#woke up and chose angst

[virgilisspidey]

The Eternal Child of Flower Fruit Mountain

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Close up

How's we doing with chapter 13, gang?

[ritens]

So if Lane got dragonsplague and Raures made him aware of it, he'd just think Rau doesn't want him around anymore. It's not like Lane sees the symptoms on himself and he thinks he feels fine so why else would Rau tell him that, right?

Might not return from a dip.

Rau would then scream at every riftstone he comes across in hopes of getting his pawn back.

[newtdoods]

What if Grant just, you know :D

Willie: „You should see the other guy“

[myanettes]

Wouldn't it be ironic if Sam and Darlin got into a similar crash as Sam did with Alexis?

Except this time, the roles are reversed

The truck t-bones on Darlin's side and they're the one on deaths door

And Sam has to either watch them die or turn them

[bri-cheeses]

Evan’s busy reaching across the bar for a couple of drinks, arm outstretched and easy smile on his face, when Regulus walks up next to him.

“Two butterbeers, please,” Regulus nods to the bartender.

Evan turns his head in surprise, clearly not expecting to have been followed. “I was getting you guys drinks, you know. You didn’t have to get up.”

“Yeah, I know. But I needed a bit of a break from all… that.” Regulus tilts his head towards a booth in the corner, indicating the chaos currently taking place there. He’s just escaped the aftermath of Barty attempting to flirt with Remus just to make Sirius mad, which has not ended well. Just like Barty intended. Honestly, Regulus doesn’t know why he puts up with him.

Regulus opens his mouth to continue, feeling somewhat hesitant. He’s not sure how Evan will react to what he’s about say, but he’s going to try anyways. “And also because I wanted to ask you something in private. Or at least, away from them.”

“Hold on,” Evan replies. The bartender’s just handed him his drinks, and he’s trying to find a way to carry them. “Okay, carry on.”

Regulus doesn’t waste any time. “You’re in love with Barty.”

Evan doesn’t look up from the drinks, not giving Regulus’s accusation even a slight reaction. “That wasn’t much of a question, Reg.”

If Regulus didn’t know better, he’d say Evan was completely unbothered by this whole situation. But he does know better, and Evan’s completely straight face as he fiddles with the glasses is a dead giveaway.

“You’re not going to deny it?” He’s genuinely curious. It’s unlike Evan to not, at the very least, try to avoid answering directly.

“Why would I? It’s the truth, and I know you’re not going to tell him.”

“But you’re not really the type of person to be okay with… sharing this sort of thing.”

Evan looks up now, small smile making its way to his face. “No, I’m usually not. But honestly it’s been going on so long that it’s more trouble than it’s worth to keep it hidden. From you, at least.”

“I—” he pauses, not entirely sure what to do with that. “How long has this been a thing?”

“Oh, about…” Evan squints, as if he can look back in time and pinpoint the exact moment it started. “Five years now?”

“Five years?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Reg.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it’s really not that out of character for me.”

Evan flashes another smile and makes to leave, but Regulus blurts out, “Why haven’t you done anything about it? If it’s been so long?”

Evan glances over at their booth. Regulus follows his gaze, where Barty is now gesturing wildly with his hands in what is probably an attempt to avoid death at Sirius’s hands.

“Because,” Evan says, still looking at Barty, “it would ruin our relationship.”

He sounds so resigned to the fact that Regulus’s heart clenches. He feels like a bad friend. He had no idea, absolutely none, that Evan had been feeling this way for such a long time. “You can’t know that.”

Evan looks back at him, amused expression on his face as he asks, “Can’t I? It’s Barty; even if he did feel the same way—which he doesn’t—he would never be able to let himself commit to a relationship. The fear and discomfort would eat him alive. You know that.”

Regulus does, in fact, know that. But it doesn’t stop him from wanting to fix this, somehow. From wanting to try to get Evan to fight for a chance, at the very least. “But you’re Evan. There used to be be bets about when you guys would finally sort out your shit and start going out.”

Evan blinks, clearly not having known that.

“And it wasn’t because people knew you were in love with him—hell, I didn’t even know that—it was because of the way you both look at and act around each other. And I know that you’re too smart to have not noticed any of that, Evan.”

“Well. Maybe. But that’s also just who he is. He looks at practically everyone like that, acts like that with everyone. So you can stand there and tell me that I’m special, but I’m always going to see that for what it is. A lie, Regulus. And I don’t need you to lie to me. This whole thing is already bad enough already, I don’t need you adding to it, too.”

“But—”

“Don’t, Regulus. Just don’t.”

Regulus changes tactics. “How can you stand it?”

Evan gives a sad smile. “Like you said; I’m Evan. I’m always going to be in love with him, no matter what he does, really. And he’s Barty, so he’s going to do a lot of shit. But that’s just the way things are, I suppose.”

“So you’re just going to let him shatter your heart and stomp all over it?”

Evan smiles bitterly. “He’s been doing that for years, Reg. You’re a bit late to the game.”

Regulus hates this, hates Evan’s defeated tone and tired eyes. “How are you just so calm about this? Don’t you hate it?”

Evan considers that. “I did, for a while. I spent a long, long time hating it. But it only cost me energy I couldn’t afford to lose, and it didn’t change anything in the end.”

And there’s not a lot Regulus can say in response to that, so instead he eyes Evan: the regretful smile, the sad slump of his shoulders, and the way his body is subconsciously turned towards Barty, even now. “Are you… going to be okay?”

“Of course, Reg, why would you even ask?” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “This is just the hand life has dealt me. I’m used to it by now. You might as well get used to it, too. Nothing’s going to change between Barty and me.”

And with that, he shoulders past Regulus, drinks in hand. And Regulus watches him go, unable to unsee how painfully in love Evan is. He watches the way Barty’s entire face lights up when he sees Evan, he watches the soft smile Evan gives Barty in return, and he prays to anyone who’s listening that Evan will turn out to be wrong.

[ying-doodles]

hold onto each other like they are the last thing you have left in the world.

:)

[chemdisaster]

joel's biggest alliance yet, and he turns it into a cult, with the final rule being an attempt to ensure that they'll all stay. "you may never leave the cult," he says, and maybe it's a plea - you may never leave me, please don't leave me. because limited life showed him what it felt like to be left, and he was born knowing what it was like to never have had anyone in the first place, and so he begs his teammates now - please don't let this be like all the times before. please let me have you. please don't make me have to lose you.

[siriuslysatorusimping]

Meaningless vs. useful angst

Kiko is about to fucking rant.

Maybe I'm beating a dead horse, but I feel like this is something that people will relate to more than I realized before. Plus, as someone who is going through a lot of shit IRL, I completely understand the need to read some angst as an outlet. But the constant angst caused purely by the exact same issues over and over and over with zero growth over 100k+ word fics gets incredibly exhausting and sometimes it genuinely ruins my day because the angst didn't serve as a useful outlet; in the end, it actually just filled me with more grief.

In my (likely unpopular) opinion, these stories show a lack of depth and creativity in a writer. They give the impression that the writer doesn't know how to write conflict without falling back onto the exact same issues and tropes, and it just becomes a revolving door that will never have a satisfying end.

Meaningless angst leaves readers unsatisfied and empty. It provides characters that readers don't want to root for. It lacks proper character development and typically includes angst for the sake of angst, for the sake of piling the pain and anguish onto characters (and readers) until it's just more than anyone can take. It reaches a point where absolutely no ending will be satisfying for anyone. Eventually, characters are irredeemable and beyond saving.

Making your readers feel grief through your writing does not make you a good writer by default. Sometimes, it just means that you've written a shit ton of angst with no clear direction and it left your readers feeling unfulfilled and empty. Angst with no purpose beyond drawing a reaction from people isn't good writing, it's lazy and uncreative. Most of the time, it's used as a means to keep people hooked because they're compelled to read until there's a satisfying end, but the problem is that there won't be. Essentially, what you've done is you've opened a wound that will never be closed.

For angst to work, there has to be a clear goal and characters worth rooting for. We want them to make it through the angst because they're strong and compelling. But once you have characters making the exact same mistakes for the fifth or sixth time with no signs of growth or any attempts to learn, it becomes drawn out and meaningless. The issue with this kind of angst is that it doesn't drive us forward, it either takes us backward or keeps us stagnant. It leaves your readers unsatisfied, and it traps you in a cycle that feels absolutely hopeless. We start just wishing for the end no matter what that may be. We don't want them to keep going.

The purpose of angst is not just to cause pain. Angst is a rhetorical vehicle to reach a clear goal. Angst works when it has purpose beyond evoking strong reactions from readers. It works when it's necessary to move the story forward.

These are all reasons why, in my writing (Another Level, Physical Paradox, and even in Before I Love You), I've tried to make sure that angst has a clear meaning and purpose. In Another Level, our angst didn't last too long. It wasn't drawn out for no reason, and it had a clear result. Every time we had angst, we clearly saw the growth in Rinko and Gojo. In the end, it always worked toward strengthening their trust, not completely destroying it. The angst began because of 'realistic' reasons, not cheap plot twists that make you angry and leave you unfulfilled (I hope).

Anyway, that's my rant about angst because it seems like there are no stories that can balance the angst well enough to reach a satisfying conclusion.

[sunlight-forsaken]

okokok so I was struck with A Thought —

We all know that Kaeya’s vision appearing saved him that night- but I’d like to add:

What if the initial blast of elemental power from his vision was enough to trigger a freeze reaction on Diluc?

It was heavily raining, after all.

———

Kaeya had expected the reaction- he’d brought his sword for a reason. Still, he does not meet Diluc with even the vigour expected of him if they were sparring. He had expected it, yes, but it did not stop his foolish heart from hoping he’d be wrong for once.

Diluc forces him back with blow after blow, each strike burning hotter and harder as he backs into the field. Blood roars in his ears so loud it’s almost enough to muffle the crackle of flame overlaid upon the torrential rain weighing him down further. Each movement is forced, each parry and block a means to survival-

Kaeya doesn’t know why he’s fighting. Is he really so selfish as to live, after all of this-?

He meets the ground, his limbs twitching to fight but his heart already sure he’d die at the hands of his own brother. It comes with a surge of bile in his gut at the thought, every hope and memory pinned in his head blurring the thoughts with the red his eyes can see.

Red that overtakes his eye as the claymore is brought down in a wild, deadly strike from the hands of a grieving man who had lost his father and who he thought his brother was in one fell swoop.

It’s searing hot upon his skin, and he’s sure he screamed. He’s long since lost track of whatever pleas or reasonings have left his mouth, if any at all, upon seeing the betrayal deep rooted into those crimson eyes. Hellfire crawls upon him, licking upon every wound he already sustained from stray sparks or barely avoided swipes. He’s forced out of his own wallowing, suddenly lightheaded but present, as if the muted sensation of his thoughts had been stripped away and left him defenceless against the burns, allowed the pain to seep deep underneath his skin.

And then, all Kaeya knows is a rush of ice.

The roaring of flame was swallowed back into the thunder and rain of the storm. Deliriously, Kaeya is grateful that his death was not as painful as he thought it’d be- even as he scrambles back like a worm on the dirt, his only ‘clear’ eye struggling to focus in the low light without the aid of the pyro setting the area in angry glow.

His brother stands before him, a perfect snapshot of that moment. Impossibly dark ice has stilled him, incasing his form in a thick layer similar to that of a cast. He almost looks like a statue- a monument, built by those who come after, celebrating the hero who killed the last filthy sinner who walked upon the surface.

Kaeya almost laughs, choking on blood or guilt or bile- it does not matter. For a perfect moment, there is nothing but him, the damned rain, and the years of lies and promises that he wore like a second skin.

There are no words. There’s no conclusion, good or bad.

Kaeya, ever the opportunist, takes it as it is.

Kaeya, ever the coward, runs.

[haerieee]

{ ᵏᵃʳᵐᵃ ʰᵃᵗᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰʸ, ᵗᵘʳⁿˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ʰᵃˢ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᶠᵃˡˡᵉⁿ ⁱⁿ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ˢᵒ ʰᵃʳᵈ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ }

y/n stared confused and a little annoyed at her seatmate who refused to take part in their paired project.

"nah, im tired"

"but we have to finish this"

"yea yea just do your part then send it to me, i'll do it at home"

karma rested his head in his arms on the table, facing away from her. seriously what did y/n even do? all she did was become his seatmate by luck and occasionally ask him math questions because he's smart. so why did he have to be so hostile?

"okay.."

he made y/n so uncomfortable. She admits she did have a crush on the redhead but has said nothing and done nothing to him about it, making his coldness much harsher on her.

-

during their pe lessons, karasuma made seatmates partner up to spar with each other.

y/n glanced at karma, and he glanced back before looking away and walking out of the field to skip the class.

"did both of you get into an argument?"

nagisa asked, knowing his friend was not the type to be so cold to someone without a reason. sure karma can be unfriendly and aggressive to people, but it was to those who did or said something bad.

"no he just hates me for breathing"

y/n sighs and rolls her eyes before asking if she could spar with another person.

-

"why would you pull that off?!"

karma is angry, but y/n was confused, was he angry at her for trying to defend their group when they got attacked by students who are much bigger and older than them? or did he have some grand plan and she fucked it up?

"akabane i-"

"what if you got seriously hurt? you wouldn't even stand a chance against those guys!"

he gripped your shoulders tightly.

"then what should i have done? you were getting kicked!"

you smacked his hands away and got up, brushing the dirt off your skirt. you looked over to your elbow which got scrapped when the students shoved you and winced a little at the pain.

"you're really a fucking idiot you know that."

karma held your arm to look at your wound, then poured water to disinfect it. y/n took the bottle out of his hand and stepped back.

"i can do it by myself, after all, you don't want to waste your time with a fucking idiot you hate."

karma was stunned, he knew he was an ass to her these past few weeks but she thought he hated her?

"what are you even saying y/n, since when have i hated you?"

y/n looked at karma incredulously

"don't give me that bullshit, you were so cold to me when i did nothing to you."

he was cold to her he knows, he was trying to avoid her. why? because he felt something with her, something foreign, fuzzy and warm. whenever he was with her his heart would like someone squeezed the life out of it. it was so annoying but he was always addicted, so he avoided her to stop what he was feeling.

karma sighed, "i don't hate you. really. its just,,"

he looks away ashamed of how vulnerable he is now in front of her. he combs his hair back with his hands in frustration and also to hide his red face.

"just?"

y/n hoped for a suitable answer as to why he had shunned her this whole time because it really did hurt her quite a lot.

"i feel something with you, its so weird, i don't like it."

karma says, eyes never looking at the girl in front of him. he couldn't bear to see what expression he had on her face, it would truly kill his heart.

"it's...ah you know what never mind."

he tries to control the damage that's done, he thinks that anymore he says, y/n would never want to see him again. y/n grabs the hem of his black jacket to stop him from avoiding her, something she should have done all along.

"no, karma, what feelings do you have with me. don't try to run away again"

y/n gripped tightly, feeling like if she let go he would be gone for real this time. she calls out his first name for the first time showing how desperate she was.

"i really really like you. alot."

ah. he did it, he admitted his feelings. it's done, whatever relationship they had is gone now.

"what? is that why you acted like that?"

oh my, karma is so fucking cute, y/n thought seeing his face flush even redder

"so annoying, i can't believe i feel so weak when i'm with you. i can't even fight properly. i can't even focus on anything in class."

karma kept trying to hate how he feels, perhaps its because he never knew what it was like to give love since his parents were always either overseas or at work.

"annoying? you are so stupid. you liked me for a month and you found it annoying, i liked you for 6 months you ass!"

y/n smacked his shoulder, then winced at the pain from her wound, making karma grasp her arm to check it. he looks up to her as he processes her words.

"6 months? u like me?"

"yeah 6 months of always looking at you and noticing what you do, i was so happy talking to you and then suddenly you went cold-"

before y/n could finish her rambling, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her, engulfing her in an embrace. karma held y/n tight and buried his face into her neck, his heartbeat beating too quickly he felt faint.

"i like you, ahh i like you so much, fuck"

y/n laughs and hugs him as tight, caressing his hair.

"you finally admitted your feelings, idiot."

y/n pulls away and cups his warm cheeks, smushing his face a little which made his lips form a pout. he furrowed his eyebrows at her action. karma leans in and pecks y/n on the lips, and she gasps.

"how dare you be so bold now when you were avoiding me the whole month, tsk"

y/n playfully chided him and he laughed before apologizing and then kissing her again.

-

"oh? i guess both of you are on good terms now?"

kayano nudged your shoulder and you smiled and nodded.

"now you have a chance to get him to like you, y/n!"

y/n looked at karma, who was with nagisa and sugino. and then her phone chimed.

//

karma <3: should we skip class and go on a date? >:)

//

y/n laughed, "i don't think i need to anymore, kayano"

after that, karma and y/n disappeared for the rest of the school day to hang out with each other. ♡

ᵒᵐᵍ 2 ᶠⁱᶜ ⁱⁿ 2 ᵈᵃʸˢ? ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵈᵉᵃᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵃ ʸᵉᵃʳ ᴴᴬᴴᴬ ⁱ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ᵏᵃʳᵐᵃ ⁱˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵒᵒᶜ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰⁱˢ, ⁱ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵏᵃʳᵐᵃ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᵈᵉⁿⁱᵉˢ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍˢ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰᵉ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏˢ ⁱᵗ ᵐᵃᵏᵉˢ ʰⁱᵐ ʷᵉᵃᵏ ᴴᴼᴴᴼ

ˢᵒ ᶜᵘᵗᵉ ᵒᵐᵍ

ᵃⁿʸʷᵃʸˢ ⁱ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ʸᵃˡˡ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗʰⁱˢ !

[xanyiaz]

porter angst + spoilers for william & vincent confrontation audio bc the porter brainrot never stops

porter who may have lied about some things (like treasure coming to the summit lol) but was telling the absolute truth when he said to vincent: "he sees me as a friend, and you as a child." william who will forever see porter as a "friend" who he can use and ask to do favours and porter who will do them either out of fear and obligation or because william saved him from his maker, so he feels as though he must forever repay him. porter who wanted what vincent always complained about for as long as they've known each other. porter who always wanted to be seen as william's son, because then maybe he wouldn't ask such horrible tasks of him, maybe he would protect and shield him from this part of the business, the messy side, just like he shields his favourite progeny, vincent, who he sees as his child. porter who is having an internal fight with himself because, on one hand, he wants to honour his king since he saved him but on the other, he acts out of obligation and fear rather than honour. porter who already knew how william was this whole time but just dealt with it silently/ignored it because no one else in his life apart from treasure has wanted him around for anything other than to be used. porter who doesn't have a found/chosen family like vincent or sam, so he doesn't have anything to fall back on or anyone to rely on without any strings attached. porter who feels trapped and hopeless. porter who doesn't want to do morally corrupt things, but feels too threatened by william's power to go against him. porter who is alone, and who will continue to feel alone, no matter whose side he chooses.

tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added or removed !!): @zeerohpunk @themeridian @puffin-smoke @vind3miat0r @froggytimemachineinternet @redactedbloop @qhoaaaa @plaqying @ashton-sano @mokozroach @washa @idk-ig-7 @kuteheadrest @rejectedasset @copsecore @definitelynuwonhere

[just-french-me-up]

(In)somnia Veritas

Fandom : The Sandman (AO3 link) Pairing : Dreamling (Dream x Hob) Rating : G | 1.8k Tags : Angst & Comfort, Retired Dream, Post Wake Fix-it, Established Relationship Summary : No longer Dream of the Endless, Morpheus spends his first night as a human at Hob's, struggling with his new condition. He can not sleep. He will not sleep. How could he, when wakefulness is all he has ever known?

Hob had expected the craziness of it all to keep him awake. The Kindly Ones. The Fates. Daniel Hall. Dream of the Endless, now, for all intents and purposes. It all whirled in his head as he settled in bed, Dream―Morpheus' form next to him, already still from sleep.

Hob's gaze lingered for a moment. He didn't look changed. Even like this, very much asleep and vulnerable, his lips slightly parted in a shallow, slumbering breath, Morpheus still looked like the powerful being he'd been, mere hours ago. Human. It hardly seemed thinkable. Hob had been around for a while, and never had a human ever looked like that. Yet another rule broken tonight, it seemed.

As his head hit the pillow, Hob could feel the heaviness of the day weighing on him, a crown of lead encasing his head, a migraine he resigned himself to fight all night. Instead, sleep took him the second he closed his eyes, his body melting away, as though engulfed by a wave.

The rest was for Dani―Dream of the Endless to know.

It was still dark when sleep loosened its grip around him. Disoriented, Hob rolled drowsily on the mattress, expecting to meet the cold yet substantial shape of Drea―Morpheus' body, yet only found more sheets.

Confused, he cracked an eye open, his hand instinctively patting the empty space, as though he would find Morpheus hidden between the folds somewhere. Nothing. Hob's heart jolted wildly in his chest, pumping bitter bile in his throat. The Fates changed their minds, panic whispered in his ear instantly. They've taken him back. They could not let him be.

Slapped awake, Hob sprung out of bed, blood thrashing in his ears. I've got to get him back, he kept thinking. I must get him back. He did not know where to start, how to work out any kind of summons or strike any sort of supernatural bargain (those had a tendency to find him, not the other way around), but he would figure it out, he had to, he would even call―

His hand still tense on the doorknob, Hob froze in his tracks.

In complete darkness, Morpheus was sitting on his couch, his thighs pressed against his chest, still wearing the old t-shirt Hob had given him as improvised sleepwear. He barely seemed to notice the interruption. He barely seemed to breathe, for that matter. He simply sat there, statuesque, his eyes burning a hole into the opposite wall.

Relief flooded through Hob at the sight, no matter how eerie it felt. He was there. He hadn't gone anywhere. His hand relaxed around the doorknob, though his heartbeat had trouble adjusting.

"You alright?" he asked quietly, his voice slightly hoarse.

There was no acknowledgment of his presence, or answer. Still as a rock, Morpheus kept staring at the wall, his face blank.

Hob dared a few steps closer.

"Can't sleep?" he tried again, cautious not to startle him as he neared the couch. He considered switching on the lights, but quickly decided against it. It felt like one of those matters that were best discussed under the cover of darkness. The constant London light pollution would have to do.

"It's all so... silent."

Hob stilled, caught off guard by the sound of Morpheus' voice. It was still his, undeniably, every note, every inflection, but it missed... something. An edge. A preternatural depth that rose from the dawn of times, when the first being laid down and dreamt on its first night. A human did not need such speech. Like the rest, it now belonged to Daniel.

Hob approached him, electing to sit at the edge of the couch rather than directly next to Morpheus.

"You think this is silent?"

He had grown used to the constant whir of London life, every new century bringing new sounds to the mix, but there was no ignoring the myriad of dogs barking outside, the drunk students talking much louder than social norms would allow during the day, and the ballet of bin lorries and automated street cleaners. Could Morpheus not hear that?

"How can you bear it?"

Slowly, Morpheus' eyes left the wall to settle on Hob, turning to face him. Even with the lack of proper lighting, Hob could see his eyes clearly. Blue, as the day they first met. And full of apprehension about this world he'd never had to navigate this way, even though his pride would not allow him to put it in such words. This, at least, had been his to keep.

Hob stared at Dream, at a loss for words. If this was silence for him, what hellish racket must have been filling his mind until then? How could he bear it?

"It's all I've ever known," he said, settling for something that felt true, in his core. "I'm sorry. I imagine it must be... jarring."

"It is... unnerving," Morpheus nodded slowly, looking down, as though he would not bear to admit it while looking at Hob in the eyes. "Isolating. Empty. And at the same time..."

"Deafening," Hob supplied helpfully. "I understand."

Of course it felt empty, he thought. When one had spent their entire existence with the collective unconscious at their fingertips, dreams and nightmares echoing into their ears every second of every day, being severed from it must feel like having your head dunked into a bucket of water.

"It is no wonder humans devised all matters of utensils to fill the silence," Morpheus mused faintly. "It kept them from going mad."

Them. Humans. Hob wondered how long it would take Morpheus to see himself as one. Never, perhaps. He struggled to see himself as other than what he was, originally. The only difference between them was that Hob had considerably benefited from the change. For Morpheus, this was hardly a step-up. It was free falling.

There was an urge there, lodged deep into Hob's chest, to reach for Morpheus' hand, to hold him close, to offer him all the reassurance he could provide and then more. But Morpheus was not there yet. This human body ached, Hob knew it. It was new, unused, unacclimated to the world it had been thrown into. It looked every way the body he knew, the one he'd touched, loved, held, once. Not quite, though.

"We could buy you a white noise machine," Hob suggested lightly, pushing down the emotion down his throat. He was here, safe, it was all that mattered, in the end. Hob just needed to be patient.

Morpheus frowned, confused.

"It's a box that makes noise. Some people use it to fall asleep."

There was a huff, and the first hint of a smile on Morpheus' lips since their encounter with the Fates.

"Of course you people fashioned a noise machine."

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," Hob smiled, purposefully stirring the conversation towards a lighter territory. "Whale songs might be just what you need."

"I doubt it will suffice."

In spite of Hob's best efforts, Morpheus' playfulness was short-lived. His face closed again, returning to its persisting melancholy. Hob leant towards him, inching closer, assessing his lover's reaction, any sign of recoiling.

"What's wrong?"

"I fear I may not be... welcome to the Dreaming."

The admission rolled out of him like a wound, bloody and raw, almost shameful. Hob furrowed his brows.

"You're afraid Daniel may not grant you entry?"

"No, I..."

Morpheus gave out a faint frustrated sigh.

"It is no longer mine to rule. Dream of the Endless endures, outside of me. Perhaps I do not... belong there. My presence could be ill-received."

"Love, I―" Hob bit the inside of his cheek, trying to find the words that would hurt the least. "You will have to sleep at some point. That's... I'm sorry, but that's part of... this."

"I know."

In the darkness, Hob could have sworn he saw a tear trail down Morpheus' cheek, glistening in the light of a nearby street lamp.

"I'm sure Daniel will go easy on you. He's a good kid."

Was a good kid, Hob reminded himself. Daniel was an empty name now. There was no more Daniel Hall. Not really. Dream was what remained.

"It is a terrible fate I have delivered onto him," Morpheus countered weakly. "It would be fair on his part to torment me for it."

"Morpheus."

Unable to help himself, Hob rested his hand atop Morpheus'. His skin was warmer than usual, he noticed. Human. Instead of pulling away, Morpheus leant towards him, almost nuzzling against his shoulder.

"I have never fallen asleep," he confided softly. "Never dreamt. Not once."

It had always felt odd to Hob that Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares, did not sleep. How scary it must be, for someone who had never done it, to surrender yourself to the hand of another, in your most vulnerable state. Scary enough to leave the bed and avoid sleep altogether.

"I could hold you," Hob suggested gently. "Whatever happens in the Dreaming, it can't harm you here, can it?"

"No. Not really."

Not the most reassuring answer. Nor the clearest. Vagueness was a Morpheus trait, then, not a Dream trait. Good to know.

"I would like that. You, holding me."

"Come here, love."

It happened slowly, inch by inch, but Morpheus nestled into Hob's arms, resting his head in the crook of Hob's neck. Hob could feel his breath blowing against his skin, warm, regular, vital. It was odd, but far from unwelcome. More new than anything else.

"How does it happen? Do I merely close my eyes and wait?"

"Essentially. There is a relaxation aspect to it, though."

Clearly something Morpheus had no experience with either, considering how tense he felt against him.

"You could... breathe with me."

"Breathe with you?"

The suggestion sounded ridiculous in Morpheus' mouth, but Hob was not so easily deterred.

"Yeah, just... just humour me."

It was difficult, at first, for Morpheus to follow the rhythm of Hob's breathing. He was going either too fast or too slow, as though breathing did not come naturally to him, which, in fairness, it did not. It was a conscious effort, every time. After a few minutes of off-beat inhales and exhales, they came to a harmony, their chests rising and falling in tandem. Morpheus had only been pretending to sleep earlier, Hob understood. He could see it now, from the way his face truly relaxed, how his body became more pliant in his arms. If he was not fully asleep, he was getting there, at last.

Hob smiled at the sight, pressing his cheek against his lover's forehead. He could feel Morpheus' pulse where he held him, strong, regular, and undeniably human. Yet no less the man he loved, in spite of the changes.

"Sweet dreams, dear heart."

He raised his eyes to the ceiling, knowing full well there was no one to hear, and no one listening, but he could not help but add:

"Let him rest, will you? I don't think he's ever done that in his life. Might as well start this one with something new."

[study-of-the-moon]

remus during his 13 year isolation, wondering between sloppy gulps of firewhisky, why sirius spared him.

remus standing in front of james, lily and marlene's graves, thinking it should have been him instead.

remus between dry, heaving sobs, trying to trick himself into believing that sirius spared him, because maybe, just maybe, a fragment of that love was real.

[knifeforkspooncup]

I think the saddest thing about this conversation is they're both saying the exact same thing to one another:

don't leave me

don't end this precious thing between us

say you'll stay with me

how dare you

please don't go where I can't follow

***

[thecoffeelorian]

Marvel and Disney prolly shouldn't have let me watch "The Winter Soldier" movie before "The Bad Batch" series got made.

It just opened me up to all sorts of dangerous ideas, like how a person going back for their brainwashed buddy should somehow be the norm rather than the exception.

[between-two-fandoms]

One night, after they had long shifts and meet up at Buck's loft, Buck's lying on Tommy's chest. Tommy's arms are wrapped around him and he's pressing tender, firm kisses to Buck's head. Buck feels settled into himself, he's more himself than he's ever been before after discovering his bisexuality. He and Tommy cherish their time together, tender touches and soft kisses. They're talking about everything and nothing, simply existing together. Then Tommy asks, "have you ever had your heart broken?"

Buck, to his surprise, doesn't think of Abby. Or Ali, or any of his other exes. He thinks of Kameron and Conner, of the child he helped bring into the world, how he felt pure happiness when it was born. He's always loved kids, but given his family history he never even considered having his own. He thinks about when he said he's perfect, then the crushing realization that ths child in his arms wasn't his.

Buck closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, and can feel sadness crash over him. His breathing turns shaky, and he can feel light tears rolling down his cheeks. He nods against Tommy's shoulder, burying himself into the comfort his boyfriend always provided. "Yeah, once," Buck says, pain seeping into his voice at the memory of the birth he delivered on his couch. He doesn't elaborate. Tommy doesn't ask for details, seeming to realize there's something deeper going on than a relationship breakup. He just holds Buck close, kissing him softly and reassures him with sweet words and gentle praise until Buck falls asleep thinking of a child who hardly knows he exists.