologne. 

a second glance at your phone told you that wouldn’t be allowed, though, so you turned to say goodbye to the boy currently led right where you’d rather be. it took less than a second to meet his gaze, finding his large brown eyes already staring up at you, cheek squished and held up by one of his palms. 

it tugged at your resolve, a sudden feeling clutching at your heart so fiercely it was all you could do not to melt through the floor. what you did instead was let yourself indulge, leaning down to place a kiss on his lips instead. the curve of his grin pressed against your skin and the warmth of his hands skirting up to hold your arm as you cupped his face was a comfort, the tingling feeling it still gave you even after all the months you’d been together refusing to fade even after you pulled yourself away; far too aware of what you knew would happen if you let yourself get too caught up. 

mark was still looking at you when you straightened up again, like you held the whole world in your eyes, and you poked his cheek in a weak attempt to get him to stop. your heart was going to beat itself out of its chest if he didn’t. when that didn’t work you turned to a verbal reprimanding, although your tone was anything but scolding—instead unbearably fond, mirth dripping through your every word.

“stop looking at me all gooey. i might start to think you like me, or something.”

his lips curved into a pout, the hand supporting his cheek falling back onto the mattress and words coming out muffled as he spoke half-buried in the soft pillow underneath his head.

“i do like you. i love you, actually. and you’re leaving me cold in bed.”

you rolled your eyes at his continued dramatics despite the smile on your face and your own obvious want to stay, avoiding looking back at him in place of shoving things you thought you’d need for the day in your bag because you knew one more pleading look from mark would make you give in. “and you know i love you too. i’ll be back later, baby. then we can laze around all you want, promise.”

“m’holding you to that.”

his words were interrupted by a yawn, and when you’d finally gotten all your things together and stole one last glance at your boyfriend you found him with eyes that were now struggling to stay open again, blinking slowly and remaining closed for longer each time. you huffed a laugh and opened the door with as little noise as possible so not to disturb him from slipping back into slumber, stopping before you stepped through to pull a stupid sappy smile at the sight of the thin streams of sunlight pouring in to paint mark’s sleeping body gold as his chest rose and fell with each breath.

“see you later, yeah?” were your last whispered words before you gently closed the door behind you and left your lover in peace.

you hoped he’d still be right there lazing around in the warmth of the duvet when you came back home, ready for you to collapse onto and fall right back asleep with. the only good thing about leaving at all was knowing you could come back to mark at the end of it.

[milfzatannaz]

no because this panel of John talking to Daniel about Morpheus is making me SCREAM

[silviacrossdresser]

Recaption by Joe Six-Pack from the cover of “Millie the Model” #126 (January 1965), published by Marvel Comics. Original art by Stan Goldberg, based on a script by Stan Lee.

[queen-of-hawkins-why-ler]

Deadass y'all in my dream last night, s5 was split into two half seasons, and we learned at the midway point that Mike was supposed to marry El as some contrived way to save her and defeat Vecna that doesn't make a lot of sense lmao but my dream was the mid-season interview between Finn, Millie, and Noah and Millie kept asking Finn, "So Mike knows he can save El by marrying her. Then why doesn't he? WHY DOESN'T HE??" and Finn kept looking into the camera like he was on the office and shrugging and doing this weirdass smile and Noah just sat there with his hands folded over his mouth like a disappointed parent. 😭 😭 💀

[dandelionjack]

i hope ruby gets a well-that’s-alright-then-style notdeath. on the one hand it will make haters mad because oh no not another companion with an impermanent end (and i like to see haters mad) on the other it would require creativity to depict this in a new way + i love all the implications i love the dark fairytale quality of these companion exits i love my un-undead schrodinger’s women

with the way the legend of ruby sunday is titled… legends aren’t usually told about living people. legends are stories of the bygone past, of an age long since over, fictionalised and overgrown with folklore like barnacles sticking to an abandoned shell. there is such a thing as a living legend, but they’re exceedingly rare. the unmistakeable raven’s call in the 73 yards teaser, the trailer’s cut to fifteen crying alone after promising to cherry he’d protect her daughter… the foreshadowing is clear as day…

and yet. there’s one massive HOWEVER. ruby appears in s15: millie’s been spotted on set filming it. which leads me to believe — the doctor isn’t one to take the time travel route and revisit companions that in his future are genuinely dead. that would hurt too much, it would cause unnecessary trauma and could break the timeline. that must mean ruby stays alive in some way. ish. she’s alive and a legend and a mystery. girl-ballad girl-song girl-paradox

here she is, fading out.

p.s.: thesis statement on moffatgirls from the tags i left on somebody else’s post about charley pollard.. well it belongs here since it’s basically the semiotic hurricane swirling around ruby at the moment :)

[millydrawsthis]

DREAMing for a purpose..

_______

Freed didn’t pity Dream, not entirely. But Having such a heavy burden on them ever since he was a child. It was exhausting just to think about. And yet, Dream just...dealt with it, as if it were as natural as breathing.

“Who’s left?” 

Freed stood beside Dream in a garden filled with columbines and pretty Dills, their gaze fixed on the sky above. They tracked every movement—the gliding birds, the feel of the cool breeze brushing against their skin, the subtle scent of flowers in the air. They were absorbing it all, collecting these sensations like precious treasures, storing them away to share with their brothers when they returned to their AU.

Dream turned to look at them, his face soft but curious. “What?” he asked, his smile faltering slightly when Freed didn’t meet his eyes, still focused on the sky.

“When you save everyone…” Freed repeated, their voice quiet, almost detached, “…who will be left?”

Dream blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. His ever-present smile faltered for a moment, turning uneasy. But then, with a soft shake of his head, he regained his composure, his smile growing smaller but gentler.

“Well, I’d like to save my—“

“He’s gone too.”

Dream paused, his smile wavering again. “What?” he asked, his voice betraying a flicker of confusion.

“Your brother. That’s who you were going to say, yes? Say you save him too. Who’s left?”

Dream seemed a bit speechless. He chuckled nervously, blinking as he fiddled with his gloves.

“How does it feel?” Freed pressed on, “How does it feel to be so out of place, after doing it for as long as you can remember? Once your goal is done, once you’ve saved everyone, what happens after? Do you find something else? Some other purpose?”

Freed rubbed their face, their fingers lingering on their skin as if trying to wipe away the exhaustion that clung to them. They took in a deep breath, the kind of breath someone takes after holding it in for too long, savoring the cool air of the surface. Freed had never really had many opportunities to feel this—this freedom, this openness. Most AUs—like their own—we’re still in the underground.

“That’s so..exhausting.” Freed chuckled softly—Dream’s soft laugh followed, but it was light, almost hollow, a reflex more than genuine amusement.

“And you know what’s more exhausting..?” Freed’s chuckle faded, their brow furrowing as if the weight of their thoughts pressed down hard enough to show on their face. They turned, finally meeting Dream’s gaze. “Watching when you don’t know how to save yourself when that day comes.”

Dream gaze moved to the sky, the soft breeze stirring his golden scarf, which fluttered gently behind him like a fragile remnant of hope. His face was unreadable, caught between surprise and something deeper, something harder to define. It wasn’t as if he was thinking too much—no, it was more like he wasn’t thinking at all.

“Who saves the saviors, Dream?”

[faerenjun]

my precious precious boy ♡

[checkadii]

mfs do anything but finish their wips . like startign another, for example

[embalmedprincess]

[floof-ghostie]

Vash and the Trigun Polycule when that bounty is finally taken off his head (Wolfwood is recording)

[nyxofdemons]

literally had imaginary scenes from ghostfuckers appear in my summer heat-induced fever dreams earlier today like a prophet receiving visions from an unhinged god so i just sketched this as quick as i could . bear witness