#there were other distressing things happening in that dream but somehow THAT was the part that woke me up

[wolverinedoctorwho]

Just woke up from a dream where I randomly started eating one of my sibling's plushies. Just taking bites out of it as if it were made of boiled egg white even tho it was visibly still fabric and stuffing. Didn't even taste like anything in the dream

We GOTTA fucking go grocery shopping, man

[sp4ceboo]

NO NEED FOR ME TO HIDE🙏🏾🙏🏾

Bestie, are you going to continue Atonement universe?🥺 I am very curious on how their interactions could look like in the future, now that they have an accurate understanding of their intents

A/N: U ASKED JUST THE RIGHT QUESTION MY FAVOURITE BUNNY, but bc im evil i've made this into a bunch of feyd headcanons even tho no one asked

tw: 18+, smut headcanons (switch feyd ladies and gents), cannibalism (by the harpies), i dropkick everyone with feyd's trauma, therefore mentions of sa and pedophilia (fuck you vladimir), 'who did this to you' because man if that's not one of the yummiest things ever, nightmares, children and pregnancy, also sterility, swearing somewhere probably,

wc: 2.3k

part 1 (this can be read as a stand alone, it's just feyd headcanons)

feyd does everything he can to make up for how he treated you in the first months of your marriage

you assure him that it's fine, that he doesn't have to beat himself up over what he has done, but you still notice the pain in his eyes when he looks at you

he hovers close to you at all times, keeping a hand at the small of your back or pulling you close into his side

it's a strange process, only getting to know your husband in the fourth month of your marriage, but it's a process that you treasure

you'll ask him silly things from his favourite food to his opinions on the carvings on the table over there whenever the questions occur to you

it's late at night, while he's gently cleaning you up after sex or holding you tightly in his arms, your head tucked under his chin, when he tells you the deeper, more painful things

the grief in his voice is so raw as he describes to you how his uncle pitted him and rabban against each other from a young age, how his childhood was stolen from him - you ache for him, for the things that were taken from him before he could even fight for them

you find out about his nightmares soon after that - not because he tells you, but because one happens

you suspect there was something he wasn't quite ready to tell you, but you didn't press; no hands have handled feyd's heart the way he lets you, and you're determined to honour that privilege

a storm howls outside, and you think that the rumbles of thunder were what woke you

you turn over and realise it's feyd, his features contorted with fear even in his sleep, eyes rolling under the lids as he trembles, broken pleas leaving his lips

all you catch is a 'don't' and a 'please, uncle'

something cold slithers down your spine

touching his face, you grab his shoulder, shaking him, whispering his name, trying to wake him gently

a tear leaks down his cheek, and a meek sound leaves him, ripping your heart in two - you need to wake him up, free him from this dream

'feyd.'

his eyes snap open, and in them, you clearly see the expression of a trapped, cornered animal

you say his name again, and he looks at you sharply, unseeing

he's awake and yet somehow he's still trapped in the nightmare; he wraps his hands around your throat, and you gasp, nails digging into his forearms in an effort to wake him up

with precious air, you rasp out his name again, and he blinks, slowly gaining consciousness

his face crumples when he finds his hands around your neck

distress limns his features as he backs away from you, shaking his head, horrified by his own doing

your head spins with lack of air but you reach out to him, refusing to let him slip away - you snare him in your arms, hold him tightly, kiss his face

he doesn't move, afraid to hurt you

you pull back to stare him in the eyes

'i'm okay. i am okay. you hear me, feyd? i'm fine. i'm not hurt.'

he buries his face in your shoulder and when you feel hot tears on your skin, rage simmers and seethes, wrathful in your chest

'who did this to you?'

your voice is dripping with fury; he shakes with a sob, and you run your hands up and down his back, trying to soothe him and the anger inside you

eventually, he calms, and you tilt his face up, gently wiping the tears off his cheeks, waiting

he holds out his arms again, and you oblige him, letting him hide his face in your shoulder as he tells you the substances of his nightmares - memories of the baron, eyes rabid, hands reaching, and it makes you tremble with rage

you crush feyd in your grip, and he clings onto you, his eyes wet, letting you anchor his drowning spirit

the two of you fall asleep twined together, feyd cradled in your embrace

in the morning, you cup his face in your hands and tell him that you will protect him, fight for him, love him until your blood stills in your veins

one of the first thing feyd does is dismiss his harpies from their duties

originally, he was going to get rid of them permanently, but you convinced him not to, telling him you wanted to meet them

to be honest, feyd didn't really understand (he thought you wanted to 'use' them for a bit and was kind of taken aback until you reassured him you just wanted to talk to them)

he stayed in the room anyways, knowing that his harpies could be jealous, but he had nothing to fear

all you do is chat to them, and in the same way you charmed him, you charm them

feyd marvels at the way you reach out to them and connect with them with so much ease, laughing and joking with them, complimenting their pretty eyes and tattoos as if they are your long time friends

from then on, they are no longer feyd's harpies, but yours

they accompany you around the palace and sometimes to court

the latter causes quite a stir; none of the nobles can make sense of why the na-baron's feral cannibal troupe are now dressed in fine clothing and following the na-baronness around

you enjoy their company - they brighten your day considerably, and are not afraid to make remarks a little too loudly in front of nobles

you have to hide your laughter when one of them comments on the scruffy facial hair of the duke addressing feyd, even more so when he stares at them wide eyed, a little fearful of them

in a way, they protect you and you protect them

if a noble approaches you with disrespect, they'll joke loudly among themselves about the taste of his flesh

in the same way, if someone makes a snide remark of their presence, you're quick to challenge it

the perplexed look on feyd's face amuses you to no end when he realises they prefer you now

feyd and the harpies teach you about harkonnen culture

feyd especially tells you stories about how he hunted on forests long cut down when he was a boy, and you love to listen to him, watching his face and drinking in the softer, nostalgic tone in his voice

he shows himself to you in little ways

feyd complains to you about the nobles in the court, how he hates their decorum and their entitlement

he talks to you for hours about different fighting forms, occasionally getting up to demonstrate them to you, and you marvel at the accuracy and fluidity of his movements

he takes you to his favourite parts of giedi prime, shows you the volcanoes and the less polluted parts of the capital city

he tells you the story of every scar on his body, and you find yourself captivated by the look in his eyes as he recalls a good fight

he whispers on your skin promises - promises of love, sweet on his tongue but never cloying, always true

in turn he asks you about your old life, about your home planet and your family

you answer happily, loving the way his eyes follow you, their blue tone becoming your favourite colour

you tell him about the time you visited to see him fight, how you saw the fire within him even then, and he chuckles, enthralled by the idea that even when the two of you were too young to really comprehend what your arranged marriage meant, you were still drawn to each other

he tells you how when he raised his knife, victorious, he spotted you in the crowd - a small girl, her back ram rod straight - and thought you were the sweetest thing he'd ever laid his eyes on

not that you seemed breakable to him; no, he thought you were formidable, too, not even bothering to hide your frown in an arena of cheering, happy faces

it felt right that he would marry a woman who wasn't afraid of him

feyd teaches you how to fight

he delights in the way you grow so bold with him, delivering snarky remarks if he teases you, rising to meet everything he throws at you

you're a good fighter - unpredictable in your moves - and he's immeasurably proud that he was the one who taught you

sometimes, once you're good enough to duel, you'll end up staggering to the nearest somewhat secluded area to fuck

now that you know you're not alone, you're so confident of yourself, confident in the electrifying look in your eyes and confident in the way you make him beg

feyd never thought he'd like to give up control, but with you it's addicting

he trusts you

he lets you ravage him, lets you use him until he's spent, panting, thighs shaking, knowing that you would let him do the same - knowing that you do let him do the same

there's something so raw about letting himself go in your touch

his head spins when you tie him up, your deft fingers checking the knots and tightening the bindings across his torso, making art with his skin as the canvas

feyd is addicted to you in every aspect

he can't get enough of your pussy; he'd spend hours between your legs, pulling sounds out of you that you didn't know you could make

he thinks that the closest he's ever come to heaven is when he's buried balls deep in your cunt while you beg him harder, faster

A/N: i couldn't choose between these two scenarios so have both

EITHER after almost a year, you begin to wonder why you haven't pregnant

especially with the way feyd fucks you

so you seek the help of a doctor - the test results come back a week after, accusatory, damning

you're sterile

your first reaction is to tell feyd, but once you find yourself face to face with him, his gaze concerned as he holds your waist, you can't tell him

you just fall into his arms, staying your tears, doubts crawling into your skull and gnawing at the edges of your mind

you can't give him an heir

there's no way around it

what if he takes a concubine? what if he realises you serve no purpose to him? what if he stops loving you?

feyd doesn't pry about the tests results until the next day when he finds you in the shower, hands trembling and head bowed

he tips your chin up so he can look you in the eye

'tell me what troubles you, my love.'

so you do, with his fingers curled around your waist, the shower water running over your skin

he kisses you once you finish, and it tears at his heart the way you're looking up at him, trying to hide the worry in your eyes as you wait for his reply

feyd doesn't mince his words when he tells you that he doesn't care if you cannot give him an heir, that all he asks of you is to let him love you - it's then that the tears fall, and he kisses them away, holding you close to him

you grieve for the children you can never have, but feyd remains by you, almost supernatural with the way he senses your pain

your gaze might fall upon one of the servant's children, causing an ache in your heart, and within a few seconds his fingers will twine with yours and he'll tuck you into his side, kissing your hair

OR you have twins: one girl, one boy

the girl is three minutes older than the boy

feyd is obssessed with your pregnant body; he always has his hands on you in some way

he gets more protective, if that's possible

sometimes he lies between your thighs, his palms spread over your stomach as he talks to the two of them, and the softness and wonder in his eyes brings a warmth to your chest

feyd is with you when you feel the first contraction and promptly carries you to the midwives

he lets you crush his hand in your grip as you give birth to the lives you've made together, wiping the sweat off your forehead and quietly encouraging you

the first time you hand them to him to hold, he's hesitant, hands fluttering over you as he figures out what to do, but he's a fast learner

there's a fierce protective glint in his eyes when he cradles them in his arms, one that you glimpse when he looks at you too, and within it there's a deep, pure joy

he teaches them how to fight, and yet he's still so gentle with them, laughing as they giggle and cling to him, one latched onto each leg

the girl is how you'd imagine feyd was as a boy: half feral, yet charming when she wants to be, while the boy is a little calmer, more unflappable, and happy to entertain his sister's mischievous endeavours

both love the harpies, and there have been multiple times when you walk in on the twins gaping wide eyed at the harpies as they regale them with old tales

sometimes, feyd will scoop them up, one in each arm, so they can reach up and give you a little kiss on the cheek before he pecks your lips

you think it's beautiful, the family that you've made with him

feyd loves the way you look at him, with that mischief in your eyes, as if you're sharing a secret with him

he loves your sweet laughter, the softness in your hands when you touch him and how you don't shy away from protecting him, defiant even in his uncle's presence

he knows he would kill for you, die for you - he'd do anything for you

you would do the same: it makes feyd's head fuzzy, when you get so fiercely protective over him, placing your hand on his shoulder as you glare at the baron, lacing your words with venom when you address him

you'd stop at nothing, just to protect his honour

when you're after something, nothing stands in your way, and yet you can handle him with such soft, gentle hands, banishing his nightmares with the light tracing of your fingertips on his back

feyd heals in your presence, and you grow in his

your love is eternal

[ferrstappen]

what happens with the kids? l Max Verstappen x reader

a/n: *sigh* I'm so done with this season bc I just know we'll be getting the same podium every other career and my tifosi dreams are just crumbling... also can we please just talk about that driver introduction like?????

anyway, this is based on this request I got the other day! thank you for requesting and sorry it takes me so long write the requests, but uni is kicking my ass <3

genre: angst oop

pairing: Max Verstappen x female reader. Lando Norris x reader but not serious.

warnings: divorce, kids, not proofread.

summary: Max really didn't have to find a girlfriend that soon after the divorce, and the fact that his girlfriend had a daughter of her own, didn't really help your case.

It's safe to say you never really saw it coming. or maybe you did, but tried to ignore it as Mila and Luca had just celebrated their third birthday, with the second half of the season looming over your household, Max said the the words you never thought you'd hear.

I think we need some time apart to figure out some stuff.

At first you didn't really process it. Why would you possible need time apart? The twins were so young, you needed all the help you could get and things were good.

That's what you thought.

He said it was hard to continue your marriage if you couldn't keep him company or support him the way you used to, before having kids. Maybe he was oblivious to the disbelief showing on your features, trying to comprehend if he really needed to be reminded of your two young children, who had strict hours. You didn't feel the need to remind him that just three weeks ago Mila had to go to the emergency room for an allergic reaction, and a week before that, Luca was questioning you about why his dad wasn't around as much.

Max rubbed his left hand on the nape of his neck, obviously trying to ignore this part of the conversation, seeing as you eyes became teary and your eyes tried to find his blue ones, but he avoided them at all costs.

Then, it was time to bring the kids to a race, Austria to be specific. It was strange to walk without him on the so familiar space, holding Luca and Mila's hands, making your way to the Red Bull hospitality where Max was supposedly waiting for his family.

During the walk, you were greeted by most people from every team; engineers fist bumping the twins, Lando and Max Fewtrell giving you a side hug before trying to talk with Luca and Mila. Yet, when you reached your finishing point, Christian Horner's eyes opened widely, like his mind was trying to process something.

The Red Bull team principal was clearly distressed as he walked towards the three of you, greeting you as usual, but offering to take the twins for a quick tour, telling you there was a new snack bar the engineers had created and they should get to know it.

It didn't take long to realize the brit knew something you didn't.

A feeling you couldn't explain sank on your stomach. Your cheeks were already flushed, palms turned sweaty and suddenly your subconscious was trying to convince yourself that it couldn't be that bad, whatever it was. The world shook and your vision slowed down when you noticed a gorgeous black-haired woman, leaning against your husband as he laughed at something she said.

Your trembling legs managed to silently take a step back, trying to hold back the tears as you left the room, watching as Christian was still entertaining the twins, following you as the kids noticed you.

"Christian, can you please call Max to tell him we're here?" Somehow, with some divine strength, you were able to get the words out, ignoring Christian's glare as if he was trying to ask if you were okay.

In a matter of seconds, Max had joined you, receiving Mila and Luca with open arms. He wasn't aware of the fact that you already knew the reason he wanted a time off wasn't because he didn't get to see you, or that you couldn't make the effort to travel with the kids.

No.

Just as Christian had suggested, the kids went with him as Max directed your way to a secluded space. He didn't know what he was expecting, but it sure wasn't "I want a divorce"

He blinked. Once. Twice. "What do you mean you want a divorce?"

A snicker left your lips, was he trying to play dumb? You knew Max Verstappen as the palm of your hand. You knew him better than yourself.

You didn't need to see him kissing the black-haired woman, or holding hands, or even touching her.

Max's eyes, your husband's eyes, expressed everything you needed to know.

It wasn't important that he berated you for dropping this news right before Red Bull's home race, that his eyes tried to find yours but were unable to, as your crossed your arms as if that would protect you from the heartbreak and sudden change of plans; from a happy couple, a merry marriage and joyous family, to a life of weekends separated, of preparing their bags on Friday night, of being civil for the sake of the twins during their birthday...

And because you knew him so well, the relief that flashed through his blue eyes didn't pass unnoticed by you, because it wasn't him who said the words. He was guilty, but he didn't take the shot.

Your girlfriends always joked about his friends always were the first ones to reach out after a break up, making you laugh until text messages and Instagram DMs started rolling in: Red Bull engineers and mechanics, Lando Norris, Martin Garrix, among others.

Hey! I heard about you and Max, just wondering if you are okay and want to meet up some time?

It didn't take long to accept one of their offers, having messy nights with a British driver and multiple people from the paddock, but it was never meant to be more. and it absolutely wasn't, but it was early Sunday when the concierge called to inform the arrival of Max and the twins. Of course you didn't hear, Lando's body pressed against you as his soft snores invaded the bed you once shared with Max.

and obviously, Max being as restless as always, decided to just take the direct elevator to the penthouse overlooking Monte-Carlo. That's what made Lando open his eyes, very widely, as you hastily walked him towards the walk-in closet so that he could get dressed and not be seen or heard by Max.

Not that it mattered, but you were capable of putting family peace in front o making your ex-husband jealous.

"Hello my sweets!" Mila and Luca made their way into your arms, not caring about their backpacks making things a bit uncomfortable. "Did you have a good weekend?"

Luca started blabbering about papa's new place, the dishes Max's girlfriend cooked for them, and the incredible time they both had with Sara, the daughter of Max's girlfriend. There obviously was a bond between the three children, both arguing about how Sara liked them more than the other.

Max hadn't had the time to greet you or ask about your weekend, his gaze fixing on an orange hat.

"Since when do you own McLaren merch?" Max questioned you, pointing the foreign object, the logo being unusual on the household.

Ignoring how your heart skipped a beat, feigning ignorance your body turned to where Max's finger was pointing. "Oh, I don't know? I think someone gave it to me at one of the races. Long time ago, though."

That's when both Max and you noticed the twins were gone, probably on their bedroom unpacking or searching the kitchen.

Max took a couple of breaths, his eyebrows scrunched and eyes trying to find yours, not even attempting to hide his feelings. "Are you hooking up with someone from McLaren, (Y/N)?"

Your eyes widened, then took a step back trying to see if you heard him right. "Why would you even ask me that?"

Max shrugged; "I have a right to know, in case they end up sharing time with M and Luca. I can't control how everything works during the week so I'd like to be kept in the loop."

This time it struck like lightning, the fury and anger and disillusion your heart was carrying. "You have no right, Max. Absolutely no fucking right to be kept in the loop about what goes on in my life,"

Max didn't flinch at your tone, "I didn't say about your life, I'm aware that we are divorced, I'm talking about Mila and Luca,”

"I always think of them, they're the first thing on my mind when I wake up, and the last thing when I go to sleep. They're always on my mind and never leave, and I would never do anything to hurt them or even cause them the tiniest bit of disappointment. You have no right to come here and tell me you want to know about what goes on in here, because you are the one who chose to leave us in the first place," You vented, with Max's blue eyes fixed on you he was trying to keep his composure, but you knew he was uncomfortable.

"We are not having this conversation now, (Y/N). It's over, now it's just about the kids," Max added with a slight roll of his eyes.

"When are we having this conversation, then? When are you going to tell me that you wanted to separate because there was someone else already? that I wasn't enough for you? not even our kids were enough to make you doubt your decision to leave me, and it feels terrible and I don't know if I'm ever going to be able to feel the same because I'm shattered, Max." The words felt like someone was ripping your heart out of your chest, leaving you vulnerable as the thoughts became real, they were out there, but then it was followed by a bittersweet relief of not holding back anymore.

He noticed the tears and hiccups as you tried to make the point. His eyelids trembled as his hands meant to reach out to yours, pull your body to his, squeeze your waist and kiss your hair while assuring everything was going to be just fine.

That was the moment he realized that wasn't his place anymore, probably would never be again. Max didn't even think about that while signing the divorce papers, he didn't bother to show up to anything, sending a lawyer to do whatever was needed, and now it was hitting him like a ton of bricks.

His realization was cut short as the kids came running, Luca placing the McLaren hat on his head, ignoring Mila's voice telling him it wasn't daddy's team.

"I think this is when you leave, Max,"

You managed to keep your voice from quavering and erasing every trace of a tear, telling the kids to say goodbye to Max.

Yeah, this wasn't what Max had in mind for his Sunday morning.

[sturnprime]

BREAK AND FIX, chris sturniolo 🩵

from h ꨄ︎ ⎯ hi so first time writing anything like this very very nervy

i hope you enjoy 🩵 (join the taglist here)

rain pattered against the panes of the window, a sombre reflection of the current mood that filled the atmosphere. the room portrayed an almost movie like scene with mounts of tissues scattered across the floor and a tub of ice cream haphazardly tossed beside the bed.

it had been a month and you thought it was supposed to get better, thought that the aching sensation in your chest was supposed to disappear with time but it only seemed to be getting worse. books you read fed you this dream of getting over everything easily yet you sat snuggled under your covers, eyes with red rims and nose tinted with hints of painstaking rose that uncovered your mask of emotions.

the worst part was you didn’t think any of this was affecting chris as much as it was affecting you. your mind began questioning a bunch of things; whether or not he still loved you, if his current emotions were as pathetic as yours, if he was even sorry for ending things so abruptly. none of it made sense from the way things had been so perfect one second only to entirely crumble the next all the way down to that irritating voice in the back of your head that kept telling you, you should have somehow done more to make him stay or not desire to leave.

loud ringing from your phone that was resting on your pillow pulled you out of the trance you had unwillingly slipped into, your eyes widening slightly at the suddenness and even more so at the contact name that was displayed across the screen.

your fingers danced across the surface hesitantly, silently contemplating in your head whether or not answering the call was worth it. you wanted to be strong and pretend you could simply allow it to ring until it didn’t but there was a sort of gravitational pull that made your fingers have a mind of their own. you swiped to answer the call, met with a beat of silence that had you regretting everything within seconds before a heavy sigh was heard on the other end.

“i miss you so much, y’know that? can’t stop thinkin’ about you,” his words sliced through the air and your heart like a freshly sharpened knife, crimson painting your insides in a manner so harmful, you suddenly felt as though you couldn’t breathe.

what hurt more than anything was the slight slurring of his voice that told you he was drunk. surely the saying went that drunk words were sober thoughts but it felt like clutching onto air when you searched for genuineness within his actions.

for a moment you were paralysed, unable to speak or even move as you processed what he said but eventually your words found their way out and you prayed they didn’t showcase your distress towards everything, “you’re drunk chris.”

“baby it doesn’t matter,” his words were laced with a hint of desperation and for a fleeting moment it felt like he was about to apologise for one of your pointless arguments but the moment was gone as quick as you blinked and the reality of the situation doused over you like a bucket of ice-cold water.

“chris i’m not… look just hang up and we can pretend this never happened okay? you don’t know what you’re saying right now,” each word that left you sounded foreign to your own ears, your voice lacking the excitement it used to hold when you spoke to him and in its place there was a semblance of melancholy.

there was shuffling on the other end and you could faintly hear the sound of his brothers somewhere else in the house. the toggles in your mind turned because you had assumed chris was at some sort of party but now that you thought about it, the only noise from the other end was his speech. there was no music or obnoxious chatter, just him and the now gentle sound of his breathing. it almost made you cave, almost made the barriers you had built up come crashing down.

but you had to be strong because of course you could give in but who was to say you wouldn’t end up in the same place all over again, internally pleading for a different outcome. so you ignored the craving inside of you to allow his words to drape over you like a comforting blanket, instead mumbling out a small goodbye and ending the call before waiting for his response.

the hammering inside of your chest didn’t disappear when the phone call ended, it increased and you could feel your anxiety bubbling up to the surface. the only solution you deemed possible was to sleep it out, to fall into a land of dreams where the world and the problems you were facing didn’t seem nearly as daunting.

with a reluctant sigh, you placed your phone on your bedside table as well as your glasses and got more comfortable under your sheets, pressing your eyes shut and hoping sleep greeted you as a dear friend there to take away your worries.

apparently the universe was on your side and you felt your eyes slipping closed within a few minutes and before you knew it, black filled your vision insinuating you had fallen asleep. your mind rested as you slept, the concerns that were plaguing your head before now long gone and unable to reenter the gates of your blockage.

the crepuscular rays of the sun awoke you from your much needed sleep and you groggily rubbed your eyes as you sat up in bed. with a few minutes of required mental preparation for the day, you clicked your phone on and paused when you saw the notifications. hesitance flooded your veins but no doubt this would be about the night before so you pulled it together and tapped on the notification.

chris

I’m sorry I was so fucking drunk I didn’t even know I called you last night

Can we talk?

you

talk about what?

i get it you were drunk shit happens

chris

That’s not what I mean

I mean properly talk

you

what could you possibly have to say to me

chris

So fucking much you have no idea

Please just let me come over and if you want after that I swear you’ll never see or hear from me again

One chance

you

fine

chris

Thank you

Seriously.

I’ll come over in an hour?

you

okay

what the fuck had you just agreed to? you felt dizzy with the thought of seeing him after a month but you would be lying if you said there wasn’t a little part of you that was the good kind of nervous. you and chris were no longer together but the effect he had on you had not vanished into thin air the moment he left. it may have been pathetic but even the mere sound of his name still had you fighting butterflies that threatened to let loose in your stomach.

for the next hour as you got ready for the day and had a little breakfast, you felt lightheaded. the seconds seemed to turn into minutes and before you knew it, your doorbell was ringing. it was almost comical how once upon a time chris would have stormed into your house like it was his own and announced he was home but now the ringing echoed in your ears. it was a stark contrast to what you had grown accustomed to and you felt nauseous at the unfamiliarity.

with a sickly feeling consuming you, your feet made their own way to the front door as you opened it, met with the sight of chris with his hair even more disheveled than it usually was. to others it would appear normal but you knew chris better than most and the odd angles his hair was sticking up in was a telltale sign he was nervous. it was a little comforting, the fact that you were both on the same page with your emotions for a second or so.

you moved to the side to allow him access into the house, an usual silence settling amongst you. the two of you walked into the living room wordlessly and then you slumped onto the couch.

chris cleared his throat and your eyes moved up to meet his. the different shades of his blue and your hazel flickered in recognition as you swore his breath hitched in his throat.

“i’m sorry… let me explain please,” and the pleading in his tone made you give in instantly.

yes you were weak but how could you not be when this was the boy you had fallen in love with? when this was the boy who had been there for you time and time again when you felt as though you deserved no one? you may have been weak but he made you so.

when you didn’t respond, chris took it as his opportunity to keep going, “i don’t know what i was thinking… you have to believe me when i say i fucked up. i never wanted to end it, i just got in my head and i made a mistake. a big fucking mistake please you have to understand… give me a chance.”

his pleading words were the only sound filling the air and it took everything inside of you to not console him. you had to remind yourself he was only hurt because he put himself in such a position, put the two of you in such a position. but the way his eyes were flickering with utter dread had your thoughts stilling until all you could focus on was him.

his hand moved to reach for yours and you should have pulled away instantly but his fingers felt like coming home after endless time away. your hand slot with his like two puzzle pieces and all you wanted was to be complete again. his thumbs swiped across your skin and you felt the flush before it came, felt the desire in your heart to stay in this vulnerable spot for eternity.

“chris how am i supposed to believe you? what happens when i give you a chance and this all comes back to bite me in the back? i can’t do it again, especially when i haven’t gotten over it the first time,” the words you spoke were a mere fragment of what you truly were feeling but any more thoughts lingered on your tongue until the taste became sour and bitter.

“i swear it won’t be like that. this time apart has shown me that i can’t do it without you. i love you, i love you even when i break you and it’s killing me. i want to fix things,” his voice cracked ever so slightly that you almost missed it but you knew him so incredibly well that you picked up on it instantly.

that torn up response made you want to glue him together. yes he broke your heart but your heart also belonged to him, used to beat to the melody of the both of you and you were not quite sure you wanted to stop listening to the harmonies just yet.

“i love you,” he repeated and you loved him too, despite the cracks he placed within your heart because once upon a time he had healed a heart he had never even broken.

“i love you too…” and it was not a lie, never had been since the first time you said it and he looked over the moon.

his eyes lighting up reminded you of the first time, of simpler times and it made you remember all the good moments you shared — ones you did not ever want to forget and craved to expand.

his body seemed to have moved closer, the gap between the two of you on the couch almost non existent but still it felt like lifetimes could slip between you. yet when he reached his free hand to cup your face, air couldn’t slip through even if it tried.

“can i kiss you? please,” he practically whispered and you nodded your head, silently accepting what this would lead to and even though it scared you beyond belief, chris still had a way of making you want to overcome every last fear you held as long as he was alongside you.

he didn’t waste even a second to connect your lips and the surge of electricity that shot through you was a feeling you came to realise you missed so fucking bad. he was practically on top of you as the kiss deepened and when he pushed you so you were laying on the soft cushion, you let him. his body hovered over yours and tongues collided in a rushed manner, a greeting between lovers who so desperately needed to reconcile.

his eyes held a concoction of hunger, affection and gratitude and you wanted to drink it all in. his hands moved to your top and with a silent word of agreement between you, he took it off and carelessly discarded it somewhere unknown.

he looked at you like he was seeing it all for the first time, like you were the prettiest thing he had ever seen and loved and it resulted in your heart soaring.

he pressed open mouthed kisses onto your collarbone and he spoke between each of them breathlessly, “god missed you so much… you’ve no idea… fuck.”

his lips trailed lower and lower, down your chest and to your abdomen and you fought the urge to squirm beneath him when they grazed the waistband of your skirt. it was as though you forget how to speak when he pushed the material down your legs and scrambled around to move it away from you.

“fuckin’ missed this pussy,” he muttered and you gasped when he kissed over the top of your underwear. he couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the sound but deep down he too was trying not to drive himself crazy at the small contact.

“chris…” it was barely there but he heard it and it just made him want more, made him slide the only piece of clothing standing in his way off until his pupils dilated in utter lust.

“tell me you want it,” he all but asked and from the rasp in his voice, how could you not?

“please… i want it,” you let yourself go and the corners of his mouth tugged up into a slight smirk before his lips latched onto the exact spot where you needed him.

it was immediate, the way your hands grabbed onto his hair and tried to pull him even closer. the erotic noises in the air were driving you wild combined with the feeling of his tongue lapping against you. it felt so fucking good and you knew he knew it just as well because he wasn’t coming up for breaks.

he was eating you out like a starving man whilst his hands tightly gripped the sides of your thighs, “taste so fuckin’ good angel.”

you moaned involuntarily and his tongue moved faster in response, a reminder of exactly who was making you feel good. you tugged on his hair when he sucked on a particular spot and he whimpered, the vibrations against you getting you closer and closer to the edge.

“please,” your body moved to meet his mouth more and his nails dug into your side.

“please what?” he asked you, lips barely leaving their spot as the words escaped him and you whimpered at the sensations consuming you.

“god ‘m so close,” you managed to whine out and he took it as his cue to suck harder until you were nothing but a withering mess.

he loved the control he had over you, loved the way your body flailed underneath him yet you obviously didn’t want him to stop. you moaned his name like it was a mantra and he wanted to play the words on repeat for the rest of his life. god he missed the sound of your begging and whining more than he thought. he was honestly obsessed with every part of you and he couldn’t even bring himself to think of what a fool he’d been for ever attempting to rid himself of that.

“yeah? you gonna cum for me baby?” his words were all you needed and he loved that he still had that effect on you.

your hold on his hair tightened as your body let go, a blissful feeling taking over as he raised his head, his chin covered in remnants that only seemed to turn you on more.

“i love you,” he said it yet again almost like he was solidifying his emotions and for a moment it remained in the atmosphere because it only felt right to allow it to do so.

your fingers trailed to his sweatpants and he grinned widely as you flipped him over so you were now resting above him instead. “i love you too,” you replied and he leaned up to kiss you simply because he could; it was deep and passionate and telling of everything he’d been feeling for the past month or so.

you removed his articles of clothing one by one and he allowed you to wordlessly, an admirable smile on his face and adoration painting his eyes. this was exactly what he needed and he knew you needed it too from your desperate gaze that raked over his now naked body.

“come on angel be quick about it,” he groaned as your fingers teased him and you smirked, a sight he wanted to capture in his head as if it were a mental picture.

“shh, we’re doing this my way.”

TAGS @mattslolita @eyeliketoeatpoosay @chrissturniolossidehoe @middlepartmatt @raysmayhem-72 @conspiracy-ash @fratbrochrisgf @pvssychicken !

[starstruckmoony]

new year's day.

masterlist

pairing - james potter x reader

summary - the aftermath of a party at your flat with james.

trope/tags - lots and lots of fluff

word count - 1.6k

warnings - none

after parties such as the ones organised to celebrate the new year, no one expects to get woken up at seven in the morning by abba blaring from the gramophone. but weirdly enough, those things do happen. and more often than not, james potter is the one behind them.

the onset of loud music pulled you out of your rather pleasant dream that you had no intentions of ending so soon, and you slipped off the couch and onto the floor with a resounding thump. displeased groans came from the rest of your friends who were scattered around the living room - in armchairs, on the floor, at the window sill, you name it.

"merlin, what the–" sirius peeked his head from the behind the couch, and then disappeared again. then came a grunt from who you assumed was remus. those two must have fallen asleep on the floor.

"jamie, it's too early for this." lily sat up in the armchair, rubbing her tired eyes and covering her mouth as she yawned.

"has anyone seen my shoes?" mary peeked her head from behind the bathroom door. she had woken up a bit earlier than the rest of you. james shrugged, you shook your head no.

"your shoes? where's my sock?" peter replied in distress while he searched around for his lost sock.

"is that glitter?" you stared at the shiny mess on the floor in scepticism, and james hummed in response. you weren't bothered enough to ask who brought it, you knew.

it was an interesting sight to see... to an extent. everyone looked a mess, some more than others. and your flat was in a state that was no better than your friends. glitter and polaroids on the floor, empty cups and ale bottles, cigarette ash on the table, sirius' shirt thrown across a chair, and oh, mary's shoes under the couch.

it was one of those classic the party was great (but everything hurts and i think i'm gonna throw up on your carpet so i should better get going) situations. so, one by one, your friends left. you didn't mind, of course, you would have probably done the same if you were to attend one of their parties, but the nice thought of having somebody stay to help you clean up was occupying your mind. it seemed a bit too good to become true, which is why you were shocked to find that james was, somehow, still there.

"thought i could help you clean this mess up." he shrugged with a sly smile, and you simply could not hide your own. that was only one of the many reasons why you fell for james, and his strange thoughtfullness and heartwarming care for others, despite his cocky personality that often made people want to catapult him straight into the black lake. one would think lily would have stayed, but you assumed james had something to do with that. and especially after that cheek kiss he gave you after the clock struck midnight. it wasn't a proper new year's kiss by any means, but it was there, and it was significant enough to make you dwell on it.

"magic or no magic?" you shook your head no. no magic.

"right then, where do we start?" he began pacing around, his eyebrows becoming increasingly furrowed as more and more bottles and glitter unveiled from different parts of your living room.

"uh..." you trailed off. you did not want to start, that was the problem. but someone had to do it, and you were unfortunate enough to have it be you, "let's collect the bottles first." you said thoughtfully, and made a quick run to the kitchen in search of a plastic bag. you dug a few up from the drawers, and then handed james one when you returned.

with him helping you, getting it done was much was much easier and quicker, and you swiftly moved onto wiping the tables and picking up the polaroids scattered all over the floor. you snorted as you took a better look at one of them, the memories from last night flooding your mind. it was a rather interesting picture of a sleepy james on your couch, with you and sirius on either side of him, making ridiculous faces while most likely not sober.

then it was time to mop up the glitter, which was much more nightmare inducing than you had anticipated. it just would not go away, no matter how many times you brushed your broom over it. james noticed your struggles, and got rid of it with a simple flick of his wand. you shot him with a faux angry glare, just to have him shrug with a cocky smile.

you spent about two hours clearing out the living room, and were left with two full trash bags in the end. lowering down the amount of your usual alcohol supply suddenly started seeming like an option.

the only thing you had left was doing the hilariously large pile of dishes in your sink, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't think of just casting a spell and letting the dirty plates clean themselves.

"bloody hell, how much cake did we have last night?" james questioned, not really expecting to get an answer, slightly flabbergasted at the amount of dishes you and your friends managed to dirty.

"i stopped counting when i lost my second plate after going for a third slice." you scratched the back of your neck awkwardly. james wordlessly rolled up his sleeves and turned the tap on, watching as you did the same with yours.

a comfortable silence filled the kitchen, the only source of noise being the water running. you thought about flicking some of the bubbles into his face multiple times, but always stopped yourself in fear of ruining the calming atmosphere you managed to create. but it was simply irrestible. somewhere near the end, when most of the dishes were already washed, you decided to act on your distracting thoughts, and splashed water into his face.

"oi!" james' countless hours of quidditch training sometimes came in handy with things other than the said sport. the man was able to think faster than most people you knew, so he immediately flicked some of the soap bubbles from his hand towards you. you mirrored his actions, and then he did it again. it didn't take long for it to turn into a playful fight between the two of you. in mere seconds, bubbles were flying around in the air, your sweaters became soaked, but you were too lost in your little game to let it stop you.

you dodged getting water thrown in your face rather successfully, and bolted out of the kitchen when james reached for you. laughter rang through the entire flat as he chased you around, jumping over armchairs and almost tripping over your tiny sofa. but he caught up with you eventually. his arms locked around your waist, and he swiftly turned you so that you were facing each other.

you laughed in surprise, feeling your face beginning to flush as you realised that he had no intent of taking his hands off of you anytime soon. if that's how he wanted to play, then fine, you could do it too. you locked your arms behind his neck, biting back a giggle when a light shade of pink covered his cheeks.

james was never too secretive about his feelings for you, his ridiculously large ego and amount confidence simply would not let him do that, but you hadn't ever given it much thought. until now. his eyes trailed over to your lips, and you followed the way to his with your own. he then looked back up at you, as if he was asking for permission to kiss you with that shy glance.

you considered teasing him a little at first, but then gave into your desires, kissing him before he was able to process what was happening. you often imagined what it would be like to kiss james potter, never, ever thinking that it would actually happen. and it was doing things to you.

he responded to it without hesitation, slightly tightening his grip you. he kissed you with so much care, like it was his way of showing you that he has been wanting to do it for quite a while now. and it was pretty easy to tell, judging by the way you could feel him smile against your lips. you pulled him closer, if it was even possible at that point, causing a little grunt to erupt from him. the noise drew giggles from both of you, but you had no plans of pulling away from him just yet.

it was when you were forced to pull apart for air that you stopped, laughing as if these were your first times kissing somebody.

"you could've easily done that hours ago." you teased, rolling your eyes playfully.

"oh merlin, i know," he shook his head, but didn't seem too disappointed with himself. you squinted your eyes at him curiously, "but i think i like it better this way." he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, smiling foolishy at you.

and yeah, it kind of was better that way. he may not have had the courage to actually kiss you when the clock struck midnight, but he remained determined to do it, one way or another. and then, well, he did, and sharing those little moments with him in the past hours of the morning most definitely seemed better than any new year's kiss anyone could have ever given you.

[itskindofidontknow]

What dreams know about love?

Chapter 13

Dream of The Endless/Morpheus x Love!OFC

Summary: The Queen of Love has grown used to the absence of her husband, the Dream King. After banning her from the Dreaming, they only saw each other when Morpheus summoned her for social or marital duties. He would go decades without calling for her, enamorated by a variety of mistresses. It broke Love's heart. Not that her husband cared. However, after being imprisioned for a century, The Dream King wants to regain his Queen's love. She doesn't believe him, not after centuries of neglect. The question is: Can dreams repair a broken heart?

Tag: Established relationship, arranged marriage, regency romance, eventual happy ending, angst, morpheus is a dick prepare to hate, love is eoster from west germanic mythology, typos are to be expected

Ready to see Desire being the worst ever? You deserve prision, but you won’t take time

TW: Sexual content (+18), non-consensual but not from who you think

A burning anguish overwhelmed his chest, his entire body was trembling, and his vision was blurry from tears that kept running over his cheeks and had no intention in stopping, breathing was difficult but he couldn’t stop walking through empty halls. Morpheus' feelings were usually constrict but at this moment it felt like they were filling his chest, leaking from his pores. He supported himself on a corner trying to take a deep breath, wiping the tears with the corner of the trembling hands. Raising his head to try to stop the tears, his eyes seeing his reflection at the mirrored ceiling.

It wasn’t him. It was he who was looking, but the person who looked back wasn't him. The long brown hair in loose braids, the watery green eyes with long lashes, cheeks flushed. But the Dream King didn’t process this. He returned his head back, trying to stabilize himself. It didn’t surprise him the fact that he was wearing a tight corset with a flowy floor length light blue dress with tulle spiked in stardust and heels. Not only did it not strange him, he didn’t notice he was Lady love.

His perception was an unusual one, he was an observer and a character. He was devoid of his feelings and his notions and filled with hers. He saw his wife running through his palace’s halls in distress, he felt that distress, he was walking in her shoes, reacting with her reactions. The abundance of feelings was overwhelming as her thoughts, or his thoughts. It was like a radio out of signal that he was still trying to synchronize . He didn’t know how he got to this place, or what happened, but Love’s body and mind knew, and he couldn’t stop. He tried to end the dream, maybe he somehow invaded it, but he couldn’t. Maybe this was her dream or nightmare, he never visited those personally and did not intended to do it now. This was A True Marriage thing. It was like a movie playing live where no one had the control to pause it. It was already in motion and Morpheus would be part of it whether he wanted it or not.

Love stepped into Dream’s room filled with each of his siblings sigils. She entered without permission, barging desperate, holding Desire’s sigil in her trembling hands “I want to see Desire” She said cleaning with the back of her hands her stained mascara

His devious sibling voice responded as they seemed to already know what it was about, not a bit surprise that it was his brother wife calling through an endless only line “ Well come in”

“ How dare you!” Love angrily steps throwing a pack of letters with a red sealing open at Desire, hundreds of hand written love letters flew spreading across the floor. Desire was notably unworried, languidly laying stretched like a cat “Hello dear sister” . That debauchery always made Morpheus furious, and he felt the same feeling emanating from his wife

“ I trusted you like a dear sibling and you deceived me” Love grinded her teeth, holding a cry, Desire unfazed “You wrote these letters! You pretend to be Dream, you lied to me! Now I am, I am-“ Ruined. That was what the dozens of voices that kicked her head. She did not want to say it out loud, because marriage could not be her ruin, she was the protector of marriages, the lady of love. How could something so dear to her, cause such pain?

Desire pushed their lips into a cheshire malevolent grin, adjusting themselves on the couch, so they could face Love closely, resting their face in their arm “ Did he make you his queen yet? Or is he resisting the charms of having the Virgin Goddess herself warming his bed?” Love taken by a fury unlocked by her sibling-in-law, grabbed them by the throat squeezing tight with nails digging in their skin, a bit of herself was surprised by the violence she never had a tendency of displaying. That Tittle. That was one Love was not called in ages. She dismissed it as a ridiculous one, because she was indeed the protector of fertility, virginity and marriage, but she would not stay untouched for the rest of her existence, it was only until find pure love.

Morpheus felt the painful tension on her back muscles keeping a stiff posture, the sting of her nails digging in the flesh of his sibling. The question lingering in the air, pinching her lower stomach as a reminder of Morpheus not resisting her charm. He made her entirely his, he marked her on the inside, but he did not make her a queen. His own memory or it was hers? The weak whimps and panic filled in doe eyes pleading for gentleness, for sympathy.

All these memories made her squeeze her hand tighter in Desire’s neck. Eoster was tearful but devoid of remorse, of any emotion. ”I should kill you” she considered it loudly, her voice determined. Morpheus would never expect his wife to do such a thing, before, he was certain she would not touch a fly, seeing this side of her, darkness filling her eyes, he was not sure anymore. “Be careful now, sister.” Desire started right back at Eoster, their golden eye pupils were not scared, in fact, they kept smiling, contrasting their lack of air due to Love's iron grip in their neck “Family shall not spill blood of family”.

Love loosened her grip, but did not let go of their neck, she bended over the couch, getting near Desire's face “ You will fix this. You will tell my husband that I was tricked as he was, that it was a vile game of yours and yours alone. Speak the truth for once.” She gave them one more squeeze in their neck, before letting it go, turning her back to her sibling in law, her heart beat accelerated it, as she ran her hands through her hair. What would she do if Desire didn’t take their responsibilities?

“And do you think he would believe me? Silly, silly dove”. Desire lifted themselves, clicking their heels on the floor walking in slow circles around Love. A predator ready to catch its prey “I could go to him, recite all those sugary boring letters by heart, and he would not believe you. It would not aid you either, because if you are still contacting me, you are still plotting with me. By the way, did he know that you are using his sigils to come to me? Oh, Dovey, he will not take that lightly, conspiring under his nose. Nada was sent to Hell for less than that. I Wonder what he will do to you. ” Desire tap their finger in the cheek in a fake wonder. Love gulped, trying to keep a straight face, ignoring the tears running through her cheeks, calling desperately for help.

The memories of her first weeks, Morpheus could see how this was early in their marriage through her eyes, how she ran towards his arms every time he arrived at any of his palace’s rooms that she already was, how excited and curious she was about the Dreaming, always spying through the windows, eagerly to talk to any dream or nightmare she bumped into. Love never spoke ill of him, or showed any distaste for the Dreaming. And he would be there in her memories, shoving her away, telling her to shut it, ignoring her occasional glances over books he was reading, even if he could see she seemed interested, avoiding to stay in the same room as her, finding work to do somewhere else. And the thousand sounds of doors being closed at her face.

His own memories started to clash with hers, mixing point of views with her at his chambers door, different nightgowns, a frightened face, and then an emotionless slightly older face. He felt the tightens of her and the tightens of her fingers in the silk sheets, his release dripping out of her turning to the wetness of tears in her pillows, the bliss of his orgasm shifting from the relief of finally breathing cold air outside his room, of finally ending date night. A vertiginous and continuous crash of memories and feelings that kept drowning Dream away from the narration of Desire and Love.

But this dream was not letting him escape so easily. He was pushed right back feeling afraid of the unknown penalty, his wife was feeling. Desire words got to her. The voice of one of her sisters, he dared to guess Lady Honesty although he could not tell Honesty from Melancholy apart even if rumors had it they were vastly different. ‘More treacherous than charming, you ought to be careful with your closeness with Lady- Lord Desire, they had never uttered a single word without some dishonorable intention’. Treacherous kept ressonating in her brain like a tick of a clock. Love ignored that advice, thinking it was jealousy that she was a new favorite of Desire.

“ Oh Dovey, but do not worry your pretty head” In a fake pity Desire pouted at her, hugging Love from behind, sliding their fingers along her curls, she did not push him away. She was startled, helpless. There was nothing to do. Desire was right. Morpheus would not believe her, or their sibling. He already was sure what happened. And Desire words seemed like velvet in her ear, like she could nest in their shoulder, letting her weight against them, that they would take care of her.

She did not need to worry her head “You are Lady of The Four Love, protector of fertility, virgins and marriage. Goddess of Spring” Their words were soothing, Love could not bother to correct all those wrong titles, her head was starting to feel light, eyelids heavy “A beauty that transcends time, able to wage and finish wars, you can whisper at mortals ear and make them a loving father with a family or obsessive compulsive stalker with an religious excuse. Isn’t that you?”

Love dumbly nod along. “He hates me” She wimpered like a child, and Desire shushed her, their soothing voice and touch continued to keep her in almost sedated state.

“Dovey are you telling me that hate is stronger than love? That you are incapable of making my brother love you? You Queen of Love, and my brother who is always moping about having the most tragic love life of the universe, both not able to love each other?” Their velveteen-like tone was cut by a cackle that made Love raise her head and look at Desire, looking more awake “I am not a joke. Is that what this is to you? A joke?!”

Of course she was. Love and Dream would be a laughing anecdote Desire would tell in every social for the next thousand of years. But they would not tell her that. Seeing Love reaction, they forcefully pushed her head back against their chest, lowering their voice again, making it melt inside her ears “Of course not, never. You are Queen of the Dreaming, Lady of Dreams and Nightmares. Princess of Stories.” Love’s vision became hazy and difficult to see, the blood red walls of Desire’s realm, shifted to a dark red, Desire felt her relaxing against them, they gently swooped one of her arms over her head, making it touch their shoulder, entangled even more against them, exposing her neck to them, entirely vulnerable. “You are my Queen.” Love felt their breath against her ear, their words filling her with a delightful calmness.

Morpheus felt a rush of his own feeling angerness, jealousy. He wanted to barge in and drag Love away from his sibling's claws. Desire tried to seduce his wife, not only that, they were clouding her mind with their powers to have her.” Silly, silly ungrateful brother, complaining about having you forever…” Their voice continue to soothe her nerves. Dream felt their hands now dance against her figure with a feather-like touch that made Love wimp in want.”Such a young thing...” Their hands went from her waist up to the side of her breasts, lightly pressuring them, “Supple breasts…”

Morpheus was raging. He would not care if Desire was endless, if they did anything to her while she could not properly consent, he would not respond for his actions.

Why did she never tell him this? The question lingered with him and almost as the memory answered him, he realized what she thought. He would not believe her. And the worst thing is, he can’t say that she was wrong.

Love slightly opened her eyes to see a reflection of her and Desire, she did not remember a mirror in front of them, but a cold shiver went through her body, heart beating fast, and her eyes open wide in desperation as she saw that it was not Desire touching her. Or it was but they were shape shifted as her husband, her breath started to hick, feeling the feather like kisses on her neck.

Love's throat was dry, she felt paralyzed, holding out a moan on the back of her throat, she could see her reflection, their reflection. Her husband's eyes were dark and full of lust, he never looked at her like this, he barely looked at her. “A tight, firm…” his raspy voice, it was not Desire’s velveteen like voice, but Morpheus’s deep voice, which was smothered by her loud cry as his hands, his long pale fingers squeezed her ass, and she arched her back their hands keeping her in place, she could see him smiling smugly in their reflection. Morpheus did not smile like that.

He never smiled at her but she knew he did not smile like that. Desire took that as an invitation and slides his hands to her lower stomach, caressing her until reaching the the inner side of her thigh pressing his fingers “Uncharted legs...'' they took her scent in as she kept mesmerizing looking at their reflection, she couldn’t break away, she didn’t want to or she did, she did not know, some of her would let him do anything he wanted to her, if he just continuing whispering to her, if his hands never leave her body. Why did it matter if it was Desire? It was her husband there touching her. It sounded like him, it smelled like him, it looked like him. Some of her was terrified.

“This dream is over.” Morpheus, the real one, seeing the memory in front of him unravel said, and repeated it loudly as it did not change, and now Desire’s fingers were collecting her skirt, raising it, revealing Love’s lily-white legs and tights, “This dream is over!” But whatever it was, and now he was certain this was not a common dream or nightmare, it did not obey. It did not end. It was something with the True Marriage's bond. Dream was stuck seeing his wife being cared for by another. By his sibling. “And whatever your heart desires you shall have it”

The atmosphere was antagonized by the cold feeling of a tear, running down her eye, and the warmth of her body. Love blinked, and blinked once again trying to stop it. Why was she crying? Her real husband did not love her anyway, wasn’t it an appropriate revenge to get to one of his siblings? Wasn’t he going to keep mistress? Then why shouldn't she? Then why was she crying? Why wasn’t she able to say anything, to stop it?

Morpheus felt her agony, the beat of her heart intensified, her mind was clouded, she was not thinking properly, but her body reacted to it, like it did not want it to happen. “And you can always come to me-“ Desire fingers ran free playing with the lace band of her underwear “To be cared for-“

When it dared to touch her under the piece of fabric, a weak voice dropped from Love’s lips“ Stop”

Desire didn’t stop, pushing their fingers inside her underwear,“Shh relax Lovie, consider it my apologies to the Queen “ That sounded like Desire. She blinked once more, the clouds started to clear from her hazy mind. She now felt how her body was trembling, how it abominated this. She felt like she could throw up.

That made Love squirm away from their touch “Stop it. Stop it! Stop it right now!” As she pushed away her skirt dropped to its place again. The full clarity hit her mind, and Love was furious with the violation. She pushed Desire strongly on their chest, making them trip on their feet, almost falling “How dare you?! You cloud my mind, turn my feelings against myself, you were going to violate me! What were you trying to do? Put a child in me so Dream would be the laughing stock of all the socials? How is his wife a whore that sleeps with all his siblings? To take a toll at me? At a True Marriage? Violating your friend to have a punchline?”

Desire rolled their eyes, throwing themselves back on the couch “Violate you? Dramatic! One week with my brother and you are already losing your sense of humor. I was giving what you desire: A husband that admires and lusts after you. A most appropriate wedding gift, as far as I can see.”

Love looked in complete disbelief and disappointment. That was the same Desire she considered a sibling, a dear friend, who laughed with her, who would spend hours in the Garden together. “We are not friends anymore, Desire.”

The Endless looked at their nails, not giving the trouble to look at Love’s face of disappointment, and responded “Only family”. The brunette shook her head, turning her back to leave their realm for good.

“See you at family dinner, sis!” The sibling shouted after Love walked away. The aggravating loneliness that she felt with each step is what made Dream be kicked out of her head.

—---------

Dream woke up immediately, it was like falling out of bed: A minute of air before the ground. He felt the wetness in his face. Tears. He looked at the other side of the bed. Love was already dressed in yesterday’s clothes, back against the headboard of the bed. He did not know if he actually truly looked at her until now. Timid sunlight crept through the curtains, making her brown curls shine like they were sprinkled in gold, her skin sparkled welcoming the light, her hands delicately resting in her tights, fingers anxiously peeling off the cuticles, making them red. She looked peaceful even though her cuticles said anxious, looking to the door of the room, and sometimes looking at the window. He opened his mouth, but when he was about to, she stared back at him.

He didn’t understand her facial expression, she did not seem mad, but she was not happy either, she merely looked deeply into his eyes. The only thing certain was that she knew what he discovered. “Love, I…”

“We should go. I am heading downstairs to say my farewell to Cain and Goldie. I will wait for you so we can say goodbye to Abel together.” She put her shoes on, and turned her back to him. He didn’t interrupt her. Before reaching for the door, she once again turned, her dress swirling around her waist “You should use your sand for our return, I do not want to waste any more time away from our duties, I believe you agree”

Morpheus nodded, supporting himself on his shoulder. It was as if nothing happened last night. As he was about to call her again, Love closed the door. He wanted to say something, anything. But the right words kept being all the wrong ones. It did not take long for her to be downstairs, as he heard some commotion. Morpheus went to the window, to see that his wife was already partaking in her usual royal posture of polite smiles and conversations. Lucienne was there. And right at her side, Elijah. Both the second hands seemed to be quite in a hurry, but were still waiting.

It did not take long for Morpheus to get dressed in his usual black attire. As he was getting dressed his urgency rose. Parades and breaking fast together were not enough. None of it was. There is no forgiveness for who he was. But he needed to tell her what and how he couldn’t tell, but he needed to say something before it was too late.

Downstairs the apologies and goodbyes were quick. As requested, Dream used his sand to get them back to the palace. But as he turned to have a moment with Love, she already left with Elijah. He lingered a few seconds looking at the spot at his side where she was. “My Lord?” Lucienne asked as he did not seem to listen to a word she was speaking.

Well, Elijah’s plan with Lord Morpheus might not have succeeded. She felt for her king, but still was saving a ‘I told you so’ to Elijah. Yes, the cupid told her about their secret meeting. Cupids love gossip, and Elijah assumed Lucienne was safe.

Morpheus looked back at Lucienne, as he nodded so she could continue, even though his mind was far from talks of tables, rooms, expansions, etiquettes and invites.

He needed to talk to Love.

@secretdreamlandmentality @littlemoistcarrot @lokigirlszendaya @roxytheimmortal

[gabessquishytum]

Hob is over 600 hundred years old, he’s got a ton of trauma that he never knew how to deal with until he learns about something in the early 2000’s…. Age regression. Hob didn’t have a childhood in the traditional sense so the idea of going to back to a childlike mind set fascinated him, but now he can’t exactly control when it happens. Whenever he gets stressed out his mind instantly goes to it, which had caused some problems especially after his stranger, Dream came back into his life. Hob had to pretend, hide his stuffed ducky and paci whenever Dream came over. He had to control his mind if anything vaguely distressing came up. This of course became an even BIGGER problem once him and Dream got together, they started sleeping in the same bed (well Hob slept anyway) and his ducky hadn’t seen the light in many weeks. Everything was going great until Dream asks a question. “Hob dear…are you pregnant?” Dream asks one day laying his head in Hob’s lap as the bigger man was reading a book. All this got was a book dropped on his face. “Oh dream I’m so sorry are you alright? You just um startled me with the question,” Dream of course was fine no mere mortal book could pose any threat to him, although under the cover of darkness he would admit his nose hurt a little.

“I am perfectly fine, Hob Gadling. But you have not answered my question.”

“Dream…I don’t know how to tell you this but I don’t exactly have the parts to get pregnant.”

“hmm,” Dream pondered, “how strange” he said laying back in Hob’s lap.

“wait wait wait hang on..why you’d think i was pregnant?”

“you dream of nurseries, baby bottles, stuffed animals…I don’t mean to look into your dreams but when we were in such close proximity it just happened I’m very sorry for invading your privacy,”

“was it a duck?” “Pardon?”

“the stuffed animal was it a duck?” Dream only nods in response.

it takes Hob a few more weeks to actually tell Dream what that meant. His Dreams had become more frequent and Dream was learning things but he wasn’t sure how to apply them. This was of course until Hob was mid panic attack and Dream somehow knew the duck was in the closet. “Hob…hob look at me,”

he looks up from his position on the floor barely able to breathe.

“I found a friend who really wants to talk to you,” Dream pulls out the duck from behind him and Hob immediately snatches it, seeming to calm down immensely. Dream didn’t ask questions that night, only comforted Hob, that however does not stop him from asking questions later. “You are not with child,”

Hob chuckles stirring his soup. “I know that love,”

“You are the child,”

Hob drops his spoon, he wants to run he wants his ducky, but he has to stay strong and deny everything.

“I am 600 years old I’m less of a child than your average person,”

Dream walks over to him and cradles Hob’s face in his hand.

“Hob…darling.”

He can’t look at Dream, he can’t.

“I’m not going to judge you, I merely wish to help you,”

Hob sighs and tells Dream everything. it’s a slow process after that, Hob formally introduces Dream to Ducky and shows him the pacifier after that, those being his only two items, Dream intended to change that. And after a few weeks a…dynamic began to emerge. And a year and a half later this is where our story unfolds.

Hob had a bad day, dream can sense it a dark cloud had entered the New Inn and it was quickly coming up the stairs, Dream wasn’t quite sure if Hob needed his other moniker today he would wait until the other man told him. Hob taught a lesson on the 1600’s because of his class schedule he technically taught it three times, he hated his unit on the 1600’s but someone had to do it. He was dropping fast he had to get upstairs, everyone knew not to speak to Mr. Gadling when he got in a bad mood because he usually didn’t talk back and looked like he didn’t understand what you were saying.

When he gets up there, the doors unlocked. Dream knows, little Hob has such trouble with locks. He opens the door and there stands Dream with a look of such openness and sympathy Hob knows he definitely knows. “D-d-da daddy,” Hob manages to choke out crying. Oh he definitely needed Dream’s other D moniker today. Dream swoops Hob into a hug, after so much time he was a professional at this. He holds Hob’s face in his hands. “Tell me what you need little one,”

“h-hungry”

Dream knew, he had known Hob was doing lectures on the 1600’s he would feel his hunger more acutely. He had prepared for this. He holds him close, petting his hair. “oh my poor baby is hungry, that just won’t do, why don’t we get dressed for a night in, and Daddy will get your bottle off the stove, how’s that little one?” Hob only nods, letting Dream hold his hand and lead him to the bedroom. Getting dress for a night in meant Hob’s little pajamas made of the softest and most comfortable Dreamstuff of course. Soon Dream heard the ding of the stove as he was settling Hob in bed. “Now my darling boy, you stay right here while Daddy goes and gets your bottle,” Hob looks hesitantly off to the side. “What’s wrong, hob?” “D-ducky,”

that’s what Dream had forgot! He summoned Ducky from his corner in the closet and handed him to Hob.

“Ducky!” Hob was delighted and held on to his bird companion close

Dream chuckled and went to fetch Hob his bottle. When he returned it seemed as if Hob was animatedly telling Ducky about his day, it was mostly baby babble that Dream didn’t understand, but Ducky could, Ducky always understood. Dream quietly knocked on the door so as to not startle Hob.

“Hobbit, Daddy’s got your bottle,” 

Hob looked up and squealed in delight at Dream’s presence or at the presence of food, Dream wasn’t sure, it didn’t matter anyhow all that mattered was that Hob was happy.

Dream came up to Hob’s side of the bed.

“Dweam!” 

“Yes Hob Dream is here,”

He goes to hand Hob the bottle but strangely Hob only looks at it. 

“Oh, is someone really little? Can Daddy hop into bed with you?”

Hob nods and Dream slides into next to him. 

“Do you want me to feed you?”

Hob nodded eagerly, he must have been very young to be almost nonverbal.

Dream maneuvered the both of them until Hob was in Dream’s lap. 

He held the bottle up and Hob drank down almost greedily.

“Slow down little one you don’t want to upset your tummy, my, my, someone was hungry, wasn’t he?” 

Dream fed Hob and rocked him back and forth as he cuddled Ducky.

“You’re my good, brave little boy. You did so well today. Now it’s time for daddy to take care of you,” 

Once Hob had finished his bottle Dream fed him some sugar coated strawberries to get some solid food in him. 

“Full”

“Oh good boy, thank you for telling Daddy.”

Dream put away the strawberries and rubbed Hob’s little tummy.

Sometimes when Hob was little Dream would park him in front of the tv, this was usually on the weekends when Hob regressed more to decompress than anything else. Little Hob was obsessed with cartoons, he’d sit for hours unmoving fascinated by the moving pictures, Dream started diapering him after one too many accidents. But Hob didn’t need that right now. Right now he needed his Daddy. 

“Alright baby boy, do you want daddy to tell you a story?”

After that he had fallen asleep in Dream’s arms. 

Although there are pit falls when this happens…

—————————

The next morning…. 

Dream was in the kitchen preparing some tea waiting for Hob to wake up, he never woke up regressed so this was bound to be entertaining. 

“Aw fuck I did it again, we’re really in it now, Ducky,” he could hear Hob mutter from the bedroom.

“Dream,” he called from the bedroom.

“Yes darling?”

“I uh… wet…my ……protection,”

Dream chuckled, he always did.

“Do you need Daddy’s help?” Dream teased. 

“What! No no I got it I’ll just do it myself, I’m a grown man thank you very much,”

Dream chuckled and headed for the bedroom, he never in fact did it himself.

-🦎

So I have little to no experience with writing age regression BUT I'm absolutely fascinated and delighted by the concept! And let me tell you, age regression + Hob made me absolutely melt. I feel like I could really get into what an amazing way this would be for him to cope with immortality (because while it is a gift, it causes significant strain on him) but mostly I just want to appreciate how cute this is!!! Hob and Ducky melted my heart, he's such a sweet boy and I'm so glad Dream will be taking good care of him from now on!! The whole thing about him being extra hungry when he's little just made my whole chest clench up - give that baby his bottle!!!!!

Also love fully grown Hob at the end and how they're teasing each other, loving each other, accepting each other. No real embarrassment, because Hob knows that he's loved and cared for! Plus him still talking to Ducky absolutely cracked me up.

I would definitely love to see more of this kind of thing in the dreamling-sphere! Thank you so much for sharing this adorable little ficlet.

[pastelalleycat]

This line in the WHRP news page has been haunting me to no end and I can't not bring it up anymore.

Guys.... I think Barnaby cares for Julie..........

(tons of theorizing under the cut)

We don't know much about Julie's inner psyche compared to some of the other characters, but we do know that she's outwardly always happy, always cheerful, always eager for a game or a smile. Being so fun-loving and not being able to crack a joke sounds like something that could cause Julie distress. She looks up to Barnaby and wants to be as funny as he is, but she's so engulfed in trying to surround herself in happy things, in the role she plays alongside Frank, that she can't admit that there's a problem, that there's something wrong in her life.

More about Barnaby's perspective is found in the Homewarming record- he's surprisingly perceptive, and there's an introspective, analytical part of his personality where he's able to take in people's emotions and level them against a logical standard. He may be brusque, blunt, teasing, but that's his way of caring. He knows, logically, that Julie can't make others laugh to save her life. He knows, logically, that Frank may not be the best match for her. And he knows, logically, that he wants to help Julie learn how to tell jokes- to help her.

Plus, jokes are literal currency- at least in Howdy's bodega. My theory is that Julie uses Eddie's post office for anything she may need instead by getting it sent in; in the "listen" audios, she recieves quite a few packages, and we never see her inside Howdy's store or interacting with him directly (as far as I remember). In a world that literally favors the funny, being unfunny is an actual disadvantage.

Whether it's puppy love or a friendly appreciation, Barnaby clearly likes Julie. And though he pisses her off, Julie enjoys his company too.

That brings us to Julie's winter hibernation, and the sentence used here in this news post. Julie's very connected to flowers, so the image of a flower needing strong roots to bloom in the spring is most likely related to her somehow. The Bug-a-Bye record can be interpreted as Frank mourning Julie's absence during winter, so we'd expect him to be the one to tuck her in, as it were, for her big sleep, so why is Barnaby mentioned?

Well, when Eddie dissociates during the Homewarming party, it's when he's forgone his role as the mailman and let others do his deliveries for him. He relaxes, and in that moment he doesn't have any ties to the Neighborhood- unrooting, so to speak, becoming aware that there's more to the soil than his roots could previously comprehend.

Sleep is similar to disocciation, but the subconscious mind is far more aware of the world during dissociation, whereas during sleep dreams can be difficult to discern from reality if you aren't lucid. Hibernation is a deep version of sleep, body and mind slowing down as much as it can to preserve function.

The health and life cycle of flowers in the Neighborhood are connected to Julie. If she entered hibernation and something happened to the flowers while she was asleep, she'd either have no way of knowing, or be too weak to do anything about it. Yet, if the roots are strong, a plant will live. It's much the same with a puppet.

Barnaby doesn't know too much about flowers, but he knows about dirt. About soil. About perception. And because he's a dog by nature, he damn well knows how to dig. In my head, I can't imagine he would feel comfortable if any of his neighbors were in danger, much less one who can't speak for herself.

The fact that Barnaby taught Wally the "Beautiful Dreamer" song, a song sung to a possibly dead lover- and knowing that Julie is about to enter / has entered a deep sleep at the end of the latest update- strikes me as eerie. I may be off the mark here, since Wally is pictured with dreamy imagery in the "Remderem" commercial as well, but I can't ignore it.

So uh, yeah, Julaby brOTP for life. Yeah.

[collapsedglasshouses]

An Angel for Noah || Noah Sebastian x OC [Part 5]

DIVIDER ART WORK BY @cafekitsune

MASTERPOST

PAIRING: Noah Sebastian x Jules [she/her]

SUMMARY: Noah can't get this girl from his dreams out of his thoughts and goes to extreme lengths to clear his head... With no success.

WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, reckless behavior, near-death experiences, emotional distress, ...

A/N: Hello! ♡ Here is the next chapter of An Angel For Noah and we finally have something to work with. I'm so excited for your reactions. Just to let you know, I almost broke my brain while writing this. Also thanks to my boyfriend for being my co-writer. Credit goes out to collapsedboyfriend or whatever lmao. Have fun reading this chapter and let me know your thoughts! ♡

TAGLIST: @trvshdxddy @blackveilomens @crimson-calligraphyx @measuredingold @cncohshit @signs-of-ill-portent

If you wanna be added to the taglist of this story, please DM me or let me know in the comments!

Keep in mind, this takes place in an alternative universe. Even though I write about real people, the way I write them has nothing to do with how they are in real life.

“Jules.”

Noah’s simple exclaim still lingered in her ears, even days later.

Her heart had sunk when she heard him audibly sigh out her name. Her mind instantly had started to race. Why did he say her name? What was going on?

It wasn’t like she hadn’t realised how shifty Noah had gotten over the past few weeks, it all coming to a peak when she saved him from almost crashing his car, but nothing that happened made her come to the conclusion why he would know her name.

When the tour had finally kicked off, Jules nerves were on edge. Noah on the other hand seemed to finally have some rest from his thoughts. There was hardly a moment where he could reflect on the strange events that had occurred in the days leading up to the tour.

What Jules didn’t expect, was, actually liking to be on the road. When she was still alive she had been a homebody. She had loved being alone and found it rather difficult to bear the idea of ​​being away for long periods of time. But watching Noah do what he loved had impacted her somehow.

He seemed to blossom more and more with each day leading up to the tour and Jules couldn’t help but adore it. It almost felt like his feelings were washing over her.

The morning of the first tour date had arrived. The whole crew already arrived yesterday, so they had the full day to prepare everything to their liking. Jules watched Noah as he was woken up by his phone ringing.

The small hotel they stayed in was far from luxurious but it did what it was supposed to and did not blow their budget.

"Yes?" Noah rasped into his phone and ran a hand through his hair. Jules slightly tilted her head and watched him stretch his neck. If she hadn't been in the midst of a full on crisis about him stuttering her name in his sleep, she would have addressed how she couldn't deny how attractive she found him certain things he did throughout the day. One of them being his morning stretches.

"Yes, I'm wide awake, Matt. In fact, I'm about to step out of my room and get a ride to the venue." Noah lied and set on the edge of his bed. Jules rolled her eyes at him while slightly smiling. He definitely had overslept but there wasn't anything she could do but watch him hectically start his day.

When he later arrived at the venue, he was greeted by his band mates and shortly after he was completely in his element.

Until late afternoon, Jules didn't leave his side. Even stopped him from hitting his head too hard for a couple of times. Even though she would consider that day as her first constantly stressful one since becoming his guardian angel, she also couldn't stop herself from smiling all the time, when she saw how happy Noah was.

Noah's band mates were a constant source of support. Jules observed their interactions, noting the unbreakable bond that had formed over countless tours and late-night jam sessions. Their music was their lifeline, and they embraced it with a fervor that had carried them through countless challenges.

As they gathered at early evening for the soundcheck, Jules overheard their animated conversations. Ruffilo, the bassist, couldn't contain his excitement. "This is it, guys! The start of the tour! Let's give 'em a show they won't forget!"

Jolly, the guitarist, added with a grin, "And let's party like rock stars afterward!"

The concert itself had been a whirlwind of energy and emotions. Jules had watched as Noah took the stage, his powerful voice resonating through the venue. The crowd's adoration was heartwarming, their voices merging with his like it was a match made in heaven.

As the final chords of the concert had echoed through the air, Jules had seen the sweat-soaked euphoria on Noah's face. The connection he forged with the audience was a testament to the raw power of his music, a force that transcended the boundaries of the stage.

Much to Jules' dismay, Noah had taken the "party like rock stars" statement, from Jolly earlier, a tad too serious.

Around two hours later the whole crew found themselves at a party in a nearby bar, celebrating another electrifying performance. The room was filled with loud laughter, music and the clinking of glasses.

Noah and the boys, still riding the high of the concert, were at the center of it all. Noah moved through the crowd with charisma and charm, the embodiment of the rock star lifestyle, trying to hide his insecurities. His deepest inner self wanted him to retreat to his hotel room, but knowing that this was not proper, he chose rather to drown his sorrows in alcohol, among the fans and partygoers. As the night wore on, he slowly but surely felt the effect of his drinks.

Normally he would already be fully into the party action with his thoughts, but this night was different. He kept catching himself thinking about this girl. The whole day he had pushed her out of his mind but now she was more present than before. Jules. His memories of that dream lingered at the edge of his consciousness, like a whisper in the dark.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted when an attractive woman joined him. It wasn't long before Noah recognized her face as one of the girls from front row. In fact, the crew had become very careful about who they invited to the after show parties, but every now and then people, often times girls with clear intentions, would sneak in. None of the guys were the kind who slept with fans, but Noah still allowed himself to flirt with one or the other from time to time. So when the woman asked him to join her for a drink, he gladly accepted, trying to get Jules of his mind.

When they set down at the bar, his gaze wandered. He glanced around, seeing his band mates and crew immersed in their own celebrations. The weight of his fame, the constant adoration of fans, and the relentless tour schedule weighed on him, and right at this moment, the temptation to escape it all was irresistible.

Drinks started to flow freely, and Noah lost track of time, the moments slipping away in a haze of laughter and intoxication. But as the night deepened, so did the weight of his choices. The memory of the girl in his dream resurfaced, like a distant melody that tugged at his heart.

Suddenly he felt like he wasn't getting enough oxygen anymore. Absently, he excused himself from the woman's company, not even remembering her name, as he navigated his way through the crowd and out of the building.

He was a little dizzy when he finally breathed in some fresh air and only now did he realize how drunk he really was.

He needed to get to the hotel. When Jules saw him like that, her neck hair began to stand up. She felt like a predator carefully watching her prey as she followed the stumbling figure through the streets.

In his intoxicated state, Noah paid little attention to the world around him. As he stumbled along the dimly lit street, the traffic light ahead of him turned red. Oblivious to the rules of the road, he continued walking, the sound of his own footsteps drowned out by the sounds of the city at night.

Jules, on the other hand, saw it all unfold.

A car, its headlights glaring, raced toward Noah with terrifying speed.

Panic started to creep up her skin as she realized what disaster was about to happen. She had no time to think and with a burst of adrenaline, Jules materialized and began to run towards Noah. With full force she crashed into him and therefore got him out of the car's path.

A muffled thud was heard as the two fell to the concrete floor, Jules' arms wrapped tightly around Noah. Out of reflex she had closed her eyes and now she couldn't bear to open them, hearing Noah's heartbeat against her ear, while her ears were ringing from adrenaline.

Noah, on the other hand, felt the same way. His heart had never beaten as fast as it had right now. She had saved him. He would have run straight into a car, but the girl that clung to him like there was no tomorrow had saved him from his sure death.

As they lay sprawled on the pavement, Jules, her heart pounding, breathed a sigh of relief as tears streamed down her face. "Are you okay?" she asked, concern etched on her face. She hadn't even realised how she began to cry.

Noah's shock was deep as he stared at her, struggling to find his voice. Despite his near-death experience and the adrenaline rushing through his body, he suddenly felt this calmness coursing through his body, as if the world had paused in this extraordinary moment.

"Never do that again, I swear to god. I'll run you over myself." Jules admonished, her voice trembling with a mix of relief and anger, as she tried to contain her cries. The realisation that she was about to loose her person, made her weep with even more force.

Noah was far too perplexed to respond, his gaze locked on her face, unwilling to let go of the security that enveloped him, when he looked at her.

Eventually, Jules pulled herself away from him, helping Noah to his feet. "Are you hurt?" she inquired, her eyes still filled with concern and tears.

Noah stared into her eyes that looked so familiar and felt almost like home to him and than slowly began to shake his head, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. As he began to regain his composure, he whispered his gratitude and scanned his surroundings. The car was gone. "Thank you for..."

But when he turned back to Jules, she had vanished into the night, leaving him standing alone on the quiet street. His confusion deepened, and he couldn't shake the feeling that his life had taken a surreal and inexplicable turn.

As he continued on his way to the hotel, the events of that night haunted him. He didn't feel a drop of alcohol in his system anymore, his ears still slightly ringing from the adrenaline. The girl who had saved him felt strangely familiar, yet he couldn't place where he had seen her before. Doubt and uncertainty gnawed at him, and he couldn't shake his confusion.

When he finally reached his hotel room, it hit him. He knew why she felt so familiar.

"Jules." he breathed out again.

Jules had saved him.

PART SIX

[hanafubukki]

A bit of a weird thing to ask but has anyone in the fandom actually blamed Yuu for Malleus' overblot?

Though I can see some people's points, it just feels strange to think "Oh, if Yuu kept their mouth shut, then all of this wouldn't have happened." Even though it was seeing Silver cry that finally pushed Malleus to overblot.

Also, how could Yuu have known what was going to happen? To them, it just felt like they and Malleus were just exchanging fairly innocent (though sombre) questions with one another.

Hello Kataba 🌺🌻🌸

Currently, in the EN fandom, I don’t really see anyone blame MC. I know when the update first came out in jp, it kind of became a joke. 😂

I don’t think it was taken seriously as MC being part of the blame, though there are some theories that MC somehow influences or causes blot events to happen.

But none of that has been confirmed, though I can see why given OBs are supposed to be rare and yet they keep happening especially since MC is a common factor.

I don’t think MC was necessarily the blame for Malleus to OB. After all, Malleus went to MC as one would when they need help and they seek the advice of a friend. He simply went to someone he can be himself with.

MC just told him what their thoughts are and he was able to learn something about himself that he seems to have tried to block from his mind. That he didn’t want to acknowledge, but other than that, I wouldn’t say MC had any other influence.

(Besides needing a better time to drop the fact they might have found a way home, but that’s plot for you. But MC also thinks of Malleus as a friend and thought of him first before anyone else as well, so you can tell they care and notice him.)

So no, I wouldn’t say Yuu is the blame at all. How could they have known? They were being truthful and honest, something Malleus has always been thankful for and the reason why they are close.

Malleus was simply unhappy and couldn’t express himself. He was distressed and seeing Silver cry was the last straw. He simply connected the dots on what would make everyone happy and chose to put everyone to sleep in a happy dream.

It was just an unfortunate cascade of events 😭😭

[rewildling]

UnKiss: Trauma or Fantasy?

probably not saying anything that hasn’t already been said but I’m gonna say it anyway

Guinevere by Florence Harrison

We know that Sandor almost kisses Sansa during the Blackwater scene but stops when she closes her eyes:

He yanked her closer, and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her. He was too strong to fight. She closed her eyes, wanting it to be over, but nothing happened. Sansa VII, ACOK

But this isn’t how Sansa remembers it:

Sansa wondered what Megga would think about kissing the Hound, as she had. He’d come to her the night of the battle stinking of wine and blood. He kissed me and threatened to kill me, and made me sing him a song. Sansa II, ASOS

As the boy’s lips touched her own she found herself thinking of another kiss. She could still remember how it felt, when his cruel mouth pressed down on her own. He had come to Sansa in the darkness as green fire filled the sky. He took a song and a kiss, and left me nothing but a bloody cloak. Alayne II, AFFC

“You do know what goes on in a marriage bed, I hope?” She thought of Tyrion, and of the Hound and how he’d kissed her, and gave a nod. Alayne II, AFFC

Some readers claim that Sansa misremembers Sandor kissing her as a sort of subconscious coping mechanism — romanticizing a traumatic memory to make it less distressing. Frankly, this argument doesn’t make much sense. Sansa doesn’t misremember any of the other traumatic events in her life, ones that are arguably much worse than the Blackwater, like her father’s execution:

Sometimes her sleep was leaden and dreamless, and she woke from it more tired than when she had closed her eyes. Yet those were the best times, for when she dreamed, she dreamed of Father. Waking or sleeping, she saw him, saw the gold cloaks fling him down, saw Ser Ilyn striding forward, unsheathing Ice from the scabbard on his back, saw the moment… the moment when… she had wanted to look away, she had wanted to, her legs had gone out from under her and she had fallen to her knees, yet somehow she could not turn her head, and all the people were screaming and shouting, and her prince had smiled at her, he'd smiled and she'd felt safe, but only for a heartbeat, until he said those words, and her father's legs… that was what she remembered, his legs, the way they'd jerked when Ser Ilyn… when the sword… Sansa VI, AGOT

She even remembers the other parts of the Blackwater scene quite clearly: Sandor threatening to kill her and forcing her to sing.

It’s understandable that UnKiss could seem like a trauma response if it’s taken out of context — the context being the romantic framing of Sandor Clegane in Sansa’s arc. But GRRM has said that UnKiss is going to mean something:

You will see, in A STORM OF SWORDS and later volumes, that Sansa remembers the Hound kissing her the night he came to her bedroom… but if you look at the scene, he never does. That will eventually mean something, but just now it’s a subtle touch, something most of the readers may not even pick up on. GRRM

If all it means is that Sansa remembers the Blackwater as being more romantic than it actually was because she’s traumatized, how would that be significant in terms of plot or character development? It would be a regression for both characters if Sansa encounters Sandor again and realizes that he really is the cruel, scary monster she originally thought he was and that she’s the naive, helpless girl he originally thought she was. They aren’t those people anymore, if they ever were:

My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel. Sansa V, ASOS

“The Hound is dead” Brienne VI, AFFC

By the Blackwater, Sansa is already fully disillusioned with knights and songs. It’s not as if she needs to look back on her imprisonment in King’s Landing and realize it wasn’t as romantic as she first thought:

Knights are sworn to defend the weak, protect women, and fight for the right, but none of them did a thing. Only Ser Dontos had tried to help, and he was no longer a knight, no more than the Imp was, nor the Hound… the Hound hated knights… I hate them too, Sansa thought. Sansa III, ACOK

They are children, Sansa thought. They are silly little girls, even Elinor. They’ve never seen a battle, they’ve never seen a man die, they know nothing. Their dreams were full of songs and stories, the way hers had been before Joffrey cut her father’s head off. Sansa pitied them. Sansa envied them. Sansa II, ASOS

Sansa doesn’t romanticize Sandor in King’s Landing. In fact, she does the opposite. She doesn’t pick up on the subtle ways he protects her — like stopping her from killing herself trying to push Joffrey off the battlements or lying for her so Joffrey won’t have her beaten:

Joffrey scowled. He knew she was lying, she could see it. He would make her bleed for this. "The girl speaks truly," the Hound rasped. "What a man sows on his name day, he reaps throughout the year." His voice was flat, as if he did not care a whit whether the king believed him or no. Could it be true? Sansa had not known. It was just something she'd said, desperate to avoid punishment. Sansa I, ACOK

It’s not until after the bread riot when the fact that he’s protecting her becomes glaringly obvious that she realizes she feels safe with him:

I would be gladder if it were the Hound, Sansa thought. Harsh as he was, she did not believe Sandor Clegane would let any harm come to her. Sansa V, ACOK

So what is the significance of UnKiss? Let’s talk about the other men who are romantically linked to Sansa throughout the series and see if we can figure it out.

After Sandor leaves during the Blackwater, Sansa is subjected to a series of relationships against her will. Even before that, she has no choice in her betrothal to Joffrey. The thought of having to have sex with him repulses her so much that she burns her bedclothes after getting her first moonblood, hoping no one will find out that she’s able to bear children. When Joffrey sets her aside to wed Margaery Tyrell instead, she’s relieved.

She rushed back to the bed and stared in horror at the dark red stain and the tale it told. All she could think was that she had to get rid of it, or else they’d see. She couldn’t let them see, or they’d marry her to Joffrey and make her lay with him. Sansa IV, ACOK

“Bless my steel with a kiss.” He extended the blade down to her. “Go on, kiss it.” He had never sounded more like a stupid little boy. Sansa touched her lips to the metal, thinking that she would kiss any number of swords sooner than Joffrey. Sansa V, ACOK

I am free of Joffrey. I will not have to kiss him, nor give him my maidenhood, nor bear him children. Let Margaery Tyrell have all that, poor girl. Sansa VIII, ACOK

She’s then forced to marry Tyrion, but she isn’t attracted to him at all:

“With this kiss I pledge my love,” the dwarf replied hoarsely, “and take you for my lady and wife.” He leaned forward, and their lips touched briefly. He is so ugly, Sansa thought when his face was close to hers. He is even uglier than the Hound. Sansa III, ASOS

He is as frightened as I am, Sansa realized. Perhaps that should have made her feel more kindly toward him, but it did not. All she felt was pity, and pity was death to desire. ... “On my honor as a Lannister,” the Imp said, “I will not touch you until you want me to.” It took all the courage that was in her to look in those mismatched eyes and say, “And if I never want you to, my lord?” Sansa III, ASOS

She escapes from King’s Landing and her marriage to Tyrion only to end up stuck with Littlefinger, whose kisses and attention make her uncomfortable and remind her of the man who attempted to rape her the night of Petyr and Lysa’s wedding:

He sounded almost like Marillion, the night he’d gotten so drunk at the wedding. Only this time Lothor Brune would not appear to save her; Ser Lothor was Petyr’s man. “You shouldn’t kiss me. I might have been your own daughter…” Sansa VII, ASOS

He looked at her with Littlefinger’s eyes. “I’d sooner break my fast with a kiss.” A true daughter would not refuse her sire a kiss, so Alayne went to him and kissed him, a quick dry peck upon the cheek, and just as quickly stepped away. “How… dutiful.” Littlefinger smiled with his mouth, but not his eyes. Alayne I, AFFC

“I did not expect you back so soon,” she said. “I am glad you’ve come.” “I would never have known it from the kiss you gave me.” He pulled her closer, caught her face between his hands, and kissed her on the lips for a long time. “Now that’s the sort of kiss that says welcome home. See that you do better next time.” Alayne II, AFFC

Littlefinger arranges for her to marry Ser Harrold Hardyng, yet another betrothal she has no choice in:

Petyr Baelish took her by the hand and drew her down onto his lap. “I have made a marriage contract for you.” “A marriage…” Her throat tightened. She did not want to wed again, not now, perhaps not ever. Alayne II, AFFC

“And how was your first meeting with Harry the Heir?” “He’s horrible.” Alayne I, TWOW

Sansa is weary of these involuntary attachments. She’s never had any agency in her own romantic life. Joffrey, Tyrion, Petyr, Harry — Sansa didn’t choose any of these men. Moreover, none of them actually want her in the first place. Joffrey thinks she’s stupid and only sees her as a sexual object:

“Your Grace,” he said sharply. “You truly are a stupid girl, aren’t you?” … “I’ll get you with child as soon as you’re able,” Joffrey said as he escorted her across the practice yard. “If the first one is stupid, I’ll chop off your head and find a smarter wife. When do you think you’ll be able to have children?” Sansa VI, AGOT

As they whirled to the music, Joff gave her a moist kiss. “My uncle will bring you to my bed whenever I command it.” Sansa III, ASOS

Tyrion isn’t cruel to her, but he doesn’t love her. For him, the main appeal of marrying Sansa is her claim:

Tyrion Lannister, Lord Protector of Winterfell. The prospect gave him a queer chill. Tyrion III, ASOS

Littlefinger only sees her as another Catelyn for him to finally obtain:

Septa Mordane quickly took a hand. “Sweet child, this is Lord Petyr Baelish, of the king’s small council.” “Your mother was my queen of beauty once,” the man said quietly. His breath smelled of mint. “You have her hair.” His fingers brushed against her cheek as he stroked one auburn lock. Sansa II, AGOT

“You shouldn’t kiss me. I might have been your own daughter…” “Might have been,” he admitted, with a rueful smile. “But you’re not, are you? You are Eddard Stark’s daughter, and Cat’s. But I think you might be even more beautiful than your mother was, when she was your age.” Sansa VII, ASOS

Petyr studied her eyes, as if seeing them for the first time. “You have your mother’s eyes. Honest eyes, and innocent. Blue as a sunlit sea. When you are a little older, many a man will drown in those eyes.” Sansa did not know what to say to that. Sansa I, AFFC

Harry is a notorious womanizer who looks down on her because of the assumed illegitimacy of Alayne Stone:

“Harry the Heir?” Alayne tried to recall what Myranda had told her about him on the mountain. “He was just knighted. And he has a bastard daughter by some common girl.” “And another on the way by a different wench. Harry can be a beguiling one, no doubt.” Alayne II, AFFC

Ser Harrold looked down at her coldly. “Why should it please me to be escorted anywhere by Littlefinger’s bastard?” Alayne I, TWOW

“This betrothal was never his idea, and Bronze Yohn has no doubt warned him against my wiles. You are my daughter. He does not trust you, and he believes that you’re beneath him.” Alayne I, TWOW

None of these men want her for herself. They want her for her claim or her body or both. And being wanted for herself is something Sansa deeply desires, even if she’s given up on ever having it:

Tyrell or Lannister, it makes no matter, it's not me they want, only my claim. Sansa III, ASOS

It is not me she wants her son to marry, it is my claim. No one will ever marry me for love. Sansa VI, ASOS

There’s only one man in Sansa’s storyline who has ever wanted her for who she is — a kind, compassionate person who, like him, values integrity, bravery, honesty, and loyalty. A man who doesn’t care about lands and titles: Sandor Clegane.

Self-empowerment is an important theme in Sansa’s character arc. She’s been forced into relationships with men who don’t actually love her since the beginning of the series. When she’s finally in a position to actually choose a lover or husband, she’ll want someone who wants her for herself. How do we know? UnKiss.

Sansa’s attraction to Sandor is still mostly subconscious, but it surfaces every now and then, usually in the form of UnKiss:

If I close my eyes I can pretend he is the Knight of Flowers. Ser Loras had given Sansa Stark a red rose once, but he had never kissed her… and no Tyrell would ever kiss Alayne Stone. Pretty as she was, she had been born on the wrong side of the blanket. As the boy’s lips touched her own she found herself thinking of another kiss. She could still remember how it felt, when his cruel mouth pressed down on her own. He had come to Sansa in the darkness as green fire filled the sky. He took a song and a kiss, and left me nothing but a bloody cloak. It made no matter. That day was done, and so was Sansa. Alayne II, AFFC

Loras Tyrell never kissed Sansa — but neither did Sandor. This isn’t a PTSD flashback. It’s a fantasy. She plans to imagine Loras when Sweetrobin kisses her, but she ends up picturing Sandor. She still thinks she prefers someone like the Knight of the Flowers, but the man she actually wants is Sandor Clegane.

Sansa obviously isn’t done, so neither is the day Sandor (un)kissed her. What’s even more interesting is that she declares that day done, and then immediately thinks of it again in the very same chapter:

She thought of Tyrion, and of the Hound and how he’d kissed her, and gave a nod. Alayne II, AFFC

She’s trying not to think about Sandor, but she can’t help herself. She thinks about this kiss more than any of the kisses that actually happened. She thinks about it when comparing sexual experiences with other girls her age. She thinks about it when she’s supposed to be fantasizing about Loras Tyrell. She thinks about it when she’s asked if she knows what happens in a marriage bed.

Basically, she’s invented a kiss with a man who wants the real her, not a claim to Winterfell, not her mother, not a sexual object. Sansa isn’t romanticizing the Blackwater out of trauma. She’s romanticizing it because she’s seeing Sandor in an increasingly romantic light.

[bvsyhead]

BASICS full name; jules vazquez age; 25/36 (immortal) / species; demon / nicknames; tbd / gender; non-binary / prounouns; she/they / sexuality; pansexual / species; demon / marital status; widowed/ occupation; none as she has just returned from hell

PERSONALITY the label; the chariot / positive traits; adaptable, dependable, confident, devoted, protective / negative traits; impatient, stubborn, revengeful, prideful / sign; leo

FAMILY children; kaya and asher lockwood

BACKGROUND

tw: suicide, drugs, abandonment, death

-jules was born during a hot summer in 2004, to a family who simply couldn't afford a child at the time. because of this they left her on the front steps of a local church, wrapped in an old green scarf. the only token from her birth parents.

-despite her best attempts, she was never adopted and grew up in the orphanage with her found family. after a few years, the kids who weren't adopted and grew out of the foster system made a pact to stick together no matter what. they got jobs, went to school, and soon was able to afford a place they could all thrive.

-however, not all of them were able to succeed in the world, a lot of them turning to drugs or other vices. jules didn't want any of that, she wanted to study hard and graduate with a degree that would allow her to be a social worker. having these goals tore them apart of the group, where she would be seen less and less as their studies became more intense.

-even though jules tried it was impossible to get their found family to seek help, so she gave up knowing that there wasn't much she could do. a few years later, when she was graduating, one of them showed up, begging for money and not even mentioning the hard work and dedication that they had put into their life. this made jules upset so they said some things they didn't mean before throwing money at the others and leaving.

-only needing a few moments to breath and thing, she returned to find out that they had taken their life. in distress, jules pleaded with whatever was listening to bring them back. something was listening, a demon whose main purpose was to take the souls of others so they could revive a lost loved one. before she could even understand what happened, they were sent to hell to bring souls to whomever asked no matter what.

-filled with grief and anger, she became the best soul bringer hell had ever seen. they fell into their rage allowing it consume them fully, until they met tyler lockwood. she was meant to bring his soul back, demons told her that he was evil and needed to be punished, but when she met him there was no evil in sight. if anything he was filled with sadness and confusion. this meeting changed her completely and the two of them began seeing each other in secret for several months.

-the two of them managed to get in touch with vincent griffith, a powerful witch who knew how to unbind souls. he helped jules get her soul back and begin the life that they always dreamed of. tyler and jules started their own family, having their first daughter kaya only a year after meeting.

-kaya became jules's anchor from their demon and human side. she had always been filled with much more compassion than any demon in hell could understand. this feeling only blossomed as her daughter grew.

-a few years later, tyler and jules added another child to their family. asher lockwood completed the bunch.

-their life was wonderful at first, all of them growing in the bayou and learning to heal the broken parts from their past families. but it wasn't meant to last that long, soon inadu came, wanting to kill everything possible that stood in it's way. jules being the protective person she is, ended up dying in battle protecting her family.

-despite their body being destroyed, jules soul ended up being sent back to hell where she lost her identity. the demons she tricked before ended up torturing her so badly that her memory was altered. somehow she found a way out, being placed in a whole new body with no idea of who or what they are.

[shanie]

Teaser Thursday!!!

For no other reason than I want to share.

First section of the final chapter of "Never Say Goodbye" under cut:

Someone was touching him.

Kevin didn’t open his eyes right away as he awoke, but he did engage his brain trying to figure out what was happening. He was awake, he was almost certain he hadn’t been, but now someone was touching him.

Running their fingers through his hair.

Like an ocean breeze.

Kevin stirred slightly and, as he did, he heard a gasp as the sensation against his scalp abruptly halted.

It was then that he opened his eyes.... to see Generico, lips parted and eyes wide laying in bed facing him like he’d been caught.

It only took Kevin two seconds to process that he had.

“Generico...?” Kevin asked, his voice still groggy with sleep, “Were you...”

“Lo... lo siento,” the response came.

Everything was coming into view.

“Generico what were you doing?”

His partner’s only response was to look distressed.

“We don’t do that!” he continued, his voice raising, “We sleep together – I mean not really, we do, but not like – but we never do that!”

Generico let out a low whine followed by a word, just one word that Kevin couldn’t quite make out.

“What was that?” he questioned.

“P-Playa,” Generico stammered, “Beach. We go.”

“We go where?”

“We go to the beach.”

The sentence smashed Steen in the face like a Triple H sledgehammer.

We go to the beach.

The dream came rushing back to him.

We go to the beach.

No, Generico couldn’t have...

We go to the beach.

Nothing can hurt us at the beach.

He figured he’d ask.

“Generico? Were you... talking to me? While I was sleeping?

The luchador nodded against the pillow.

“I was having a nightmare. And you knew.”

Another nod.

“So you told me to go to the beach.”

The third nod was stronger than the first two and accompanied by Generico scrunching his face as though the revelation of his actions was making him emotional. And, upon seeing his friend’s face, the emotions it contained, and running off one of his wilder hunches, Steen did what had to be one of the most dangerous things he’d done in recent memory.

He asked a terrifying question.

“... Has this happened before?”

The final nod was an even bigger sledgehammer than the first.

It all made sense. Kevin had always felt more rested when he slept in the same bed as Generico, and Generico always seemed happier afterwards. How many nights had gone down just like that one? How often had he had nightmares that Generico had sent him to the beach to end? How many terrors had been dissolved and forgotten long before he awoke because on that night they had once again gotten stuck (blessed) with a room with only one bed?

How many nights had Generico laid beside him offering gentle comfort and touches, all in an attempt to give him a better night’s sleep?

Somehow, through some bizarre freakish act of God, nature, fate, or whatever bullshit was enacting upon him at that moment, Kevin didn’t know what to say.

The only thing he could do was reach across the divide and run his thumb against the stitching of Generico’s mask, as if somehow, someway, the reciprocated touch could offer Generico eternal repayment for his kindness.

Unfortunately, as Steen ran his thumb along the bottom edge of Generico’s eyehole, he found something else besides reciprocation awaiting him.

Dampness.

Generico had been crying.

Suddenly, the events of the previous night returned to him. The stuff from before he went back to sleep.

Before his nightmare.

And after Generico’s.

[forthedancingandthethriving]

Under a read because of

Repetition ("Do you think.." is what's repeated.)

General distressing themes (blood, mentions murder, loss of control, manipulation)

Please understand that this is something you chose to read despite the warnings. Don't come at me if you get distressed by this.

Do you think Domain and Forum sometimes jolt away at night, clawing at their throats or arms, hoping that there aren't strings there? Or that their holograms aren't decaying from spores or that the Defender Command isn't there again? Do you think that, when they lost Juliano again, they were ready to give up hope? Just stop hoping, stop dreaming, and just try and be Admins?

Do you think that whenever Emulator drifts off to thinking, she starts unintentionally remembering how it felt to have those bugs distorting and destroying her, the world? Do you think she remembers the terror of Byte controlling her brothers and how she must have felt when even Abyssal and Umbra faltered at seeing him? Do you think Emulator thought she'd never get her brothers back?

Do you think Mario sometimes has nightmares about SMG4 and SMG3 getting Reset again? Do you think he has nightmares about seeing Meggy get 'shot' and seeing her blood pool under him? Do you think he feels unwarranted guilt for dragging his friends into potentially dangerous acts?

Do you think that SMG4 or SMG3 sometimes peek into Lil Coding's and Lily's room, just to check and see if they're there? That either one of them go around, making sure that the present is real? Do you think that sometimes, whenever things are going too good, they start to think that this might be exhaustion induced by the Reset? Do you think sometimes they just stay up together, simply holding each other, because they're afraid that the Reset might somehow happen again?

Do you think Boopkins sometimes wakes and feels like his body and his mouth are too dry? Do you think that sometimes he's worried as well that everything he's experiencing is just because of dehydration because of The Goomba? That he'll blink, and suddenly he's standing beside The Goomba again. Do you think that he tries to forget the first part of his name, because when he remembers it, all he can hear is The Goomba's voice?

Do you think Meggy at times thinks she's back in the simulation? When things are going too good, when things are just too happy, do you think she starts pinching herself to make sure it's real? Do you think she wakes up in the middle of the night, sobbing and crying out because she thinks One Shot Wren was killing her all over again?

Do you think Bob sometimes stays up late at night, pondering his past choices? Wondering if he had done things differently, would his life be different? Do you think sometimes Bob tries to ignore his guilt for the whole Don Pinata incident and inadvertently let Lily's parents take her back?

Do you think Lily gets uncomfortable in monochrome, dull rooms, because it reminds her of the manor? Do you think she tries not to be alone, to be around others, because all her life she was alone? Do you think she has nightmares of her biological parents winning the custody case, and she never sees her family again?

Do you think Nimbus grows afraid of the water, the ocean, the sea after Watered Down Dreams? Do you think she cowers in fear whenever rainstorms happen and thunder claps, trying not to break down in apologies and pleas for nothing? Does she isolate herself when it rains because she's fearful that Leto will try to trick her again?

Do you think Queen Melody grows worried that Lumiere may one day win? Do you think she gets worried about being overthrown by the villain and watching him force Nimbus to marry him? Do you think she stays up endlessly, making sure her kingdom will always be safe, because she doesn't want a repeat of her father's rule?

Do you think Tulip grows more fearful every time Captian Olimar or any of her friends try to convince her to let them visit her universe? Do you think she grows more and more scared each time her parents find her because she doesn't know how, and she's breaking down every time SMG10 leaves for a moment? She starts hyperventilating, crying, and working herself into a panic that'll take ages to calm from.

Do you think CPU sometimes wishes that he had spoken up the day SMG0's universe was destroyed? As he knelt there, holding a trembling and pained Lag, as the Adminspace was in dissary, do you think he wished he shouted and put suspicion on Byte? Do you think as he stayed by Lag's side, helping him recover, he wished he had confronted Byte so much earlier? Do you think that sometimes, CPU goes off to train alone so that he can assure himself that Ozymandias won't be able to use him and his friends so easily?

Do you think Antivirus sometimes sees glimpses of Red Doomguy's and/or Glitch's memories? And it makes him pause and think? Do you think Antivirus was livid when he learned what Cluster did to Lil Coding, or how Lady Rose had been tormenting Lily for so long? Do you think that sometimes he finds himself just thinking? Thinking of those he cares about.

Do you think Lag's scars sometimes cause him phantom pains, so intense he has to stop whatever he's doing? Do you think that in the beginning, the pain was so bad that all he could do when they happened was to cling on to CPU and cry into his shoulder? Do you think he felt fury overtake him when they found out that Byte had intentionally not told Lag that two SMGs were needed? Do you think Lag felt utter despair when he saw Crash, Antivirus, and CPU captured by Ozymandias and was convinced he was about to experience loss once again?

Do you think Abyssal sometimes claws at their throat when the phantom pain of Cookie choking them comes back? Do you think they were horrified when Byte returned to the Adminspace, only to see their mentor be killed in front of them, another being taking his place? Do you think they sometimes just go silent, trying to comprehend everything?

Do you think Lil Coding sometimes wishes he didn't take Cluster's offer or that he wasn't so stubborn or hasty? Do you think he shudders whenever he remembers being reset? Do you think sometimes he wakes up and wanders at night, making sure everyone he loves and cares about is still there?

..

Do you think Little Coding ever thinks about what would have happened if Domain and Forum never gave Singularity the authority to reset his dads?

[septembersghost]

I want Austin to win so badly which isn't only bias, he gave EVERYTHING to honoring Elvis and he more than earned it. I really like Brendan but have you read Roxane Gay's op-ed on The Whale?

i knew there was controversy about that, but had not seen anything in-depth, reading her piece (and i have such respect for her) is...distressing. she makes it clear her issue is not with brendon (whom we adore!) nor the objective quality of his performance, but rather with the cruelty she felt in the film itself. here's the link but warning that she is honest and what she discusses could be triggering.

regarding our beloved aus, tbh this now makes me want to share this publicly because it gets to the beating heart of the whole thing: what austin achieved was the result of constant preparation, months and months of research, dedicating a couple of years of his life solely to understanding and embodying someone to his spiritual and cellular level. it's not some paper-thin impersonation - something el has been subjected repeatedly, being turned into a costume or a parody unfairly. he gave body, mind, and soul to the film. (this is also why the banal comments about his voice make me rage, because not only are they patently untrue - have any of those people listened to elvis speak? - but it reduces his craft down into a joke when it is anything but. and austin's sincerity and openness is beautiful.) austin approached him so wholly and so kindly, which was imperative to make it work. i just quote conversations with chelsea all the time, but i sent that to her and she put this so well: "the part of that video that really touched me was that the people who knew him didn't see austin, they saw their friend. and how he dove into WHY elvis had certain physical movements, so they come from an authentic feeling. it is such a blessing to have given that to them, to give elvis back to his family, and then to reintroduce him to the world in a way that they can be proud of. it really was a steeper hill to climb than most acting roles ever are just because of how high the expectations are. and then to meet and exceed them." if this were a fictional story, it would be hard to believe it, but it was elvis' life. austin's tremendous connection there, and speaking about using his fear as a compass and seeing through his eyes - it IS a radical experience, as that video says. it is an incredible gift to have taken this man who's been so misrepresented on one hand and so idolized on the other, and bring the essence of him back to life, return him to the world in a sense, and cause audiences to be changed by the feeling it gives them and the love they find there. i have screenshots saved of tweets and comments from people i don't even know talking about what it means to them, what e means to them, because it touches me so deeply. is that not the whole point of taking such a journey? to find something so humanistic and so transformative? to reveal some profound sense of connection and love? there's so much i want to write and say about the film and i've just kept a lot of it to myself or said it to close friends, but what i kept thinking about today is when the switch flips at the end, and we're suddenly with elvis, not merely his image, but the plea and voice and words and heart of him, saying i need your love, i'll be comin' home, wait for me, every dream i've ever had has come true a hundred times, i keep singing a song...and how everything that went before is this love letter to him, infused with the passion and purpose of who he was, and how breathlessly they pulled that off. this project couldn't have existed without austin, and nothing can convince me that somehow elvis' spirit wasn't guiding him to that, not only for him, but for everyone who has been affected by it and will carry that with them. he deserves every award and every bit of praise he's been given, but it also has more lasting meaning than that. no matter what happens, we are going to remember that, we are going to take it with us. and that's what makes a performance live on, and a story, and a person. out there in the dark, there's a beckoning candle. we're keepers of that light.

[siflshonen]

It would be my dream if Deku got a Gon (HxH) type ending because while he's not as extreme as Gon in hurting his friends he crosses lines from time to time that accumulative make me wonder, as a person, is Deku actually worth this amount of emotional distress even if what he symbolically represents to other characters helps improve them heroically (except Ochaco). B and D are still not in a healthy place so ending acknowledging that would be kinda cool imo. (not gonna happen though).

Anon I am obsessed with the implications you are describing with a "Gon-type" ending because I have a lot of feelings (positive) about Gon's HxH journey end (per the anime - manga's still going!) and think a lot of the implied discussion of mortality vs godhood/nirvana/spiritual ascension or just "human" and "divine" as it applies to Gon and his father AND even a little bit to Gon and Killua as it applies to understanding the self and growing together, then apart, and realizing how much free will they have over themselves and their desires.

I really want to know if you mean more than "Izuku, now humbled and without his power, goes one way and Katsuki goes another even though it brings them great sadness just like Gon and Killua did" or not.

I'd also like to point out that much of Killua's sadness regarding Gon comes from him not being old enough/mature enough/brave enough/aware enough (your mileage may vary on how to phrase that or how many to include) to ask Gon the question he most wanted to ask. I wanna know how much you were thinking about this detail when you sent me this ask.

Anyway, I think the manga knows Katsuki and Izuku aren't in a completely healthy place regarding Izuku's emotional and self-sacrificing tendencies yet. While it could be discussed more in the main manga and in more detail, I don't feel like it needs to be discussed much more than we can expect from the resolution of their story based on their trajectory. We know. We witness. If Izuku is going to save or help or still stand by Katsuki, he's going to figure himself out and address this problem. He's got to. If not, well, much like Gon and Killua, they may part for a while, but somehow I think they'd meet again. Izuku is someone Katsuki couldn't shake off even if he tried, and he's tried.

I mean, the story of BNHA is also taking place over the course of... it's been one year total since the start of school, and right about two total since Izuku and Katsuki's middle school introduction with a training montage where Izuku only really interacted with his mom and Toshinori. A lot has happened and their dynamics have greatly shifted over a relatively short period of time.

As for Ochako, I think she's figuring out for herself what really matters (though, I mean, in some ways, Deku's influence as inspiration has helped some. Like the wires? Like being unified in the idea of saving Toga and Shigaraki? Those aren't such bad things.) I've got faith in her.