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#make me dream again
astridcortes · 7 months
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Take a magic bath . ❤️
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mienar · 24 days
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from us it begins
instagram | shop | commission info
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endermagpieart · 3 months
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What do you mean I’m a bit late for Janus’ big day? Of course not, how could you say such a thing! I definitely didn’t forget all about it in my absence and only get reminded in the incorrect quotes video live chat; that’s not like me at all ;]
Anyways I decided to dress our sassy snake in some different outfits I think he’d like. He seems like the type to get all dolled up on his birthday and it goes with Thomas posting pics in outfits inspired by the sides on their appreciation days!
@thatsthat24
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mummer · 10 months
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just saw asteroid city last night, pls explain the proposed significance of the kiss!!
answering this publicly hope thats ok! cant do a readmore im on mobile *****asteroid city spoilers below beware*****
i dont remember anyones names so this is gonna sound partly unhinged. okay so the edward norton playwright and jason schwartzman actor (not character, in the black and white parts) are lovers right. tbh i thought this was kind of a gag and forgot about it. but later we find out that the playwright died 6 months into the production. i didnt make the connection that THAT’s why the actor-jason has to suddenly leave the stage and freaks out backstage about how he’s not sure he’s Doing it right. hes not talking about acting!! because he himself is literally grieving his lover while he’s playing a character who’s grieving his wife written by his lover so obviously it’s too much!!! actor-jason is trying to find meaning in his death through his writing but there isnt any meaning in death [gerris drinkwater voice] which is what the play is trying to say anyway. he doesnt think he’s performing grief right even in his own life!!! (and tbh it’s the 50s so he wouldnt be able to perform grief publicly anyway!!!!) the play starts with a car accident… anyone would search for some hidden meaning there, some sign…. so when he talks to margot robbie outside it’s not really about finding the CHARACTER’s motivations it’s about the actor himself being able to process the playwright’s death! and adrien brody director was probably also dealing with that too (him and norton seemed to be good buddies) so the whole “sleeping backstage” thing gets a bit sadder maybe? maybe everyone else got this in the theatre and im just stupid lol but crazy making stuff to me!!! the whole story is about sublimated gay grief that cannot be expressed?!?!
the tweet that caught me onto this was here which posits that the playwright’s death was a suicide but i think that’s pretty stupid and unnecessary because the whole thing about the play asteroid city is that death is random and meaningless. im pretty sure that’s what the alien represents— a shocking and absurd event that isnt outright evil or menacing, not something anyone can predict or make sense of, it’s just a thing that happens to you out of nowhere, it doesnt mean anything. he’s a little black figure, he’s death! giving and taking! aagh
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su-shiro · 4 months
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Lmao i forgot I have tumblr again
Have like these moffs I made, be nice to them
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Extra comic doodle for your eyes before I forget I had Tumblr again ER
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esmes · 3 months
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that wouldn't be too painful, would it? 🎥 @theriddletrades
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blueish-bird · 3 months
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In the narrow hours of the night I will wake to a downpour; through the window see your trashcans shining. I will swaddle myself in your warmest jacket, put on my big rain boots. I will brave this storm for you.
And when I am cold and wet and beyond porch light's reach, trashcans in tow, I will watch the world past your driveway. I will love the way dark turns form to silhouette, how the sound of my steps drown beneath the rain's big hush. I will want to leave you and your trashcans. To wander the earth as all lost things do.
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shoutsindwarvish · 2 years
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Tom Sturridge on Morpheus, BFI Q&A
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clambuoyance · 2 years
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[DC] 🎵How I find myself without you that I’ll never know, I let myself go🎵
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infectedpaul · 6 months
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did we ever figure out what snoozle town fucking means
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lipt-97 · 4 months
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came back just to post these. okay bye
#gbf#belifaa#did you get triple zero (summon)? the sanfaa scissoring summon? SSS? i sierotixed it. It was awesome. Everythung in gbf is going right for#e except for the fact that i had to sieroticket it but its alright. just the notion of so much lucilius is just enough to put me back on my#feet again it’s almsot unreal how much lucilius-centric stuff theyve pushed out the past few months. his GBVSR debut. his summon.#Omg when I saw the gbfes fashion show i was a few seconds behind zen and she told me “You wont believe this” and I was like “WHAT? BELIEVE#WHAT? WHAT? WHAYT DO YOU MEAN” and the official lucilius cosplayer walked out in his robes it felt unreal unreal like it was seeing my onl#dreams come true after years and years of being like Theres no way they’d do that. There’s no way they’d make a cosplay for lucilius in his#robes because hes in his void outfit forever. BUT THEY DID…..AND THERE WAS BLOOD UNDER HIS SKIN….AND HIS LIPS WERE GLOSSED…AND HE HAD A LIT#LE BIT OF TAREME AND TSURIME (TARIME) ACTION ON HIS EYES AND EVERYTIME HE WALKED HIS ROBES KIND OF FLUTTERED AS HE SHUFFLED ALONG I HAD TO#SIT ON THE BATHROOM FLOOR lay down on the bathroom floor and I almpst puked from how nauseous it made me i was OVERJOYED BEYOND MY PHYSICAL#LIMITATIONS OF HAPPINESS . I WAS SO HAPPY. THIS YEAR HAS BEEN UTTERLY MISERABLE FOR ME AND I HAVE NOT BEEN THIS DEPRESSED SINCE HIGH SCHOOL#BUT SEEING LUCILIUS like this genuinely blew me off my socks . I don’t know if i should be 100% thankful because I’ve been trying to figure#out how to balance my emotional state with the media i consume but#I think i really needed it. thank you lucilius for ending my 2023
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astridcortes · 8 months
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Once in a blue moon .
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peitalo · 1 year
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heart protector
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cuubism · 1 year
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I see your "Dream yelling at Desire because 'how dare you make me have feelings for Hob!!'" and raise you "Dream yelling at Desire because 'how dare you make Hob have feelings for me!!'" because it's the only logical explanation for why Hob would claim to want someone like Dream
[ cat screaming crying . jpg ]
Dream storms into Desire’s realm, steps thudding on the uneven floor, rage propelling him forward. He cannot remember ever feeling such anger, such betrayal towards his sibling, not even when he had learned they were behind his imprisonment.
Desire’s games have always gone too far, but this is beyond trying to teach him a lesson, this is beyond what Dream can reconcile, this is simply cruelty.
“YOU,” he thunders, the air shaking around him as he stalks up to where Desire is lying casually on a chaise lounge as if they haven’t just ripped Dream’s one comfort in this life out from under him. “How dare you.”
“Brother, dear,” drawls Desire, popping a grape into their mouth with not a care in the world, “it is rude to simply fly in without even knocking on the door. You wouldn’t like it if I did it to you.”
Blind with fury, Dream grabs them by the throat and hauls them to their feet. Desire lets out a choked gasp, genuinely startled by his vitriol. Their pulse trips under Dream’s thumb.
Desire cannot be killed through something as simple as strangulation, but it truly is tempting to try. “What,” Dream snarls, grip tightening, “what have you done to Hob Gadling?”
Desire blinks at him, torn from their alarm by confusion. “Whomst? Listen, I know you know everybody’s name and their kinkiest fantasy but I honestly can’t be bothered with the details, you’re going to have to fill me in.”
The rage in Dream’s core only flares hotter. “Enough of this charade, you know exactly what you’ve done.”
“No, seriously, I have no idea what you’re—”
Dream whirls away, leaving his sibling staggering in the wake of his grasp. “Was it not enough?” he demands, staring sightlessly into the gleaming red curves of Desire’s realm. “Was the vortex not enough? Was a century of imprisonment not enough for you?” His voice cracks halfway through, and it’s mortifying. “Truly, your hatred of me is untempered by even the slightest compassion.”
Desire’s voice is quizzical when they next speak. “I am starting to wish I was behind whatever this is that seems to have pierced you straight through the heart. I’m afraid my own arrows have missed that organ thus far.”
“Hob Gadling,” Dream insists, but Desire’s seemingly-genuine confusion has him wavering. It’s not like them not to revel in their own victory, and oh, this has been a victory, Dream feels laid lower than even a century in a cage had managed. “You are manipulating him.”
“Once again, I don’t know who that is. But he’s clearly excellent ammunition so I’m certainly going to find out once you leave.”
Dream flexes his hands at his sides, summoning his control. If Desire truly was not behind this, then he’s already made a mistake in coming here. Best not to offer anything else.
Being in Desire’s realm makes this stoicism difficult. The very space brings emotions to the surface, drags feelings up from his stomach that he’s tried so very hard to tamp down. He tastes blood at the back of his throat, his stomach churns, his skin prickles with sweat.
Desire stalks up behind him, sensing all of this. “Now I am curious,” they murmur, dragging a finger up his shoulder, over the collar of his coat and along the back of his neck. “Now I must know what’s go you so riled up.”
“You think you have earned such things?” Dream says through gritted teeth. His heart is pounding hard and uneven such that it physically hurts in his chest, the weight of the Threshold bearing down.
“No need to earn, you can hide nothing from me here.” Desire circles around him to his front, dragging their finger along his collarbone until it lands right at the base of his throat. They look at him from under their lashes, all smug satisfaction. “You are all tangled up in the realm of Desire, aren’t you?”
Dream moves to storm off, but Desire blocks him, nails pressing into his skin.
“Nah-ah, no running away. Let your little sibling help you, hm? As you may know, I am rather wise in matters of the heart.”
The look on Desire’s face is craftiness, glee, not charity or wisdom.
“I neither need nor wish for your assistance,” says Dream, voice hard. “On this, or any other matter.”
“But there is a matter.” Desire leans in and speaks right in his ear. “I can smell the heartsickness on you, Dream.”
There is nothing Dream can say in response to this. Any denial would only be read as falsehood, for Desire does not lie – of late, Dream feels sick with wanting in Hob’s presence, hunger so sharp it turns over into nausea, much like the first time Hob had pushed him to eat after his captivity. How cruel, then, to have his pain eased, his desires sated by a reciprocation that cannot possibly be truly felt.
There is nothing to say, so Dream doesn’t speak. Silence, of course, is its own answer.
“You know, if there’s one thing I have always admired about you, big brother, it’s your willingness to destroy yourself for the sake of passion,” Desire continues. “You’d think that’d be my sort of thing. Who’ve you lost yourself on this time? Demigod? Demon? Dryad? Vampire?”
Dream glares at them, but does not speak.
Desire’s face absolutely lights up as they realize. “Oh. My. God. Is he human? Dreeaaammmmm, my my, maybe your little time out did change you, after all.”
Dream turns away, refusing to give them the satisfaction of confirming. Though he knows this reaction is also a confirmation.
Desire claps their hands. “Oh! I’m so proud of myself. Look at this! Look at the softness of your heart. Look how I can bruise it.”
Dream’s heart, indeed, gives a painful thump. “Should you dare to touch him, even the old laws will not protect you.”
Desire sighs, flopping back onto a couch, legs crossed, head propped in their hand. “Why bother? You’ll destroy it yourself, and that’ll be much more fun.”
I hate you, Dream thinks, like a petulant child. He hates, also, how any argument with Desire makes him feel that way, feelings crowding at the surface of his skin, throat tightening, mind spinning in a chaotic churn. His muscles clench so hard he thinks they might have snapped, were he human, then he forces himself back into a semblance of ease.
There is no extracting himself from this situation with any dignity.
“Interfere with my affairs again,” he warns darkly, “and I will destroy you.”
Then he storms out of the Threshold.
“Love you too!” Desire calls after him, a grin in their voice. “Good luck with your human!”
--
When he’d found Hob at the New Inn, thirty-three years after he’d meant to arrive, Dream had not known how he might be received. Friendship extended once may not be extended again after so brutal a rejection, and so prolonged an absence, no matter that the latter offense was not within his control.
Being met with a smile, then, and an easy acceptance of his apology, like Hob had already forgiven him long before Dream had stepped through the door, had been a revelation. Something had settled in him that he had not known was knocked askew. Could there, truly, be one thing in his life that was allowed to be easy? Where Dream’s missteps were not met with scorn or vitriol or world-shaking consequences, but with grace and the chance to try again?
It seemed improbable, but still Dream had grabbed for it with cold, shaking fingers. Had held that unlikely flame between his palms. Had watched as it grew, hotter and brighter with each smile Hob sent his way, with each gentle brush of fingers as he pressed cups of tea into Dream’s hands, with the hug Hob finally managed to wind him into, once Dream had told him of the true reason for his absence in 1989.
Hob’s grace, Hob’s generosity in inviting someone, something like him into his home, into his life… Dream did not quite know how to hold it, so unlikely it was. He tried, though, oh he tried. And he swore he would not mess it up, not like he had when Hob had first offered his friendship.
He has now, quite royally, messed it up.
He very much doubts Hob will be so generous this time.
He finds Hob where he left him, sitting on the couch in his flat, a book in his hand. He doesn’t seem to be concentrating on it; his thoughts feel scattered in ragged, disturbed daydreams.
He doesn’t even startle when Dream materializes next to him. Though he knows it can be startling to humans, Dream has not been able to break himself of just appearing where he needs to – traversing the long way from point to point is not how he works. But aside from the occasional, teasing, I have a door, you know, Hob never truly complains about these disturbances to his day.
Dream means to offer him an apology. To say, I should not have walked out when you said that you loved me. To say, I am supposed to be better, I am trying to be better.
Instead, just as Hob looks up, the words that trip out of Dream’s mouth, pushed by the flurry of Desire’s realm still pounding within him, are, “Did you speak truly, Hob Gadling?”
Which is a ridiculous question. Dream does not think he has ever heard Hob speak a lie. Still, Dream must have the answer.
Hob’s expression shifts through several incarnations, none of which Dream feels capable of reading. Finally, it settles on the same soft, exasperated understanding Dream remembers being presented with when he’d said, I know thirty years is truly quite late, at their reunion, before he’d told Hob why he was late.
Grace, then. He is to be offered grace, again.
His emotions are still so close to the surface that he has to physically swallow down what he feels about that.
“Of course, I did,” Hob says, and there’s a hint of nerves in it, but he pushes through, he always does. “I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”
His gaze is genuine, open, and no, Desire had not lied – Hob’s feelings are no manipulation of theirs. And while it is tempting to search for other answers, spells or illusions or any number of other causes, Dream knows, deep down, that he will come up empty.
Hob’s feelings are true, are his truth, confounding though that is.
Dream no longer feels capable of holding any of this in his hands.
Instead, he kisses him.
It’s like he is pulled forward by a force outside his own body. He goes to Hob like he had gone to the sugar in the tea Hob had made him, that night at the inn when Dream had first realized how long it had truly been since he’d eaten; he goes to him like he had gone back to the Dreaming after being freed, returning home breathless, lost, changed.
Hob catches him against his mouth, hands cradling Dream’s face. His grip is solid and warm, and he kisses Dream like he looks at him like he speaks to him, with a care Dream hardly knows how to accept. He leans into it anyway, he leans in.
“I wasn’t fishing for a kiss when I said that, you know,” Hob says when they part, still lingering close enough that Dream can feel his heat, his breath. “I meant it in more of— well, that way, for certain, but really, any way you wanted to take it.”
“Any way,” Dream repeats, not sure he comprehends Hob’s meaning.
“Yeah, you—” Hob cuts himself off, letting out a breath, thinking. His hands slide from Dream’s face down to his shoulders, and he holds him there. “I. You just. I want you to know that you’re loved. Not demanding anything of it. Just telling you. Take it however serves you best.”
Dream stares at him, his whole being tripped and restarted at a new rhythm, and Hob gives him a sad smile.
“It’s too big to hold,” he says, and taps his chest. “In here. And besides, I wanted you to have it.”
Dream had had it. Only he hadn’t quite known what he had. The sunshine of Hob’s smiles, sustaining him, a bridge between distant points of light.
Finally, he manages to say, “I felt it. You have been my succor. My… only.”
Hob has captured him more effectively than Burgess’s snare, but this capture is not a prison. It hurts, oh, it aches, but it never wounds.
Hob smiles at him again. There’s still something pained in the creases around his eyes. “I know.”
He’s still touching Dream. His hands run over him, up his neck, over his throat, along his collarbone, and—
catch, on the collar of his shirt, above his heart.
“What happened?”
His voice is tight, now, worried, and— yes. There are bruises on Dream’s chest, crawling up over his breastbone. He had felt them form, and hadn’t stopped them.
Hob’s expression darkens further the longer he looks; he drags the collar of Dream’s shirt down, trying to see how far the damage spreads. “You’ve got bruises all over you. Dream, what happened?”
What happened is Dream stood in the Threshold and his heart beat so hard it drummed right through to the surface of his skin. What happened is it hurt so badly his form shifted to give reason for the pain.
“Desire,” he says, and he does not mean his sibling.
Hob doesn’t seem to understand, but he smoothes a hand over Dream’s heart as if to wipe the bruises away. Dream could will his body to return to its original, unharmed state, but he does not. He lets the blood stay pooled beneath his skin.
Hob sighs, tugging Dream’s coat tighter around him, shielding him from further injury. “Come here, you. You strange creature.”
He pulls Dream in, though he does not have to pull hard. Dream tucks his face into Hob’s neck, reveling in the warm scent of him, woodsmoke from the fireplace down in the inn where they’ve now spent many a long evening, basking in the heat of the flames. Hob’s arms go around him.
Absolution. Dream does not think this is a gift that has ever been granted to him.
“I would also love you,” he says. “If you would accept it.”
“If I would accept it?” Hob repeats. “Darling, your love is a privilege.”
Dream’s heart, in all its bruises and blood, finds rhythm again, and he thinks, though he certainly doesn’t pull away from Hob to check, that his skin clears up partway, too.
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sun-archeron · 6 months
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thinking abt luffy, and how he grew up so poor that if he wanted to have a decent meal he had to go into the forest and fight big, dangerous animals. but at least he was strong enough to be able to fight, while there were people that lived close to him that had to live amongst the trash, hoping to find scraps they could sell so they could eat once during the day.
thinking abt how luffy values food so much, how he always eats as much as he physically can. how he values the people that feed him, that eat with him. whether its a luxurious meal or just an apple they share.
thinking abt how pretty much everytime he saved/liberated a place/island/nation was bc someone from the place had fed him.
how when he actived gear 5 he was fighting to save a nation that its main problem was starvation. and not only that but the food there had also been weaponized to mock them and make them suffer more. and it was fighting for them that he fully reached the form of nika, the form that will allow him to bring down the current government and its system which creates these areas where people starve
also! how in zoros introduction we see him eat something that was on the dirt, partly bc he hadnt eaten in a long time and partly bc someone made it and risked themselves to bring it to him. and how sanji is always happy to cook for anyone whos hungry and absolutely hates food waste. and how these two are luffys wings
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awakenthebeing · 1 year
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3 words
pizzano and piepoe
WHOOOO BOY when I got this randomly asked I fr did a double take bc JUST RECENTLY I DOODLED THEM DUE TO A DREAM I HAD!!! So the timing of this message was very coincidental...!!!
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BUT since you asked for em i decided to doodle some more things for the two!! There is other art as well, but it's on my other socials and not here hehe
The basis of their relationship is very similar to how Piepoe feels about the Noise. Except she is simply just way more uncomfortable. They just don't like how unpredictable Pizzano can be!!!
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I WILL leave these ones that are older tho bc theyre quite silly. These were from after the dream and they were just me sketching out their interactions based off of it😭😭‼️
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