#it won't be endless

[beauty-and-passion]

I got the Book of Bill and I will talk about it soon.

In the meantime, I will say three things:

Flatland is confirmed and I am overanalyzing everything

Billford is canon and I am thriving

When will Soos finally repair that website? :(

[demaparbat-hp]

Zuko's eyes watered against his will when the ghost of a woman he did not know smiled at him like he was her child.

Zuko decided right there and then that maybe, just maybe, this too was something he came to find.

Ghost-Mother takes a look into Zuko's soul in For the Spirits Chapter IX: A Rider Alone.

More than a stranded soul, Kya holds all the love of the Old Tribe and the means to calm a coming tempest. Zuko won't ever forget her.

(He won't be allowed to.)

[twistcmyk]

TUMBLR AUDIENCE THANKS FOR BEING COOL AND MAKING TUMBLR A VIABLE OPTION FOR ME

[inkyami]

Worked on a book dedicated to slavic folklore antagonists and the way their image shifted with time.

Baba Yaga in her latest form — how you may see her portrayed nowadays in fairy tales, cartoons and toys. Quite a charming one compared to the original character.

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[paluding]

Taking the 4t2 concept too far. Yup, that's the Sims 4 face converted to The Sims 2, in all its blurry glory. Well, just a quick and really messy conversion, to be more precise.

Yet another Sims 2 face experiment I tried. Full disclaimer: nope, I will not finish this project. This was just a fun one day experiment I tried, because why not.

I made a ton of mistakes in this process, will definitely learn from that. Speaking of which, did you know you can make Shape Keys (Sims morphs) from rigged meshes in Blender? That's in fact the excuse I took to practice and learn in this little project. Sims 4 faces are rigged with joints, contrary to the Sims 2 faces which are animated with morphs. It was actually way easier than I anticipated.

The reason it looks so blurry is because I figured if (and a big if right here) this project was worth working on, maybe keeping the UV map mostly intact would help when transferring textures from TS4 to TS2. That's why it looks so pixelated. It's the original UV face map squished to fit into the TS2 mapping. I have to say, as uncanny as it looks and, even with the limited amount of morphs I made, I... kinda like it? But yeah honestly this is not worth it at all. It would require replacing all base face meshes, default replace all the Eaxis face templates, remake all the face sliders for these new meshes… All of that, but also for every single age and gender. Basically replace the whole Sims 2 face system! And then you would realize skins, makeup, eyebrows, and any face overlay would need to be adapted as well. So uh… that ain't happening, no thanks. If anything, it'd be better taking the original Sims 2 faces and making a couple changes here and there to improve their geometry. Better eyes, noses, ears, mouth, remove the original eyelashes and make them as optional accessories… As much as I love the iconic low poly Sims 2 faces, I still think there's quite a lot of room for improvement.

Well, that’s all for now! Here you have a couple extra screenshots I took in game, as a reward for reading this random ass post lol.

[to-proudly-go]

That one art meme

[mirellapryce]

I genuinely believe that Charles and Edwin are soulmates, in the sense that fate, the universe and Destiny would all make sure these two meet. Specifically I believe that these two are meant to be a reincarnated soulmate pair, and that in every life before 1916, these two were fated to meet and love each other, in whatever capacity that meant.

When Edwin died and was dragged to Hell, that disrupted his reincarnation cycle, so the Charles from his time lived and died never meeting his soulmate. The Charles we know was technically born without a soulmate because Edwin never reincarnated, so it only makes sense that their souls met again the way they did. It was Destiny that these two would meet, and love each other again. They may be a generation off, but it was fate.

[fullmetal-scar-simping]

Is there anything more weak than the attempt to shut down all media analysis and critique by appealing to a "everything is valid and different! Stop making it a pissing match," point of view? Either the stories are "too different" to compare and contrast, or they're "ultimately all fma so why should we fight". Maybe some people can't get it through their heads, but disagreement, venting amongst those who feel similarly, and critique are not inherently a fight.

And I'm sorry, but "breaking the cycle of violence" is a shit trope to tack onto a plot that uses a genocide and ethnic cleansing as its foundation, with heaping layers of "those poor little war criminals, stop being mean to them" to add insult to bad storytelling.

[defiledtomb]

How did it go ? 👁👁

I FEEL ALIVE

[aunt-booty]

Today's mood

[hannahssimblr]

🌸

[kofolacitrus]

Actually kinda proud of this one 👉👈

And I'm also wondering...what if there was maybe another reason behind Sam's last words?

I mean...

What if he ACTUALLY SAW PAULIE!

Like his ghost or something 🥹 pfffff (I know I'm so silly)

[cspcrashing]

uh oh

[melkor-did-nothing-wrong]

It's actually pretty funny to see people who dislike angbang specifically treating Melkor like an obstacle that needs to be "overcome" or "removed" because he is "holding Mairon back" by existing. It's generally funny seeing people thinking that Mairon's life improves so significantly once Melkor is gone, considering Melkor is change and chaos, and if you manage to remove change, improvements, by definition, cannot exist, and if you manage to remove chaos, order cannot exist or mean anything either.

[lenreli]

relinquish your flesh

[AO3]

Dreamling, Explicit, 2.2k. Inspired by @meadowziplines, who is also writing something along these lines!

Dream is very tense. Hob helps him relax - and let go of his long-held control. (aka, Hob doms Dream into an incoherent mess)

-

Hob gasps, mind trying it’s best to hold onto the pleasure coursing through him as Dream’s cock spears him― 

But Dream looks so tense, which of course Hob didn’t get anything out from his partner aside from courtly matters, and well. He looks so strung-tight, even in his bed, that Hob can’t help but think of turning Dream over and taking control, making him pliant and boneless, only pleasure on his mind― 

And Dream stops altogether. “Dream?” He asks, blinking at the way his lover has completely frozen. “Love? You’re not breathing?” He asks gently, and sure, Dream doesn’t need to, but he tends to when they’re getting physical like this, especially in the Waking. 

Dream blinks, hands no longer digging into Hob’s hips as starry eyes look up at him. “You would? But,” Dream, oddly enough, closes his mouth, expression confused and Hob groans as Dream’s dick leaves him. 

“I would?” He asks, only realising after that Dream’s probably talking about the daydream. “Of course I would,” he clarifies and Dream frowns, brows furrowing ― and such yearning want in his eyes, the blue getting swallowed by black and stars, and Hob’s heart twinges.

“I am a king,” Dream offers, like that explains anything, “a king is supposed to rule,” Dream continues, a hand gesturing between them, and Hob’s eyebrows raise at the implication. 

“Love, you’re not meant to rule the bed no questions asked,” he sighs, and Hob can only feel incredulous as Dream looks even more confused, starry eyes blinking. “You’re not the king in our bed, you’re my lover, my partner,” he explains.

“All my other,” Dream cuts himself off, frowning and looking down at Hob’s chest. Hob bites back a sound, something angry probably, but even more baffled because Dream’s been around since the beginning of the universe, billions of years and yet― “you would not think less of me? For,” Dream stops again, pink lips thinning as he looks away. 

Sighing, Hob tugs Dream down, pressing light kisses to Dream’s lips and jaw, his partner stiff as a board as Hob eventually wrangles him down onto the bed, “do you think less of me?” He asks pointedly, raising an eyebrow and Dream shakes his head, still looking away from him. “So why should I think less of you?”

“I do not, I,” Dream opens and shuts his mouth more, searching for words and Hob nips down his pale neck, light bruises soon appearing as Dream holds onto his biceps. 

“My love, relax, I’ll look after you,” he says softly, hands sweeping up and down Dream’s torso and Dream makes a sound that seems pulled from him. “The only thing you’d need to do is enjoy it―and follow my instructions,” he says as he bites the hinge of the other’s jaw, and Dream makes a confused sound, and there’s a gasp as he takes hold of Dream’s cock, sliding it back inside with a groan. 

“You have given no―” Dream whines along with Hob as he rides himself on the other’s cock, adjusting the angle until it hits his prostate consistently. 

“Relax,” he breathes, nipping Dream’s ears as Dream’s hands, on the bed, arching into him and Hob whines, bliss fizzling through his veins, “and don’t come,” he grins and Dream makes a sound, starry eyes looking up at him as Hob grabs one of Dream’s hands, kissing and licking the inside of his wrist. “You’ll be good for me, won’t you?” 

Inside him, Dream’s cock twitches and his partner makes a sound that seems wrenched out of him, hand near his face spasming and eventually patting his beard, Dream’s black eyes becoming even wider. 

“See, you’re being so good for me already,” he says and Dream whimpers, gasping as Hob nips down a pale inner arm, chasing the orgasm that was derailed a bit earlier. “So sweet and lovely, my own treasure to look after,” he whispers into Dream’s elbow and there’s another wrenched sound, the other’s body gasping underneath him as his thoughts just become pleasure as he comes with a whine, squeezing Dream’s cock as he does, his come splattering up to the other’s neck. 

“Hob,” Dream keens, eyes wide and unblinking as Hob pulls himself off, one hand fluttering on the stubble of his beard, the other on his shoulder as Hob focuses on moving to the bedside table, getting out some warm, tingling lube that he usually saves for when he wants to feel really good. Or when his partner before Dream wanted it. 

“Now, if you still want to be king in bed, consider a king being fucked so crudely by a peasant,” the words leave him without warning as he puts a lubed finger into Dream’s hole, who shudders, plush lips open as Hob licks up his neck, “but of course, that can be for another time, just something for you to think about. I do have many years of these fantasies, you know,” he says as Dream gasps, arching into him. 

“I,” Dream whines, the fingers digging into his shoulder as he adds another finger, the other’s cock twitching and red, leaking pre-come. 

“I want to make you feel good, want you to look after you so well,” he rambles, slowly stretching Dream open, eventually adding a third finger as his other hand pushes Dream’s arching body down by his stomach. “You’re no longer a king in bed unless I want you to be.” 

His words are punctuated by a brush against the other’s prostate and Dream lets out a wail that makes his ears ring, that makes the window in his room shudder. 

“Please,” Dream’s voice cracks, low and breathy ― and there are tears, like shooting stars out of his glistening eyes and Hob leans in to kiss him softly, free hand coming up to touch Dream’s throat, caressing the soft skin as he continues to finger Dream. 

“I know, don’t worry,” he soothes, spent cock twitching and he groans, nipping marks down Dream’s throat, down to sharp collarbones as Dream’s cock, red and leaking presses against his stomach. “You want to come for me so much, but you’re so good for not doing that,” he whispers as licks a pink nipple, Dream whining and crying out. “So very good for me.” 

Dream keens and arches into his fingers, nails digging into his shoulder, another into his bicep as Dream makes a frustrated noise and Hob sighs, pushing Dream flat onto the bed. With how desperate he is, Hob’s not sure if Dream can tell the way he wants to wrestle back some control, clinging to it. 

“My love,” he smiles, hand going down to a bony hip, lightly touching the other’s cock and Dream gasps, “let me take care of you,” he pleads softly, stretching Dream’s hole as another sound gets pulled out, Dream slowly relaxing, the nails no longer biting into his skin, “there we go. My wonderful Dream,” he praises, feeling a shudder around the fingers inside of Dream. “Your only duty now is to not come, my Dream.” 

There’s a keen as his fingers brush against the other’s prostate, and a gasp that seems to suck some of the air out of the room―and Dream’s hands fall off him, lightly gripping the bedsheets as unblinking eyes of the universe stare up at him. “Yours,” Dream ― speaks, though it sounds more the machinations of reality, Dream’s form seeming to unravel briefly, hurting his eyes before becoming even more solid under him, around him. 

“And I’m yours,” he says with a smile, feeling Dream relax even more around his fingers ― and Hob can feel his cock hardening, heat coiling in him and Hob hums. “One other thing. Do you want it tight, or looser for when I make love to you?” 

At this, Dream blinks slowly, eyes flickering down to where they’re connected. Dream’s mouth moves and there’s a whimper as Hob twists his fingers. “Tight,” Dream breathes. 

“Of course, my love,” he smiles, and there’s a whine as his fingers leave, Hob peppering kisses over Dream’s face, the edge of teary eyes as he coats his cock with lube, “so good for me, telling me so quickly,” he hums again ― and they both whine as he enters Dream, cock dragging against velvet walls and Hob takes a deep breath, dry hand going to pet wild black hair. “You can touch me,” he breathes. 

There’s a keen as Dream’s hands go straight to his chest, nails digging into his chest hair as he slowly leaves Dream, and there’s a gasp as he goes back in. One of Dream’s hands trails up into his hair, holding it loosely as he begins a slow rhythm, only garbled sounds that are close to his name coming out of Dream’s mouth and Hob mentally pats himself on the back. 

“So good and beautiful for me,” he praises, voice breathy as he focuses on Dream’s pleasure, and there’s a loud wail as he grazes Dream’s prostate, the other’s cock twitching against his stomach. “Oh, my Dream, you want to come so badly, don’t you?” 

“Ye―s,” Dream grinds out, the plea long and slurred, tears flowing more freely as Hob fucks into his prostate, and Hob moans as the other’s hole squeezes him tightly, keeping him inside. “Hob.”

“You’ve been so good for me, you’ll get what you want soon,” he croons, Dream whining as a hand goes to pet Dream’s jaw, trailing down to hold onto the other’s hip. “My king, so bound by duty and function, so good and dutiful for me in this,” he says, and Dream shudders, eyelashes fluttering as the stars in Dream’s eyes seem to vanish, becoming more black void than the night sky. “Do you feel good?” 

Dream nods, motions jerky as a sound floats through the air―literally, the waves of it tangible, the moan hanging suspended as more come out, and Hob keeps up a steady pace. 

“You’ll have to tell me, pet,” he breathes, and Dream makes more garbled sounds, the soundwaves hanging above them as Dream looks at him pleadingly. 

“I―yes,” Dream gets out eventually, arching into him, the pale form blurring around the edges briefly, almost melting into his groin and chest before he solidifies again. 

“Excellent,” he whines, focusing more on his building heat, the soon enough tipping over the edge as he comes into Dream’s hole, feeling the walls around him grip him tighter, “I won’t leave you,” he soothes, thumb brushing back-and-forth on Dream’s hip, going down to press a kiss to pink lips, Dream trying to respond but lips slacking, the other’s tongue grazing the stubble of his beard. “You can come anytime now.” 

Dream squeezes him tightly and comes with a sob ― and Hob blinks as the other’s hand come flies up to his neck, and there’s a faint sound of dogs barking, other things and Hob looks around, his alarm clock turned off. And Dream is ― resting, eyes closed, and not even a sound comes out of him as he exists Dream, looking around to see that the power’s blown out, probably due to a certain anthropomorphic personification. Caressing Dream’s face, he quickly moves to get a towel, cleaning them up. 

And some red wine in a glass, as well as a snack for himself, and Dream curls up against him as he gets back to his bed. Taking a sip, he knows Dream doesn’t care for it, but perhaps Dream might want some as he pets Dream’s hair, the body next to him all but lifeless. 

Hob’s gotten halfway through his chocolate bar before Dream stirs to life next to him, and there’s a groan as Dream slowly opens his eyes, expression confused. “No need to get up, just feel it,” he says softly, kissing a black brow and Dream lets out a sigh, melting onto his chest. “You may need to turn the power back on though,” he grins, and dark blue eyes flick up to him from his chest, and soon enough the alarm clock blinks back to life. 

“This is why―”

“If you’re going to go on some this is why I shouldn’t experience ground-breaking, mind-bending pleasure route, please know that I don’t care,” he says quietly, but firmly and Dream’s mouth clacks shut. “The important thing is: did you like it? And would you be up for more?” 

And of course, there’d be things like safe-words and all that, but they can take it slowly. Dream groans, pushing himself up to kiss his collarbone ― and take a sip of wine before resting his head on Hob’s shoulder. “I would,” Dream whispers, voice rough and croaky, “I,” Dream frowns, his hands wriggling before settling on his chest, fingers going through his chest hair. “Hm,” Dream purses his lips, shutting his eyes as he melts even more onto him.

Literally, the other’s form melting over his chest as Hob continues to pet his hair, everything below his neck losing coherency until there’s a mass of white on top of him. “I’d love to do it again, if there’s any doubt,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows and Dream just makes a soft sound, almost a purr and Hob is delighted to see not an ounce of stress or tense lines anywhere on him. 

[Fin]

[7-wonders]

if you want soft morpheus ...... soft morpheus you'll have it, thought here reader could comb morpheus's hair, ending with back rubs and dabs of kisses please, if you want of course.

To those that don't know him beyond acquaintance (the vast majority of creatures), Morpheus is always strong and stoic, to the point that one might start to wonder if he actually has emotions.

But you are not merely an acquaintance. No, you're his beloved, his heart, his starlight. You know him, more intimately than you've ever known another soul. So when he comes into what is quickly becoming your shared chambers after seeing to yet another issue with the Corinthian, you can see the stress and frustration that drag his shoulders down like a weighted blanket.

"Hi, sweetheart," you greet. The effect of your voice, your presence, on him is immediate, as evidenced by the way that he sighs heavily and tiredly. "Come sit."

You sit up on the chaise lounge—black and elaborate and Gothic, of course—that you've been reading on and hold your arms out to him.

"I should not," he says, even as he drifts closer to you. "There is...much for me to do. I need to meet with Lucienne, and I have citizens requesting audiences..."

"That all sounds big and important, but surely you can take a little break before that?"

He settles in the space between your legs without another word, any pushback he had been planning long forgotten. He ends up with his back against your chest, and you clasp your arms around him for a hug before putting a hand in his hair and beginning to comb through it with your fingers.

This was not a conscious decision made when you invited Morpheus to sit with you. When it came to Morpheus, he didn't know what acts of self-care or affection he enjoyed to help him deal with his emotions, because nobody had ever bothered to ask him. No, they just assumed that, since he was Endless, he was to be the strong one in the relationship, that surely he didn't need something as base and human as hugs.

(Yes, you're still extremely bitter on his behalf)

He stiffens, and for a moment you're worried that he actually doesn't like this and that you've crossed one of the boundaries he didn't know that he had until actually getting into a relationship after his captivity. Before you can pull your hand away and apologize, Morpheus melts in your arms.

You're pretty sure that he begins purring, if the rumbling you're feeling against you is anything to go by. Though it's not surprising that the Shaper of Forms transcends forms and purrs like a little kitty cat when he's petted, it's still delightful to learn.

"You like this, then?" you ask, putting your other hand in his mess of black, silky strands and scratching at his scalp. Though you can't see it from your position, his eyes flutter at the sensation.

He hums his assent. "It is rather calming."

You kiss the crown of his head. "Good. Just relax with me for a little bit, okay? The king stuff will be there after."

Morpheus shivers when your fingers catch on a tangle (an interesting new fact, and something you may have to whip out in another situation), but otherwise remains still. Though he does still have much to do, you've convinced the King of Dreams to sit still for a good twenty minutes and indulge himself, which he does oh-so rarely.

A win, in your book.