lost x dreams

pinned post!* short etiquette for the dash;

please do not reblog this post

credits* main header is drawn by 50centgummy

icon edited/created by strebcr

& pinned art is drawn by abneyart

when do you gaze at your soulmate?

when they're dancing

you're not sure if they know you're there or not. you're not sure if it matters. you watch them sway to the music, watch as they twirl around and smile for no one but themselves. they're free and laughing. they're alive and vibrant. they're everything you might never be except when you're with them. so full of life it makes something in your chest tighten. there are frown lines at the corners of your mouth but your lips are smiling right now. rare. and often, only for them. they have light in their hearts and some days you fear the darkness in you might swallow it whole. but they'd never let you walk away. so make sure the darkness inside you keeps all the other monsters away from their tender heart.

something positive and silly! list six songs (or however many you want!) that get your muse excited, that make your muse want to dance, to sing out loud, or gets their foot tapping, or maybe it's just a song that gets your muse feeling good about life!

Can't Take My Eyes Off You - by Frankie Valli

Milkshake - Kelis

Dancing on the Ceiling - Lionel Richie

I'm So Excited - The Pointer Sisters

I Wanna Dance with Somebody (Who Loves Me) - Whitney Houston

Sing Sing Sing - Alan Silvestri

Hips Don't Lie - Shakira

SEND AN EMOJI FOR A STARTER / DRABBLE BASED ON… II @sasorikigai requested: ✍🏻 : my muse to write your muse a letter (reverse maybe? For Hanzo to find this in one of his deployments)

Compared to the commander, Olivia would not consider herself that sneaky, or perhaps it was because the commander's style of stealth was far more trained than hers. The man capable of walking so quietly into a room, one might think it eerie, but for the jazz singer she would always be impressed by the man's careful footing. She had often teased Hanzo for this skill, wondering if he was a ninja or thief in another life, to which gets her that iconic glance and almost smirk from the commander.

However with how distracted Hanzo is with his organizing, getting ready for his deployment, does Olivia decide to slip the letter into his crossbody duffel bag. It is the same one Hanzo's always carried, always had, since the first day she's known him, and after the years of being together, knows just where the man puts certain items and supplies.

Sometimes the jazz singer wonders how he is able to fit what he needs into the black duffel bag, as she kneels down to unzip the side of it, glancing up to make sure her surprise letter isn't seen right away. The letter is placed in the same place his tactical gloves are, underneath the thick leather, because it would be the best spot to be found. Long after he's landed for deployment, likely never finding the letter during the flight or until he's settled into what uncomfortable location they've dumped him at.

And just as carefully as she arrives to his duffel bag, Olivia retreats just as smoothly back to her spot in their bedroom, settling onto the mattress with a hum.

The letter, hidden away and unnoticed, remains where it is in Hanzo's bag. A secret gift given to the commander, as they say their farewells at the airport, even as Olivia receives that text when he lands, and returns to the harsh environment of his deployment.

She does not know if Hanzo has read the letter. Olivia guesses that his mission has become his main focus or signal in the location he's stationed is weak where she cannot receive any stable contact. Olivia distracts herself regardless, trying not to think of what she's written to Hanzo, grabbing her lyrical paper, her blue pens and acoustic guitar, making herself comfortable on their large bed and lose herself in the art of music.

To get her mind off those words, loving and intimate, to provide Hanzo Hasashi with a warmth that should last for the month he is away from her. The letter, with it's cream colored envelope, elegant stationary inside with the small bluebirds watermarked in the corner, written in her careful cursive that smudges slightly at the edges of certain words.

Dearest Hanzo, I am certain you will find this letter hours after you've arrived at your destination. Maybe when you're settled in your bunk with a single flashlight on or maybe when you finally need those tactical gloves to protect your knuckles, those same ones that I have insisted you replace because they are too old. Alas my love, you do not listen no matter how I fuss about it, because you are correct in that the gloves are still wearable, still manageable, and useful to your missions. I only hope your gloves continue to provide you security against what comes your way, so that I may kiss your hands, the ones I adore, when you return.

I did not wish to make this letter short as my usual letters or sticky notes. I want to write you something that will fill any tension your mission might give to your senses and thoughts. I am certain you do not mind, as you are a man who thoroughly enjoys literature to the fullest, and maybe when the night is lonely or too quiet, my letter can bring you my idle thoughts in the way that I am when we share our bed together. I wonder how you sleep on missions. What kind of bed, what room, and what the temperature is. You run warm, my love, and I fear that might make it difficult for you sometimes when you are in locations where it is too humid or too sweltering. Although maybe it is my worrying that thinks this, as you seem to endure the summer seasons in our city than I do. Our morning jogs being an example of this. Even so, please stay hydrated, and don't consume too much of that meager excuse for coffee that your squadron calls edible.

I know the beds or whatever your job considers a bed, is nothing like ours. I know they never will be because we picked the our bed with the upmost dedication. The perfect width and height from the ground. The proper headboard that you insisted be made of real wood, which we know I agreed on, but pushed that price would be an issue. I remember the look you gave me and how huffy I was when I knew that look. That money is never hindrance when it comes to our comfort nor how in the long run, a headboard made of real wood is practical. We decided on walnut. Now whenever I think of walnuts, be it wood or the seed, I think of that day. You know how silly that is? I can never look at a bowl of walnuts ever the same because of you, my darling Hanzo.

I wish I was there to make sure you eat properly. I wish I was able to pack you a proper meal for these deployments. I know military rations reach the appropriate diet for commanders and their soldiers but they are not the same as warm miso soup. It is not the same as sitting side by side with you, on our early mornings, and share in that savory dish with fresh steamed rice, that grilled fish you prepare me, or the green tea I brew for you. I wish I could pack you my stews or my roasted sweet potatoes. I wish, darling I wish, I could be there to make sure you're not living off protein bars and those energy gels you know that I can't stand during our jogs unless it's the orange ones. I can't stand knowing you're not eating properly and I know you don't because when you return from those missions, the bulk of your body is bigger, but the thinness in your cheekbones is noticeable or the lack of shine in your midnight hair. I would never accuse malnutrition as part of your job, but you know me well enough that I always worry for your health, in the same way you do mine.

I write this letter, with my favorite pen, in the privacy of my dressing room. Wearing a dress that you gifted me the first year we became a couple, in the first year our love blossomed into something loving and fresh. That beautiful, lovely dark blue dress etched with golden petals, and how you said it would match both my eyes and my voice. I remember how I didn't understand what you meant, by my voice, because I have never thought it as something as precious as gold. I still do not think this, no matter how many records or singles I sell, nor how many fans I bring to the club. I suppose because I have never thought it was that precious. To know you have thought that, even all those years ago, stuns me tonight. Now every time I wear this dress, as I press it against my body and allow my fingers to tenderly touch the golden petals, I think of you. I think of your hands, of your gaze, and of your intriguing warmth of yours. I think of the love you feel for me and show to me, even when you are right now so far away from my arms.

I think of how I wish you were here. In my dressing room. Giving me that good luck kiss before I take the stage and being there after the show to put your arm around my waist and pull me close because you see the exhaustion in my body and I want nothing more than to lean against you because of it. You never complain when I do this, my darling Hanzo. You always allow me to lean against you, no matter how haggard you are from your own work, because something about the way I press myself against you always leaves you feeling better. I see that, my love, how you soften around me. How your body relaxes against mine and how you also press into me as if I might slip away from you. I cannot fathom why you would ever think I would leave your side, be it when you are tired, when you are angered, when you are amused, or when you are numb. I sit here, against my vanity desk, glancing up at my mirror, and think as I write this that a part of me knows why you hold yourself against me as you do but I will not write what it is. Some words are best not put into ink, my love, not when I know why you hold me dearly on those nights where you know you can be vulnerable with me.

Tonight we will reunite after my show. You will not know about this letter nor how I intend to place it into your duffel bag in a few days time. We will reunite and you will kiss me the way you always do and hold my chin the way you do with your gentle fingertips and I will kiss you back. After we will return home, have our dinner, and I will curl up against you until all I hear is your heartbeat against my cheek. All the while my letter to you remains hidden in my purse, awaiting for the moment you open it, and how I hope what I write to you brings you ease on this one month deployment. Do not lose my letter, my love, my darling Hanzo, because it will be all I can give when your phone signal is weak and my golden voice cannot reach you. I love you dearly, return to me alive, and I will keep the bedroom lamp on as I always do for your arrival. I will make sure a certain stuffed dragon is on your side of the bed and I will make sure the glock, that gift you have trained me with, remains in it's spot for when you cannot be here to protect me. I promise not to finish that bottle of plum wine when I am lonely for you and I promise not to fall asleep on our leather couch in your jacket imagining that it is your arms around me instead. I will promise you all of this, as long as I know you will return to me, my beloved.

Yours always, your songbird, your Olivia.