bionic.β anw, here are links to reports if you're curious as to what's happening in indonesia:
(tw police brutality, arson, mass unrest)
https://t.co/q6ziHIadCy
https://t.co/CDcg1SW8od
https://t.co/hj1qn4ilCF hi hi, a little intermezzo/life updates. there are nationwide protests in my country rn, and things just keep escalating since the government is refusing to respond properly to the masses.
Hippolyta Hall dreams often.
She dreams of the gentle things in the clouds. She dreams of the slithering things in the dark.
She dreams a mortal's life, a mortal's fantasy.
She is not given to remember that she is the mother of a Dream.
But Dream knows. And Dream watches.
β Thoughts of creation, great tides of imagination carving new paths before his eyes as he ponders the trivial matters of his own heart.
For his heart is a reflection of the Dreaming, and the Dreaming is brimming with potential.
"I feel that I might like that, yes. Very much."
He blinks, taken aback by the sudden gesture, starlit eyes filled by swirling nebulas in the moment that it takes for him to wrest back control.
Dream needs not be so collected all the time, now, and yet, still.
"I feel. . ."
Thoughts come swift and slow to him.
Hope nods, the furrow in her brow softening a bit.
"I suppose the way that he feels β or, felt (?) might as well be put to rest in the same way that he was. You're at the helm now, Little Dream." She smiles, patting his head gently. +
β β β β β β
my talentβs for lying ... for sticking the knife
in when people least expect it. then walking
away with a smile οΉ a wave before they
EVEN REALIZE THEYβRE BLEEDING.
β β β