#solve for desire

[derangedrhythms]

Caitlin Bailey, Solve for Desire; from 'Pigeons'

#caitlin bailey #solve for desire #pigeons #poetry #excerpts #heart

[bones-ivy-breath]

Lost Letter by Caitlin Bailey, from Solve for Desire

Text ID:

My hands have done terrible things.

#quote #typography #poetry #literature #caitlin bailey #solve for desire #lost letter #aesthetic #dark academia #academia aesthetic #original post #dark things #hands #american literature #western literature

[avelera]

Where's that post about Desire trying to seduce Hob by shapeshifting to look like Dream but for ~~**some reason**~~ he's immune to their wiles and it's absolutely infuriating because it really seems like something as nauseating as True Love that Hob can just sense that it isn't Dream and therefore remains faithful to his stranger.

Because all I can imagine is Desire having an incredibly obvious tell like their eyes literally remain golden the entire time they're pretending to be Dream and Hob is like, "... This person can't be serious, right?"

But they are, they are serious, it just so happens that deep stupidity runs in the family because Desire is just as dumb about normal day to day stuff as Dream and being an inconceivably powerful anthropomorphic personification means that your underlings are reluctant to tell you when your "genius" plans are nothing of the sort because you live in the ultimate rich magical privilege bubble.

#Desire also didn't change their voice Magic Brian style #hob thinks it's funny at first but then gets Tired #dreamling #the sandman #Fortunately Dream also thought the ruse was impenetrable so he's wildly impressed by Hob's fidelity and cleverness right now #and Hob is absolutely not above pretending it was a hard puzzle to solve if it means makeout sessions later

[theaceace]

Hob is woken, not by the shrill cacophony of his alarm or the sunlight hitting his face where they'd forgotten to pull the curtains last night, or even the warmth of Morpheus' hands and mouth, but by the sudden dip in the mattress as another person flops onto the bed with them.

Several lifetimes' worth of instincts see him jolting awake in an instant, heart racing and sweat already beading on his back and brow. Hob may not be able to die, but he's been ambushed in his sleep more than enough times to be getting on with, ta very much, and he's not keen to do it again. Suddenly he's twenty-five, and exhausted after days of marching on Troyes, feet sore and heart sorer, waiting on a battle that never came. He's twenty-eight, and the knife that flashes in the darkness misses his throat only because Herry has ears like a bat and enough blind-foolish loyalty to leap on their attacker's back. He's seventy-three, and lying barely-conscious among the dead that need burying or burning, and he knows that he needs to rouse himself even with the arrow still in his chest, or he'll be burnt or buried with them. He's two-hundred and sixty-four, and they've come to the home he'd made for his family, to drag him from the bed he had shared with his wife some thirty years before, and haul him away as a witch.

He's gripped now by the same fear, and it has him up and moving, one hand fumbling at the bedside table for anything with enough heft to dent a skull before he realises that none of his attackers have ever smelt like peaches.

Beside him, Morpheus shifts just enough to free his face from the clutches of his pillow.

“That key was given to you for use in emergencies, my sibling,” he says, voice thick with sleep and the cotton pillowcase.

Desire stretches luxuriously between them and smiles, fox-sharp, at Morpheus. They roll their head to look at him – beneath the perfume and sweat and wet pavement smell of them, Hob catches a sour waft of alcohol.

“Oh but my dear brother, this is an emergency,” they say, and – look, Hob has been drunk enough to recognise the exquisitely deliberate care at the edges of their words. He huffs a little, pushes himself up so that he can slap a hand on the bedside lamp and blink furiously against the sudden light. It takes a few seconds for his vision to clear, and he rubs his hands over his face in a vain effort to convince himself that this is some new nightmare that Daniel is testing out, before he gives in to the inevitable and turns to examine their guest.

"And what could possibly be so pressing at –" Morpheus snatches Desire's wrist up to stare blearily at their watch "– two thirty-seven in the morning? That could not be expressed in a phone call or wait until a reasonable hour?"

"Do you know, brother mine, how many partners I found to dance with? Whose desire for me, once so integral as to be a given, I had to simply guess at? To read in the curve of a smile or the enticing lull of a question? I didn't know them, not a one, and can you guess, sweet Dream, how many of them took me to their beds?"

And Hob has heard quite enough of that. He stretches and tosses back the sheets, while Morpheus shoots him a filthy glower that softens immediately into a plea for respite with his sole visible eye. Desire either doesn't notice this silent communication, or doesn't care.

“None!” They crow gleefully, clasping their hands, and Morpheus scowls as he's jostled in place.

It's not that Hob wants to leave him to fend for himself against his sibling, only that he doesn’t fancy being in the firing line when Morpheus inevitably snaps and thumps Desire with a pillow.

Doing an admirable job of ignoring Morpheus' wounded expression, Hob groans and lurches himself in the vague direction of the kitchen. Might as well put the kettle on for this.

"Jasmine or apple tea, love?" He calls. No sense having any caffeine now. If they're lucky, Desire will wear themself out quickly and they'll be able to go back to sleep before the alarm goes off.

"Apple, if you would," Morpheus replies.

"Ooh, I'll have jasmine if you're making."

"Didn't ask you!" Hob shouts back, already adding a spoon of sugar to the third mug he'd fetched down for them. 

“Oh, so forceful! You know, if you ever get tired of my stick-in-the-mud brother here…” Desire trails off meaningfully, and Hob snorts, smiling a little to himself. They know full well it's not going to happen, however much or little they remember about his desires, and even if he were – impossibly – to change his mind about Morpheus, they'd get bored of him soon enough. 

He sets all three mugs on a tray, and grabs a pack of chocolate digestives while he's at it. Morpheus would never admit to being fond of them, but he doesn't need to. Hob's watched him absent-mindedly devour most of a packet while he pecks one-handed at the keyboard. Besides, Desire could probably do with something to line their stomach. 

“Is being human always this delightfully contradictory? So baffling and solid and… damp?” Desire asks, lifting their head just enough to peer at Hob as he re-enters the room. It's a moot question, of course. They've been human long enough now to know that the answer is, largely, yes. 

“Often. But do you know, my sibling, the very best part of being human?” Desire turns lazily to look at Morpheus, smiling wide. Their lipstick today is dark purple, and smudged at the corners of their mouth. 

“Mm, do tell. You know how much I crave your… wisdom,” they say, rolling the words indulgently over their tongue. Hob sighs and nudges Morpheus’ book to one side so he can set the tray down on the nightstand on his side of the bed.

“It is that it is no longer against the Old Laws for me to do this,” Morpheus says, planting one foot against their side and shoving hard enough that they topple off the bed with an outraged squawk and undignified thump. There's a blessed moment of stillness, the same kind of breathless anticipation that Hob remembers from the battlefield, before the charge and the mud and the pain. Then they pop back up over the side of the bed with a cry and launch themself at Morpheus. He'd be more worried if he couldn’t hear the laughter in their voice, nor see how their outstretched hands target Morpheus’ ribs and armpits, rather than his eyes.

Hob's sisters have been dead for centuries now, but he remembers this well enough.  Maybe if the Endless had ever been anything like children, they might have gotten all of the murderous posturing out of the way before they grew up enough for it to be a problem, he muses. Still. Better late than never.

He takes a sip of his own tea and grabs a biscuit. Lord knows he won't get a look in once Morpheus has finished trying to jam his elbow into Desire's stomach and realises they're there.

“It was never against the Old Laws for you to be a bastard, which is lucky because you always were one!” Desire gasps, writhing away from Morpheus’ pointy limbs. Hob's been at the receiving end of those elbows before, and even when Morpheus is being gentle, they're decently sharp. He wonders idly if either of them'll tire of this before their tea goes cold, and decides not to intervene either way. Serve them both right if they have to drink cold tea.

“You tried to kill me!”

“Don't tell me you're still hung up on that?”

“I am, because you tried to kill me!”

“Well it's not like it worked!”

Not really the point, Hob reckons, but then again he's had plenty of mates that have tried to kill him. 

“More by good fortune than good judgment,” Morpheus hisses.

“Oh, so you admit to your poor judgment?”

Hob snorts, and the wounded look Morpheus swings towards him would fell a lesser man. Hob takes another biscuit.

“Ha!” Desire takes advantage of his momentary distraction to lock their arms around his shoulders and blow a loud raspberry against his cheek. Hob doesn’t think he's entirely successful in hiding his smile. Morpheus doesn't even try to hide his look of disgust. 

Well, he had to learn the downsides of being an older brother at some point, Hob supposes. 

Judging that the worst of the scrapping is over, he perches on the edge of the bed and pats Morpheus’ flank idly. Desire, loose-limbed with alcohol and triumph, flops over him to reach for their tea. Morpheus magnanimously doesn't jab his fingers into their exposed side.

“Thank you, Robert darling,” Desire says, eyes half-lidded as they drink. It comes out far less coquettish than Hob imagines they intended; too genuinely content. Morpheus sighs, and frowns, and doesn't quite do a good enough job of hiding his own ease as he sits up and leans against Hob. 

“I suppose you intend to stay the night?” Morpheus asks. There's nothing of the dignified dreamlord about him now, with his hair flattened on one side and just a little lank, and pillow creases on his cheek. He peers at Desire, half of his weight still supported by Hob, who takes another slurp of tea and polishes off the last of his biscuit. It's still unbelievable, sometimes, that he may see his dour and distant old stranger like this. Something tangible, something grounded, something he can hold. Unbelievable, too, after the way they had almost parted, after the way Morpheus had almost –

Well. Doesn't bear thinking about, really.

“Mm, yes, if you'll have me.” Do they have to work to make everything they say sound like a double entendre,  Hob wonders, or does it come naturally? He's not entirely sure they even notice they're doing it. 

“You're always welcome,” Hob says. “Guest room's all made up, and there's a spare toothbrush under the sink you can have.”

“How very kind. Dream, dear, isn't your man kind?”

“Unreasonably so.”

“Ta, love,” Hob says, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Desire rolls their eyes theatrically, as though that might mask how their expression softens. “Now drink your tea, I'd like to get a few more hours’ sleep before I need to get up.”

Morpheus grumbles but straightens up, plucking his mug from the nightstand and cradling it in one hand while he reaches for a biscuit with the other. 

“Should we expect any of our other siblings to join us tonight?” He asks, managing somehow not to spray crumbs everywhere as he does so, which is a bit unfair. Hob has centuries more experience talking through mouthfuls of crumbly biscuits, and he still can't do as good a job of it. “I take it you did not venture out alone this night.”

“No I didn't, but don't worry,” Desire says, tilting their head back as they drain their mug, a neat ring of purple left behind on the ceramic. “My sweet twin is unlikely to make an appearance. I certainly hope, at least – she went home with that little exorcist friend of yours. If she comes here, then something’s gone dreadfully wrong.”

They grin, cat with the cream pleased at the expression on Morpheus’ face, and flick their hand in something like a wave. “Well, goodnight brother! Robert.”

They flounce away towards the spare room, and Hob presses his smile into the curve of Morpheus’ shoulder.

“I hate them,” Morpheus grumbles. Hob kisses the bony jut of skin where his t-shirt has slipped, once, twice.

“No you don't,” he says. Morpheus sighs, sets his mug down, and returns to hold Hob's face still for a proper kiss. Not that Hob would try to get out of it. 

“No,” he agrees softly, pulling Hob down with him for a cuddle onto pillows that still smell a little of peaches. “No. I do not.”

#dreamling #dream of the endless #desire of the endless #hob gadling #This was originally going to be part of 'Em's retirement home for wayward Endless' #in which Dream retired and all of the other Endless followed (except destruction who didn't want someone else saddled with the job) #A sort of 5+1 thing with each of the ex-endless siblings interacting with dream and hob #and 1 of the current endless #But unfortunately my brain isn't up to that so you guys get this instead #Anyway I think a lot of problems would have been solved if Dream and Desire had gone through developmental stages like regular siblings #Here we see the 'toddler' phase. Hob is lucky they're not biting each other #Not exactly a writing tag

[lokh]

its sooo fun how dungeons reveal the psyche of the dungeon lord like. thistles dungeon was so planned and meticulous but so full of ghosts and unravelling at the end. mithruns dungeon was apparently so convoluted and 'made out of jealousy, lies, anger and inferiority'. marcilles dungeon was like.... that lmao, everything being brought to the same level with no real regard for what that might do to the ecosystem, and laios' dungeon ultimately ends up spilling out onto the surface. becoming one with it you might say

anyways if you were a dungeon lord what would your dungeon look like

#your dungeonsona. if you will. ur dungeon lordsona? #dungeon meshi spoilers #dungeon.... does not look like a word to me anymore. #dungeon meshi #me realising i never answered my own question. in my dungeon i force u to make ur own dungeon #to be real though probably a lot of dead ends both ways #realising that there are probably desires antithetical to. having a dungeon #but also desires that if eaten first would drastically change someones outlook/goals #and maybe even dungeon...? #i suppose a demon might eat that last though. seemed the case with thistle #so probably a very inconsistent dungeon tbh but in an unfortunately (for me) predictable way #in the sense that some areas would be like. fleshed out and detailed and others are just not good.... #we cant all be thistle or laios!!!! #how quickly would someone be able to crack my dungeon?? another good question #i would be super mad if people solved it quickly #but im thinking harder about it and. that demon might starve to death dhfbbfbf #would not be an ideal target ....... #but playing in the space where somehow im convinced to become dungeon lord

[frnkiebby]

gerard needs their floor time~🎃

#relatable tbh #i’m on the floor with my laptop at work on the regular #and blindfolded frank has me thinking extra thoughts and boy are they some thoughts #thoughts that definitely belong on a whole different side of this hellsite #gooodddddd #he’s a fucking problem for me #and i have no desire to solve it #frnkiebby #frank iero #mcr #frnkiero #mcrmy #frnkie #mcr5 #my chemical romance #my chem #ilhsm

[vorakh]

mm but seriously pathologic rewired my brain in how to approach a narration and the time and space it takes place in. you don't need a date to find its correspondence in your history book. you don't need to find this city on your world map. you don't need to know where the line between delusion, reality and magic is set. you don't even need to know who these people were and will be once their act is over. deal with it.

#(a companion of my previous post about not being obsessed with de as i was with patho) #(very different games on many levels) #but the thing is i prefer the untold and the unknown #so when disco elysium offers hints and theories about the nature of the pale but doesn't point to a solution #i just don't care about finding out what it is really about #not for lack of curiosity or interest #more like in a 'the things about desire is that it's stronger when it's not totally satisfied' way #i am the kind of person who doesn't care about solving a riddle if the riddle sounds like a fine poem on its own #maybe i am just dull #it's personal tag again

[hgduo]

There is something so beautiful about how earlier that day Cellbit and Max were talking about Jaiden and Foolish working for the feds and saying that they were using their naivety, innocence, love for others- there weaknesses and strengths- all of that to manipulate them into doing tasks for them...

and then later that same night it's revealed that Cellbit had been unknowingly working for The Federation... Everything he had been doing these past weeks was helping them- That was being manipulated and used by them this entire time and didn't even know it...

#qsmp #cellbit #it reminds me of how they used him before when Felps was missing- how they lead him further and further in and once he was in the building #teased him with mysteries that were really just bait- but at least back then he was aware of that he was working alongside them #here he really thought he was alongside another faction but nope... it was still the federation this whole time #it's beautiful really... having his illusion of control and progress pulled out like a rug underneath him man #they used it all against him- his pull towards solving mysteries- his love of his family- he feverish desire to leave this place- #like he talked about the others being naive and failed to see it in himself in the end- God damn!

[pharawee]

I love how City of Stars gave us a lovely scene with two people openly talking about their preferences and what they enjoy in terms of sex...

... only for people to argue that "it didn't go far enough" and somehow the show "chickened out" because in the end Krom wasn't vers and stated that he enjoys bottoming.

Just ?? ???

First of all, Fueang did explicitly say (several times btw) that he enjoys both topping and bottoming so there's your vers.

But mainly:

Do people actually realise how amazing it is that someone in a cute and lighthearted BL like City of Stars openly talks about enjoying being the bottom? Because this is almost never talked about. Everyone (in BL fandom spaces) always just seems to assume that the top is the active and fun and dominating part and the bottom is passively indulging and enduring - which leads to this weird and unhealthy implication that bottoming is somehow lesser and unappealing and "not queer enough".

Yes, pushing for a more diverse showcase of (sexual) preferences in BL is a good thing, but not if it comes at the expense of dismissing or belittling other preferences. Hell, according to reddit the most vocal group of bottoms are straight men getting pegged by their female partners, while a lot of queer people don't even enjoy anal at all. Their preferences say exactly NOTHING about who they are as a person.

It's not a hierarchy with verses at the top (lol) somehow magically transcending all the evil tropes and stereotypes in BL. Sexual preferences aren't a character trait, and there's nothing wrong with wanting to bottom exclusively.

#city of stars #city of stars the series #jane watches stuff #i'm upsetti spaghetti #this is just as bad as fandom dismissing fictional femmes as not queer and desirable enough #i totally get that esp classic bl has a problem with assigning stereotypical gender roles to queer characters #but dismissing characters based on their looks or preferences doesn't solve the problem #it's just as alienating

[derangedrhythms]

Caitlin Bailey, Solve for Desire; from 'Somewhere a Key' (edited excerpt)

#caitlin bailey #solve for desire #somewhere a key #poetry #excerpts #name #o

[bones-ivy-breath]

Sometimes I can't believe my heart, how it continues. How it isn't black and withered, how the chambers remain clear, the beat plain and perfect.

Pigeons by Caitlin Bailey, from Solve for Desire

#Caitlin Bailey #Solve for Desire #quote #poetry #literature #aesthetic #dark academia #light academia #dead academia #quotes #pigeons #love #grief #dark things #original post

[revvethasmythh]

Still turning over the fact that Relvin didn't know anything about Liliana's powers until a couple of years after Imogen was born. Like, he knew she dreamed of somewhere bigger than Gelvaan (and spent time imagining going there with her), but can you imagine thinking you know someone, thinking you're building this life (on trust, on honestly, on partnership) with someone, and then they drop this bomb on you, the things they see in their dreams and what they can do with their mind and how afraid they are that your child will inherit the same gift curse? Relvin has no idea when her powers started. They may have been there from the day they met, for all he knows. And then, after telling him this, after sharing her fears for herself and for Imogen, she leaves. And he doesn't understand anything of what this means, he is confused and in the dark and now alone. All he can do is hope Imogen won't go through the same thing, while trying to swallow all the resentment and anger he holds toward Liliana for her sake. Absolutely impossible situation to be in, tbh

#note: i am not being judgemental toward liliana for this more so than pointing out this was Fucked #like people are people and i never have any interest in demonizing them #i can see how she got here! from her pov this probably made sense as she tried to get on with her life #without giving in to the desire to figure out her powers #imogen being the clinch point to change that for her is interesting tho because like you have put that child in danger #and you have left that child to try and solve the danger. which is a double whammy #juicy situation all around. i love a fucked up family dynamic #critical role #bells hells #relvin temult #nonsense will be removed from notes and you will be blocked <3

[ginkasei]

they should invent a way to be demisexual that isnt agonizing

#filled with desire that cannot be transferred to a different person so just hooking up w someone will not solve anything. #personal #i be like. what if i yearned for someone unavailable? EVERY DAMN TIME #demisexual

[shirkers2018dirsanditan]

I am an abolitionist I do think that the term "violent crime" as it is actually used is less than useless and that people convicted of so-called "violent offenses" should not be excluded from reform measures. I do believe in the actual total dismantling of the prison system. I do, actually, believe that the way that the label "sex offender" is applied and how the sex offender registry works in reality is a reflection of the injustices and inequities of our system. I don't think that formerly incarcerated people are disqualified for being advocates of their own cause by virtue of the nature of their crime. but there are limits. I don't think we should be overly permissive toward men with a history of rape and domestic violence nor that we should allow them to downplay what they actually did. and I think that abolitionist spaces have a rape and DV apologia problem. I think many activist spaces have long had a problem of protecting predatory men and downplaying violence against women in the movement(s). and I think liberals and moderates and conservatives jump on this to dismiss abolition as a political framework and movement despite the fact that their spaces have the exact same fucking problem. and I think that opponents of abolition are too comfortable with their indifference to the massive amount of sexual violence facilitated by the carceral state and systems of policing

#I don't buy that rapists are the least likely to reoffend of all incarcerated people #I think they're the least likely to get caught and the most likely to target increasingly vulnerable people #I think similarly of domestic violence #but I also do not believe that incarceration keeps women safe #on the contrary #it victimizes women and particularly rape csa and dv victims at an alarming rate #I do not think that prison is the most effective way to dismantle or even punish male violence #and I think we will never come up with a better solution if we pretend prison is the best we can do #incarceration itself is a system of male violence #and locking up rapists and domestic abusers does not solve the issue of domestic abuse. it merely puts it out of view #at the same time. if your violent boyfriend is in prison then he's not hitting you #but that does not mean he can't abuse you still #the afterlife of domestic violence can persist even if an abusive man is dead #and so on #I think this is a very difficult issue with no easy solution #demonizing dv and rape victims and oversimplifying their desires and motivations is not one of them #neither is carceral liberalism or worse #tough on crime conservatism #unfortunately we actually do literally live in a society where nothing exists in a vacuum and no issue is one or two dimensional

[frnkiebby]

fuck~🎃

#went from sobbing to dying #k i’m gonna be in my dumpster fire if anyone needs me #this is a fucking problem #and one which i have no desire to solve #i love him so fucking much #god he’s so pretty #his fucking hands #his #fucking #hands #frnkiebby #frank iero #mcr #frnkiero #mcrmy #frnkie #mcr5 #my chemical romance #my chem #ilhsm

[spherekuriboh]

the difference between the triumph in 'i found you!' and the shame in 'you've found me.' is proof enough!!!

#distext #i feel strongly enough abt this one to tag it #the silt verses #youve found me and the god i unwittingly fed-- it was never yours but it was mine and you stayed because you found me. #blah blah the narrative twists to incorporate the listener's hopes and desires for a happy ending blah blah #but the god is not capable of denying the rapture in the journey. it is in fact all it has to offer. #sebastian being unhappy *now* doesn't mean that the god is unfed. of course not. the journey is eternal. #but the lingering doubt would not have been centered upon his lifelong traveling companion. because that *spoils it!* #there is no journey in staying here. staying here is an ending. and the other narrative can't bloom with such a shadow hanging over it. #hope exists. of course it does. it must. but it isn't like. saccharine and revisionist. #not the decision to stay in the place of potential and never see and ending through. #dev calls him sebastian. whether it's an attention check (are you listening?) or a slipup back to formality it is a fuckup. #in much the same socially inept way that 'let's stay here' was such a desirable idea for your lover this morning you dont even consider NOW #elephant. elephant is what i meant. #anyway. meta fodder for the listener (i dont have the commentary but ive seen the phrase 'coin-flip') vs. watsonian social interactions. #........ frankly i dont think that sebastian gave enough of a fuck to pick a winner between hayward and carpenter either but that is just m #i think there's probably something smart to say about how moving forward this season involves nothing but uncertainty #where even following the cairn maiden to an assured ending leaves the pulsing question of when #but man im just upset. gay sex saved the day solved the mystery and now we're going back to get shotgun married to dodge the draft #if you dont have your own insurance plan your spouse's is fine. #sorry. what was i talking about? #right. there isn't a joy in this. there is no definite moment where the hurt- this trauma. the fog.- would pass and settle into comfort. #and among all of the promises and threats. it would only hurt for a moment. #nope! congrats. scarred for life you have to keep on living and difficult conversations you have to keep on having and continued awkwardnes #can't catch me suicide metaphor i'm gay as fuck. anyways #podcast tag #tsv spoilers