#What makes you so special?

[hazyshadeofwintyr]

Dreamling Week Day I: Meowpheus

I am so normal about Dreamling, I can't even begin to explain just how normal I am! Truly! So normal!! The thought of them doesn't send me into a fluffy fluff spiral or anything!!! I promise I'm normal about them!!! Why are you walking away??? Wait—

Anyway, happy Dreamling Week one and all! :3 I don't think I'll write something for every day of it, but here's my first contribution. Expect it up on AO3 at... some point? Enjoy some tooth-rottingly fluffy gay shenanigans. Fuck segues, you don't need segues when you have the Dreaming.

WC: 1,479

----

He was just on the edge of sleep, thoughts drifting off somewhere far away from him. They swayed as a sea, cycling like the tide, the steady in- and out-rush of water and sand. Hob could nearly hear it, if he just listened a little closer— 

A weight leapt onto Hob's bed, waking him from his half-doze. He blinked blearily through the darkness, registering a shape that looked an awful lot like a housecat, only fuck-off huge. A pair of onyx eyes that sparkled through the dim room met his, glowing with distant starlight—the sort that had become nigh-invisible in modern London, so not a reflection or trick of the light—which tickled something at the back of his mind. "Dream?" he mumbled. 

The cat settled beside him, just within his reach. It tilted its head at him. Good evening, Hob Gadling. 

"What're you doing here?" 

Do I need a particular reason to visit a friend? Dream teased, cocking his head. 

"No, it's just—" Hob yawned, cutting himself off. "I'm not used to seeing you without a reason, is all." 

Dream stretched, a low purr rumbling through the bed. Am I bothering you? 

"Not at all." Hob extended a hand, fingers brushing against night-dark fur so soft and feather-fine he could barely feel it. Dream didn't move, so he dug a little deeper, scratching the top of Dream's head. The same bone-deep purr rattled up his arm as Dream leaned into Hob's touch. He was significantly more accepting of touch as a cat than as a... whatever he called that almost-human shape that had graced most of their visits. "I'm not going to make for very good conversation tonight, I'm afraid." 

Then it is fortuitous I did not come for conversation, hm? Dream flicked an ear in a half-joking gesture. Sleep, Hob Gadling. Rest well in my presence.

Hob was, belatedly, glad that Dream had appeared to him in this form—the thought of his hands bruising that marble flesh made his head do all sorts of things he couldn't process. The cat was different—there was no temptation to lose himself in stormy eyes or to kiss the delicate skin in the hollow of Dream's throat. He had spent centuries without even the least sign of reciprocation, but the more frequent visits of the previous six months left him starving in an entirely different way than usual. No, he decided, brushing a knuckle against the warm skin at the base of Dream's ear, the cat was a distraction most welcome. 

He fell asleep with surprising ease for sharing a bed with a large, unfamiliar cat who just-so-happened to be his oldest friend (were he more awake as the words passed his thoughts, he'd chuckle with only the slightest bit of mirth). The deep, soothing purring of cat-Dream didn't hurt, either. It invited sleep, drew it in as though putting him on a sea with his blankets as a wave. Hob wasn't really sure if it was part-and-parcel of Dream's whole thing or not, but the question died like a candle as he faded into unconsciousness. 

They were strolling through an indistinct blur of a park, the sun bright but not burning, each of them holding a cone of soft-serve ice cream. "You must truly wish to see me, Hob Gadling," Dream commented in a voice that had a quality not unlike gravity. His appearance also seemed much more—vibrant or saturated would be the wrong word for how little colour there was about him, but the whites seemed truer, the blacks more absolute. Yet he still blended beautifully with the gentle greens and blues of their surroundings. 

Hob was more awake then he had any right to be, but his mind remained a little sluggish still. At least he could tell he was dreaming. "Is— is this because you were with me?" 

Dream shook his head, the slightest hint of what might be a smile teasing his lips. "No. And I am still with you, in the Waking world. You are the one who called me here." 

"I'm... sorry?" Hob tried, unsure of what one should say in such a circumstance. He wondered if anyone else had ever been in his place before—then dismissed the thought as quickly as it came, a painful pang of jealousy in his heart. His relationship with Dream was still too fragile, still too brittle to test its boundaries. Hob could wait, if he truly had to, for Dream to show some sign of reciprocation; he could also survive millennia on the hope alone. God only knew he'd survived the last few hundred years with little more than hope, at least partially for his strange—and, until recently, nameless—friend. 

Either Hob was showing more than he intended of his feelings, or Dream is just in his head, because those starry eyes softened. "You have no reason to apologise. It is a pleasure to spend time with you." 

"Well, at least the weather is lovely today."  

Dream glanced up at the sky. "Yes, it is," he agreed. 

Hob noticed that his ice cream had yet to melt and tasted it. Tension he hadn't realised he'd been holding disappeared. It tasted like vanilla ice cream, yes, and good vanilla ice cream at that—but beyond that, it tasted of all the times he'd shared dessert with a lover, every hot summer day spent holding hands with somebody he'd loved, every stroll in the park talking about everything and nothing. He closed his eyes and let the flavour wash over him. When he opened them, he found himself sitting opposite Dream at a terraced café, no longer holding ice cream. Instead, his hand rested on the table. 

And Dream's hand rested on his. 

Dream himself remained as impassive as ever. "I find that the weather is fair when I visit you," he mused, lashes beating in slow motion. They were a butterfly's wings, snowflakes falling, a rainbow materialising through scattered droplets of water. 

True romantic that he was, Hob couldn't shake the jolt of joy in his stomach when Dream continued to allow their skin to touch. He wondered how long it'd been since any mortal had been allowed to touch his (his? since when had Dream ever been his?) Dream Lord. "It's been good to see you more frequently, too. And to finally know your name, after all this time." 

"I have come to realise that you deserve a great many things you may never receive," Dream said, "and I feel it is my responsibility to give you whichever of those are in my power." He fell silent for a moment before moving his hand to entwine his fingers with Hob's. Another small smile graced his lips. 

"Is this one of them?" Hob asked, swallowing. 

"Yes and no. You have been an invaluable companion for many years, despite my distance and reluctance to admit it. In this sense, I am merely returning the favour." Dream tilted his head, much as he had as a cat, an unfamiliar sparkle in his eyes. "While I have never paid particular attention to your dreams, I have always been aware of them." 

"Oh," said Hob, the statement sinking in, "oh." His face flushed and, if this were a conversation with anyone else, he would've pulled his hand away to cover his face. Dream's touch simply felt too rare to forego, too precious to lose. "I'm, um. I don't— don't know what to say. Please forgive me for seeing you in that light?" In his defence, Hob hadn't known who or what Dream even was for the first six hundred years, had no idea that his Stranger would be privy to those fantasies. 

Dream—laughed. He actually laughed, the bastard. His laugh was, at most, a dry chuckle, but it was worlds more expressive than Hob ever expected to hear from him. "Hob Gadling," he said, half-smiling, eyes full of care and mirth and secrets and stars, "I am the King of Dreams. Were I displeased, or uncomfortable, with your fantasies of me, they would be well within my ability to stop." 

"You don't mind dreams where I—?" Shag you silly, Hob finished in his thoughts, far too embarrassed to speak those words out loud. 

"You were right, one hundred and thirty-three years ago. I was lonely, and I was too proud to admit it—which, I have come to realise, is exactly why I was so lonely. Only recently have I become aware of my own such... personal flaws." 

"So you'd forgive my being so forward as to..." There was no longer a table between them, only a step that Hob closed with relish. They were so close their chests nearly touched, a breath—though, Hob noticed, Dream didn't breathe—between them. He remained hesitant as he put a hand to Dream's waist. With a smooth, too-fluid motion, Dream did the rest and gardens bloomed glorious behind Hob's eyes.

[vio-starclad]

Politicos and news-watchers have gotta be some of the biggest narcissists in the land.

"I have the right and informed opinions on all the issues" yeah okay buddy what are you gonna do about that, vote harder? Lol.

[egophiliac]

NEW BIRTHDAY THEME IS OUT!!!!!!!!!!!

BIRTHDAY SLUMBER PARTY, HERE WE COME

I think the theme is more loungewear than straight-up pajamas, but hey, I'm not complaining! (and -- look, we still have the groovies, I'm not giving up hope for animal kigurumi until I gotta)

[turtleblogatlast]

AU where Leo is trapped in the Prison Dimension for months instead of minutes and the only way he gets by with his sanity intact is through recording himself talking to his wrist comm.

When they finally manage to get Leo back and make him rest up to heal, Donnie can’t help but listen to the recordings left behind.

He’s not sure what exactly he’s expecting, only that his subconscious is screaming at him that it has to be heartbreaking, that it has to be torturous.

Instead, what Donnie is subject to is a full thousand hours’ worth of Jupiter Jim and Lou Jitsu crossover fanfiction. More than one part in the series. Spanning well over a million words.

(The worst part is that it’s actually good.)

[thatkoiboi]

Part 2

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This is a fan comic inspired by Cass' Apocalyptic Series and is just my own little fan art of how Donnie and Casey could have gotten closer!

The creator is @/somerandomdudelmao

hebehjeabaje I did a warm up doodle of Mikey on the canvas and liked it so much I wanted to incorporate Mikey somehow (literally made up an excuse just to drop a bunch of easter eggs for fun).

[ruporas]

the blank ticket in your hand is just waiting to be filled in.

happy birthday vash! (ID in alt text)

[electoons]

I love the college of winterhold. everyone there is casually deranged and there's like an alarming number of students and staff who threaten you immediately when they meet you. it's always one of the first questlines I do. which makes it even funnier when you get made the arch-mage of the college. I'm level 12 and got through this questline knowing exactly 3 spells. what do you mean you want me to lead the college. this school CANNOT be an accredited institution

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 301

Ellie, during one of her stints of what do I do with my life right now, decides to, with the help of her Original Dad-Person (Look he’s aging and she’s not and it gets less questions the older he gets if he says daughter instead of sister with how the Fentons are getting older too) creates a Boo-Tube channel. No, not a Youtube channel, those are stuck to a single dimension.

Bootube on the other hand? Due to being through the Realms (and wow is Tucker getting so much income from creating it) is interdimensional. Which is so cool honestly. And she doesn’t know what to do at first, and honestly there’s already so many travel blogs that she kind of just… decided to do something that she wished someone had done for her and her brothers and Danny when she was new to the world. 

So she creates the channel CAAW: Clone Awareness, Accommodations, and Welfare. They had to learn things through trial and error, but maybe she can help someone out there learn how to find their own selves, or even help someone not melt. 

[tubbytarchia]

For the ranchers a bit more shleep i just really like charakters comfy and nice:Dc /nf

Eepies. Jimmy woke up to really sore wings but its okay because Tango

[imminent-danger-came]

2x02 // 3x01 // 3x03 // 3x13 // 4x12

Team huddle!

[sensiblereblogifposts]

A while ago, I posted a petition, to stop the closing of a much loved museum, Syndeys Powerhouse museum, a place that's been under threat for years.

I need your help with this once again, (especially if you are an Aussie)

After years of threatening to close down and demolish our only science, tech and applied arts museum, and one attempt to turn it into an events center, they've come back with another plan, which basically amounts to "we're going to clear out the museum and demolish most of the structures inside. We definitely have a plan to put some cool stuff back, but we can't tell you it, but it's definitely gonna be great. Don't mind that a bunch of purpose built structures to display delicate objects are set to be demolished."

(That's an F1 Apollo rocket engine, very rare outside the USA. Almost 60 years old, now delicate, but it's going.)

"We've garunteed 3 of the most iconic items (not their accompanying collections) will come back. Pay no mind that we haven't allowed for where they're gonna go, or that the one object we can't move (rare, 250 year old working Boulton and Watts steam engine) is set to end up inside a corridor)

(There used to be room, elevated planforms even)

"Oh, also, you know that museum storage hall, so close by and practical, with a loading dock and workshops, that's also sitting on prime real estate? We're building a second loading dock and workshops in the main museum! Right where the all classrooms where!"

It's supposedly a heritage restoration, but in truth, it's based of a skewed heritage report which has been heavily criticised as I'll informed, and rigged to allow the place's removal.

Almost every detail goes against the spirit of the original musuem. The orginal museum was a fun, post modern place with a sciencey vibe,

Which transitioned fluidly into historic halls, with historic products and technology to match

The Musuem has an upper entrance designed to be welcoming, full of natural light, and evoke the feel of an old grand train station. This is to be bricked up.

Rather than restore the older galleries, theyre taking several of them out reducing display space from about 15,000m²ish to about 6000m² ish.

The historic halls included restored generator room filler with steam engines. This really put the museum on the map.

But that's going.

All that is going, in favour of

This kind of thing.

The plan to do this is on display untill end of may May 30th, Aussie time. It would help a lot if you (might be only Australians) log on and make a short comment opposing the project:

A lot more commentary on the project can be found at:

@protecpowerhous on Twitter

Or if you cant make a submission, and still haven't, please sign that petition:

The people reporting to government planning will be see it, and attention helps.

[somerandomdudelmao]

@tapakah0

This little bunny means the world to me

[marclef]

so uhhhhh. that Noise update huh?

great job there buddy, you've given the dang frog anxiety!

[kazswift]

platonic relationships in media are actually so much more important to me than romantic ones. not sorry

[yashley]