#so that hit really close for me

[littledreamling]

∇ - old age/aging headcanon (for dream and hob if they were human rather than immortal, i suppose)

Oh my friend, you have just unlocked a side of my mind that's rarely seen but so so feral!

From this headcanon meme!

I absolutely adore aging Hob and Dream. Even outside of a human au, I love the thought of them growing old together. Age continues to exist, even if the physical evidence of it (and indeed, the end result of it) does not. Hob still ages; each year that passes is another year since he last saw his mother, another year since he last rode a horse (he really wants to get back into that and keeps telling himself that this year will be the year, but it never is), another year since he heard his oldest friends' laughter. He feels the weight of his immortality every single day, and it's not an unbearable weight, but it hangs off of his shoulders nonetheless. Dream, too, ages. Perhaps not in the same way; his life is not measured in the same way as human lives are, he does not count each passing second as an added second to his never-ending, eternal clock, nor does he measure the length of the road behind him (or the road ahead of him) in human years. Yet he ages. If learning and growing and changing are all marks of growing up and growing old, then he is doing both. He was not always; for a long time, he had been stuck in time, neither adapting nor maturing in any conceivable way, but recent events (and a certain immortal mortal) have dragged him firmly into the realm of the aging.

And it's a good thing! Hob had learned the old aphorism long ago: change or die, and he had chosen to live. Living means changing; changing with the times, changing outlooks, changing opinions, changing biases. He is a master of change, moving from one life to the next with all the fluidity of a rushing river. His ability to do so is his aging. Likewise, Dream's willingness to, if nothing else, at least see Hob's point of view about change, shows his own aging.

But you didn't send this ask to hear me wax poetic about the philosophy of aging or changing, so here are my thoughts on old, human Dreamling.

Dream is a grumpy old man. He's the old man who worked every day of his life, without break or vacation, and his body is punishing him for it. He was definitely an artist of some kind, maybe a sculptor, maybe something else. It doesn't matter; at the end of his day, his knees click and his knuckles are swollen with arthritis and all of the muscles that had built up in his shoulders have languished in his old age. He can't hold a paintbrush or spin a pottery wheel anymore and it eats him alive with every sunrise. Hob, on the other hand, is the singular spot of warmth and light in Dream's life. Hob, a retired soldier, or maybe a life-long construction worker, has kept his sunny disposition (and, infuriatingly, his fit frame) into his older years. They're the quintessential grumpy one/sunshine one, though anyone who knows them personally knows that Dream has a soft spot for children, and for birds, and for anyone who has a story to tell, while Hob has a mean streak a mile wide if you get on his bad side. They spend their days sitting at the kitchen table, cradling warm cups of coffee or tea, or sitting on their front porch, cradling warm cups of coffee or tea, or sitting on a bench in their local park, cradling warm cups of coffee or tea. They always have warm cups of coffee or tea. They're well-known at the coffee shop, and Hob will recount the story of how they met in that very same shop loudly and at length to anyone who asks (and sometimes to people who don't).

On days when Dream feels as though he can't get out of bed, like his body is too heavy for the world, like his mind has fallen into such disrepair as to be unusable, Hob is the one who sits next to him, a warm hand on his shoulder, and affectionately calls him a drama queen. He'll roll his eyes at his husband's antics, but he'll bring him breakfast in bed anyway. And when Hob is haunted by old nightmares of a long life, not always well-lived, Dream will hold one of their countless books in long, shaking fingers, and he will read to his husband, poems and epic tales, and Dream won't tell Hob that he's not reading, he's reciting, because his quiver and eyesight have gotten so bad that he can't see the words clearly, but he knows them in his heart. And Hob won't tell Dream that he doesn't need to go through the trouble, that it's his presence that's grounding, not the words he's speaking; he'll sit in his presence and let the wash of words roll over him like a comforting tide, drowning his bone-deep anxieties. He'd listen to his husband read the phone book and still find enjoyment in that deep voice and the cadence of his tone.

And when they die, because they do die, they die together. Not in time, mind you, but in company. Surrounded by friends and family, the younger siblings of the Endless family, the children they adopted and the grandchildren, both blood-related and not. Morpheus dies first, his body breaking at the seams. He dies in his sleep, napping on the couch while Hob cooks dinner, and his last words are breathed into the quiet room, asking Hob for a blanket. The funeral is a somber affair, a solemn celebration of everything Morpheus had been; an artist, a husband, a father, a flawed man. The entire town attends, even those who had gotten yelled at from across the lawn or across the park (Dream had taken grave offense to anyone disrupting the local bird population, a story that gets told at the reception with teary eyes and wobbly smiles). When Hob gets home, their entire family is there, warm and laughing and joyful and he can feel his husband in the room, in the people they both had dedicated their lives to.

When Hob dies a week later, no one is surprised. It's his daughter who finds him, curled up on the very same couch, wrapped in the very same blanket, tucked lovingly around him, as if someone else had draped the quilt over his shoulders. She cries, because he was her father, and she loved him, and a part of her had hoped that he would be around forever. But there is a larger part, a much larger part, that finds comfort in the sight. Hob and Dream were never meant to be separated. Wherever they are, she reasons (because they were never a religious family), they are together. For now and forever. As they always should be.

[casualavocados]

#me reliving my 12-year-old adhd experience while watching this like: ow 💔

PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS 1.01 • I Accidentally Vaporize My Pre-Algebra Teacher

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

i wanted to put Wally in my Barbie movie fit <3 he's gonna go watch it with his bestie

it backfired <3 poor thing's in a crisis

[soranker]

Favorite Trigun character?

teehee..... can u guess 🤪🙈

[so-many-ocs]

hey! creating things is hard. creating things and feeling like nothing you make is good, or like no one will care, or like you'll always be a couple steps behind everyone else is hard, too. creating consistently when your physical and/or mental state isn't the best is (get this!) also very difficult. and if anyone who's reading this has felt that way or still feels that way, i want you to know that i'm proud of you, and the things you make matter because you matter, and it's okay to sometimes feel like garbage as a creative, but it will pass. take the time and space you need and remember that just by virtue of trying, you are doing so well.

[idliketobeatree]

[corpsentry]

eulogy

[bakubunny]

a/n: my inbox & dms are always open. 🖤

tw: husband!kiri, f!reader, disordered eating (no specific foods or numbers), relapse, anxiety, negative self talk

your stomach turned at his question.

“ready to make dinner, cutie?” eijiro said from the next room.

cooking dinner together was part of your routine when both of you were home.

eijiro had learned, being with you, that you liked to be meticulous with your food. most things had to be cooked or done in a certain way. there were tasks that you asked him to handle when the anxiety became too much. some days he’d let you push him out of the kitchen and do it all yourself to maintain a sense of control, and other days when you’d allow it, he did the same to you when he could see the panic in your eyes. he was okay with that because it meant he could take care of you.

you’d learned, being with him, that he was far too perceptive for his own good. he never let you treat yourself poorly if he could help it, never missed a change of habit. some days that felt like too much; he was a pro hero with enough on his plate. why couldn’t he let you handle this on your own?…

you knew why. he hated feeling helpless, especially when it came to you. but it still made you feel more like a burden than a loving partner.

“i’m not hungry. we can eat separately, if you want?” you said.

a lie.

eijiro knew there was a fifty-fifty shot if it was true. he walked into the living room where you were reading a book and sat next to you.

his eyes held concern. “babe, is everything alright?”

not really. but you were too tired to talk.

“yeah, why?” you didn’t look up from the page. maybe if -

“this is the third night in a row,” eijiro said quietly.

silence.

“i’m worried about you.”

you met his pained, crimson gaze. he did have reason to worry, at least this time.

it always started with skipping lunch when work got stressful. when your clothes didn’t fit right. when your stomach was too chubby or your thighs too big. then it was breakfast, when eijiro was asleep or already gone. then dumping last night’s dinner in the trash the next day when you said you’d eat it for lunch, opting for anything that didn’t make you panic, if you could stomach it.

when you needed a sense of something you could control, this was it. you could count numbers. you could watch them change. manipulate them until you felt some kind of relief. it was never happiness, but at least the fog of hunger made thoughts slow down. you could feel the way it affected your body, even if it didn’t feel good.

and that was all something. better than nothing.

“i’m okay, ei. really. my stomach hurts, that’s all,” you replied with a smile. which was true.

“do you need to see a doctor?” he asked. “you haven’t had breakfast in at least two weeks. don’t think i haven’t noticed just because i’m not here.”

a pang in your chest. this is why you insisted on doing the grocery shopping yourself. it took twice as long to go by yourself, but you didn’t care. it allowed you to hide. the last few weeks, you had to hand the list off to your husband. but he was thorough, always double checking.

“you know i keep food at work. and-”

his voice raised slightly. “that doesn’t mean you’re eating. you’re losing weight.”

a lump burned in your throat.

how is that a bad thing? what’s wrong with something that made me feel better? i’m too chubby anyways. it’s disgusting. i’m disgusting. why does he care?

you knew why it was wrong. had seen the effects of how habits like yours could rapidly destroy bodies. and eijiro knew that, too. but lately, that didn’t matter.

“please don’t push,” you said softly.

“no, i will push. i won’t sit here and watch you hurt the person i love. i can’t-” eijiro’s voice cracked. tears spilled down his cheeks. “i can’t do it. do you understand that?”

you fidgeted with the edge of a page as tears filled your own. “yes.”

“then will you come to the kitchen or let me make you something?” he pleaded. “we can have whatever you want. fuck our dinner plan, i’ll make you anything. i’ll let you cook if that helps, i don’t care. just… please?”

your mind wanted to argue. you don’t understand, you’d say. but it was unbearable to see eijiro like this. you set your book aside and wrapped your arms around him. he pulled you into a tight embrace as tears fell.

“i love you, eijiro,” you whispered.

he kissed the side of your head. “i love you. i love you so much. more than you could ever know.”

[ryllen]

"I decided it's my break day today, Oh coincidentally, I'm gonna sit here, and watch you work." also it's too cute how Nemo just came run at me whenever i sat on a bench

[hazeofhearts]

“i don’t like thinking about luck because if things happen by chance then that means i have no control over what happens to you two or your kids.”

burrow’s end is a story about family, a story about loss. it’s a story about a scrappy family hanging on by their claws to survive and keep going.

but i feel that, more than anything, burrow’s end is about motherhood. being a mother, raising kids, losing a spouse. being so, so, so scared that the world is going to mistreat your children and there isn’t anything you can do about it.

tula and ava mirror each other. their grief manifests in different ways, but ultimately it means they keep going. and they’re watching viola about to start the same process. they’re going to watch viola worry and stress about her babies and they’ll be there for her. (hopefully)

[daily-hanamura]

[super-paper]

afotaro is the elephant's foot of toxic old man yaoi but that's not gonna stop me from memeing on it, y'know, as a coping mechanism.

[clovariia]

forever friends................dream team...............for all eternity...........

[mlobsters]

billie eilish and finneas - interview with zane lowe - may 21, 2024

finneas embarrassing billie ✅ it's not literal 😤😏✅ making points about the parasocial song interpretation trend ✅

Billie: We live in a world of like, somebody puts a song out and everyone is like, "So, this is who this is about and this is the entire story of what happened," and it doesn't even give the listener a chance to interpret it how they want to interpret it and how they naturally hear it.

[aleksanderscult]

Why do you hate Mal?

(TW!: verbal abuse! slut shaming! alcoholism!)

Well, long story short, he's a huge dick.

I could write three long metas about his toxicity and why I dislike him but I don't want to tire my fingers for him. 😑

Maybe because of his slut-shaming behaviour?

Oh and what is this? Ah yes, Mal being angry that Alina found happiness away from him:

I'm so sorry Mal that Alina wasn't tortured so you could feel okay. I'm so sorry that she didn't feel insecure enough to run back in your arms, needing you and depending on you like you always wanted for her.

You know, that's the thing with Mal. He did nothing to Alina.

Not when his "friend" was mocking her appearance (and yes this is serious for me because I too have a very thin body and people from my own family have mocked me for it. So it's no joke).

Not when she was apparently sad that he fucked around girls knowing that she knew.

He did literally nothing until Alina wanted to fuck the Darkling and showed interest for him.

(slut shaming her even here)

From then on he ✨magically✨ noticed her out of nowhere and he said that "now I see you".

BULLSHIT!!

According to Mal, it's okay if he fucks girls every other night but it's not okay when Alina wants to do it with a man that....I don't know. Supported her power and abilities maybe?

And he seems constantly so concerned that she has fucked him that he apparently doesn't care if she's truly okay.

What a normal person would say to Alina: "Are you okay? Did he hurt you? I'm sorry you had to go through this."

What Mal said to Alina: "FUCK TORTURE! DID HE FUCK YOU BY ANY CHANCE?!?!"

He's so unserious FR

That's his only concern. If Alina likes or fucked the Darkling (sometimes I wish she had done the latter just so I could see Mal's face after it).

Also! He's an extraordinary bad influence for Alina and her confidence! 😍

A few minutes ago, Alina decided to return to the Little Palace to lead. To do the right thing and stand in this war.

And now we have Mal threaten her: "If you go, I might not follow!!"

And that shattered Alina's confidence. Now she feels ashamed ("maybe he doesn't want me", "maybe he'll leave me") and after that passage when Mal exits the tent, Alina starts thinking "What am I doing? I'm no soldier, or Saint. How will I make it?"

Mal is an influence that constantly wears her down emotionally by making her doubt herself, making her have guilts and making her thoughts come back to him constantly ('cause he's always "What about me?? Think of me!! Look at how shit I feel!!").

Again, he makes the whole matter revolve around him.

There is a civil war ongoing and Mal is like "Okay, but what about me, Alina??!!?!"

LIKE BRO NOBODY GIVES TWO SHITS ABOUT YOU!! THERE ARE PEOPLE DYING HERE!!

And another toxic trait of his. Apparently, if a woman says "no" to him, it's unacceptable:

(The first passage is when Mal tried to kiss her but Alina saw the Darkling behind his back and the second one is when Alina saw Mal kissing Zoya, btw)

He gets angry for the fact that Alina withdrew from his attempted kiss. And apparently he "knows what that means" because every girl he had ever kissed was willing to him.

I'm sorry, Mal, for the fact that a girl changed her mind at the last minute.

If a girl changes her mind, then you must respect that. Not shout at her. NO MEANS NO, MAL.

Mal is that type of guy that throws you in bed, you kiss him and all, and at the last minute when you change your mind and don't want to go for it (for whatever reason the girl might have of course) he gets angry and says "BUT YOU SAID "YES" TWO MINUTES AGO!!!"

He gives me the ick for real, guys.

And, of course, his fury for Alina's power and status. Because, since she gained them, she's no longer depended on him.

Yes, people. Mal wanted to take out a piece of her soul essentially, so he could have her! Romantic!! 🤩🤩

Also, the fact that he was constantly looking like shit in S&S because he was drunk every night is also selfish of him. Mal was Alina's personal guard and protector. One of her three closest ones. By doing this, by having this behaviour, he gives a VERY bad image to Alina.

Imagine what the nobles would think if they saw him this way. The power of image is everything. Nikolai knew it. The Darkling knew it. Even Alina came to know it. By having one of your protectors drinking heavily all night, get into fights and look like shit makes Alina feel embarrassed for the image she gives to the other people. And she was actually in a very delicate position at that time, because she had to gain the trust of the King, his counselors and nobles. Mal should know better than embarrassing her.

Imagine if you were in a high position for the first time in your life, trying to make an impression so everything could go alright and, in the meanwhile, your guardian walks around drunk.

This is not good. In today's world, they fire such people from their work.

And all these bullshit from him in R&R saying "I told stories of you from your childhood so they could see the real Alina" is also bullshit. Bitch, if you wanted to do something good, look respectable for the part. If you want to cry and drink kvas 24/7 then resign, lock yourself up and do it. Don't embarrass your boss.

Also, Bardugo had said that after S&S she received a lot of negative comments about Mal's character. So it's no wonder she made him suddenly all "good" in R&R. She wanted to give reasons to the readers to like him and support his eventual marriage with Alina.

Anyways, I know people will say that the Darkling was no better but, guys...

This is not a competition. Of who is better or worse.

And just like another person had once said in this fandom "The Darkling represents a fairytale character while Mal reminds you of every jerk you've met in your life"

And it's a perfect quote to describe them.

The Darkling is the type of guy we all fall in love in fiction. A fantastical character that does bad deeds but still you swoon over.

While Mal is that asshole you met in high school treating you like shit. That boy you were seeing in corridors flirting with every girl he saw and being a fuckboy. That relationship you had that undermined your value.

Mal is a character that hits very close at home for the readers (with his actions and personality).

This post about him and M*lina explains my thoughts perfectly.

Go read it when you can, guys. It's an incredible mini meta.

[crossbackpoke-check]

Why I Am Not Coming In To Work Today [abridged], Jess Zimmerman

part one | part two