#issue: rocks to riches

[donaldduckisme]

Donald: *literally runs off to the desert to hide from Scrooge*

Scrooge: *chases him down anyway*

He's so done with him 😭

[fungi-maestro]

Questionable Images 1/2 - The Question #13 (1988)

[zanathan-aisling]

rewatched paranoia agent by proxy (reaction youtube), feeling emotionally akin to warm yet raw eggs again. great.

[lordofdestructionm]

Wick Sable

The odd duck in the guilded cage

Despite this being a feral Mordecai and Viktor account I do occasionally like to dig into the others.

Wick is a character Lackadaisy fans love but don't talk about very much. He just the rich friendly geologist with a love of illicit beverages and a crush on Mitzi. Indeed he is all those things. But I want to dig a little into what may be hidden depth (geography joke haha)

Professional dissatisfaction

When we first meet Wick he is behind his desk looking very tired and beaten down. Forcing himself to keep working late into the night with excessive coffee. Attending to a large pile of paper work for tomorrow.

His expression shifts slightly when he sees the Lackadaisy pins fall out of the envelope and realises the letter is an invitation to him (and his fellow aristocrats) to the speakeasy.

This hatred of paper work and the administrative side of his business is a recurring issue for Wick. Making the reason for his reliance on the capable and attentive Lacy very obvious. Exhaustian and too much alchohol are no doubt partly to blame, but it seems to be something that puts him in a very depressed state of mind.

But when actually on the job, overseeing the hands on work of blasting a new quarry, his mood is much more positive. Indeed he has a very real and sincere love for geology and the nitty gritty work of his business. When he first went to the Lackadaisy he was spellbound by the lime caverns themselves as much by Mitzi's charm.

Its his special interest and he will go on long unprompted monologues on the topic if given the chance. Meaning it is specifically the being trapped in his office dealing with the red tape that makes him so unhappy not the industry itself.

Its almost sad that he is the one in charge of the company rather than in a role that puts him closer to the action which seems to bring him real joy. Like someone who loves cooking being in charge of a restuarant or someone that loves drawing running an animation studio.

They love the product/industry but that doesn't mean they enjoy their specific place in it.

Unimpressed Peers

Despite Wicks enthusiasm it proves not be infectious with his fellow elite, who complain about being dragged out of town to watch something, that while very important to Wick, they clearly could not care less about (even not that quietly mocking him and his love for rocks and construction)

When the evening doesn't go to plan due to the uninvited pig farmers Wick has an interesting exchange with Edmund Church, seemingly the most prominent of the St Louis upper crust in the group. Warning him about getting any more involved with an unsavoury crowd, especially Mitzi, outside of simply enjoying the occasional drink.

Wick doesn't take kindly to the snarky criticism and borderline threat to his reputation and responds with a much more direct statement on his peers sour nature

Tracy has mentioned that Church has a role yet to play in the story and it seems safe to assume from this it may well involve Wick in a less than friendly way if he continues to associate with his "lessers" as Church and the others see things.

Despite needing to remain on civil terms to keep them invested in his business, Wick clearly has little love for them, a feeling that is mutual as they have little respect for him and see him as an oddball, only tolerating him because his talent in his field can help make them a tidy profit.

But while he doesn't appreciate Church's sniping Wick IS concerned about his reputation, but not entirely for his own sake or that of his elitist associates, but for the many people who rely on him for employment, who could be hurt by extension of he gets pulled too deep into the less than repectable world of bootlegging

Romantic life

Outside of the crush he has had on Mitzi since first meeting her at the Speakeasy, we have very little information about Wicks love life before this. Being a handsome and wealthy gentleman from a good family, you would think he would he fighting women off with a stick, maybe even be a bit of a playboy.

Instead you get the impression Wick is pretty far away from being a ladies man. Mentioning to Mitzi that he doesn't even really know how to talk to women unless its about rocks, bugs or limestone.

He is clearly attracted to her and is tempted by her to risk his reputation and by extension his business to get closer to her, but so far his fear of the very real consequences are deterring him from taking that gamble.

Though there is that personal aspect to it, it seems that in a more abstract sense Mitzi's appeal to Wick is not just in her beauty and seductive personality, but in the excitement and thrill of her Speakeasy and bootlegging operations.

In that sense Mitzi represents that touch of danger and excitement that during prohibition many otherwise law abiding citizens enjoyed indulging in illegal drinking establishments. Being* just* naughty enough to give them a fun thrill while being detached from the more brutal blood soaked aspects.

Wick is a good natured person (the worst thing he has done is shoot a duck in his youth which he was forced to do) living a very "respectable" life, but that makes the superficial glamour of the world of underground drinking establishments and secret booze stashes even more appealing. Thats why despite his concerns and responsibilities he keeps going back ,not just to Mitzi, but to the Lackadaisy specifically. It has pretty geography, a pretty owner, and an open door to a more exciting avenue of life

Its for that same reason he doesn't seem to be overly uncomfortable with lovable bi disaster Zib flirting with him at the bar. He may have no intention of reciprocating, but it couldn't be a more different experience to the world he is used to

Even if he doesn't yet want to take the full plunge it all excites him enough to keep him circling the edges.

Because despite having so much going for him there are things about his life that not only bore him but make him unhappy. Whether its piles of paperwork, dealing with much stuffier "conventional" fellow aristocrats and not wanting to be like them, or just a general lack of true passion in his life, he is clearly a man looking for something more satisfying

Whether or not he remains a "tourist" or decides to take that gamble, throw his reservations to the wind, and take a more active role in the gang, is yet to be seen...

Assuming Rocky doesn't set fire to him first of course XD

[jayrockin]

Avian Homeplanet

Star: F-class (yellow white) Vegetation: blue and black Axial tilt: 11 degrees Gravity: 1.12 g Position from star: fourth

Over 90% ocean and blasted by the light of an intense star, the avian homeplanet is prone to hot, humid weather and enormous monsoon storms. In spite of this, the planet’s very slight axial tilt gives its poles a coating of year-round sea ice, whose sifting, dune-like surface plays host to a strange variety of slow growing plants and hardy animals. On solid land, the dominant photosynthetic life is a clade of “plants” ranging from dark blue to cerulean, and a clade of sessile tube-dwelling “landworms” with black flesh and frond-like appendages. Their dark colors selectively absorb and reflect the harsh, high-UV light of the sun.

The crust of the planet also has an usually large amount of the element cobalt. It compromises over 5% of the planet’s crust, comparable to iron on Earth. Cobalt compounds generally have a much higher solubility in water than iron compounds, though, and the avian oceans are stained a purplish red from huge amounts of dissolved cobalt nitrate, cobalt chloride, and cobalt carbonate. Mineral veins of cobalt compounds can be found commonly in the planet’s rocks, forming streaks of red, blue, black, green, and sometimes yellow depending on composition. Sand and soil are sometimes stained purple and blue by cobalt salts, as well.

The clade of avians has a difficult evolutionary history to track, given the limited amount of dry land and intense development over the past thousand years. The current theory is that a flying sophont ancestor originated on the planet’s largest landmass, an Australia-sized continent, and radiated outwards to evolve into the 5 extant species of avians.

In modern history, avians have often run into space issues developing their societies, and metal as a resource has been at the center of some particularly bitter wars. Most land on the homeplanet is currently colonized by the Dominion of Tiiliit, and now in the space age, imported metal and helium is being used to add new land in the form of artificial islands and floating cities.

Avians tend to use simple, writable icons to represent their nations. Though traditionally, the Hotsuuv nations use local cultivated varieties of seal fruit as icons, and the mineral rich south pole uses dots of pigment.

Map art rendered in Photopea by the stellar @cmaidaartworkblog! Edited in CSP by me.

PATREON | Runaway to the Stars

[seren1tyhaze]

Vibration

PAIRING: dilf!mark lee x afab reader

WORD COUNT: 2.9K

SUMMARY: Going home with Jaemin after another date leads to a night (and morning after) that you will never forget. Especially after you meet his incredibly hot Uncle Mark.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I present my official gift to my fellow Markfs for our beloved Mark Lee's birthday. This has been a long-standing, half-finished wip that was heavily inspired by MarkLeeInARobe2023 during that one live during tds2 where we are all pretty sure he wasn't wearing any underwear. Hope you all had a wonderful Mark Day and that you enjoy this gift from me to you :)

WARNINGS: explicit smut, alcohol consumption, mild swearing

PLAYLIST: Vibration by Mark Lee, Daddy Issues by Demi Lovato

Beast on the loose, rocking on Close your eyes and look Feel the vibration Do you feel alive?

~~

“Shhhhhh…Jaem! We are going to get in trouble!” you squeal, dodging the tall man’s grabby hands as you wobble, almost dropping into the sparkling water of the pool under the night sky.

“Loosen up, silly,” he slurs back, bottle of tequila dangling from his long fingers dangerously over the slate tiles under your bare feet.

A third date with a cute guy from the IT department at work had turned into after dinner drinks and after after dinner drinks and dancing and shots and now you were stumbling around in the backyard of Jaemin’s house…?

“This is your house, right?” you ask, pausing and cocking your head to the right in punctuation as you watch him peel off his undershirt, his lightweight sweater long discarded half a bottle ago.

“I live here, yes,” he chuckles back, dropping down to let his feet dip into the light blue water of the beautiful pool set in the middle of the yard.

“My uncle is letting me stay with him for a few months before I find my own place.”

You take a moment to glance towards the large house in front of you. The entire back wall is floor to ceiling windows, giving a beautiful view of a modern and spacious kitchen, dim lighting illuminating granite countertops and shiny appliances. Jaemin’s uncle must be another one of these rich tech bros who never grew out of spending his money on shiny things. At least in this case you were benefiting from it.

You think you see some movement in the living room and are about to say something before you hear a loud splash and water shoots over your bare legs, dampening the flowy skirt of your thin dress.

Gasping, you shoot daggers at the smiley man in the pool, watching with interest as he dips his head back, running slender fingers through long auburn locks. You smile at him softly, tequila or lust clouding your judgment as you descend the stairs in the pool to meet him in the middle where your feet barely touch the bottom.

Jaemin’s hands find your waist underwater, pulling you closer to him as your dress billows out in the water, exposing you under the shimmering lights. A devious grin forms across his beautiful features as he tightens his grip on your waste and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Jaemin…don’t even think about it…” you warn, placing your hands on his shoulders preemptively.

Suddenly you are being tossed in the air and back into the water, head being pulled under the water and a muffled shriek bursting from your throat. You gasp for air as you break through the surface again only to find the charming boy in front of you laughing maniacally, clutching his middle underwater.

“Na Jaemin!” comes a loud voice, causing you both to snap your heads back towards the house, to find a blonde man with round wire frame glasses on the tip of his nose standing in black silk pajamas near the glass sliding door.

Jaemin is suddenly next to you and your heart is racing as the man takes another step closer to the pool, stepping into the moonlight. The rippling water of the pool is casting bright flashes across his face and strong frame, pants hugging his thighs before flaring out in a perfectly tailored length. His hair is on the longer side, similar to Jaemin’s but a beautiful pale blonde, dry and silky.

“Uncle Markkkk,” Jaemin slurs, tossing an arm around your shoulder, hand tangling instinctively in your long wet hair. You shrug violently in an attempt to get away from him, blush flaring up on your cheeks as you meet the stern man’s gaze.

“It’s late, use the indoor hot tub if you’re going to be out here. I don’t need pissed off neighbors,” he adds before turning on his heel to head back in the house. You don’t miss how his plump ass is accentuated by the silky material and have a hard time dragging your eyes away. Before he’s even out of sight, Jaemin’s hands are hungrily all over you again, sliding up your wet back to massage your shoulders.

“Jaemin, stop,” you warn, avoiding his kiss with a shake of your head. Getting caught has thrust you back to an embarrassed reality and you’re already plotting your escape via a long Uber ride back to your apartment.

“Don’t worry about Mark, he’s cool, I promise,” Jaemin coos, connecting his lips with your neck, wicked tongue making quick work at marking the skin there.

You melt under his touch, weak for that particular spot, and close the gap to connect further with his chest. Slotting your lips with his, you lick behind his teeth greedily, wrapping your arms around his neck and sighing against his lips.

“Fine, but take me inside, you owe me a shower and warm clothes,” you whisper against his mouth, linking your legs around his waist and grinding against his crotch as a silent promise.

The next morning you wake up to an empty bed and sun streaming through the window. It feels late but when you check your phone you realize it was around the time you would wake up on a weekday. The house is silent and Jaemin’s backpack is gone from where he had messily strewn it the night before.

A note on his desk indicates he had been called into the office on this peaceful Saturday to deal with a possible data breach and you are welcome to anything in the kitchen. You check your phone to realize he’s already sent you money for an Uber and your heart sinks. He was cute, cuter than you usually went for and way too nice for you. You now know this has to be the last date with him, your commitment issues flaring up.

Mk usually plays tennis on Saturdays so the coast should be clear. Call me later xx

You sink into his desk chair, crumpling the note and letting it fall into the small waste basket. After a quick wash of your face and brush of your teeth, you shrug into one of Jaemin’s oversized hoodies, letting it drop long on your thighs and covering the boxer briefs he had lent you last night. Combing through your hair with your fingers, you pull the hood up over your head and pad downstairs, louder than you would have in someone’s home.

Making your way into the kitchen, you go straight to the fridge, yanking it open to find glass bottles of water lining the door. You uncap one and take it down in one gulp, thirsty beyond belief.

“Jaeminnie, we need to talk about last night,” comes the same voice who had startled you by the pool the night before.

You freeze, pushing the fridge door shut slowly. In the hoodie and boxers, with your hair and frame covered, you know you could easily be mistaken for the boy you had gone home with. You had similar build and heights and a quick glance over your shoulder confirms that Mark hadn’t lowered the newspaper he was reading.

“You can’t just keep fucking every beautiful girl you meet in my pool. What would my brother say about how I’m letting you spend your summer?” he continues in a condescending tone as you back up against the island, nervous to turn around.

“And by the sounds of you two in the shower, it sounds like she’s sexy as hell and quite the catch, so don’t you think it’s about time you settled down?” he finishes, lifting his tone up in a question, never lowering the paper.

You place the empty bottle down on the glossy countertop and cross the kitchen to the table where he sits, placing manicured fingertips on the top of the paper to get his attention.

“Quite the catch? Sexy as hell? Oh do tell me more about this beautiful girl,” you reply with a smirk, pulling the newspaper from the shocked man’s face.

“Jesus, fuck, I’m so sorry…” Mark trails off as you push the hood off your head, shaking your locks temptingly and giving him a quizzical cock of your brow.

“Don’t be sorry,” you start, leaning your hip against the edge of the table as you watch panic wash over his face.

His face looks freshly washed with no doubt luxury skincare applied immediately after and he is lounging casually in a dark blue robe with white trim, ML embroidered in gold thread at the chest. His toned chest is peaking through, belt loose at the waist and legs spread wide, bare legs ending in soft slippers planted on the floor.

“I heard someone leave early so I assumed it was you. I had no idea you were still here,” he tries to explain, fidgeting with the dangling edge of the belt. His eyes are struggling to meet yours, as you train your gaze down at him with your hands now shoved in the hoodie pocket.

“He had to head to work. He said you wouldn’t be here,” you reply softly, now feeling bad for grilling him as he squirmed below you. He looked soft and sweet in the morning light, drastically different from the stern fatherly tone he took last night at the edge of the pool.

“Can I make you a cappuccino? Some eggs?” he asks, sitting up in the chair, bare knees bumping against yours and sending a shiver up your spine.

“Hmm I was thinking of how I could repay you for your hospitality. This is quite a beautiful home you have here, Uncle Mark,” you reply, brushing your hand across his that was resting on his knee.

He winces at the name but looks down at your hand on his, turning his over to let your fingers lace with his. The tips of his fingers are calloused and you silently wonder if he plays guitar, having noticed some framed records on the wall on the stairs.

“Mark, please, just Mark,” he replies, voice coming out gravelly, eyes dying to roll into the back of his head at the name.

“And it’s fine, I don’t know how to make eggs anyways,” he adds, squeezing your hand gently as you move your other to the belt at his waist.

“Of course a filthy rich guy like you doesn’t cook,” you reply lightly, dropping down to your knees, releasing his hand and placing both your palms on his knees, knocking the edge of the robe out of the way to expose his bare thighs. As far as you can tell, he isn’t wearing any underwear and the thought of his hardening cock bare against his thigh makes you squeeze your legs together.

Mark widens his legs as his eyes narrow, watching you sitting back on your legs in front of him, baggy material pooling around your thighs. Before you can reach to pull the knot of his belt loose, he leans down and you feel your eyes slide shut, assuming he’s going to kiss you. He chuckles instead, breath warm across your lips as he tugs at the hood of the sweatshirt.

“Take this off now,” he commands, sitting back up in the chair and pulling at the belt himself, letting it slip to the floor. The robe falls open, revealing a toned and lean torso accompanied by muscular arms. His cock is hard and flushed red against his stomach and an evil smile is spread across his lips.

As soon as you’ve removed the offending material, your eyes go immediately to his cock, teeth sinking into your lower lip as you take in the sight of him. He’s dripping with sex appeal and you can’t help but stare. He’s definitely older than you and Jaemin but can’t be too much older by the look of his physique. His face is young and the blonde dye of his hair makes it impossible to detect any grays, if he even has any.

“Now where’s that thank you I was promised?” he asks, tipping his chin down to speak to you, hand balled into a fist at his knee. His eyes continue trailing down, landing on your breasts being pressed together by your bare upper arms as your hands rest on your knees. You look like a dream kneeling before him in nothing but gray boxers and it’s taking everything in him not to fuck you over the counter top.

You lean forward, sliding your hands gently up his smooth inner thighs, taking his leaking cock in your hand and lowering your lips to the head. You listen as Mark’s breathing slows and hear a soft moan slide from his lips as you close your lips around him, running the point of your tongue over his sensitive slit.

You chuckle at the noise, sending vibrations across him, using your hand to work the base of his shaft as you kitten lick his head. You let your teeth drag lightly against him every once and a while, tasting his woody musk. You let your eyes slip shut, rocking back and forth on your knees, the energy coursing through your body making you feel more alive than ever.

A disgruntled noise from above draws your gaze up and his hand is suddenly in your hair, pulling the long locks into a ponytail to pull you off his dick.

“Come on, sweetie, I know you can do better than that. I heard how Jaemin fucked your throat last night - my bed shares a wall with the shower,” he grunts out, voice dripping with filth as he accurately recounts your actions from the night before.

Spurred on by his words, you take his cock deep in your mouth, brushing up against the back of your throat as you hollow your cheeks around him. You’re suddenly desperate to prove how well you can take him, despite being slightly bigger than Jaemin and holding far more confidence in the way he carries himself.

Mark lets out a high pitch yelp and you swear you can hear his voice break as he does, sliding his hand down your neck and to your upper back, causing you to shift forward and take him impossibly deeper. Your nose is pressed up into neatly trimmed hair and your eyes begin to water as he lifts his ass off the chair to thrust into your throat. You shift to accommodate him and look up through your lashes to him.

“Holy hell, that’s good,” he groans, arm muscles tensing as he digs his fingertips into your back, no doubt leaving bruises there.

You slide off him, dragging your tongue on the underside of his shaft and swirling around his tip. He squeezes his eyes shut tight behind his glasses, free hand pushing through strands of blonde that had fallen in front of his face.

Without much warning he is shooting warmth across your lips and chest, letting out a deep groan and reaching down to fist at himself through his orgasm. He looks down at you with a smile, lips curling up as if he’s about to say something devious.

“MELT! Babe, are you here?” comes a loud voice, echoing off the walls of the kitchen and causing you to pull back, heart pounding in your chest.

A tall, long-legged man in a polo shirt and athletic shorts appears, his socked feet coming to a stop at the sight of you on your knees on the glossy floor. His hair is dark and lightly permed, long bangs hanging perfectly over his eyebrows and a dainty gold chain laying against his tanned neck.

He gives you a long look up and down, eyes pausing on the cum glazing your lips as you freeze and dart nervous eyes over to Mark, who looks unbothered.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? Looks like Markie found something fun to do instead of tennis this morning,” comes his warm voice as he leans against the entryway to the kitchen.

“Ah Hyuckie, let me be, I texted you while you were golfing,” Mark says with a roll of his eyes and a huff, reaching a soft hand to your chin to pull you to your feet.

“Meet my not-so-better-half, Haechan,” Mark adds, comment directed at you as he brushes his lips against the corner of your mouth, licking away the remains of his release left there.

You gulp and drop your head sheepishly, looking down to your bare chest and covering it nervously with your arms. Twice in less than 24 hours you had been caught in a compromising position and this time you simply wanted to melt into the floor.

Haechan closes the space between you and you feel a hand in your hair, pulling you up gently to meet his gaze. His eyes are sparkling and beautiful, dark moles dotting his cheek and lips plump and soft.

“She’s cute,” he says to Mark, dipping his head down to brush his lips against your collarbone, tongue darting out to taste some of Mark’s cum on your skin.

“Tastes good too,” he adds with a smile.

“Did you enjoy sucking off my husband, darling?” he asks, dark eyes swimming with mischief. He looks breathtaking up close, features just as pretty as Mark’s and voice dripping with lust.

“Husband…” you trail off, unable to form a coherent sentence. You shoot daggers at Mark, who merely smiles and rolls his eyes again before moving to the coffee machine and starting to make another coffee.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

~~

[donaldduckisme]

very much Uh Oh

[phntmeii]

♡ Dating Jaime Lannister Headcanons:

❝ You are still maiden, I hope? Oh, good... I only rescue maidens. ❝

[ SFW + No Gendered Terms]

A/N: This list of headcanons is before the events of ASOIAF :) This is assuming he previously let go of Cersei and has no romantic connection to her recently and accepts his role as Heir/Lord to Casterly Rock after being dismissed from the Kingsguard for being a Kingslayer.

Kingslayer Era:

> Now, likely this matchup would be at the hands of a political marriage by his father, Tywin Lannister. After all, Jaime is his prized heir so Jaime already knows you must be someone who has quite a lot of good attributes yourself.

> Jaime is well aware of what a good match he'd be for quite literally anyone even despite his reputation. He's attractive, the eldest son of a noble house, a Great House at that, and one that is rich as fuck. He's also one of the most skilled fighters alive and quite literally noted to look "like what a king should look like."

> Jaime is the MOST cocky and flirty mf alive. He has Lannister pride and ego flowing through his veins and he revels in it.

> As a result, Jaime has no issue approaching you if he finds you attractive and immediately letting you know how he feels. He has a tendency to not think before he speaks and is generally blunt with his words.

> He 100% believes he has you wrapped around his finger the moment you spot him. Who wouldn't? It's the Lannister ego you can't blame him. It runs in his genes.

> Now while playing into his ego is all good and fun, putting him in his place or humbling him once you're in a relationship with him is a surprise but one that only amuses him and he listens to. AKA he is absolutely more in love if you tell him to stfu sometimes LMAO

> Once he realizes that you have genuine care and respect for him regardless of his reputation, this is what piques his interest the best and will get him to chase even more. The thought of someone’s genuine care rather than feigned admiration gets him to feel genuine warmth that he can’t help but chase after.

> He'd find both stubbornness and easy blushing as both enjoyable reactions to his advances. If you played "hard to get", he'll gladly be the one to chase.

> If you easily blush/get shy or flustered when he flirts, he will 1000% take advantage and use his charm to get reactions out of you as much as possible.

> His main Love Languages to give: Gift Giving and Words of Affirmation.

> This man is a LANNISTER okay?? He will absolutely "randomly" find you around to spoil you with different gifts and romantic gestures to gain your favor.

> Whatever gifts you want is literally yours the moment you even glance in that direction. Jewelry? Already yours. Clothing? It's in your closet already. You mentioned you like a specific flower? Prepare to receive a bouquet the next day.

> Although he does think that expensive gifts mean more, he's attentive in his gifts and gets you things he knows that you'll like. Simply because something is expensive won't take precedence over your actual interests.

> Also... Words of Affirmation?? This man quite literally is Prince Charming because he will absolutely charm you at any given point.

> He is obsessed with telling you how much he loves you, thinks you look good at every given point and how lucky he is that you ended up falling in love with him.

> Absolutely calls you a series of different pet names and rarely uses your actual name unless it's in a serious context or public situation.

> You can't even bring yourself to be upset for long at him because he'll find ways to make you smile just with his words. You can't help it when he's smirking at you while cheering you up because he knows he'll get you to break.

> His favorite Love Languages to receive are: Physical Touch and Acts of Service.

> Having you hold his hand instinctively when feeling nervous easily melts him because it lets him know that you trust him to protect you.

> Hugs, kisses, etc. everything just to show you appreciate and love him even as quick, little reminders while passing by will put a smile on his face.

> He absolutely will reciprocate and be an absolute gentleman with physical touch like offering his arm on walks and kissing the back of your hand with a slight bow.

> Acts of Service, specifically regarding caring for him, means the world to him. Assisting in bathing him, taking care of any wounds, bringing him a meal if you know it's been a while since his last one, or simply doing your duties properly around the Rock.

> He is incredibly respectful and protective over you. He values your needs and opinions as his partner and is absolutely willing to defend you and your honor at any time.

> Thinking of those lines "I'll go to war with him if I have to." I'll kill him, Ned Stark, the king, the whole bloody lot of them until you and I are the only people left in this world."

> His cocky exterior is true and influenced by his skill but he does possess insecurities that he doesn't share until later on in the relationship. It would take even longer than that to learn why he became the infamous "Kingslayer".

> There are times where he simply enjoys laying with you and venting a bit. Considering his massive expectations by nearly his entire family, he'll vent but remind himself of said expectation and may cut himself short. If you encourage him that it's a safe space, he'll reluctantly continue but feel better with your reassurance.

> He would genuinely be a good husband and you can count on it. While he has his duties as heir/lord, he always sets aside time for you and gives exclusive attention to you. You are his lovely partner after all. Your needs never escape his mind through his days.

> Genuinely goes to the ends of the earth to make you happy. Even if you order him around, he’ll wrap his arms around you from behind, enjoying your warmth for a moment before going off to do as you wished once you continue complaining to him.

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune

[briarmoon1015]

I think I’ve already confessed that I’m not a big birdflash fan, but there is something I really gotta point out because it’s bothering me.

I see a lot of people use specific comic panels to try and show how close these two characters are, but completely miss the whole point of the comic itself.

For example, I’ve seen a lot of people use panels from The Flash 1987 210, in which Wally reflects on his relationship with dick.

The problem with this is they are literally cutting out the next part of the page that explains that they have drifted apart

Wally is extremely different from dick, and once he takes up the flash mantle, it becomes clear that these two characters are on different paths. Wally wants to uphold the legacy of the flash, dick desperately wants to escape the legacy of Batman. Wally has a wife, three children, and a stable job. Dicks life changes at a moments notice, one minute he’s broke, one minute he’s rich, sometimes he has a job as a police officer, sometimes he’s dating one of his many red headed girlfriends, he’s the opposite of stable.

And that’s not to say the different characters can’t be friends or be together, but as this same comic shows, these two often struggle to understand one another once adults

Wally, after zoom caused his wife Linda to have a miscarriage, went to Hal as the spectre for help, which no one liked, including Dick. He is somewhat miffed Wally didn’t come to him, be he also sides with Bruce about how reckless and stupid the action was

He definitely empathizes with Wally’s situation, but he’s not really there to give support. Later on, dick does start to get the point, and the two take down gorilla grod. Dick apologies for his actions and both agree to stay in touch more. Obviously every good friendship is going to have some moments of tension and disagreement, but I think this really shows why Wally and Dick fell apart as adults.

And this really is the crux of why I’m personally not a big fan or birdflash. These two characters are inherently different and it’s so rare for me to see any birdflash content that acknowledges this. They can be together in a way that acknowledges and builds off of this, but it really hasn’t been done.

More importantly, I’ve noticed that to make burdflash work, a lot of fans completely erase Wally’s character to ignore these differences. His own goals, his own backstory, his own relationships, are just gone so he can be with dick. There is never any acknowledgment of the canon of Wally’s own motivations, such as living up to the flash mantle, or any mention of his connections to characters outside of Dick.

Even more so, I think erasing the presence of his wife and kids from his life so he can be with dick is really hard on the character. Linda is so essential in Wally’s life. She is the character in which speedsters learn the importance of having a lightning rod. She is the one to often push Wally to keep going. His kids redefined his life. He literally broke the source wall in order to keep them in his life. These are essential relationships that are just erased from Wally’s life.

As someone who truly prefers Wally over Dick, it hurts to see a potentially good pairing erase the good aspects of Wally like this. There is plenty of erasure done to other dc characters because of how popular the Bats are, and this ship, at least to me, is one of the worst examples. These characters are different, and often times it makes it hard for them to understand each other. Ignoring that issue doesn’t make the ship good in my eyes.

Anyways, I really don’t want to poop on birdflash as a whole. It is by no means a bad ship, I personally just don’t really like it. It has a lot of qualities that bother me. Despite all of this though, I do love seeing people’s art of it and I actually do think it can work a bit better when they are young and apart of the teen titans. I also know as a halbarry shipper I’m throwing rocks in a glass house lmao. But please ship what you like, I really don’t care, I just needed to shout into the void about my feelings around it :)

[bitchesgetriches]

On poverty:

Starting from nothing

How To Start at Rock Bottom: Welfare Programs and the Social Safety Net

How to Save for Retirement When You Make Less Than $30,000 a Year

Ask the Bitches: “Is It Too Late to Get My Financial Shit Together?“

Understanding why people are poor

It’s More Expensive to Be Poor Than to Be Rich

Why Are Poor People Poor and Rich People Rich?

On Financial Discipline, Generational Poverty, and Marshmallows

Bitchtastic Book Review: Hand to Mouth by Linda Tirado

Is Gentrification Just Artisanal, Small-Batch Displacement of the Poor?

Coronavirus Reveals America’s Pre-existing Conditions, Part 1: Healthcare, Housing, and Labor Rights

Developing compassion for poor people

The Latte Factor, Poor Shaming, and Economic Compassion

Ask the Bitches: “How Do I Stop Myself from Judging Homeless People?“

The Subjectivity of Wealth, Or: Don’t Tell Me What’s Expensive

A Little Princess: Intersectional Feminist Masterpiece?

If You Can’t Afford to Tip 20%, You Can’t Afford to Dine Out

Correcting income inequality

1 Easy Way All Allies Can Help Close the Gender and Racial Pay Gap

One Reason Women Make Less Money? They’re Afraid of Being Raped and Killed.

Raising the Minimum Wage Would Make All Our Lives Better

Are Unions Good or Bad?

On intersectional social issues:

Reproductive rights

On Pulling Weeds and Fighting Back: How (and Why) to Protect Abortion Rights

How To Get an Abortion

Blood Money: Menstrual Products for Surviving Your Period While Poor

You Don’t Have to Have Kids

Gender equality

1 Easy Way All Allies Can Help Close the Gender and Racial Pay Gap

The Pink Tax, Or: How I Learned to Love Smelling Like “Bearglove”

Our Single Best Piece of Advice for Women (and Men) on International Women’s Day

Bitchtastic Book Review: The Feminist Financial Handbook by Brynne Conroy

Sexual Harassment: How to Identify and Fight It in the Workplace

Queer issues

Queer Finance 101: Ten Ways That Sexual and Gender Identity Affect Finances

Leaving Home before 18: A Practical Guide for Cast-Offs, Runaways, and Everybody in Between

Racial justice

The Financial Advantages of Being White

Woke at Work: How to Inject Your Values into Your Boring, Lame-Ass Job

The New Jim Crow, by Michelle Alexander: A Bitchtastic Book Review

Something Is Wrong in Personal Finance. Here’s How To Make It More Inclusive.

The Biggest Threat to Black Wealth Is White Terrorism

Coronavirus Reveals America’s Pre-existing Conditions, Part 2: Racial and Gender Inequality

10 Rad Black Money Experts to Follow Right the Hell Now

Youth issues

What We Talk About When We Talk About Student Loans

The Ugly Truth About Unpaid Internships

Ask the Bitches: “I Just Turned 18 and My Parents Are Kicking Me Out. How Do I Brace Myself?”

Identifying and combatting abuse

When Money is the Weapon: Understanding Intimate Partner Financial Abuse

Are You Working on the Next Fyre Festival?: Identifying a Toxic Workplace

Ask the Bitches: “How Do I Say ‘No’ When a Loved One Asks for Money… Again?”

Ask the Bitches: I Was Guilted Into Caring for a Sick, Abusive Parent. Now What?

On mental health:

Understanding mental health issues

How Mental Health Affects Your Finances

Stop Recommending Therapy Like It’s a Magic Bean That’ll Grow Me a Beanstalk to Neurotypicaltown

Bitchtastic Book Review: Kurt Vonnegut’s Galapagos and Your Big Brain

Ask the Bitches: “How Do I Protect My Own Mental Health While Still Helping Others?”

Coping with mental health issues

{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about Self-Care

My 25 Secrets to Successfully Working from Home with ADHD

Our Master List of 100% Free Mental Health Self-Care Tactics

On saving the planet:

Changing the system

Don’t Boo, Vote: If You Don’t Vote, No One Can Hear You Scream

Ethical Consumption: How to Pollute the Planet and Exploit Labor Slightly Less

The Anti-Consumerist Gift Guide: I Have No Gift to Bring, Pa Rum Pa Pum Pum

Season 1, Episode 4: “Capitalism Is Working for Me. So How Could I Hate It?”

Coronavirus Reveals America’s Pre-existing Conditions, Part 1: Healthcare, Housing, and Labor Rights

Coronavirus Reveals America’s Pre-existing Conditions, Part 2: Racial and Gender Inequality

Shopping smarter

You Deserve Cheap Toilet Paper, You Beautiful Fucking Moon Goddess

You Are above Bottled Water, You Elegant Land Mermaid

Fast Fashion: Why It’s Fucking up the World and How To Avoid It

You Deserve Cheap, Fake Jewelry… Just Like Coco Chanel

6 Proven Tactics for Avoiding Emotional Impulse Spending

[ashwhowrites]

Eddie Munson part 3

Cindy Lou Who🎄 - Y/N can't help but feel blue as she watches Eddie fall in love ( angst )

Baby on board - requested- Y/N has been fwb with her older neighbor, and finds herself pregnant ( angst to fluff )

The line between love and hate- requested - Eddie and Y/N hate each other, but that doesn't stop them from constantly hooking up. ( Angst to fluff )

Hairspray - requested - Steve believes Eddie is sneaking into his house to steal....but he's there for his sister?

His gift🎄 - requested - Eddie and his best friend exchange gifts for Christmas, Y/N plans to admit her feelings ( angst? Fluff, smut )

Oh neighbor - requested - Eddie can't keep his eyes or hands off his young neighbor ( fluff, smut, angst? )

Billy's daughter - requested - Y/N needs a job and finds herself crushing on her manager. They flirt, they sleep together, and like each other. But fear takes over when Eddie finds out who she is.

Shy game - requested - Y/N and Eddie are too shy to talk to each other. Their friends try their best to make it happen ( fluff )

Hideout jealousy - requested- Y/N finds herself jealous when she feels Eddie is into another girl

Work crush - requested - Eddie falls for his younger coworker. A holiday party brings them together

Rich girl, poor boy- requested - Eddie and Y/N introduce each other's families, not knowing the downfall it'll cause ( angst to fluff )

The mother of it all- Eddie finds himself crushing on his girlfriend's mom ( angst, fluff, smut. ⚠️age gap, perv!Eddie, Eddie is legal (18) reader is 35 )

If the van is shaking, don't come knocking- requested - Eddie finds himself jealous over the jocks who flirt with his girlfriend ( smut )

Love vs popularity - requested - Y/N Harrington falls for Eddie, a relationship that puts her relationship with Steve on the rocks ( angst to fluff )

Young girls and trust don't mix- requested - Eddie falls in love with a younger fan, and Wayne is suspicious ( angst to fluff )

Rockstar baby- requested - Eddie's one night stand leads to a future of parenthood

Dustin's babysitter - Eddie catches himself having the hots for Dustin's babysitter

Rockstar love- requested - Y/N finds herself opening for the one and only Eddie Munson. But he isn't what she expected him to be....in the worst way possible ( angst, smut, fluff )

Cheerleader Cupid - requested - Y/N has a crush on Eddie but doesn't know how to say it. So she wrote it

Daddy- requested - Y/N gets drunk and lets a little nickname slip ( fluff, tiny smut)

Cute but an asshole - requested - Y/N's dad is best friends with Eddie, and she cannot stand him. Until she's drunk and needs a ride home ( angst to fluff )

No cash, no problem -Y/N can't afford to pay Eddie for the night, but he has a different payment in mind ( smut, milf reader! X babysitter! Eddie)

Billy x Eddie x reader headcanon

Scared?- requested - Y/N and Eddie watch a new horror film. Eddie assumed Y/N needed the protection, but maybe he did. ( Older Eddie )

Weekend nights - requested - Eddie doesn't get along with his neighbor, Y/N Hargrove. Eddie has enough and confronts the issue ( older Eddie, smutty)

Project?- requested - Y/N and Steve are paired for a project and it sends Eddie in a spiral

The look- requested - Y/N finds her boyfriend and Chrissy talking, and she sees a look in Eddie's eyes that breaks her apart

Wingman vs wingwoman- requested- Max wants to set up her babysitter with Eddie. And Dustin wants to set up Eddie with his student council president

Dustin's friend- requested- Y/N Henderson has been keeping a secret from her brother

Who's your girlfriend?- requested - Eddie let's a girl get too friendly with him and Y/N doesn't take it well

2 boyfriends 1 girlfriend - requested- Billy doesn't realize how badly he's hurting his girlfriend until Eddie makes him

[thedevilspatronstf]

the devil's lounge

There are some people who are drowning in bad luck, just like Peter. Working in an office job he hates, all of his girlfriends abandon him after a few weeks, if they even get to that point, and, of course, money issues.

He met a beautiful girl on Tinder, saved so much money to take her out on a fancy date, bought some new clothes, and went to a hairstylist, but at the end of the day, she didn't even show up. Instead, she ghosted him.

Pissed, disappointed, and just done with the day, he makes his way through town. With barely fifty dollars in his new jacket, he had only one goal: to get wasted and forget everything and everyone around him. Checking his phone one last time, he sighs. Maybe she texted him after all, but nothing.

He even checked Instagram, but nothing. All he saw were other people, happier people, living their best lives while he was suffering. That's when he nearly walked into somebody else—a pretty young woman.

Peter smiled politely and excused himself, but she just scoffed and walked away. "Fuck off." He thought when his eyes fell on a bright white light.

'The devil's lounge'

His eyes wandered to a big, dark house—a hotel, to be precise—with huge black doors and its name in golden letters hanging above them. Peter had heard of this place before, a well-known place for people to close contracts. The place to do business—legal or illegal—didn't matter at all. He himself had not been there before, but he knew it was more than just a simple hotel.

"Fuck it." He shrugged. What other place can you just get wasted?

Two big security guys dressed in black suits, white shirts, and sunglasses—it's not even that sunny—opened the huge doors for him. He never felt that important, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

So many people were inside the lobby—well-dressed people, probably rich people—and he felt out of place. Who cares if he draws so many eyes to him? Peter was just here to drink some fancy beverages.

A young man looked at him and tried to hide his confusion, but at least he acted like Peter wasn't growing a second head.

"What can I get you, sir?" The bartender asked with a polite face.

"Tequila shots, however many I get for this." Peter emptied his pocket on the counter, much to the man's irritation.

"Fine." The man counted the money and brought him three shots of tequila.

Peter immediately emptied two of them and shook his head. How did he even get into this situation? Another day lost to work and a failed date.

"Fuck." He growled and steadied his head, his hands covering his face. What would he give to just be somebody else, to leave this life behind him?

"Whiskey, on the rocks." A deep voice echoed through him, and he felt someone taking the seat right next to him. All the other seats were empty, yet he chose the one right next to Peter.

"Look, I had a really bad day, and I don't need someone invading..." He said that and lifted his head, but what he saw made him stop in his tracks.

He was a good-looking man, wearing a tailored suit, vest, and tie. The guy turned his head and caught Peter's eyes. His gaze was so intense, it sent shivers down his entire back.

"I am sorry." He stuttered, but the other guy didn't even respond. Instead, he just took a sip from his drink before he turned his entire body toward Peter.

"You don't belong here." He said, his eyes wandering all over Peter's body, judging his clothes, his hair, and everything else at once, causing his face to turn bright red.

"I can help you with that." The man's voice was deep and rough, and his gaze was growing more intense by the second.

"Clothes don't make people. You can't make me a new man." Peter was able to pull his eyes away and manage to avoid the guy's burning gaze for just a few seconds before their eyes met again.

Amused, the man smiled and took another sip from his drink. "I can't?" He raised an eyebrow and reached for Peter's chest, who pulled away, but it was a little too late.

As soon as the man's hand landed on his chest, he felt a burning sensation erupt inside his stomach.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He said it, but it wasn't his voice leaving his mouth. It was a much deeper, manlier voice—a voice he always dreamed of having.

"Is that..me?" Peter's voice broke and turned back to normal when the man pulled his hand away.

Satisfied, the man smirked. "It could be." He growled deeply and emptied the glass before he got up. "You just have to change."

"Wait? Who are you?" Peter reached for the man's arm, but he just glared at him. He immediately pulled away and felt grounded.

"People call me Ludwig." The man fixed his suit and let one hand slide down his firm chest. "If you're interested in what I can offer?" He said, but before he could finish, Peter interrupted him.

"I am! Can you change me?" His breath quickened rapidly, but Ludwig seemed unbothered.

"Not here; follow me." He motioned for Peter to get up and lead him toward the elevator.

Peter had so many questions, but somehow he didn't dare ask them right here and now. Instead, they entered the huge elevator. Together, they arrived on the sixth floor.

He followed Ludwig closely to a penthouse-like room with huge windows, several armchairs, glass tables, and a gigantic desk. It was way bigger than his actual apartment, and he was looking around in awe.

"So huge." He said, much to Ludwig's amusement.

"Take a seat." He nodded toward an armchair in front of him as he sat down as well.

A little bewildered, Peter sat down and looked at the well-dressed man just spreading his legs, being way more comfortable than himself.

Ludwig just watched him as his whole body tensed more and more. Was it possible for this man to actually change himself? Or was he just drunk, stupid, and naive?

"Ehm." Peter stuttered again.

"Yes, I can help you." Ludwig cut him off, resting both of his hands on his huge thighs.

"But how did you do that?" He said, but once the suit man raised a finger, his voice changed again—just like before at the bar.

Shocked, Peter touched his own neck, unable to process what was happening to him. His throat was a little sore; it didn't hurt, but it was a weird feeling.

"Who are you?" He said it in his deep voice, intrigued yet scared. Was he a real wizard? Or an angel? Someone was sent by God to help him.

Amused, Ludwig smirked before he licked his lips. "I don't kiss and tell." He growled and ran a hand through his nicely-done hair, causing Peter's throat to turn back to normal. "Are you interested or not?"

Peter nodded quickly and felt his entire being vibrating. "I need to become someone else! I can't handle one more day living this life."

Intrigued himself, Ludwig leaned forward and raised an eyebrow. "There is just one thing." He said it in a softer voice, yet his expression was so firm. "We haven't discussed the subject of payment."

The man leaned back and placed one hand on his thighs, while he touched his own lips with the other, running a finger through his groomed beard.

Panicking, Peter looked around, thinking deeply. "I don't have any money. I just spent all of my savings on this stupid outfit!" He looked down at himself, wearing pretty clothes that were ill-fitting and not flattering at all.

"I don't need your money." Ludwig's voice cut through the room and forced him to freeze. "I want you to work for me." He tilted his head teasingly, stroking his enormous bulge with his hand.

"Work? Like what?" Peter's voice was even higher than usual, as he was still panicking. This was his only way to make his dream come true; he couldn't afford to leave like this.

"You'll be one of my contractors." Ludwig regained his composure and leaned forward again. "You see, I'm a very busy man, and I don't have all day to look for clients." He shrugged.

"That's....all?" Peter looked at Ludwig in disbelief. Just closing contracts? That's easy. He's been working for a huge company doing that already, just on a very small scale.

"If that's easy for you." Ludwig's face was unfazed and stoney, but his eyes and his lips were so alluring, like the forbidden fruit. "What do you say?"

Incapable of forming a coherent thought, Peter just smiled widely. "I think we got a deal. Where do I sign?" He said, but the gorgeous man just starred at him; his gaze was again so intense, and Peter was unable to move a muscle.

That's when he experienced a sudden force taking over his body. His head grew heavy as he got up from the chair. Everything was spinning, twisting, and turning; just one thing was completely unbothered: Ludwig.

The man got up from the chair as well and walked toward Peter. "Who needs a signature if I have this?" His eyes were covered by a black mist, so dark it was all consuming. 

Afraid, Peter tried to turn back and run away, but he couldn't move. His head and his whole body were hurting, aching from the pressure put upon them. He watched Ludwig lean in as he placed both of his hands on Peter's chest.

Instantly, a seething flame erupted in his whole upper body, causing so much pain.

"Just tell me who you want to be." Ludwig's voice was so rough, even deeper than before, and it had a mesmerizing rhythm to it.

He kissed Peter softly and breathed into him, filling his lungs and every fiber of his body with the same dark smoke engulfing his eyes.

Peter's body turned numb, vibrating insanely, as Ludwig pulled away and let go of his chest.

Seemingly pushed away, light as a feather, Peter's body moved toward the huge, king-sized bed. He dropped on to it, his head facing the ceiling, and closed his eyes.

"Who do I want to be?" He thought, searching his mind for an answer.

That's when he saw an image—more and more images of the same guy—a handsome Instagrammer he saw earlier.

Was he the right pick? Or should he think about it more? But some part of him clinged to this man—so pretty, hot, and seemingly carefree.

Peter envied him, and every fiber of his body focused on becoming this man.

"So be it." Ludwig's voice echoed through him, and what happened next was incredible.

Peter's being tensed harder than ever before as he clawed at the sheets underneath him. The fire burning underneath his skin spread farther into every corner of his body until it reached his fingertips, his toes, and his forehead.

Peter let out a pain-ridden growl when he felt his muscles growing bigger, bigger, and bigger. He, as a whole, grew bigger, and his clothes—his jacket, shirt, and jeans—weren't able to withstand this pressure. They vanished in an instant, exposing his thick tummy and pale skin.

He was able to open his eyes for just a second and look down at his chest. It felt like the fire was burning even brighter, as his skin flushed with color and his entire chest was condensed into a beautiful six-pack and thick pecs.

It was so painful, yet the most sensational feeling at the same time.

Peter leaned his head back and let out a long, guttural moan, and his voice started to change as well. It turned deeper, more masculine, but still so melodic and soft.

More and more moans escaped his mouth as he felt his muscles defining his thighs and calves. His muscles turned hard right away as waves of pure plessure swung through every bone inside his body.

Peter grabbed himself just in time for him to feel his junk extend largely. It pressed against the palm of his hand, filling his underwear fully.

Instinctively, he started to touch himself, play with himself, and enjoy every second of it.

His mind was unable to comprehend anything that was happening, but yet, it felt so, so good.

Then, his face started to change as well. His jawline got more defined, beautiful dark hair formed a beard, replacing his eyebrows, and his usual mat hair formed pretty curls.

Jerking off, he bit his lower lip, holding back an exhausted groan, but then he just let go. All of him gave in to this pressure and pleasure as he shot one load after another. It felt so much better to cum inside this pretty new body.

As fast as it erupted, the fire burned out, leaving an exhausted Peter lying on this huge bed. Peter was breathing so fast that he was nearly unable to catch a break, but after a few more seconds, he managed to move his new form.

He got up and walked toward the main room, only to find Ludwig sitting in his chair again, tilting his head at the sight of the barely dressed 'new' Peter.

That's when he saw himself for the first time in a mirror.

"Is that...me?" He growled deeply, still shocked by his new voice.

"Don't you like it?" Ludwig said he was kind of displeased with the possibility of him not liking his new body.

"No, god no." He said it quickly, still stuttering slightly. "It's so beautiful."

Peter moved around, inspecting every corner and every angle of his new self. He flexed hard, smiled, and touched himself so much.

It felt good to feel his own pecs bulge, his defined abs tense, and his huge dick pulsate inside his underwear.

"It really looks like him." He said it proudly. "The guy from Instagram." Peter enjoyed seeing his reflection move just as he did. It looked like he spent most of his life in gyms instead of online forums.

"It's because it is—the guy from Instagram." Ludwig mocked his tone, his expression shifting, just cold.

Confused, Peter turned around. "What?"

Ludiwg rolled his eyes. "I claimed his body, and I gave it to you." He motioned toward that pretty body in front of him. "Our deal, remember?"

"Fuck." Peter said, his conscious slowly taking over his mind. "I didn't know."

Ludwig leaned back against the chair, stroking his own member again. "Does it matter?"

"Yes, it does!" Peter shouted at Ludwig, who, unbothered, just waved lazily.

This caused some force to knock Peter off his feat, and he barely steadied himself against the hard wooden floor. He was kneeling right in front of Ludwig, who was towering over him like he was sitting on an actual throne.

"Hearing your cries amused me, so I let your sudden rush of confidence slide. Once." He said, his voice deeper again. "I can turn you back, if you care so much."

With a snap, Peter's hand started to burn again, and he could see his old ones form once again. "Please...no.." He cried out, actual tears leaving his now-pretty eyes.

With another wave, the burning stopped.

"Know your place, fool." Ludwig said, extremely pissed. "Look at me." He used the tip of his shoe to lift Peter's head.

"You will close 15 contracts each month. No less. Otherwise, I will just turn you back." Peter was unable to move; Ludwig's presence engulfed the whole room, causing him to whimper.

"15? Where do I find so many?" Barely a whisper left his lips.

"Just find desperate, pathetic people like you and offer them a deal with me." Ludwig rumbled and let go of Peter's chin.

With another wave, a notebook formed out of dense smoke. "Write their names down, and I will finish the deal."

"Should be easy enough." Ludwig smiled mockingly, and ran a hand through Peter's new hair. "For such a pretty face."

"How....how do I get contracts?" Peter said, scared.

"Charm them, fuck them." Ludwig yanked his head back. "Use this body I gave you. I dont care."

He got up from the throne and fixed his suit.

Peter admired his physique, but wondered if he was the actual devil.

"This will be your new home." He turned around, and suddenly Peter was able to move again.

"Thaank... Thank you, sir." He stuttered. What if he was the devil? He didn't dare ask.

"And get dressed." He snapped his fingers again, and dark smoke was forming around Peter's body.

A beautiful tailored blue suit formed out of thin air, but he couldn't enjoy it at all. He was way too scared to show any emotion in front of Ludwig.

"Yes sir." He nodded.

Ludwig turned around one last time to look at Peter with a smirk on his lips.

"Don't disappoint me."

A shiver ran down his entire back again before he left the apartment.

With one last look at himself, he regretted his choice.

[slothgiirl]

an understanding

morpheus x reader. 5k. no use of y/n. yearning. the only thing i know about video game development comes from mythic quest. dont feed ducks bread (its bad for them) morpheus.

“You know feeding ducks bread is bad for them right,” you pointedly tell the stranger in black. The man was wearing 30 layers of black under the midday sun. You had no clue how he could bear wearing a wool coat in this heat. Sweat was already gathering around your forehead and you were in a gauzy shirt. 

“Oh.” His voice was deep, an alluring quality that would’ve made him a perfect audiobook narrator. He doesn’t look up, still hunched over his loaf of french bread: the good kind that was made fresh in store at some local bakery. 

“Mind if I sit here?” You didn’t want to sit on the grass. Lugging a towel on top of your laptop and bag was bad enough so you were really hoping for a bench, even one with no shade. It was just too nice of a day to spend working indoors. 

He doesn’t respond. Tearing another piece of bread, he pops it into his mouth, finally looking up, looking out at the park contemplatively. 

You decide that it’s okay. He didn’t say no.

He was obviously incredibly awkward or maybe didn’t get out much judging by his pasty skin. It was rather unfortunate too. Now that you’d gotten a good look at him he was cute in a way that would’ve thrilled you at twelve when you were wearing studded belts and obsessed with Mary Shelley and Trent Reznor. His hair was a hopeless mess: it’s color so black it seemed to destroy any sunlight that shone on him.

Too bad he was about as interesting as a pet rock.

Even the beta testers who were chronically online, still figuring out women at the ripe old age of twenty six (which you understood as your dating life was no better and all your hopes rested on Hinge) were livelier to talk to.

You were probably being too hard on him, you thought as you opened up the company issue computer. It was the fancy type that bent completely backwards. There were so many dialogue trees to work through. So many paths.

Sitting cross legged on the bench, you get back to work and try not to think about the man on the other end of the bench. 

He managed to make eating bread an incredibly depressing act; gaunt as he was, with a forlorn expression in his clear blue eyes. 

Clearly the guy was going through something. 

Refocusing on your work, you turn up the screen brightness and pull up your saved files for Project: Dracul City.

There were notes.

Bottle: get sent to old lady Constancia and gain +1 luck token 

Newspaper: uncover school turned shelter LORE 

Right. 

“Thirsty now, are we dearie,” you utter under your breath. You worked best like this, saying the lines out loud. At the office, no one batted an eye, but you’d gotten plenty of looks at cafes. 

No. That was too fairytale-esque. This was more survival horror. The words rich and velvet were also on the moodboard. 

“A bottle of wine to soften the blow eh?” You frowned. It sounded too young, too flirty. Old Lady Constancia ran a black market shop in the game. 

“Well then, a bit of liquor for the road? Better than anything in the tavern.” 

Again, it was wrong. The wrong feel for the setting.

“No need to ask how your night is going then.” There. You grin a little, reading over the dialogue tree that led here, skimming over Lady Constancia’s lines. There’d be no voice actors for this so the diction would have a lot to convey.

“What.”

“Huh,” you look up from your screen. You’d completely forgotten you were sharing the bench, speaking too loudly. 

“You were saying.” The man looks over at you for the first time. His gaze is no longer distant as he studies you. It was obvious you held his full attention in spite of how cold his demeanor was. 

“Nothing,” you laugh nervously, “I just-it’s something I do while working. Say what I’m writing to see if it makes sense. It’s a really good trick for dialogue. Sometimes what sounds good in my head sounds really awful to my ears. It was advice I got years ago in school. Really fucking helpful though.”

“You are a writer?”

“Ha, I wish,” you scrunch your nose feeling yourself blush. “Well, sometimes. I don’t know. I always wanted to work in video games and thought writing for them would be cool. And yeah, every now and then I think I’ve got a novel in me but I like my job. Sure-I’m not lead in anything yet but it’s fun to flesh out these characters and help build a world where people can escape into. Just look at early fallout, Kentucky Route Zero’s a really good one. . .” Your own sincerity embarrassed you. “I know,” you look down at your screen, the blinking | waiting for your next words, “most people play to blow things up and kill lines of code but, I really do think it means something to people. Give them a world to play in, create, dream. . .yeah.” God you rambling so bad. “I can stop if it bothers you?”

There’s the slightest hint of interest in the subtle relaxation of his expression, “Not at all,” he replies, putting aside the bread he had left, “There is nothing frivolous in striving to inspire people.” 

His words catch you off guard. He’d been so distant before, you were expecting a brush off. “Well maybe this line won’t impact someone but you never know what characters players latch onto.” Mariska Lutz’s tapes haunted you for months after playing Bioshock for the first time. 

The man does not reply again, watching the ducks hop into the murky water. 

You return to your work, making an effort to keep your mumblings quiet. 

It’s not until the battery low notification pops up on your screen that you look up again, shutting your laptop and stretching your legs out. Your left foot tingles hellishly, having fallen asleep. 

You look over, only to find that the man had left without a word, without making a sound. It was unsurprising. When you worked you got tunnel vision. That was the reason your pot of pinto beans had burned before. No enfrijoladas for you that day. 

Well, he had certainly been a character. 

*****

 You escape a hectic office where you’d spent the past week during crunch time as the demo went live, a short teaser of the gameplay for corporate who would never even play the game but wanted to see evidence that money would be made when the game released in time for October aka when everyone would be over school and the spooky month would fit the game’s design. You’d brought a tote bag with your lunch and snacks from the office. Nothing hit the same as lays with salsa valentina though you would like to know who kept using your bottle. You’d labelled it. As a last resort you’d taken to stashing it in your desk when you knew you’d be working from home. 

July. 

Kids were chasing the poor ducks back into the pond. A woman in leopard print roller skates took on hills like a pro. 

You liked the warmth of sunlight on your skin. 

You still wore sunscreen though. 

It’s Thursday but the park is packed. You try to look for any spot that has some shade, an open seat so you can enjoy a hard earned lunch. Your fingers have cramped from all the typing you’ve done in the last few days. You haven’t checked in the mirror but you feel like roadkill. 

It was about three in the morning when you’d started using eye drops to keep going, but the meeting was happening. You’d done everything you could for your team.

No luck.

The moms were out in full force today, phone in hand as their kids ran wild. 

Then- 

You spot the same man from your last visit to this particular park. He looks the same, only his coat is longer. It was like he was trying to get heat stroke. 

Well, the trick to adulthood was just going for it. Sharing a bench wasn’t the end of the world. 

You walk over. 

“Hello again,” you wave, “mind if I sit here?” You could always keep looking. There was plenty of time before you had to rush back to work. 

“No.”

You plop down, leaving space for not only Jesus but all his homeboys too. “Thanks. I feel like everyone keeps having the same idea as me, but I guess it’s summer and unless you take the ferry west we don’t have the best beaches.” You open the bag of chips and liberally pour salsa on them, “want one?” 

You hold out the bag, offering up your snacks to the man. He seemed less morose than last time, but was for sure managing to sulk under clear skies. 

He doesn’t acknowledge you. Instead he reaches into a white paper bag and slowly grabs a pinchful of birdseed to toss over to the ducks. 

You’re left holding the bag of chips long enough for it to be awkward before you shrug and dig in, sucking the salt and salsa from your fingertips. 

This is why you’ll never have a flat stomach. Five minute abs workouts from tiktok were not enough and you sure as hell were not giving up gansitos. There were some in your freezer waiting alongside a pint of ben and jerry’s. 

“You got birdseed,” you note, amused. He had been listening to you. A thrill of excitement bubbles up in your chest. 

He nods, the motion small. 

Your companion was not an expressive man.

“No fat pigeons,” he states neutrally.

You’re puzzled but shrug it off. “I’ve heard you can feed them oatmeal. But I’d probably double check that.” 

Finishing your tiny chip back, you fold it up neatly into a square and pop it back into your tote bag until you can toss it into the trash. Your actual lunch was  a cold tomato and fresh mozzarella pasta. 

Nothing exciting. 

You’d been at the office for practically a week, only going home to have a quick shower and pick up food. You were overtired. Food was fuel. You’d treat yourself tomorrow to breakfast at your favorite cafe. 

You idly eat as people bike by. 

It could use some more sauce. 

Your melancolic acquaintance continues to feed the ducks, lost in his own thoughts.

You stab a grape tomato, deciding to make conversation because what was there to lose. “I didn’t catch your name last time.” Last time, ha. You were really going on like there would be a next time. What was the chance you’d see him again? There’d been students in your same major you’d never shared a class with. 

The question hangs in the air. 

You chew the tomato, the juice spilling out into your mouth. It was tart.

You didn’t think he’d reply and were already considering fleeing. You could finish eating at your desk. 

“Morpheus.”

“Morpheus,” you repeat so you don’t forget, “like the Greek god of sleep?” At least, you think he was the Greek god of sleep. It had been a while, he might have been a mythic hero. 

“Of dreams,” he pauses, turning to you, his clear eyes peering into yours intensely, “and sleep. Yes.” 

It’s only polite to introduce yourself properly now. You wipe the corners of your mouth clean and reply, “Nice to meet you Morpheus,” feeling silly and giddy (flip flopping between the two similar states) as you give him your name. 

Blandly he states, “We have met before.” But with his attention on you, you catch the twinkle of amusement in his eyes.  The corners of his small mouth twitch in the ghost of a smile.

“All the same,” you beam at Morpheus, and finish your long lunch in quiet companionship.

*****

When you’re exhausted, you don’t even dream. Depending on whatever game you are working on, there’s weeks when you’re so mentally drained that you don’t even get under the covers before you’re out like a light. 

You’re pretty sure this is a dream. Your mind rested enough to dream.

It’s usually in the middle of the dream, in the middle of the scenery changing from a party in your grandmother’s house where a bird offers you a peach to you sitting on a trampoline that you remember from summer days at your childhood friend’s house before the trampoline broke and sent you both to the ER where you only had scratches only your friend isn’t there but a programer from your internship and hey maybe this was sign from your subconsciousness that you should text her-

You let out a breath.

The sky turns pink.

Yup, this was a dream.

You lean into it, letting it happen around you, letting your mind wander as the trampoline bounces lightly with Nina’s movements. It jolts your body, your brain swings around in your skull pleasantly like being in those massage chairs. 

A breeze runs over your cheeks.

You look at the blue of the trampoline border. Blue like the waters in instagram pictures. Blue-

The black trampoline washes away into dark waves and your favorite aunt lays in an innertube sipping on a cocktail, “I’m really glad we came to Hawai’i.”

“Me too. Though I’m still waiting to see a mermaid.”

“It’s great. I’m glad Lady Gaga approved the highway from San Diego to Hawai’i.”

“And we got to see those sea dragons!” 

“Exactly!”

You feel something by your leg and stick your head underwater. The water is so clear, you can see everything around you, including the dolphins swimming around you, leading you somewhere. Minecraft dolphins. You grab onto it’s fin, wondering where they want to lead you. Atlantis? Too see a mermaid.

From under the water you tell your aunt, “I’ll be right back!”

“Yeah-”

And your alarm goes off. Your dream rapidly fades as you wipe the sleep from your eyes and blindly grasp around your nightstand for your phone. “Shut up!” The alarm was so annoying. Shrill ringing in your ears when all you wanted to do was go back to sleep.

You send Nina a heart emoji on discord, followed by let’s grab some shaved ice. 

Then, you flop back on your bed and doom scroll for a few minutes before you have to sign in on Slack.

*****

It becomes a habit. 

Even as the weather takes a turn as fall sets in, you try and make it out to the park once a week, and without fail Morpheus is there. He’s not always feeding the ducks. But he’s always there and always leaves without saying a word.

You’re not offended when he barely acknowledges your wave as you sit down next to him. That was just what he was like. Morpheus suffered from perpetual resting bitch face because of his pouty mouth. You’d yet to see him smile. 

It didn’t matter. You liked his presence. You enjoyed having company as you got fresh air. 

He listened but rarely had much of a reply.

“It’s nice to go into the office and touch base with the other writers,” you muse, sipping at your drink, “make sure everything is coherent and I guess it helps to talk to people who are also living with this whole world in their head. It helps. The entire story’s been fleshed out by James, our lead.” You let the words hang in the air. Working from home was nice too. It lets you wake up at noon and crawl down the rabbit hole of your own imagination until three in the morning. 

Morpheus’ tilts towards you as he continues to watch the wind sweep through the trees. A trio of teenage girls had brought an entire charcuterie board and flowers for their park day. 

“Not to mention James does have to sign off on my work. I’m still pretty low on the totem pole.” This was your first full time gig out of school. Not an internship with terrible pay and long hours or freelance, but an honest to god full time job with benefits and pay that meant you could finally rent your own studio apartment. “Do you game?”

“No.”

You glance at him in profile. He remained as pale as the first time you’d seen him, but the gauntness in his cheeks had receded. There’s lines under his eyes that led you to believe he was closer to forty than your late twenties, closing in on the big 30. The Cut loved to post how everything changed at thirty. 

“It’s fun. I didn’t really get into them until high school but that was only because my parents bought into the whole video games cause violence schtick but like, I wanted to play pokemon not Call of Duty, at least when I was nine.” You smile, thinking back on fond memories, “then I started going over to Michael’s house after school and we’d play Zelda and Fallout. His parents were complete nerds who knew Klingon so they were cool about us playing whatever they were also playing.” Your parents would not have approved of Left 4 Dead. 

“I will take your word for it,” Morpheus tells you, sitting back against the bench. 

You sip your tea. It’s still warm enough that the ice is melting away, watering down the taro flavor. “Or you could come over sometime and play Stardew Valley?” You pick a tree and stare at it. You were nervous about his reaction. But it had been weeks. At some point you had to make plans and grab a burger or a drink. That’s just what friends did and if you left it up to Morpheus it would probably take a year. That’s all. It had nothing to do with how your heart sped up the moment you spotted his familiar head of hair in the park. It had nothing to do with the anticipation that had you smiling like a fool on Wednesdays when you routinely went to the park. 

He doesn’t respond, his expression dour. 

After a beat of silence, you find it within yourself to look at him. 

Morpheus meets your searching gaze with his own. You could see the emotions playing out in his blue eyes, but you could not read them. Like the eyes of a bird of prey, you could see the intelligence, the life and consciousness within, but lacked the ability to understand them the way you could read other people. 

The corners of his mouth lift, his smile a precious thing you couldn’t turn away if you wanted to. “Perhaps,” he allows. “Once the image of an avenging Mina Harker fills the minds of dreamers around the world.”

Smiling softly you reply, “Only if it’s successful.” You could never be sure with indie games. 

“It will be,” Morpheus states.

“I try not to focus too hard on what happens after it’s released and out of my hands. What will be will be.” 

He nods. 

You finish your tea. 

It was a lovely day. The August sun was not so harsh after four. There were less people as families planned for a return to school. The tourists stopped visiting the Northwest in droves. 

And maybe Morpheus would come over. 

That was more than you’d had yesterday. 

You could even show him the demo of-

You bite your lip, trying to think if you had let anything slip about Project: Dracul City. Developing games came with a strict gag order. Nothing could leak before it’s time, not the gameplay or plot or any of the concept art. Usually, you were pretty good about keeping quiet. 

Surely you hadn’t told him. 

And yet he’d known. 

You frown. 

“Do you wish to feed the ducks as well?” 

His words break your line of thought. You hadn’t even noticed the crinkling sound of the paper bag as he opened the birdseed up. 

“These ducks must be the most spoiled in all the public parks,” you muse, smiling at Morpheus before grabbing a handful of feed and tossing it lightly into the grass. 

It was exciting to see the ducks and birds come over. The shyer animals waited to see if it was safe. They all had their own personalities. 

You’re not bothered by his lack of response, the conversation stilling. You’d grown to like his taciturn ways. It gave what he did say more weight. He wore black like a uniform and over the course of the weeks in which you had been meeting up with him (undiscussed by either of you) he had become beautiful in your eyes. You wanted to run your fingers through his unkempt hair. You wanted to steal away his smiles for yourself: to know you could make such a dour man smile because he couldn’t help himself around you. 

You reach for more birdseed only to find that Morpheus had left. 

Figures. 

*****

Unsuccessfully, you try to wipe away the number written on the cup of hot apple cider, otherwise known as the perfect fall drink as the leaves grew into vibrant array of reds and oranges with the change in seasons as the days grew cold. 

The cashier had been nice, but you were only interested in one man. 

The sharpie doesn’t budge at all. 

You give up trying to get the sharpie off when you spot Morpheus. “Hey I got you a drink since it’s starting to get cold out.” It wasn’t coat season for you yet, but you’d started wearing a sweater while running all over town. 

You hold out one of the cups, the one without the number scribbled on it. 

His eyes widen, pink lips parting in surprise. But he makes no move to reach for the cup you’re offering. 

“It’s apple cider,” you tack on, “warm you right up.”

He blinks. 

You roll your eyes, “just take it and say thank you.”

It works. Morpheus nods, taking the cup from you, his fingers cool when they brush against your skin. “This was not necessary.” 

“I know,” you say, plopping down next to him. “But I wanted to.” 

“Thank you,” he inclines his head toward you. The sincerity in his voice is clear as a bell. 

Heat blooms on your cheeks. “You're welcome.” Again, you smile at him as you take a sip of your cup, “I can’t wait until the street vendors start having roasted chestnuts.”

“You enjoy winter.”

“Yeah. Some of it,” you laugh, “The snow can get annoying at times but more and more I find myself taking the time to enjoy the little things. It’s not like I’m working towards getting into college, getting a degree or anything anymore. I’m just enjoying life, yeah?” You flush. In your head it sounded wise, but out loud you just sounded naive. 

“My sister shares your thoughts.”

You arch a brow, “you have a sister! Older or younger?”

With a slight smile, Morpheus answers, “older.” He must be fond of her. 

“Well she’s right. It’s hard at first. I’d pick up flowers for myself and then think about what a waste of money they were but why not. I like having flowers. Or I’d make up excuses not to go out with my coworkers to stay in but if you do that enough times they’ll stop inviting you and you fall into a rut and that’s no way to live. And some people are so different outside of work.” The older you get, the easier being content becomes. 

Stop and smell the roses indeed. 

Then you ask him, deviating from your unspoken plans, “do you want to walk around?”

“If you wish to.”

“I do, but we don’t have to.”

Morpheus stands, and you take that for the answer that it is. 

******

The grass tickles your calves as you wander through the meadow. The sun paints the sky in hues of orange as it sinks below the treeline. 

It’s lucky it’s not raining. 

On your first trip to this national park, it had rained the entire time. Not surprising. Rain was a constant companion in this city, but it was more than worth it when you got this lovely meadow all to yourself. Wildflowers were sprinkled throughout the grass. 

You’d always wanted to come back, splurge on the fancy lodge instead of being in a tent and hoping the rain wouldn’t get through the plastic. Plans to come-

You blink, looking around slowly. 

Was this a dream?

You try to string your thoughts together: trying to remember how you got here. It was fall. Not spring. It’s hard, your brain feels like it's sinking into a thick comforter, the way it always feels when you’re on the border of deep sleep. 

Taking in the scenery, the solace, you let your train of thought dissolve and you give into the nonsensical logic of dreams, letting yourself fall back into deep sleep. 

It’s lovely. 

You sit down in the grass as the leaves take flight, butterflies in the air twirling in constellations before settling back down in the branches. These trees were unmatched by anything you’d seen before. It only made you wish to see more, go to more places. 

“You are fond of the natural world.”

Turning, you find Morpheus sitting next to you. His long coat is no longer black but a starry night. Stars twinkle in the depth of the fabric as you take him in with wide eyes. 

“Morpheus,” you’re delighted to see him.

And because this is a dream, you don’t hesitate to reach out, crossing boundaries without a thought, you brush your fingers over his shoulder, half expecting your hand to go right through and slide into an abyss of night. That doesn’t happen. 

Sheepishly, you meet his gaze. 

His eyes are black unfathomless pits with a sole pinprick of light for a pupil. At this, you draw back. 

Morpheus says nothing, regarding you carefully. 

You blink.

And when you can bear to meet his waiting gaze again, his eyes are clear as ever. It must have been a trick of the light. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” you note lamely. The national park wasn’t exactly close. 

“I have business to contend with,” Morpheus replies, which leaves you with more questions than answers. You didn’t even know what he did for work. “We will not be able to meet in the Waking world for some time.”

“Oh,” you answer, crushed. It was ridiculous to feel so intensely about someone who was the equivalent of a classroom friend. You didn’t even have his number. Lin, your coworker, would call that a red flag. 

His words sink in and, “the waking world?” Now you’re just confused.

His brow furrows with concern. “We are in The Dreaming.”

“I don’t understand.”

Morpheus frowns. “This a dream, your dream.” The sky goes periwinkle as snow starts falling. “And I am King of Dreams, Ruler of the Nightmare Realms.”

“Oh,” you go, “should I bow or something?” 

Your words elicit a rare smile from the dour man. 

It made your smile grow, to know that you had made him smile. 

“There is no need,” the small smile stays on his pink lips. 

“No off with her head” you joke, accepting dream logic and not questioning it as you quote the Queen of Hearts. 

Morpheus frowns. “I would not be so crude.”

“Oh so I should be worried,” you wiggle your brows. 

“Not of me.” He utters softly, his eyes become glassy. “Not while you are under my protection.” Morpheus reaches for you. The back of his hand ghosts over your cheek. 

You lean into his touch without a thought. 

You meet his gaze unabashed. 

He blinks slowly, peering at you through dark lashes. There was a sedate romance to him that the Brontë sisters could only dream of. 

“I cannot stay,” he confesses with remorse.

“You did say you had stuff to do.” 

“I do.”

His hand is soft against your cheek. Neither of you move, resting in the moment, holding the pause for as long as possible.

Morpheus draws away, standing. Snow falls around you but the temperature remains pleasant. Snowflakes fall on your arms and do not melt. 

You stand. 

It’s the awkward point where you’re waiting for him to leave but don’t want him to leave and he’s dragging it out too. You’ve been through this plenty of times on friends' doorsteps as you chat and say goodbye and wait. 

He stuffs his hands in his coat. It touches the ground, melting away the snow around the hem with its soft red flames, more ember than anything. 

Morpheus makes no move to leave. 

You wait, taking in the sight of him. Snowflakes fall in his unbrushed hair. 

“Here,” Morpheus draws something from his pocket. 

“Oh.” 

He drops it in your outstretched palm without ceremony. Morpheus looks away as you study the object.

It’s a necklace. The chain is simple gold. It’s the pendant that catches your eye. 

Encased in glass are grains of sand. They swirl inside the glass on their own. 

“Thank you,” you look over at him. 

Morpheus nods slightly. “It allows you to enter The Dreaming at will.”

“A standing invitation then,” you wink.

“Yes.” He has a talent for filling words with a weight beyond their common vernacular. Morpheus’ gaze is heavy on you. 

You can’t parse out why this is so important, but it obviously is for him. 

You unlock the clasp, wrapping the chain around your neck. With your fingertips, you try to lock it. The clasp is impossible when you cannot see it.

The hairs at your nape get in the way.

“Allow me.” Morphues closes the distance between you. 

“Yeah, that would be great.”

He takes the chain from you, his fingers brushing against the back of your neck. He works swiftly, making quick work of it. 

The pendant hangs in the middle of your chest. 

Your heartbeat is hummingbird quick. 

Morpheus’s breath tickles your nape. 

You don’t dare move, fearing this is all a dream that will end if you do anything.

“I shall be expecting you.”

“I’ll be sure not to disappoint. Though it’s about to be crunch time and I’m not looking forward to-” 

His actions cut you off. 

Morpheus leans forward, his lips brushing against your neck chastely. 

You draw in a breath. 

The moment is over in the blink of an eye. 

Something witty, sure to ruin the moment, is on the tip of your tongue as you turn, looking over your shoulder. But he’s gone. 

****

The sand continues to swirl, defying gravity inside the pendant, when you wake. 

You play with it as you scroll through files, read through work emails, and desperately try to recall the details of your dream. 

You’ve never been more excited to sleep in your life.

[argumentativeaxolotl]

Random Human AU Cars headcanons that probably don’t make any sense before I go to bed bc I can.

Lightning McQueen:

- Has accidentally called Doc “dad” before

- Has accidentally called Strip “dad” as well

- Bro can literally not stop moving- like he will not sit still and he tries so hard

- He has the shortest attention span ever if it doesn’t have to do with his friends or racing

- He actually really enjoys American Football and plays a modified version with Mater sometimes

- He was an orphan growing up

- Bro would 100% go apeshit feral if he lost a game of Uno

- Loves carnivals

- Dog person

- Forgets he’s rich sometimes and he can make his own decisions about money

- His love language is hugs and gifts

- He bought the Hot Wheels of his car and continues to buy every variation

Chick Hicks:

- Bit other kids as a child

- Filled water guns with lemonade and shot at people’s eyes

- Daddy issues(actually this is canon isn’t it?)

- Cat person

- Frighteningly good at card games like Casino “house always wins” levels of good. Like bro will somehow know what your cards are without even looking at them

- He put rocks in snowballs

- Alcoholic

- Loves anything horror, gorey, and True Crime

- He’s notoriously bad at getting people gifts, like seriously bro is not allowed to buy anything for anyone for Christmas or their birthdays that’s how bad it is(someone usually gets it for him)

- He probably has a huge gambling problem

- His love language is giving gifts

- He gives gifts as a form of apology because he’s shit at words

- Literally the best mustache in all of cars- like he keeps that thing at top condition 101% of the time

- He never actually finished school because his dad forced him into racing as soon as he could

- Probably had rabies at one point and somehow survived

- If you somehow manage to become a good friend of his, he’ll actually be super chill w/ you

- Rich as FUCK

Strip Weathers:

- Legally adopted Cal after his parents passed away(or sumn idk)

- Has several scars on his arm from the crash during the tie-breaker race

- He, Tex, Lynda, and Cal were practically inseparable after the crash

- He and Tex are literally the bestest of buds like they are homies to the MAX

- He doesn’t hold any ill-will against Chick even if he should and is allowed to

- The “Boy Scout” of racing(think Superman or Captain America)

- He listens to “Old Town Road” by Lil Nas X while working with his horses. Cal cringes every time.

- He never swears unless he’s serious about something or is extremely upset or concerned

- He almost fainted when he met Doc for the first time, almost immediately asking for an autograph

- He has a ranch full of horses and enjoys horse racing as well as car racing

- Received an apology gift of both cologne and a miniature trophy from Chick

- He let Chick sign his cast after the crash

- He’s tried to teach Lightning and Bobby how to ride horses with Cal’s help. It did not go well

- He wanted to be a doctor for a little while before switching career paths

- Racing is literally in his blood(he comes from a very VERY long line of racers)

- Weirdly good at writing. Like for no reason.

- He heavily fanboyed over Doc when he was younger

Doc Hudson:

- He loves Lightning as his son

- He thinks of Sally as a surrogate daughter

- Unironically says “back in my day” whenever he’s telling a story

- He owns a shotgun and it’s hidden away in his house, far away from Lightning(who keeps trying to find it with no luck)

- He knows the most shit out of everyone and all their backstories. Bro hears the gossip and goes “nice”

- He loves watching fruit dissection videos on YouTube for some reason

- Bro is great at knitting. Like seriously. Give him ten seconds and you’ll have a whole ass sweater with a theme and everything

- He is an alcoholic(especially after his crash)

- Never got married or had children… until Lightning and Sally lmaooo

- He nearly started crying tears of joy when Lightning called him dad the first time

- He has several large burns and scars on his legs and lower back from the crash(like shit is really bad dude)

- His favorite movie is the original ghost busters

- He is a cat person

- He is a neat freak at heart yet gave up trying to clean out his garage because of all the bad memories

[ystrike1]

Boss, Bxtch, Baby! - By Ichibu Saki (8/10)

Would you let someone lock you up for half a million dollars? You're not getting it for free. You have to follow extremely strict rules, and you have to stay inside a mansion allll day. For months on end. Hey! Put that pen down! Don't sign without reading the fine print! Being a pet isn't an easy job!

Hojin is a man who has given up. Family bonds are too complicated. He can't keep a man no matter how hard he tries. He's deep in debt because his brother betrayed him. He's a sweet and giving person.....because he's afraid of being alone.

The loan sharks find him. He thinks he'll die with nothing in life, but then a group of men in suits appears out of nowhere.

The group claims a VIP wants him, and said VIP is willing to pay off his debts.

Being rich and gay in Korea sucks. Especially when your family is mostly comprised of sociopaths. Yooseong had a very good time with Hojin, but he can't date right now. Inheriting the family business is his main priority, and the head of the family is scared of gay people.

He needs a pet lover. Someone literally willing to hide in a bunker and wait for him.

Yooseong totally doesn't have issues and he definitely doesn't get violent and possessive when he likes someone! Don't misunderstand! He just has to lock up Hojin to keep his family off his tail.

Hojin says no.

Yooseong snaps his fingers.

The suits hold Hojin down until he signs the paperwork.

One year. Debt clear. Total obedience.

Yooseong is way too controlling he is literally insane, but we gradually see why the heck he is the way he is.

Yooseong and Hojin are both deeply insecure in different ways.

Hojin falls in love first.

Yooseong was obsessed from the beginning, but Hojin is the first one to admit that living together with a stud kinda rocks.

Shocker Hojin has toxic attachment issues....but they're a different breed.

His father abused his mother, but he won her back with money. Then his mother regretted returning to her abusive husband. She left once more, and Hojin left with her.

Hojin learned that only kind people deserve love, and some mistakes can't be forgiven.

He's had many lovers, but they all leave him eventually.

He's a clingy people-pleaser who falls in love out of desperation...not love.

Yooseong doesn't trust him, but Hojin is so messed up that he doesn't understand how shallow his doting love is.

Yooseong enjoys it. They fall into twisted pleasure together.

Yooseong's annoying little brother is annoying because he's straight.

He was going to inherit the company, even though he's a moron, just because he's straight. Yooseong was passed over entirely because he was gay.

Lil bro does mess up on purpose so Yooseong can have the position he deserves but he's still a messy loser annoying short guy.

Yooseong's massive ego makes his family relationships....cold af.

Yooseong is insane so he beats up Hojins brother. The same brother that saddled him with debt.

Hojin never finds out because Yooseong learns that Hojin hates violent declarations of love, and he loves his horrible brother too much to ever see him again.

He wants to keep the good memories, but he can't interact with the man who sold him away.

Yooseong becomes even more unreasonable though, and he starts to become really unlikable as a person. He's a GREAT controlling yandere but Hojin is a nice guy with no family and not much to live for. It's hard not to feel bad for him when Yooseong treats him like an object.

This one is a mixed bag, but it's very tense and it can be funny.