valeriianz
follow the cops back home
she/her. est 1990. personal blog so anything goes. i write a lot. video games, film, tv shows, whatever. header by behindxa ----- my fics & my writing tag for everything else.
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please make every effort to vote <3
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since moving here ive noticed europeans have no concept of how few americans ever leave USA. every american tourist youve met is of an economic crust that is vastly unobtainable to the other like. 85% generously. no matter what you have believed i can guarantee this. even getting to canada isnt really a possibility and the mexico-US border is highly controlled and militarized.
to put it into perspective. a ~2 hour flight from london to warsaw is like. 30 to 45 USD?
and a 2 hour flight from one US city to another would be about 130 USD
it was very cheap to fly here. i make over 100k USD now and i dont know if ill ever be able to afford leaving. if that gives you an idea of how prohibitive travel is here. i havent even touched on how the US has Zero guaranteed holidays by the govt. many people here go years without ever having an entire week off of work
this has had a like. massive impact on American Brain and they dont even know it because travel isnt even a consideration economically. they dont even know how much more vacation time european countries have guaranteed
#trains and busses are more... 'affordable'#i live in western NY#just got back from NYC#train ride was $130 round trip#but flights?? forget about it#im going to Chicago next month#2 hour flight: nearly $400#same with Miami in September: $360 flight#living here is a fucking nightmare#im over it
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I've been reading Emily Wilson's translation of The Iliad and I'm about to make it everyone's problem.
Not enough people appreciate that Athena pulls Achilles hair to stop him from attacking Agamemnon. I'd like to think, had they been invented, she would have used a spray bottle.
Also, I know that my illustration of the Athena and Achilles scene is more generically classically inspired, and the Aphrodite and Helen illustration uses Bronze Age aesthetics. They're not meant to exist sequentially, I'm just vibin'.
#ive also finally started to read Emily Wilson's translation ahhh#these are so good OP#the iliad#fanart#greek mythology
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the whump fan’s dilemma
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#this is exactly how rockstar Dream looks to me#and now im obsessed#ahhhh#morpheus#fanart#the sandman#bolt in the blue vibes
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THE BEAR (2022-) + IMDb trivia
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Do you go to concerts alone?
I do and I prefer it
I do but I prefer going with people
I have and I didn't like it
I haven't but I would like to
I haven't and I don't want to
Nuance button
(For context, I go to a lot of concerts alone as my friends don't really share my music taste, and every time I mention it to someone they're surprised and tell me how brave I am and they could never. But I kinda prefer going solo because then I can stand where I want and do what I want haha)
Note in ask :)
#i do and i prefer it#there really is something to be said about...#being alone in a crowd of strangers#knowing you'll never see these people again#i go to shows for the music and to see the artists#but being alone and just doing whatever i want#living in that moment#idk how to explain it#its very personal to me and i only want to share it with myself#also my friends cant keep up with my crazy so
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KESHA - GAG ORDER
photographed by VINCENT HAYCOCK
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Dream and Death—David Mack
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Death as Frontwoman
I adore this piece by Shary Flenniken from The Endless Gallery, which imagines the Endless siblings as members of a band. That it showcases Death as the lead singer, front and center, just seems to fit. A band frontwoman needs skill, confidence, and presence... a charisma that holds the band together and compels the audience to go along for the ride. I think these characteristics are apparent when Death fulfills her function, both within her family and in her "job" more generally. She's more than just a kind word and a friendly face.
So, imo, Death would make a perfect frontwoman. Whether the other Endless are properly assigned in the band... is up for debate 😄
#why are people in the tags skeptical of everyone else's roles?#Dream would obviously kill it on bass#and Despair was born for the drums#obviously haha#also ive said it before but:#Del would totally nail the tambourine#the sandman#death of the endless
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this is dreamling more than dead boy detectives but it's been in my head since reading issue #25 after s1 of sandman. so, now feels like a good time to release it into the world. i just want them all to get in each others way
(season of mists spoilers)
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It’s not often that Hob smokes. It’s an expensive habit, and secondhand smoke and all that. But it’s hardly going to kill him, so he’s usually got an ancient pack on hand somewhere. Handy, especially in situations like this. Not that there’s ever been a situation like this before but, well. You live long enough.
He slips out into the beer garden of the pub, lighting up almost absent mindedly, the action still muscle memory.
“What the fuck,” he mutters, rubbing his thumb along his lower lip, “what the fuck. Dream, if you have bloody anything to do with this, I swear to god, Morpheus. What the fucking fuck.” He closes his eyes, lets his head fall back against the brickwork. Despite it all he huffs an exhausted laugh. Because sure. Of course. Yeah, why not. Of course this would happen. “Jesus Christ, Morpheus. Even if this isn’t you, bloody… fucking wish I could just ask.” It’s all said barely above a whisper. Just in case. Always just in case. He blindly ashes his cigarette and heaves out a heavy breath, “Lord above,” he scoffs, raising the cigarette to his lips again.
“Hob?”
Hob startles, eyes snapping open, head knocking back sharply against the brick. “Fuck – ow – Dream?” He raises his free hand to rub the back of his head, wincing slightly. “That, uh… that worked better than expected.”
“You were calling for me?”
“Yeah… sorta. I didn’t… think it worked like that. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You did not. I had thought briefly of you.”
“Oh, yeah?” Hob grins. “How come? You miss me already?”
Morpheus sends him a withering look.
“I, um… dreamt of you. While ago. Was that – real?”
“It was.”
He nods, thumb nervously tapping the filter of his cigarette. “Uh huh. Figured. With the wine, and…” he trails off. The hollow feeling of that dream, or rather, of that waking coming back to him in full force. “You said some ominous shit. Then I said some ominous shit. Was that real, too?”
Morpheus nods solemnly.
“Right. Don’t suppose you’ll explain that?” Morpheus remains silent. “Right. Course not. Things okay, though? Now? I mean,” he gestures to his friend, “you’re here. That must be good, yeah?”
“Yes. And no.”
“Great. Fab.”
“What I thought I was facing has… changed.”
“...’kay. Well, can I ask you a question?”
Morpheus pauses but, after a moment, nods.
“S’it got anything to do with the dead kids hanging out in my pub?”
“What?”
“Yeah, couple of boys who look like they should definitely be in school – about, oh, fifty years ago. At least.”
Morpheus’ eyes don’t actually widen in alarm, but there is something to that effect happening… not quite in his expression, but in his aura, perhaps. Hob gets the feeling that if he were a cat the fur along his spine would be standing on end.
“So… it is related?”
“Perhaps.”
“Definitely, then.” Hob takes a short puff of his cigarette.
“Show me?”
“Uh… I don’t know if they know that people can see them. I don’t know if people who aren’t me can see them, actually. So just, um…” the caution dies in his throat as he realises who it is he’s talking to. Morpheus will do what he will, Hob’s advice be damned.
Dream draws close, peering in through the windowpane of the door back into the pub. “How do you know?”
“You get pretty good at feeling when things are off once you’ve been around the block six hundred years or so. Also, they walked in through the closed front door. As in, passed right through the solid wood and glass.”
“I see.”
“Why are they here?”
“To sample your fine selection of craft beer, perhaps?”
“Oh, he’s joking,” Hob has joined his side in peering not-so-surreptitiously through the door. “‘Mortal plane’ here, not here-here.”
“Death must have been busy… It is not like her to leave a job unfinished without good reason.”
“Must’ve…? What the fuck could be so horrific that Death is being kept busy?”
Morpheus, beside him, is silent. Deadly still. And it tells Hob all he needs to know.
“Dream,” he hisses, “what the fuck is this? What’s going on?”
There is a long pause. “I ought not to tell you.” Dream murmurs, still facing the glass panel of the door.
“And I ought not have two dead teenagers in my pub. All things relative.”
“They are causing no harm.”
“I don’t doubt that. It’s you I’m worried about now.”
“Your concern is of no use. What I mean is that they are no poltergeists, not aggressive, there seems to be nothing demonic about them.”
“Which means… there are poltergeists and demons running about at the mo?”
“I told you, I ought not say. There are diplomatic proceedings to take place.”
“You get that that makes even less sense, yeah?”
Dream seems to, at last, with an almighty eye roll, give in. “Hell is closed,” he hisses, turning to face Hob directly.
“Hell is closed.” Hob repeats back, dumbfounded. “And that means… The devils are all here?”
“Precisely.”
“But the boys… aren’t devils?”
“They are not.”
“Okay. That’s good news. And the devils?”
Dream shrugs, sharp and languid. “Anywhere. Everywhere.”
“Great. Okay. Less good. Very much less good. So, uh. What… do I do? Am I supposed to exorcise them? Because, I have to be honest – would really rather not do that.”
“You are under no obligations.”
“Oh.”
“They could not be here without Death’s knowledge or her say-so. She will come for them in time.”
“Oh.” Inexplicably, Hob’s heart sinks a little.
“They are not alive, Hob.” Dream says, looking him in the eye. “They cannot live forever as the dead.”
“Hm. Yeah. S’pose.” He looks through the windowpane at the two boys, chatting animatedly at a corner table out of the way. “They’re just kids, though. Barely got a normal life.”
“You cannot save them, Hob.”
“Why not?”
“You cannot. They may not be destined for Hell, but that doesn’t mean they can stay amongst the living.”
“Says who?”
“The universe. Death, herself.”
Hob smirks, tilting his head down a fraction to look up at Dream from under a quirked brow. “You know what I think of Death.”
And Hob catches the tension at the corner of Dream’s mouth that he knows, whatever he might say to the contrary, is a suppressed smile.
“C’mon, what if I just help ‘em live a little? While they’re here?”
“Hob.”
“What?! Can’t a guy be nice?”
“I have meetings to attend to.”
“That’s not a no.”
“I think it a poor choice to flaunt immortality in front of two who have died so young. I would caution against it.”
“Okay. Fuck, fair point. But they don’t have to know about me. They wouldn’t somehow know, right?”
“I would caution against it, Hob Gadling.”
#this is very intriguing#i dont know anything about Dead Boy Detectives#but consider me hooked now haha#fic rec#dreamling#(kinda)
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Fic: Special Exhibition
Dreamling (human AU) || Rated E || 10k words || complete
Alternate Universe - human, sequel to Placebo Effect, Doctor Hob Gadling, museum curator Dream, sequel to fake relationship to real relationship, Dream was an unrepentant slut in college, Hob is still an unrepentant slut, getting too deep into a relationship too quickly, Bisexual Hob Gadling, Lust at First Sight, Top Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Bottom Hob Gadling, Genital Piercing, Cock Piercing, Frenum piercing, Cock Rings, Cock Slut, Chaps, Face-Sitting, fluid bonding, Safe Sane and Consensual, Barebacking, swearing fealty, Leather, leather harness, Hob gets railed, deep dicking, Coming Untouched, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex, Anal Fisting, Cowgirl Position, Finger Sucking, Ass to Mouth, Impact Play, minor impact play using hands, Orgasm Edging, Orgasm Denial, Orgasm Delay, Light BDSM, Dom/sub Undertones, Porn with Feelings
Hob responded to the DM he got from @.TheArtofDreaming because it was by far the most interesting response he had gotten within 48 hours of posting that video with him saying he would do a fake relationship call. Wordsmithing aside, the fact that Dream had just laid out what was pretty much the exact kind of gig Hob had wanted when he made the silly thing was just serendipitous.
Honestly, at first pass Hob had not at all expected @.TheArtofDreaming to be AMAB. It had been a pleasant surprise. Not that Hob had lied about his sexuality–no, he was as 3 of a 3 on the Kinsey Scale as one could get–but after Eleanor it has just been… harder. With people who presented more feminine. Not for lack of interest, but there was a lot of baggage to sort through.
In contrast, texting with Dream was easy: he was engaging, responsive, thoughtful, and quick-witted. They were both passionate about what they did, for work and for play. So, yeah, lunch seemed like a great idea and maybe he could end up being friends with one of his favorite museum’s curators! Maybe he could even get a behind-the-scenes tour someday.
Oh, what simple goals that naive Hob had set.
Read on AO3
#pavonis...#i just got ready for bed what do you WANT FROM MEEE#more of my favorite au babeyyyy#dreamling#fic rec
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I'm on the run with you, my sweet love [x]
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When I read a fanfic I like, the author becomes a mini celebrity to me. So when an author with a work I like kudos’ or comments on my own fanfic I just-
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unavoidable that you will be the villain in someone else's story. You will be painted in an unfavorable light. You will be the irredeemable one. and all of this will happen despite how nice you might usually be or how kind or how respectful or how warm. and you will just have to move on.
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THE WITCH (2015) dir. Robert Eggers
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