⨳ — idiots in love starters
"Maybe we needed all those near-misses to finally wake up to our feelings. Better late than never." - @mieczlw
"near misses....like when I was accidentally blown up by a bomb?" she said, lips quirking up a little bit. it was better than the other thing she could have said. but bringing up her time with jordan was not a good idea. "and our feelings? don't you mean yours baby?
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[Start ID. A green-toned drawing of two characters from an original universe, shown from the shoulders up. It's framed as though they're taking a selfie. On the left is Heathrow, a human with dark skin, long hair, a good number of facial scars, and two painted lines below each eye. He wears something akin to a green hoodie, with fluffy plant matter sewn into the back of the hood. On the right is Crassie, a half elf, which in this universe entails long pointed ears, a pair of short pale horns, a slightly rabbit-like nose and markings under her eyes. Her skin is olive-toned, sporting a couple distinct scars on her face and hand, and she's wearing what is essentially a bush and spiked glovelets. Both of them are smiling, Crassie a little bit wide-eyed and Heathrow with a fond expression. The background's a saturated green with the text "1 YEAR!". End ID]
A redraw-in-spirit of the post from last year's Feb 16 that introduced these two to my blog. It's their birthday :]
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"You're not who you were." He says. A roundabout way of saying, we aren’t a thing.
"... No," agrees Dream, very quietly. It almost seems to be looking through Mieczysław at times, its eyes a little too starry, a little too glazed. The iciness that had so cloaked its predecessor is still there, but there's something else underneath it: a vulnerability, a tendency to fracture and hurt in new ways...
"Though I remember you as he did. I inherited much from him."
Morpheus must have liked this human very much. Why else would this Dream feel so alone when it looks at him, and knows it cannot touch him? Selfish, it thinks. Mieczysław doesn't know it as he knew Morpheus - what did it expect?
Perhaps as an apology, Dream bows its head to him just-so, and extends an elegant hand towards a great archway: beyond it, the library.
"You are free to walk the Dreaming as you please tonight, Wanderer. But only for tonight."
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taps the mic Simon do your followers know we are besties and we have talked every day for years Simon do they know
this is an important announcement
Dear Followers of mine, were you aware that stevie has been in my dms for YEARS, even though this man, Jonathan Crane, is on the FBI's most WANTED?
Wild.
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miecz ( @zloslwy ) has confessed: “ how many people have you killed? how many? ” ( Corinthian ) ( question prompts / accepting! )
“Do you want a list? Actually, no, you don’t want a list. It’ll be too long.” The nightmare hummed in thought: “Well. I bet you’ve made quite the list, right?”
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something something abt people dreaming of a library and meeting lucienne something it being a safe space for them somehting abt lucienne kicking a blonde homosexual murder nightmare's ass for trying to come into HER library to terrorize a dreamer in there
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battling the Mom inside my head that says I haven't done enough cleaning simply because it's not taking all day long to get done and I'm taking a break before I've done a complete deep clean of the entire building. Because if she gets a hold in me she'll convince me that I haven't done anything at all and that today was for naught.
But i'm taking a necessary break and it's not my fault i can clean 2 rather large areas of disorganization 10x faster than my mom could, and it is cleaner looking (despite my brain trying to convince me it's always been this clean and therefore i didn't do anything to it).
I'm disabled. And i have limits. And i am taking care of myself by resting between spurts of cleaning. That does not make me lazy or useless.
And if I say it to myself often enough eventually maybe that'll stick better than the mom inside my head.
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He’s holding hands with the second corinthian, watching their hands in the low light. Palm to palm, fingers then lacing together. It’s calm.
The Corinthian doesn't sleep. All the same, he feels like as if he's dreaming; as if home were calling to him not as a purpose-bound nightmare but a visitor; as if he were a person, with dreams and fantasies like any other to draw him in...
Being here with you, he thinks, is the closest I'm going to get.
The irony of it makes him smile. He tilts his head to rest it against Miecz's, watching their joined hands make shadows on the wall while Miecz's tousled hair tickles his cheek.
(He needs a haircut, he keeps lamenting, he has to look professional for work--and every time, the Corinthian runs his hands through fluffy locks and complains that he's oh-so-fucking-pretty like this, and why would you take that away from me?)
"I think I can get away with another night," he murmurs. Even as he says it, he can feel that Dream wants him back: not the cozy, sleepy sensations he'd had just moments ago, but the real thing. The Dreaming tugging his leash while they both see how long he'll resist its pull. "Unless you want me to go back..."
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