#(perhaps i might be in love idk!!!)

[nattikay]

[mono-socke]

You should draw um Brooke and Jeremy being besties because they're like um my pookies ☹️♥️♥️ I love your art it's so sillybilly

YEAAHHHHH

they picked flowers out for each other !!

and thank you :DD !! I love your art too, it's so cool !!!

(sorry it's not much, I'm currently procrastinating. if you wanna see more, just tell me :>>)

[daddy-long-legssss]

I learned that you can make it to that kind of level and remain in tact as a human being. And I learned that Sheffield’s people are very similar to Irish people. We bumped into them at the same pub a fair few times. But I believe it goes beyond that.

— Grian Chatten from Fontaines D.C. on what they learned after touring with Arctic Monkeys [x]

[mxltifxnd0m]

i should write more for dean…

but sammy is right there LMAOO

[suddencolds]

~

[wizardofgoodfortune]

Ooh, 42 for the Spotify Wrapped fic? :D

i have been unspeakably excited about this one, just because the song is so tooth-rottingly sweet!!! so here, have vignettes of a happy dreamling's life. i wanted to write more but i'm so sleepy and i'm afraid it's getting way too long as it is.

--

"Dream," came Hob's voice, deep and drowsy with sleep, "I can feel you, you know."

Dream didn't have much to do when Hob went to sleep. But Hob complained every time Dream tried to get out of bed to do something else, saying it was much easier to sleep with him around. So Dream stayed. And it's not as if he didn't want to stay beside him either.

Most times, Dream let his physical form stay in the Waking, while he took care of business in the Dreaming from within. Sometimes, if time allowed, he visited Hob in his dreams.

But rarely, when there was no business in the Dreaming, and when he could leave Hob alone in it, Dream allowed himself the pleasure of mapping out his lover's face.

He would trace over every curve and every line: from his aquiline nose, to his crow's feet, from his M-shaped hairline, to the silver strands at his temples, from his cupid's bow, to his cleft chin. Dream's favorite time to do this was dawn, when he could watch the sunlight cast dancing shadows on Hob's face, as if they were celebrating him, too.

Usually, he was careful to keep his touch light so as not to wake Hob, but he must have gotten carried away this time.

"My apologies, my love," said Dream, letting his wandering hand settle on the sheets. "I have awoken you. I can put you back to sleep, if you wish."

Hob opened his eyes. There were crusts of dream sand in them. "That's quite alright, darling," he said, yawning and stretching.

As much as Dream liked watching him sleep, he was a wonder to watch awake, as well. Hob would usually stretch until every bone in his body popped and every muscle woke up. Then he would go to the bathroom for a few minutes, then go to fix the both of them some breakfast. He would usually ask what Dream has been up to, or telling Dream about his upcoming day.

But not today, it seemed like.

"What were you doing, anyway?" Hob asked, rubbing the sand out of his eyes. "Counting my white hair or something?"

"Perhaps," Dream said. He knew exactly how many there were. And it was interesting to think how they would be frozen at that number until Hob chose otherwise.

"That was meant to be a joke," Hob said, now fully awake. He was smiling at Dream.

Dream doesn't think he could ever grow tired of seeing Hob smile.

"Alright then, prove it," Hob reached over and tapped Dream quickly on the nose, "how many white hairs do I have?"

"Two thousand, eight hundred and sixty-one," Dream said.

Hob started chuckling, which grew into a full-bodied laugh. It shook the bed beneath them. Dream was certain they could hear him downstairs in the New Inn.

"Are you quite done?" asked Dream, who, to his own surprise, felt a bit embarrassed.

Hob wiped a tear from his eye. "Oh, my love, darling, sweetheart," he said, a bit breathless, holding the side of Dream's face, "I am so lucky to have you."

Then Hob kissed him, washing away any shame, and something inside Dream swelled full, threatening to burst.

No, Dream thought, as he reveled in Hob's freely-given and abundant love, I am the one fortunate to have you.

--

"Can you not have this delivered to your home?" Dream asked.

They were at the supermarket, restocking on food and various items that Hob apparently needed.

"Yes, but I like seeing the produce myself. Can never trust them for that," muttered Hob, who was in the middle of picking between two packs of tomatoes that looked entirely similar to Dream.

"I would rather we spent our time wiser," Dream said, putting his hand on Hob's back, trailing it down, "on more important, more pleasurable things."

"Dream," Hob yelped. "Careful, love, we don't know which old lady we'll scar this time."

So Dream put his hand on the small of Hob's back instead, and tried to not look too disappointed.

Hob kissed him on the forehead. "We have all the time in the world. And you could always help me pick out the vegetables. Can't you see which has tiny worms in them or something?"

Dream rolled his eyes. "This is beneath my office."

Hob chuckled. "Look at it like this: if you help me, we'll get home faster. If we can get home faster, we can get to bed faster, and I'll do that thing you like with the tongue—"

Dream pointed at the pack in Hob's right hand. "That one is the one you want."

Hob laughed, and tossed the chosen pack of tomatoes into the cart.

--

"You really couldn't have waited until we got home," Hob said. It was meant to be a question, Dream guessed.

"No," answered Dream.

They were in Hob's car, in the parking lot of the supermarket. While they were putting away the groceries in the backseat, Dream had pushed Hob down, slammed the door behind them, and straddled him. Some of the items had fallen out of their paper bags and onto the car floor.

"Can we at least turn on the car?" Hob asked, his hands settling on Dream's thighs. They felt like hot, hot fire. "It's freezing in here."

Dream smirked down at him. "Not for much longer."

A short laugh came out of Hob, as if he couldn't believe what was happening. "Thank god I got those windows tinted, eh?"

Dream allowed himself a moment to look upon his lover, cheeks flushed, breaths shallow, heart galloping. The yellow fluorescent lights from outside cast soft shadows on his face, and put a warm glint in his eyes.

"Well, Dream?" Hob asked. "You got me. Now what'll you do with me?"

"I thought I was the impatient one," Dream said, smiling into Hob's lips.

--

"I did not know you played any instruments, Hob Gadling," Dream said.

Hob jumped from his couch, clutching the guitar in his arms. "Christ on a fucking stick," he exclaimed, a hand on his chest.

Dream stepped around the couch and into Hob's view. He couldn't help but surprise Hob; it was entertaining to see which expletive he would come up with each time.

After a breath or two, Hob sat back down, gesturing to the seat beside him. "Darling, I think you're enjoying this a bit too much."

Dream sat beside Hob, putting a hand on his back. "My apologies," he said.

"Yeah, you say that, but you're still smiling," Hob said, giving him a suspicious look.

Dream couldn't help but chuckle. He leaned forward and kissed his lover on the cheek. "I could not resist. Forgive me. Now please," he gestured to the guitar. "I would enjoy listening to you play."

"Changing the subject. You're fond of that, aren't you?" There was no ounce of venom in his voice. Instead, Hob wore a smile, like he was enjoying this, too. "King of Dreams, Ruler of Nightmares, Lord of the Dreaming, would enjoy listening to me play? Are you sure you wouldn't rather scare me to death again?"

"Do not be foolish. You cannot die," Dream said.

"Just like you can't be mature," Hob said. "Remind me, love, how old are you again?"

Dream glared at him. But he suspected its intentions might be curtailed by the smile he couldn't keep off his face.

--

"Hang on, let me get something," Hob said, rushing off the bed.

Dream propped himself up by his elbows, curious as to what was more important than kissing a very needy, very horny Dream. They haven't seen each other for what must have been more than a month now, what with all the pressing concerns in the Dreaming and Hob's increasing workload in the university.

"Hob," Dream called, not without a tone of threat.

"Be a second, darling," Hob called back. Surely enough, he was back within a few seconds, now with a guitar in his hands.

Hob sat on the edge of the bed, propping up the guitar on his lap. Dream crawled beside him, his interest in Hob's new hobby overpowering his sexual need.

"Been practicing for this," Hob said under his breath. His brows were furrowed in concentration as his fingers formed the proper chords.

"For what?" Dream asked.

Hob smiled at him. "Our anniversary, dearest."

Oh. The constant reminders, the movie Hob let him pick out, the candlelit dinner, the flowers...

And now this.

Hob cleared his throat. He was going to sing. While he played the guitar. For him.

Dream would remember this until the end of time, would remember how the strings bent to Hob's will as he moved from chord to chord, would remember Hob's voice rough and hoarse from countless lectures. Something inside him ached at the memory of his son with his lyre and his voice, and something inside him burst at the sight of Hob with his guitar and his voice.

"Oh, don't cry darling," Hob said, stopping mid-song, thumb wiping away a tear on Dream's cheek.

"I am not," Dream said, as he felt a familiar stinging in his eyes. There was a lump in his throat.

"Oh, sweeting." Hob set aside his guitar, and pulled Dream into his arms. "I didn't mean to make you cry. I thought you would like it."

"I did. I do," said Dream. Against his will, he felt a few more of his tears escape onto Hob's bare shoulder. He tried to concentrate on Hob's heartbeat, on the warmth of Hob's hand on his back, going round and round. "I apologize. I did not mean to ruin your performance, our anniversary."

"No, love. I can do that another time. And as for the anniversary, it isn't ruined at all. Don't be sorry," Hob said. "What matters most is you."

Dream buried his face in Hob's chest. This was foolish. He felt like a child again, crying for an absent father, an unloving mother. Except he wasn't a child, and he was crying for his dead son.

"You know," Hob started, providing Dream a welcome distraction from his thoughts, "Robyn was afraid of thunder and lightning. He would come running from his room into mine and Eleanor's and climb onto our bed. And I would hold him just like this, until he fell asleep. I... I miss him a lot. I still think of him. I carry him with me everyday."

After a quiet while, Dream said, "Thank you." He wasn't sure what it was for. Maybe it was for everything, from their first meeting as strangers centuries ago until now, as lovers. It might as well be.

"You're most welcome, my heart. Anytime."

--

Is it time? Dream had felt something inside him exploding like a dying star for the longest time. He had been pondering this for what seemed like an eternity, but it seemed like now was a good time as any other.

Dream held a velvet box in his hand that he had procured from a jeweler's dream, a few minutes before Hob woke. He had been keeping an eye on this one for a couple of years now.

"Hob Gadling," he started. "I have been careful in letting you set the pace. In the past, I have been... too eager with my lovers. Too insistent. You know not the strength I have had to muster to keep myself from asking this question."

"Dream," Hob breathed. For a moment, Dream was afraid Hob would ask him to stop, but it seemed like there was nothing but adoration in his lover's eyes.

"You said once that you were lucky to have me," Dream recalled. "However, I think it is I who is fortunate to have you, to be loved by you, to be cherished by you. With all my shortcomings, my temper, my childishness, I do not think it was easy. And so, if you would bestow upon me the honor, would you be my husband, for all eternity, with all that would entail?"

"Oh, Dream," Hob said, laughing a wet laugh. Tears were welling up in his eyes. They glittered like jewels in the dawn light; they put the ring in his box to shame. Then, Hob nodded, wordless. He held out his hand to Dream.

As he slipped the ring—ruby, gold, and a perfect fit—on Hob's finger, Dream felt close to tears, as well.

"'Til Death do us part," Hob said, kissing the corner of Dream's mouth.

Dream smiled. "You will be glad to know that she wishes to be my maid of honor."

[age-of-moonknight]

“Incarnate,” Vengeance of the Moon Knight (Vol. 2/2024), #7.

Writer: Jed MacKay; Penciler and Inker: Alessandro Cappuccio; Colorist: Rachelle Rosenberg; Letterer: Cory Petit

[drop-the-curtain-123]

ok very specific gripe about assassination classroom

But how comes the series is all "be yourself, use your hobbies, despite everyone judgement, for good" then just... Never questions the roasting of Mimura air guitaring?

Look at my boy! He's so unwell afterwards

Ik now there are more scenes later in the manga that again use it as a Punchline. It just encapsulates that weird gap of "things that are just never Not the Joke/Mocked" which kind of defeats the show messaging 😭

t's not even used in a "do it anyway, grow strong and proud" like some others, it's just. There.

(hi rinka btw happy belated birthday to you)

Anyway unconsequential nitpicking rant over, have a good day.

[campbyler]

..did mr. will the wise buy the speak now cardigan 👀✨💜

excellent question! acswy will did not in fact buy it bc 1. it was $70 and he said what the actual Fuck and nearly passed out and 2. it’s not really his style! maybe if it were a regular sweater and a little less violently purple…. and not $70….. we did talk about this and it was unanimous that el absolutely cashed out for it though so maybe will borrows it once just to try it out 🤷🏽‍♀️

[jichanxo]

was at my friend's karaoke party and was amusing myself by going "ahhh this is kuwagami" at as many songs as possible, and then we get to one song and i realise. this is kuwagami. as in, i've seen this music video before, but only in the context of kuwagami. anyway the art in question is this and this, and the music video is this. so glad to finally have context for this artwork lol even if it's by accident

[rithmeres]

genuinely these panels are going to make me ugly cry

[eldritch-nightmare]

chewing on liu actively rn good morning (it's 1pm)

[britneyshakespeare]

genuinely also curious from other ppl who have drawn from live models. whenever i talk about this experience ppl ask me if the models were all attractive and young and in-shape. in my figure drawing class only two of the regular models could somewhat fit that description. most of them were middle-aged or older people of ordinary (but diverse) proportions. like my experience may not be representative but i find it curious that ppl hear about modelling for a drawing class and wonder if that's like a hot 20-something job. it doesn't seem to be lol

[adalisimping]

I go thinking that i'll write one fanfic and swerve into the vibe of another. I apologise for when I post this I just kinda love the angsty vibes. Hopefully I can get this done by next week. shout out to my mutual Birdy <3 got me into the vibe of writing a Xanthus fic.

[balteus]

thinking about shadow of the erdtree again. I'm now a little more ambivalent on whether radahn agreed with miquella's vow or not - but assuming he did - would that mean the reason radahn halted the stars, and thereby carian fate* is so ranni would not be able to enact the age of stars before miquella was to create a new order? food for thought.

*it's also ambiguous (imo) whether radahn did this intentionally but im just having a thought experiment. blaidd leaves a sign calling someone a "traitor" in front of nokron right after radahn is defeated. maybe him siding with miq would explain this

[ilovemylawyer]

i love the EVIL part of EVILIVE btw. i find fucked up, unnameable unobtainable obsessive life-ending love extremely romantic and delicious. it’s the way things are in the evilive world! things are messy! and bad! and i love it! i (at least currently!!!) do not plan on writing anything pure fluff happiness because that is not something that i wish to extract from this show.. it isn’t there! i have no interest in erasing these harsh realities of evilive in my fics. happy lalala is not fun for me to write, and i won’t do it without a heavy underlying feeling of uneasiness and uncertainty and dread and despair and inevitable death. i like pain :/ and half of this couple is one of the most greedy selfish motherfuckers i have ever come to know and he’s oh so beautiful. so i am sorry if you finished evilive and wanted some kind of fix-it happy gays but i am NOTTTTTTTT the guy for that.