#“TOP 5 things to be doing to not make your house look old” and god nothing makes me want to watch your video less

[vault81]

kinda killing me to put rubber mats over a carpet for the kitchen..

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 2 part 1

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3])

Hey tumblr queers and agathario enthusiasts (I see you guys in the comments! @crybabyheathen, sorry to cause you so much distress! @onceuponalegendbg: I KNOW, RIGHT?? @ragnarockz thank you for being a butch!Agatha truther ❤️❤️)

Let's start episode 2, Circle Sewn with Fate / Unlock Thy Hidden Gate. Which, yes, has no Rio. But it has Lilia! Se let's count our blessings!!

oh my god girl, calm down! she's gone! focus!

that's a beautiful composed shot, with billy's head next to the rabbit, already telling us that he's going to become a son to Agatha

lmao she's about to bolt

aaaand she stops dead in her tracks when Billy mentions the Road. Look at her reflection again! that's so deliberate and so intriguing. how would you guys interpret it?

the Ballad theme playing in the background again. Agatha takes a whole step back when she hears the words "the Witches' Road" and immediately says no. she might be despicable, but there's no way she's getting a kid involved. especially not this kid. because they are somehow connected, otherwise how would she know about the car crash? even without knowing that this is Billy, she already cares about him. and she doesn't lie to him, even the tarots will say so. she might just, you know, omit things or even tell the truth from a certain point of view (already working on her obi-wan ghost mentor tricks)

"The road is no place to a kid." and so he was christened

but I can't stop staring at that rabbit picture. were the set people told to find the brightest bunny they could find? they really want you to notice it

now he's hopping like a bunny too! yes his legs are still tied, but I'm telling you it's all deliberate!! (insert either the pepe silvia or the I've connected the dots meme here)

don't tell him THAT. now he's gonna internalize it and accidentally kill you all one by one. christ.

girl you just got thrown around the room like a rag doll. you put together that outfit in two minutes, didn't even take a shower. you have no make up on. are you wearing ralph's shoes. is that his hat. (her being so frazzled speaks of how shell-shocked she is, she would usually take time to perfect the way she looks, because her looks is her armor)

billy is bullshitting too, he just googled her last night. I mean, I'm 100% convinced he cares about Agatha, but he is faking at least some of that trust and innocence (and good for him because she's a menace)

great, she found the brooch and nicky's hair. who needs a heart anyway, here, tear it out of my chest why don't you

Lilia has such beautiful handwriting. what a multitalent

NO, agatha. BAD agatha. now she's decided she might as well throw a little Road together and kill two or three idiots while keeping the boy safe on the side, which HISTORICALLY HAS NOT WORKED WELL FOR HER. how can she be so smart and SO STUPID

this also goes in the Top 5 Funniest Things Agatha's Ever Done list. now picture again all the dramatic car scenes from episode 1

covens are drawn together by fate and are the truest form of sisterhood??? why is rewatching this show kind of like being repeatedly stabbed in the heart???!!!??

look billy, it's the house where you were born! it was incredibly weird. a stork was there. (oh god, I just realized Billy is 3 years old)

Agatha spits at Wanda's home because a) she hates wanda and b) she hates that people hate wanda. this is the equivalent of being a queer kid and seeing faggot written on a locker (do I need to censor words? do tiktok rules apply now? I haven't written tumblr posts in so long)

except that, as Lilia will tell you, agatha has done a lot to smear witches' reputations, so yeah. consequences of her own actions etc.

be cool, man. mama is having the worst hangover of her life.

oh yes, Billy's boyfriend, Boyf.

shut up agatha, you know you wanna protect that little twink with your whole life

I almost wish I had an extra hour so I could gif agatha throwing the pen out of the window.

don't steal other people's pearls you hooligan (but see? clothes and accessories are props to her)

(by the way you won't find any Billy hate here, because I adore parent-children, mentor-mentee and found family relationships. and I think he's a sweetheart)

agatha discreetly snatching the eviction notice from the door. always thinking ahead, always scheming. the con master at work

*angel choir*

✨✨LILIA CALDERU✨✨

this show gave me a tragic villainous middle aged lesbian, which is literally my catnip, and she's only like, my second favorite character. which tells you all you need to know about the powers of dame Patti LuPone (I know she's not technically a dame) (yet) (I don't care if she's american Chucks, get to it!)

that's all I have time for tonight, can't wait to get me some ✨✨✨✨ Lilia scenes ✨✨✨✨

go to episode 2 part 2

[cherubimcore]

pairing: alastor x reader

author's notes: i wrote this fic a loong time ago and it was supposed to be a series but then my hyperfixation with hazbin hotel faded and other stuffs happened (*cof* *cof* college *cof* *cof*) so since i had fun writing it, and i started to watch hazbin hotel again and my hyperfixation is coming back i decided to post it and if pleople like it i might continue <3

p.s: i'm still writiing my logan howlett/phantom of the opera au hopefully i will post it soon <3

this wasn’t the first time that you felt you were being watched.

everything started when you left your parent’s house after college to have a fresh start in your life with a job in new orleans, the city where your grandma grew up, she was more than happy to let you stay at the house from her childhood, since no one lived there in a long time and she felt that a new generation was just what the house needed.

your first day at the new/old house went as well as one would expect, since most of the furniture was already in the house in some-what good conditions the only thing you took was your clothes, books and electronics.

that’s when everything started, on that first night at the house.

it was almost 4 am and you still were in your bed finishing some work for that day, when you saw the fist shadow, at first you thought it was your tiredness, you were awake looking at the computer screen for the past 5 hours trying to finish an important project, so you rubbed your eyes beneath the glasses, got more comfortable in the bed and continued your work.

but this time it wasn’t a shadow you saw, looking at you from the other side of the room was a man, he had deer ears on top of his head next to his antlers, he was wearing a red coat ragged along the bottom hem and long black dress pants, but the thing that stuck to you the most was his smile like a cheshire cat and black eyes with pupils shaped like radio dials.

with the blink of an eye tentacled emerged behind his back and grabbed both of your legs and arms beneath the blanket on top of your pressing your body in the bed until it hurted, you tries to fight back but the only thing you managed to accomplish was to drop your glasses on the floor breaking them, but you still could see him slowly walking towards you each step making him glitch in the reality until he was on top of you, you shut your eyes closed praying to whatever god that could hear you to help.

“ah, ah, ah!” the thing said, you could feel his hot breath on your cheek “i want you to look at me, my dear, i want to look at your eyes when i tell you that no matter the god you are praying he won’t be coming to help”

you opened one of your eyes, scared of what he may do if you didn’t comply.

“i want to look at your eyes and tell you that there’s no way of getting rid of me, darling, i have been interested in you since you crossed that door this morning, your blood smells so sweet i can’t wait to eat you up!”

you felt the dark tentacled slowly letting your arms and legs go free, you tried to get away from the man but he started to emit static noise that got more and more distorted until you had to put your hand on your ears to muffle the noise until…

you woke up.

you still had your computer on your lap, you were still beneath the covers and your glasses were on your face in one piece.

taking deep breaths to calm your racing heart, telling yourself that it was only a nightmare and you were safe.

but when you turned your laptop off and turned around to try and get some actual sleep, you missed the shadow on your door silently watching you.

“i knew we shouldn’t have let him do this by himself” husk said, opening a bottle of whiskey

“what do you mean?” alastor asked, his smile widening “i even said ‘i want to eat you up’ that’s the most romantic thing in the world!”

“we’re screwed!” angel dust groaned from the other side of the room “freaky face doesn’t even know what ‘romance’ means! i bet he can’t make her fall in love with him until the deadline, the next extermination is just in a couple of months! you guys should have let me do it!”

“you know that’s not the deal with the angels” charlie said while vaggie patted her in the back “besides i know alastor is doing his best!”

everyone in the room rolled their eyes, they knew that the radio demon wouldn’t do a favor like that if he had nothing to gain from it, so far it looked like he wanted it all to fail spectacularly.

“charlie!” charlie’s father lucifer came running downstairs with something on his hand “i have a new letter from heaven”

“well since my job from the day seems to be over i will be going have some dinner” alastor interrupted the king of hell and walked towards his room.

“i wouldn’t do that if i were you” lucifer stepped in front of him “it has your name in it and for what i understand you will want to read this"

taken aback from the serious tone in lucifer’s voice alastor stopped in his tracks and snatched the letter from the hand of the blond man in front of him.

with a sigh the deer man sat in the stool at the bar while everyone tried to take a look behind his back at the letter but failing miserably.

alastor tried to read the letter with a calm demeanor but each line made his eyebrows furrow and his jaw tightened.

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 5 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley continues to struggle through his dates when he knows you're at his house. When you meet Natasha, you get the wrong impression of her from the start. But after a night out at the bar with his best friend, Bradley makes a move.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (eventually 18+)

Length: 5400 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

When you arrived on Friday, Bradley was in the kitchen eating a bowl of the cereal and milk that you got for him, and Noah was playing with blocks in the hallway. 

"Hi, Noah! You'll never guess what kind of coloring book I found this time."

"More dinosaurs?" he asked, handing you an orange block. 

"Even better. Outer space," you told him, setting the block on the top of his tower. 

Bradley was already smiling at you when you made your way into the kitchen. "That's for you. Your bonus," he said nodding toward a coffee cup with Bradley scrawled across it. 

You gasped in mock surprise. "Do I wanna know what you had to do to get it?"

He shook his head solemnly between cereal bites. "I'm taking it to the grave."

Your laughter seemed to make his smile grow bigger. "Got it. I'll never bring it up again. Thank you." You took a sip and moaned softly; it was just that good. You might have to switch coffee shops.

Bradley grunted and set his bowl in the sink before slipping past you as he muttered something about needing to get changed. You watched him squat down and kiss Noah before stepping over the mess of blocks with his long legs and heading toward his bedroom.

You wondered if your paper crown was still in there.

"Are you hungry?" you asked Noah. "You want me to make you macaroni and cheese with a side of ants?"

"Yeah," Noah agreed, handing you some more blocks to play with first. You built three towers in a row with him before you set up the coloring books at the kitchen table so he could sit there while you made his dinner. 

When you started playing some music on your phone, you selected that band that you knew Bradley liked, and sure enough when he emerged from his room, he was shaking his head at you. 

"I still can't believe you know their songs," he said, finishing the buttons on his colorful shirt. 

"I already told you, you're not that old." You were happy to see that he seemed to be more comfortable in his clothing now compared to the date where he wore the dress shirt. "Where are you going tonight?"

"Just dinner. Maybe a movie after that if things seem promising," he said, meeting your eyes. 

"Any excuse for popcorn. Are you taking your pajamas with you?" you asked, but then you realized that implied there might be a sleepover. Your heart clenched in your chest. Oh God. One of these nights, there might be a sleepover involved. What would you do then? 

Of course you wanted him to find someone he was compatible with so he could be happy, but when you really started to consider the implications, you felt a little queasy. 

"I can't go to the movie theater without a shirt on, so I'll be leaving my pajama pants here."

"Good," you whispered, stirring the pasta in the boiling water, thinking about him in just a pair of low slung gray sweatpants.  

"See you in a few hours." He kissed Noah, and then he was gone. 

When you brought a bowl of mac and cheese over to Noah, he looked up and told you, "I like you. And Daddy said you're his favorite."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Well, I like you too, Noah. And don't tell anyone, but your Daddy is kinda my favorite, too." 

----------------------------

Bradley finally figured it out; meeting new women over and over again was tedious. Almost none of them got his humor right off the bat, resulting in awkward laughter and a few strange looks. 

"So what do you do for the Navy?" Carolyn asked him as she sipped her drink.

Bradley smiled and said, "Waste millions of dollars in taxpayer money annually. What do you do?"

She just looked at him blankly. When he told you essentially the same thing last week, you had immediately told him that Uncle Sam could suck it. 

"Uh," Carolyn said with a forced laugh. "I do online data entry."

God, had there ever been a single profession that Bradley wanted to discuss less than that? Twenty more minutes of talking about essentially nothing, and then luckily dinner had arrived. There was no way a movie was getting tacked on to this date. 

What the hell was wrong with him? All of these women had been attractive, seemingly normal, and smart. It must be Bradley. He must be the problem. He thought he knew now what it was, of course. Nat had even called him out on it: he kept thinking about you. How you looked like you fit in at his house. How you and Noah had already bonded. How you kept doing little things to take care of both of them, acting like it was no big deal.

It was a big deal. Bradley was eating hot food again at home. Spaghetti, fajitas, and eggs. Noah was eating healthy snacks, and you kept cleaning things up. He left two hundred dollars behind the TV this time and told you to spend it on anything you wanted. 

And that was the other thing. For some reason, he trusted you. With Noah, with his money, and in his house. 

Bradley took out his wallet to pay for dinner and checked the time on his phone. You had sent him a text a while ago. 

Babysitter: Your son is going to be an architect.

Attached was a picture of Noah building an elaborate castle with his blocks, and your bare legs were stretched out alongside him. He couldn't look away. You had bright purple toenail polish, the same color as the fucking crown that was back on his bedpost. Your hand was in the picture too, and all he could imagine was how you used it to pop one colorful Skittle at a time between your glossy lips.

Bradley looked up at Carolyn before he signed the check. "Hey, this was fun, but I'm going to head home for the night." He watched her face fall, surprised that she might have actually been enjoying herself. 

"Oh, okay."

Well, if this had been a good date for her, maybe Bradley really was a lost cause who was way too picky for his own good. Because it had been painful enough for him that he just wanted to be at home on his couch. And if you were there too, then all the better.

He tried not to think about you on the drive home, but as soon as he caught sight of your car, he couldn't stop himself. Your legs and your face and the way you talked to him. Fuck, he needed to get inside. 

When Bradley noisily let himself in, you weren't on the couch. The disappointed feeling of not seeing you right away filled him up as his eyes settled on the paper crowns on the side table. "Hey, I'm home," he called out softly, and then you were poking your head into the living room.

"Hi," you whispered, heading toward him, and he had the urge to open up his arms for you. "Noah had a bad dream. I was just making sure he's okay."

Bradley ran his hand through his hair. "I'll go check on him," he mumbled, inhaling your wildflower scent as he passed you. 

As he bent down to kiss his son, Bradley noticed his pinched face and restless movements. "It's okay, bub," he whispered, smoothing his fingers along the tiny cheeks and forehead. Noah took a deep breath in his sleep and rolled onto this side, and hopefully that was a good sign that he was going to fall into a deeper sleep. 

Bradley walked down the hallway and glanced into his pristine kitchen before making his way back to the living room where you were stacking up your textbooks on the table. If you kept cleaning his house and cooking for him, he was going to have to pay you more. And not just in French vanilla coffee. 

"You're home pretty early," you remarked, looking up at him over your shoulder. "No movie?"

"Nah," he said, wishing you'd stop packing up your tote bag. 

You smirked. "And what exactly was wrong with this one?"

He chuckled and grinned at you. "Well, where do I begin? Her hair was like an inch longer than I can possibly tolerate. And her car was burgundy. I hate burgundy cars. And she doesn't like popcorn."

"Okay," you said with a laugh. "You're just making this shit up."

"I'm not!" he insisted while trying to fight his grin. "She ordered a salad with no dressing! That's not normal! And her nails were painted pink. So boring!"

You were laughing in earnest now. "I'll bet her entire house is beige!"

"Terrifying!" he gasped, gripping his heart. "You're heading out, Princess?"

He watched you carefully look at his empty hands and inspect him all over. "I don't see any wine or beer tonight. No more coffee cups either. Nothing to keep me here," you said with a shrug, but you were smiling. 

"I could make some coffee. Or I have some of that beer left." He didn't know why it felt so important to keep you here longer, but he really wanted to take your bag out of your hand. 

"No, that's okay. You still want me tomorrow night?" you asked, shrugging your tote bag onto your shoulder. 

"Every night," he mumbled, and he watched your lips part slowly as his eyes went wide. "I mean, yeah, tomorrow night, yes. I do still need you tomorrow night."

"Right." 

Your gaze dropped down to his lips, and Bradley was slowly moving before he could stop himself. At first you were frozen in place, and he knew he should be slamming on the brakes, but your tongue darted out to glide across your glossy lips. 

Then you closed the distance between his body and yours with one decisive step, and Bradley was reaching for your pretty face. The skim of his thumb along your cheek as he grazed your neck with his fingertips had your eyes fluttering closed. 

You were perfect. He wanted you. He considered the fact that if he let himself, he could grow to need you. As the tip of his nose brushed your face and his lips barely met yours, he heard Noah call out from his room. "Daddy!"

And with that one word, you were jerking out of his soft grasp like you had been burned. 

"Noah needs you," you said quickly, hoisting your bag higher onto your shoulder as you looked at the couch.

"Yeah," Bradley whispered, wishing you would still meet his eyes. 

But you turned toward the door and waved over your shoulder. "See you tomorrow at 6."

And you were gone. And Bradley was making his way into Noah's room. But Noah was already asleep again.

------------------------

Your heart was pounding as you drove home. You and Bradley had kissed. Just barely, but still. You moaned at the memory of his mustache brushing your upper lip. "Oh my God," you whispered, running your fingers along your lips. Your crush on him was hopeless. Ridiculous. But was it unrequited?

If his date hadn't gone well tonight, why did he need you there again tomorrow? He hadn't even taken that woman to the movie theater after dinner. Was he really going to take her out again? 

What if... what if he wanted to hang out with you? He had mentioned making you some coffee or getting the beers out. You were an idiot. You could be sitting on his couch with him right now, sipping a microbrew IPA and sharing a bag of Skittles. He could be kissing you senseless into the couch cushions. You wouldn't have been stopping him.

"Shit," you gasped, almost turning your car around. But you were already turning onto your block, your little rental house coming into view.

What if. There were too many what ifs. You really liked Bradley. Noah was so sweet, you loved being around him. Their house already felt cozier than your rental. You whined helplessly as you parked and hauled your books inside. 

You spent most of Saturday morning and afternoon blasting music and making snacks while you tried to study. Every time you thought about Bradley, you made yourself run up your stairs to your bedroom and back down, getting a really nice workout in. 

When you checked the time on your phone, you nearly dropped it on the floor.

Bradley Bradshaw: I wish we hadn't been interrupted last night, Princess.

"Oh, fuck." The text was from nearly an hour ago. You scrambled with clumsy fingers to write back as quickly as you could.

Same. But I hope Noah was okay?

But he didn't write back. So you got yourself ready to go, taking extra care with your hair and makeup.  And an hour later, you were on your way to his house with homemade snacks and so much hope in your heart. Maybe he wanted to spend the evening watching a movie with you and Noah.  

But when you pulled up, there was an SUV in his driveway next to his Bronco, and you had to park on the street. You grabbed your bag that contained just one of your textbooks and a bunch of snacks and eyed the SUV warily as you opened the front door. 

And there stood such a stunningly beautiful woman, you froze halfway through the door. She had dark hair and perfect skin, and her brown eyes were searching you like you were a science experiment or something to examine under a microscope. Just as a smile curled along her lips, you heard Bradley call from the kitchen. "Hey Nat, get in here and help me! You know I need you."

Your heart sank at the sound of his voice beckoning to her. And now she was smiling at you fully as you shut the door behind you and set your bag down. 

"Nat!" Bradley called with laughter in his voice. "Don't make me come get you!"

But this woman was paying him no attention. Rather, she was making her way closer to you and holding out her hand. "Hi, I'm Natasha. You must be the babysitter," she said, a teasing, singsong tone to her voice. You instantly felt like this beautiful woman was making fun of you. Putting you in your place.

"Yeah. That's me," you said with as much courage as you could manage. Was this the woman Bradley went out with last night? Was this someone else he was seeing? Maybe a fling he was giving a second chance? God, they would look perfect together. You could honestly picture it.

"Well, I've heard a lot about you, sweetheart." Her eyes were positively twinkling with mirth at your expense now. "It's nice to meet you."

You were just about to ask exactly who she was and why she seemed to know so much about you, but then Bradley appeared in the living room. "Natasha!" his voice boomed, but then he paused when he saw you. "Oh, you're here." His voice softened considerably when he looked at you. He was wearing well worn jeans that clung to his perfect body and a plain, white undershirt. He was so sexy, you could barely think straight.

But why had he texted you that he wished you hadn't been interrupted by Noah if he had this other woman here now? You watched this Natasha walk past him, patting his flat belly as she went into the kitchen.

You felt like crying. You could feel your brow creasing as you tried to hold back the stinging sensation behind your eyes as Bradley made his way over to you.

"Princess." His voice was so soft and he was smirking down at you. 

"Bradley?" But his name fell from your tongue like a question. 

"Come on into the kitchen."

You didn't want to go into the kitchen. You wanted to leave. But he pressed his hand to the small of your back and guided you along. 

"Who is that woman?" you blurted just before you reached the kitchen doorway. 

You felt Bradley's huge hand grip you a little tighter as he laughed. "She's truly horrible, isn't she?"

"What?" you gasped as he guided you into the kitchen. Noah was sitting at the table, making a huge mess with cut up construction paper and a glue stick. And Natasha was fiddling around with Bradley's fancy coffee maker like she freaking lived here. 

"It worked last time I tried to make a latte. What did you do to it?" she asked Bradley, bending over the counter and showcasing her perfect body. 

You thought you might actually hate her. 

"It was supposed to be her treat," Bradley said at the same time that Natasha finally got the machine to do what she wanted, because she stood up and clapped. 

And then Noah spotted you and jumped out of the chair, wrapping his arms around your leg and saying he missed you, even though you'd seen him last night. You almost dropped your tote bag on the floor in all the commotion and emotions, but Bradley caught it and set it on one of the chairs. 

"I was trying to make you a vanilla latte, but I needed Nat to figure it out. Always saving the day, huh?" Bradley said, sharing a high five with Natasha. 

"You're terrible at everything," she told him. "I can't believe they let you fly a Super Hornet."

"I can't believe I've been putting up with you for nearly fifteen years," Bradley told her, running his fingers along your back briefly before he handed you the latte when it finished brewing in a mug that said Noah's Dad.

You held onto it with both hands and whispered, "Thank you." Then you watched Natasha clean up some of Noah's construction paper mess and pat him on the head. 

"Aunt Natasha promises to take you for ice cream next week if you're really good for you dad and your babysitter. Sounds fun, kiddo?" Noah lit up at her words.

"You ready to go?" Bradley asked Natasha, and she just nodded and said she would meet him outside.

"See you around," she told you with a wink. 

You just nodded like an idiot and tried to sip the blazing hot latte. Then you looked up at Bradley's handsome face.

"I might be kind of late tonight. I'll be at Nat's mercy for a ride home."

"Oh," you whispered. "Okay."

But now he was looking at you like he had been last night, as if he wanted to stay here with you instead of going out. 

He sighed deeply. "She's kind of making me go out and socialize with our friends. I guess that's what best friends are good for? Making sure you don't fall off the grid?"

Your heart perked up immediately. "She's your best friend?" you asked softly. He had told you his best friend was a woman. She referred to herself as Noah's aunt. She must be the one who had installed the dating app on his phone. She's the reason you met Bradley in the first place.

"Yeah," he said with a laugh. "And unfortunately I think it's too late to try to trade her for a better one."

You took a sip of the latte. Suddenly it wasn't too hot. It was perfect. Bradley was perfect, and so was Noah. Even Natasha was truly a delight. You couldn't wait to see her again. 

"Bye, bub," Bradley said, accepting a kiss on his cheek from Noah who was now holding approximately nine colored pencils in each hand. "See you later," he told you with a soft smile, brushing past you on his way out of the kitchen. 

"It's a beautiful day, Noah. Let's go for a hike."

------------------------------

Bradley was five beers deep at the Hard Deck when Jake handed him a sixth. "Thanks," he mumbled, kind of hating that Hangman was being nice to him. He wasn't used to this. But Nat must have been telling Bradley the truth when she said everyone missed him. Even Penny had paused for a minute to ask him how he was, and also to make sure things were going well with you babysitting Noah.

"Tell me, Rooster," Jake drawled, "how is your foray into online dating treating you?"

Bradley glared at Nat. "Have you told everyone about the dating app?"

"Not everyone. Javy doesn't know," she replied. 

"What don't I know?" Coyote asked her as he paused on his way to the pool table.

"That Rooster is on a dating app. Oops," Nat said with a grin toward Bradley. "Now everyone knows."

He just shook his head and tried to search out someone else to talk to while he sipped his beer. But Penny was slammed at the bar, and Bradley didn't want to chat up any of the women here. He wanted to chat with you. He wanted a second chance at kissing you, too.

It was late, and Noah would have to be in bed by now. He wondered if you were curled up at the end of his couch reading one of your textbooks. He could picture you placing a single Skittle in your mouth, watching it drag across your bottom lip. He wanted to taste it in your mouth.

"Fuck," he mumbled. He wished he had an excuse to text you. Without giving it too much thought, Bradley took a selfie of him with Nat and Jake. He looked okay in it, so he sent it to you. 

"Who are you texting that to?" Jake asked. 

"Nobody," Bradley replied, and after another sip of his beer, he had a text back from you. 

Babysitter: Who's that other guy?

Bradley's shoulders slumped. He should have known better. All women loved Jake. 

His name is Jake. But trust me, Princess, he wouldn't be good for you.

Bradley realized too late that Nat was reading over his shoulder. "Oh my goodness, she's asking about Jake. Poor Bradley," she said, teasingly. 

"Who's asking about me?" Jake drawled.

"Nobody," Bradley said at the same time Nat said, "The babysitter."

Bradley really didn't need that last beer. He was pretty drunk now, and quite frankly his friends were pissing him off. 

"What's she look like?" Jake asked. "And if she's cute, my next question is going to be is she over eighteen?"

Bradley rolled his eyes at Jake. "She wouldn't like you. She's smart."

Jake just laughed. "Oh, Rooster. All women like me." Bradley hated that grin. 

"Rooster has a photo of her saved on his phone," Nat sang, and Bradley wished he could tape her mouth shut.

"Show me," Jake said, and Bradley felt cornered. He pulled up that photo of you in the crown that he already loved so much and held it up for Jake and Nat to look at.

Nat was smirking, but Jake looked like someone had placed a juicy steak in front of him. 

"Holy shit. So how old is she exactly?" he asked, trying to take Bradley's phone. But luckily he wasn't too drunk to pull it away in time. 

"It doesn't matter," Bradley told him, trying to find a way to change the subject. 

"What the fuck are you doing on a dating app when that's waiting at your house? I would be tapping that nonstop," Jake said, shaking his head at Bradley. "In fact, tell her your good buddy Jake is on his way over. Tell her I want her number."

"Absolutely not," Bradley growled. And then there was another text from you.

Babysitter: He's kind of cute. For a blond. 

Bradley sighed and shook his head. He would not allow this to happen.

I can assure you he is not. He has a burgundy car, Princess. And his entire condo is beige. And he hates salad dressing.

Bradley's heart was pounding, and his head was starting to swim. He never drank this much anymore since he had to be attentive to Noah all day long. He was really regretting that last beer when you texted him a photo. Bradley's breath caught in his throat as he looked at a selfie of you laying on his living room area rug and laughing. You looked so young and sweet and perfect.

Babysitter: Nevermind. He doesn't sound like my type at all.

"Atta girl," Bradley said to nobody in particular. Everyone had wandered away from him at this point as he typed out a response.

He's definitely not your type.

Babysitter: You think you know my type?

He watched as Nat paid the tab and waved him toward the door.

I hope so, Princess. I'm on my way home. We can talk about it then.

-----------------------

Okay. These texts were getting a little flirty. That Jake guy was cute, but Bradley was definitely more attractive. Jake looked like an older version of Greyson, like the kind of guy you would usually go for: clean cut with an attitude. 

But Bradley. Well. He was definitely something different. He was older, sexier, and you were pretty sure he'd never give you an attitude. Unless you wanted him to. 

And now you were rolling around on his living room carpet, biting your lip to keep from screaming. Then you heard someone pull into his driveway, and you rocketed to your feet.

When you peeked out the window, you saw Bradley being led up the sidewalk by Natasha, which was hilarious, because he was roughly twice her size.

"Bradley," she said, pausing to scold him. "You need to stop laughing and focus on walking."

"I'm fine, Nat," he said, chuckling. 

"You did not need that last beer, did you?" she asked, fumbling to get his keys from him. You could have opened the door for them, but you were frozen, looking at the way his face was bathed in moonlight. 

"Nat, she's inside," he mumbled. 

"Yeah, she is. And you better be sweet so she doesn't ask for Jake's number."

"Fuck Jake," Bradley grumbled, and you covered your mouth to keep from laughing as Nat opened the door. 

"Hi," you said, greeting both of them with a smile.

"Hey, Princess," Bradley said, a crooked grin on his lips. 

Nat shoved him into the house. "Want me to help you get to bed?" she asked, but you held your hand up as Bradley inched closer to you.

"It's okay. I can stay and make sure he gets there."

"Excellent," Nat said with a grin that reminded you of the Cheshire cat. "He's all yours, babe."

And then she was gone, and you had Bradley towering over you, looking at you like he wanted to touch you. 

"Did you have fun?" you asked softly.

He nodded at you, his eyes half lidded as he chuckled. "Yeah. Was Noah good?"

"An angel," you promised, taking him by the hand. "Let's get you to bed, Bradley." Your heart pounded as you tried to pull him to his bedroom, but he wasn't budging. His hand was huge and warm, and he used it to pull you a little closer. 

"Do you like Jake? You think he's cute. He said he wanted your number, and it pissed me off."

You looked up at him wide eyed. He must have had a lot to drink since he was rambling a bit. "It pissed you off that I think he's cute? Or that he wanted my number?"

Bradley scoffed and pulled you against him. "Both. He's not good enough for you." 

"Oh," you gasped, running your palms along his torso where you were suddenly touching him. He was so solid. Substantial. You wondered if he had started to regret that almost kiss last night. You wanted to know what he was thinking about you. "Bradley?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't like Jake. He looks like Greyson, my ex boyfriend." 

He just shook his head a few times, running his big palm along your back again. You could feel yourself melting into him. "You can do better than either of them. You're so pretty."

"Bradley," you whispered as your entire body clenched in need. You couldn't remember ever feeling like this before. 

"You are," he told you, his brown eyes so steady and honest. "You're so funny and smart and pretty." And now he was looking at your lips. 

"Of course. I'm a princess," you told him with a small smile. And then his lips were on yours. His mouth was warm, and he tasted like beer. But you liked it. You really liked it when both of his hands wrapped around your waist, dragging your shirt up a little bit in the process. 

Your lips parted on a gasp as his fingers grazed the bare skin below your ribs. And then he was tasting you, groaning softly as your tongue met his. He was surprisingly soft and sweet, never demanding more than you were giving. Every experimental nibble on his lips led to him reciprocating the actions, making you a little crazier for him. 

When you ran your fingers up along his neck and his cheek, he groaned, "Princess," against your lips. You pushed your fingers into his hair, tugging a bit, and then he was backing you up against the TV stand. 

"Bradley," you whined when his lips found your neck. "Oh, God. You're drunk."

"Not that drunk," he mumbled against your skin, his breath hot, his lips dragging against your earlobe.

You did not want him to stop. That was literally the last thing on your mind right now. But you'd die next time you saw him if he said he regretted this. 

"Bradley," you said a little louder, planting both palms against his chest and pushing him firmly away. 

He released you completely and just stood there looking at you like he couldn't figure out what was going on.

"You're drunk, Bradley," you said softly. "Oh, God, I'm sorry I didn't stop you sooner." You took a few steps away from him, and he followed you like a puppy with sad eyes.

"I wanted that. Since last night. Since last week."

You just shook your head. "But you're drunk. You're the epitome of an unreliable narrator."

He just looked at you like he couldn't get enough and laughed. "How are you so funny?" he asked softly, brushing his fingers along your cheek. You were terrified that you'd follow him to his bedroom if he asked, but he wasn't in the right mind to be voicing any sorts of opinions concerning you or your lips or how funny he found you. 

"Just, go sit on the couch, okay?" you instructed, guiding him that way with a hand on his massive bicep. He dropped down onto the couch, all rosy cheeks and long, splayed legs, looking up at you like he expected you to join him. "I'll get you some water."

You dashed into the kitchen without another thought, gripping the edge of the hard granite counter with your shaky fingers. 

You wanted him. You wanted Bradley. And he was on a quest to find the right woman while you were simply here to watch Noah for him. You needed to get a grip on things. You needed to straighten this out. 

After a few deep breaths, you filled a cup with cold water and reached down the bottle of Advil you noticed on the top self next to the mugs. If Bradley was able to hold a conversation when you went back into the living room, you'd try to get him to explain what was going on. You squared your shoulders, but when you saw him, he was sprawled across the entire couch, sound asleep. 

With a deep sigh, you set the water and the Advil on the small table next to him. You watched his chest rise and fall with each breath he took, his face calm and smooth. His lips were parted slightly, and you could see the perfect white of his teeth. Gently, you pushed his wavy hair back from his forehead, letting your fingers linger in the soft strands. 

He might not even remember kissing you tomorrow. 

You took a sheet of paper and a pen out of your bag and left him a note next to his water. Then you checked that the back door was locked before giving Noah a kiss on his forehead. And with one last look at Bradley dozing peacefully, you left, locking his front door behind you.

-------------------------------

Wow, Bradley. Do it when you're sober, bro. I hope you enjoy your babysitter fic @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 6

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[scar-lie]

DNA Pt. 2 {Scarlett}

Summary : Scarlett finally found out you're her daughter

Pairing : Mom! Scarlett Johansson x Daughter!Reader

Warning : curse word, bad memory, anxiety, cutting, blood

Word count : 2,029

NO one has permission to repost my work anywhere, if you see it please let me know.

DNA Pt. 1

Cherrylemontober

"Oh, that feels good,” Scarlett sighs in relief, relaxing every muscle when one of the employees decides to give her a massage after a long hour of working doing stunts, running, and just a never-ending shoot.

“Tired huh? "Scarlett chuckled when Alice—one of the workers on the project—commented, moving her hands from shoulder up to massage her head.

“Yeah, oh god, that's the spot... That's been aching for days now,” Scarlett whispered, closing her eyes, and Alice chuckled at her behavior and kept massaging her shoulders and head.

“Ok, what exactly are we doing? "RDJ asked, still confused while driving after he picked up Lizzie, and Hugh is on the way to look for you

“It's Y/N, and it's a long story; she just ran away in bad condition.” Lizzie bites her lower lips, worried about you, and RDJ is confused and worried too.

“Why? "He stops at the red light and faces Lizzie, who's been busy contacting you.

“It's... She found out who her biological mother is, and... and I don't know what's going on in her head; she just bolted out, and I’m worried.” Lizzie's hand keeps shaking, and her breathing is getting labored, so RDJ quickly took her phone and held her hand.

"Breath, Lizzie, breath; Y/N’s fine; she wouldn't so such thing.” Robert squeezed her hand, and the light turned green, and he proceeded to drive.

You took a deep breath, still gripping the steering wheel tight. You've been sitting in your car for about 20 minutes now, after your 4-hour drive from the city to the outskirts of another city.

You look at your left side, seeing a simple but big house, enough for 20 to 40 people to fit in, then you look back forward to see a path going forward for another house of your neighbor.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, going out of the car and proceeding to walk to the door of your old house, then stopping at the door to knock three times.

“Mom? "You called out, but after a few minutes, no one is answering, so you assume that your mom went out to get some groceries or something.

So you lower down to get the spare key at the bottom of the third flowerpot, then open the door and come inside to see the place as clean as you expected.

The house was well maintained, no dust, no dirt, no trash, or anything unpleasant. The pictures scattered around the house, some hanging on the wall, some on top of the drawers.

It's all pictures of you, your mom and dad, and your lovely sister, whom you adore and love so much. This house brings so much memory that you can't help but shed a tear just by looking around and touching things.

From the picture of the four of you standing in the side drawer, past the entrance to the trophies, couches, and decorations laying around the house, that brings you to the kitchen when you four are usually having fun making dinner for Sunday night that is full of laughter before everyone goes to do what has to be done the next day.

It eventually leads you to the backyard, where you can see the city up there. Your father built a wooden fence around when your sister was 5 years old, and then he also built a big swing where your mom put comforters and pillows there after 3 months when you were adopted.

You love looking over the city from the backyard, and you always sneak out at night just so you can sit at the ground in awe and watch the city light shine with the stars.

“Here you are, Miss Troublemaker,” your father sat besides you after another night of you sneaking out of your room when they told you to sleep and bit you goodnight.

“You know, you should really sleep now; it's getting late; you still have school tomorrow,” your mom, sat on the other side of you, then pulled you to lean on her and kiss your forehead.

“Sorry again,” they chuckle, knowing you will be doing this again eventually.

“We know, sweetie,” you whisper, then stand up.

“I guess you both plan on staying here for a little while longer. Just go inside before you two get cold, ok? "After your father answers her, ‘Yes, dear, no need to worry. Mom gives us a warning look, then goes back inside.

That night you and your dad stay late at night, you listening to the stories of your dad on how he courts your mom. Your mom eventually goes out again to fetch you both back inside before you two catch a cold, and that being said, you two got a good scolding from her first thung at the morning.

"Idiots,” you chuckle at the memories, not knowing your tears, cunning down your tears.

You sigh, taking off your shoes, putting your bag, key, and phone down to the pavement of your backyard before you set foot on the soft grass and go to the swing to sit and lay back your back at the headboard of the swing and begin to hum the song your family loves.

“I miss you, Dad..I wish you were here,” you whisper, looking down, and you can't take the pain anymore. You sob there, curling to the ball and crying on your knees until you run out. Tears still keep dropping one tear after another, while quiet sobs keep coming out of your mouth.

Not knowing your mom is already home, standing right before your things on the pavement, happy and also sad seeing your shoulder shaking, without any doubt, your mom also took her shoes off and walked towards you.

"Sweetie,” your mom called. You quickly turn to the other way and wipe your tears, making yourself presentable as much as possible.

“What’s the problem? Honey? "Your mom sat down beside you, opening her arms for you to get in and lean on her.

“It's nothing; I just missed Dad, that's all.” Your mom didn't push you but offer a comfort that you know you can trust and lean on to her no matter what.

“Ok...just don't forget me and your sister is here, ok?”She kissed your forehead, cupping your cheeks, and made you look at her.

"Yes, Mom,” you quickly move to embrace the comfort your mom is giving you.

You’ve been out the whole day, not answering the phone calls or texting to anyone. Lizzie and the other were worried sick looking out for you.

It's 9 p.m. when you decide to head back home to your house in the city, and when you open the door, Scarlett is there, walking back and forth.

She's been worried for hours now. When the news reaches her, Lizzie doesn't have a choice but to contact Scar and ask her about the places where you could go, and that's when Scar knows that you run away.

“Y/N gosh, we were worried sick for you; where have you been?"Scarlett quickly enveloped you in her arms, but you quickly but gently got out of her

“I wanted to be alone. Please leave.” You open your front door, but Scarlett didn't move an inch.

“Y/N? "Scarlett whisper, she can read your expression and body language well, and she knows that you want space but not wanting to leave you all alone.

“What's the problem? "She tried to reach out, but you moved and opened the door more for her to get out.

“Leave me alone,” you said with so much hatred.

The more you look at her, the more your patience gets thin, and the more angry you are, you can't accept the fact that she's the person who gave birth to you and who threw you in that stupid orphanage.

And the more you hear her voice, the more your memory comes rushing back bit by bit, where you try to leave it to the back of your mind and you hate her for it.

“LEAVE NOW, DAMMIT! "You scream, not wanting to be near her anymore.

"Y/N, I'm here; you can tell me everything." Your blood boils, and you explode right there and then.

"You wanna know, huh? Ok...you wanna know how fucking bad of a mother you are, leaving your child to a shitty orphanage who makes them work and gives them a good beating when they didn't do things right or they didn't have money to give to the orphan keeper...and I fucking hate you for that." Scarlett's eyes were wide open, because her secret is out but also confused.

"How...how do you know about my daughter?" You quickly cut her off and pushed her a little.

"Cause that child you abandoned is me. You fucking left me with that monster. I have to survive in order to llive, and you... you're in your fucking mansion, drinking wine, having delicious meals,s, and living your best life while I try to survi." You push the DNA paper on her chest and clench your jaw..

So fucking leave before I drag you out of here." You drip the door handle to control yourself and not just grab her and get her out of here.

"I-I……ok,” Scarlett is speechless, and she has tears in her eyes. She wanted to explain, but she chose to leave with a heavy heart, not knowing what to do or how to approach you.

Once she's out, you quickly lock every door and window and head up to your room and lock yourself in the bathroom.

Your heart is beating loudly; you can hear it on your head; every beat brings back memories of how the paddle sounds when it hits your skin.

Every little noise coming outside sounds like how many times you and the other run away when you all hear the madam coming home.

Every scream, every cry, every shout, every pleading—you can hear it all like it's happening, and your chest starting to hurt—that makes you sit down and lean your back on the wall, clutching your chest.

You look around in hopes of distraction, but your eyes land on the razor blades you use this morning to shave.

Your mind says no, but your body has a different approach; it quickly grabs it, taking your shirt off and starting to cut your hips.

The blade kissing your tender skin, puncturing the flesh and drawing blood, and you sigh in relief, one cut after another; some are deep, some were superficial wounds. The only thing that makes you stop is when you look up at the mirror, seeing yourself.

“What have I done? ”You drop the blade;your eyes lock on the blood on your hips and hands.

“Oh god,” you shed tears over what you've done. You've been 6 years clean, and you promise your dad that you will stay clean before he dies.

And you curse yourself for doing this to yourself without thinking it, but it also makes you feel safe and alive at the same time.

You got interrupted when your phone rang and Lizzie's name flashed on your screen, so you cleared your throat and answered her call, knowing she's worried too.

*LIZZIE*

Hey-

Where have you been, huh? We’ve been going around thecity to look after you

Sorry that I worry you all. I go to Mom to clear my head

It's fine; just don't do it again, ok? Yeah

How are you? Are you okay?

Yeah, just shocked and sad and hurt. I'm fine, Liz.

I’m not convinced; I’m going there

You don't have to; I swear I’m fine, and I want to be alone.

Are you sure?

Yeah, I’m sure, just tell everyone, I’m fine and I’m sorry for making them worry.

They'll understand. Just call me when you need someone ok? I’ll be right there.

Yeah, thanks, Liz.

After saying your goodbye, you hung up and winced when you started to move to go to the

How to wash yourself, and it stings more when the water runs down to your wounds.

“I’ll be fine.” You keep chanting it until you're ready to sleep.

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Dreamweaver's Heart

Summary: The Dream Lord takes fascination to a new lucid dreamer in his realm, his Dreamweaver. The waking world is less than kind and he will travel dimensions to make sure you are safe.

Notes: ~8.6k, this was a request sent in by Anon based on this post! Otherwise, I'm sorry for having this fic take such a dark turn? It was supposed to be sweet but then in my search for more Tom Sturridge films, I came across Like Minds and it fucked with me. So now it fucks with my writing until further notice.

Warnings: Don't ever get attached to the characters I make for the plot, graphic descriptions of gore, death, murder, and drowning, betrayal of a friend, nonconsensual kissing (not from Dream), graphic serial killer activities, run in with a serial killer. Dream's a dream tho, a knight in black armor <3 Happy ending :D

I'm not going to say it's 18+, because it's not NSFW, but some of these themes can be disturbing. Please read the tags carefully.

Masterlist

“One, two, three, four, five, okay,” You count your right-hand fingers to yourself. Then cast your eyes on the watch you always carried on your wrist.

“8:13,” You take another look at your surroundings and take in the fresh air and kind sun. “AM,” you concluded.

You look back to your fingers and count again. “One, two, three, four, five,” You listed off in your head. Then one more time look at your watch. This time it read 5:15 PM, but the sun hadn’t moved. A grin crawls up to your face as you realize that you were dreaming. Lucid dreaming to be more specific. 

When you first heard about lucid dreaming in some off-handed news article you rolled your eyes and went on with your morning. There wasn’t much time in your life to worry about those things, not when another project was due, you had another meeting to attend, or another email to look at. But then life got unbearably hard to live with, stress kept piling up, and your vacation hours kept being declined. 

Your dreams turned from weird but forgettable dreams to nightmares of being chased, drowned, or murdered, only for you to both feel and witness again and again. When you wake up in a sweat at the ungodly midnight hours, you open your phone to find the news article again. It took you well over a month to get the hang of lucid dreaming but it was all worth the cognitive effort. Each time you go to sleep you count your fingers, then your clock, then your fingers, and then your clock again. There are always telltale signs that you were dreaming, dreams tend to never make sense so you look for those things. 

You intake another fresh breath of air and smile, head tilted towards the sun. The city air was polluted with car fumes and sewage smells, and while you loved the city, you do miss the easier days back in the countryside. You imagine the lush meadows, old trees, and the house that your grandfather hand-built for him and his wife. Before you the scenery changes and you’re sitting on a hand-carved rocking chair in a thin shirt and shorts. 

“This is the life,” You groan out to yourself as you begin the rock back and forth, thighs and arms trembling from a stretch. You stay like that for god knows how long, the waking world not a priority of your thoughts as you had the next day off. 

You only get up when sweat begins to collect along your hairline and the sunhat you are wearing begins to become itchy. A farm dog comes up to you and pants at your side urging you to go inside the house, maybe for a cup of lemonade, which sounded delicious the more you thought about it. 

When you look into the house from the windowed front door, a black figure briefly catches your eyes. It walks within the kitchen, running a finger across the worn wooden table and tracing lines of chipped paint over the tops of chairs. Confusion eclipses your face as his figure distorts on the thick glass and you open the door quickly. 

Much to your surprise, there was no such figure when the door opened. Your heart beats inside your chest and you look down at your fingers again. One, two, three, four, five… six. Six fingers, which is odd. You exhale slowly, it’s just a dream you say to yourself and carry on.

While sitting at the kitchen table you pinch your index and thumb together then bring both hands until they meet the other’s fingers. You pull them apart and a delicate golden string connects the fingers together. With a calming inhale of breath you move your fingers purposefully, drawing a picture of lemonade with a glass cup. If only it were this easy in the waking world. 

Lemonade appears on the kitchen table in a glass pitcher and you pour yourself a cup, chugging down the citrusy-sweet drink with a smile. You sit for a while, not particularly thinking of anything, your job had you doing enough of that. The kitchen window was open and you could feel the summer wind and hear the leaves rustling and mourning doves cooing. It was a scene straight out of your childhood, and if you concentrated enough you could hear the lawn mower going in the distance, the smell of freshly cut grass invading the house. 

A bark interrupts your serenity and you look over to the farm dog. He’s patiently sitting by his food bowl with a wagging tail. A small box of dog food appears on a nearby shelf and you go to him with a smile. 

“Are you hungry, boy?” You ask and reach for the kibble. He barks back in return and watches you intently as you pour a small serving. You then thought to yourself that, well, this is a dream and can dogs get diabetes in dreams? Probably not, so you dump the rest of the kibble into his bowl. It piled higher and higher and you can see a satisfied glint in the dog’s eyes as it begins to chow down on its food. 

You wipe your hands off on your shorts and toss the empty box into some unknown void in the hallway and go back to the kitchen. This time, however, two glasses were accompanying the pitcher. One, the glass you just drank out of, and the other, a half-drunk glass of lemonade. The condensation of the cool drink was still on the glass and you could see a clear handprint of where someone had grabbed it. 

You look back at the dog and notice that he is missing and panic sets in again. You look outside the window and the sun disappears, clouds rolling in with a sheet of rain. The ground around you starts to become wet despite the intact roof and it floods over your feet. The water fills up the space quickly. 

You try to calm your breathing and will the water to go away, for the sun to come back, anything to have your hours of peace before you have to wake up. But, nothing worked and the water came over your hips, and you’re hyperventilating now. The rain comes in through the windows in large gushes of water and you find yourself stuck in place, unable to move. 

“Wake up, wake up!” You chant to yourself, tears beading along your lower lash line. You pinch at yourself and are exasperated when you still don’t wake. The water felt too real, it was cold and piercing and you could feel the twigs and leaves of debris that brushed against your legs now and then. “This isn’t funny, wake up!” You cry to yourself again as the water rises higher. 

Behind you, in the shadows, the Dream Lord watches with intent. He always had a fascination with lucid dreamers, after all, they were able to minorly manipulate dreams to their whim. Something that the Dream King wouldn’t admit hurt his ego a little bit… just a smudge. But he had been watching your dreams lately and found it fascinating that you never dreamed of anything grand. No mystical adventure, no aspirations, and certainly no dreams of a more… sexual nature. Which, if he was allowed to comment, may be the reason why you were so stressed in the waking world and needed to find peace in his instead. 

“This dream is over,” He commands and waves his hand over the scene. 

You wake with a start, the sweat you produced while sleeping made your shirt stick to you uncomfortably and reminded you of your dream. You’re quick to get rid of it and throw it into your laundry hamper, now topless and rushing to the bathroom for a cold shower to calm you down. When you were done, your weekend alarm still hadn’t gone off and you were tempted to go back to sleep again. 

Eventually, you decided against it, unless you wanted to repeat what just happened. Purposeful, dreamless sleep hasn’t found you in a long time and you doubt it would come back just on a whim. You watch the sunrise in your apartment, sighing as sleep tugs at your body still. The cup of hot coffee in your hands felt more like decoration than anything useful as it didn’t give you the energy you craved. 

Thankfully you had nothing to do on your day off and you pat your past self on the back for going grocery shopping last night instead of making you do it today. You spend the rest of the day in bed, reading books on your Kindle and taking breaks by mindlessly scrolling through different forms of social media. Sleep tugs on your eyes but no matter how much you try to sleep, even a nap escapes you. 

The day goes by at a molasses-like pace, you don’t even remember eating. But once the sun has set and the stars made their debut, you happily resign as sleep overcomes you. The Kindle falls somewhere off your bed as you lose consciousness. When you come to your dreams, you’re greeted by a whale… in a tutu. 

Your laughter is hard to contain at the sight as you watched it dance on its fins to Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, part of your favorite ballet to watch when you were younger. It splashes some water on you and you use your hands to cover your face. It’s then that you remember to count your fingers.

“One, two, three, four, five,” All five fingers. What time was it? You repeat the ritual that has been so ingrained in your head and when you notice that you only have four fingers on your second count, you know then that you have control over the dream. 

“Thank you for your entertainment tonight, my friend,” You wave goodbye to it as the scenery changes around you. 

You’re back out in nature. A low-hanging tree greets you instead and a white and red checkered blanket is laid before it. The blanket had a mighty spread of slices of bread, jams, cheeses, meats, and tea. You make your way over and sit on the soft blanket, slowly picking the foods to taste. The atmosphere was perfect and the wind blew the smell of fresh water into your nose from the nearby pond. Ducks and geese honk at each other in greeting as they swim by. 

Deeper in the picnic basket was more food, but you found them in pairs. Two sandwiches, two teacups, and two dessert cakes. You quizzically stare at them as you hold the two sandwiches, one in each hand. You didn’t eat that much, did you?

“I see that you have started without me,” A voice comments. 

You jump in your skin at the sudden intrusion and look up. You see a man, dressed in casual black with an impressive coat. 

“Isn’t it a bit too warm to wear such a long coat?” You ask instead. 

You don’t protest when he sits next to you and hand him a sandwich instead. He places the wrapped food gently on the ground before taking off his jacket. 

“Better?” He asks as he goes to grab his sandwich again. 

“Hmm,” You only hum in agreement and start to unwrap your own. It’s a few minutes of silent chewing before you realize how weird this is. “Wait, who are you?” 

“No one you haven’t met before,” He answers vaguely. His sandwich was left untouched except for the bread which he threw at the ducks near the pond. 

You chew slowly as you try to digest his answer. He pours you a cup of tea which you drink freely from, murmuring a thanks as he hands you the fine china. The smell of vanilla and peaches invades your senses as you sip on the sweet tea. The favor takes you by surprise at how wonderfully it paired with the sandwich. By the end of the picnic, you have learned two things, your mystery man was great company, and that carbs made you comatose. 

“Oh, my god. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that much food in one sitting,” You sigh happily as you lay down on the blanket. Your head hits the hard ground and an idea sparks in you. 

Once again you pinch your fingers together and then bring your hands together. You intertwine and loop the golden strings that emit from your movements, much like an old childhood game of yours, Cat’s Cradle, and produce a small pillow. 

You place the pillow down and give it a good smack before laying down again. The sun envelopes you in a kind warmth that makes you smile. You see dancing shadows behind your eyelids when you close them to enjoy the moment. 

You hear rustling beside you and turn your head towards the man lying down beside you. He really was quite beautiful, something more than a man, perhaps a deity. He is lost in thought, almost, as he thinks about your abilities, but he keeps his thoughts to himself. 

“You have a great side profile, you know?” You don’t know why you said that, but rarely in dreams do you know why anything happens. 

Your comment makes him chuckle, a sound that you wish to hear again. It was light-hearted and pure, something that you wouldn’t expect to hear from someone who looked like him. You couldn’t help but laugh along, finding his happiness contagious. 

“Thank you,” He says when he is done laughing. 

When the giggles leave your body, you go back to relaxing and soon you doze off. The rest of the dream is peaceful and pure, no more nightmares to haunt you tonight. The Dream Lord looks at you fondly as the wind blows some of your hair astray, happy to assist you for once in his realm. As long as he is here, you won’t have to fight your demons on your own again. 

The next morning was the first time in a long time that you felt energized. The old coffee pot is nearly forgotten as you get ready to go on a morning walk, something you have done in a long while. Afterward, a shower, and then lunch with an old friend you haven’t seen in months. He had decided to drop by after his work allowed him to come into the city. 

You meet with Oliver at a local cafe and you order tea this time around, along with some soup and a side salad. The AC is on full blast as more and more people come into the small building. You were lucky to find Oliver already waiting for you at a small table by the large windows. He waves at you when you come close enough and then pushes his glasses back into place. 

“How have you been, Poppet?” He starts right off the bat with a smile, using the same nickname he’s been using since grade 3. That smile brings you back all the way to your younger days when you first met him as your new neighbor. 

You think briefly about possibly mentioning your horrid dreams to him but decide to skip it, seeing as you didn’t want to ruin the mood for today, not to mention the peaceful dream you had last night all but almost made you forget it in its entirety. 

“Oh, you know me, running around like a chicken with its head cut off.” You joke with a self-deprecating laugh. Your comment makes you realize that you have to go to work the next day and deal with annoying clients all over again. “Same shit, different day,” You mutter in conclusion. 

Both of your foods arrive just in time for you to ignore the glare he sent your way. Instead, you find fascination in the soup you choose, the same soup you had for the past three years of your life. 

“What brings you into town?” You ask as you pick apart the complimentary bread. 

“Work, of course. Though I never thought it would bring me to this place.” He gestures to the city around him. 

Oliver works as a farm veterinarian so, rarely, does he come into a large city where each piece of green is covered in concrete or chewed gum. And, of course, there are no farm animals around. He goes on to talk about a conference that he was invited to, something to do with the fight on farm animal antibiotics. You only nod along as you ate your lunch, your talents lie elsewhere but don't want to seem rude. 

Only scraps of your meal are left when the two decide that it is time to depart ways. 

“How long are you staying in the city?” You ask outside the cafe. The weather was almost perfect today, save for the slightly chilling wind that came every now and then. 

“About a week.” Oliver puts on his jacket and then pushes his round glasses back in place. 

“A week, huh?” You thought out loud before a smile came to your face. “You should come by the exhibit later this week. My client is showcasing their art, and going together would be fun.” 

“I’ll be there.” Oliver takes the business card you hand him, the heavy paper turns from warm white to gray as the sun disappears behind some clouds. 

Rain begins to drizzle and splatter on the card. 

“Aw, man. What?” You complain and put your jacket over your head as the rain continues to fall. “There wasn’t a rain forecast today,” You grumble to yourself. 

The two of you step under the cafe awning, the thin fabric providing little protection. 

“Do you want to stay at my place until the rain lets up? It’s just a few blocks from here.” You offer. 

“Lead the way, Poppet,” Oliver says with a smile. 

You smile back as you hype yourself to run through the rain. Thank god you wore sensible shoes today. With a squeal, you run in the direction of your apartment. You hear Oliver laughing behind you as he follows closely behind. Your laughter and giggles continue when you two find the comfort of your apartment and quickly turn up the thermostat when you get inside. 

“Wow, you’ve decorated the place nicely,” Oliver whistles his approval. 

He kindly sets his dripping jacket on the coat rack before you do the same and thank him. He shakes his head, much like a dog, you mused, to get rid of the water as his hair splays out from his actions. You, the more sensible one, simply wrung it out over the kitchen sink. 

“Yeah, if work can’t destress me why should my own home be?” You nodded along. 

The storm had raged harder ever since you got inside, the rain pelting on the window. If you didn’t have company over, you would’ve tossed all chores to the side and huddled up for a nap. Sleeping has been wonderful ever since you figured out lucid dreaming. 

“Poppet, you got a remote for this giant T.V, or what?” Oliver says as he pokes his hands between couch cushions. 

“Erm, yeah, somewhere on the T.V. stand.” Your comment was absent minded as you poke around in your small pantry for some snacks. 

Your eyes lock on packets of hot chocolate you didn’t know you had and what could be more perfect than a rainy day and hot chocolate with a friend? You squint at the box, looking for the expiration date. When you find it, and see that it’s been expired since last christmas, you pretend you don’t. 

There’s probably enough preservative to make the powdered drink last until the end of days, right? Plus who is throwing out food like this? In this economy? You scoff to yourself. 

“Want hot chocolate?” You ask, peeking at Oliver’s form in the living room. 

He stands in front of the T.V., hip slightly popped out to support himself with a hand on his hip and the other on the remote. The news comes on instead of your usual menu of different streaming services and a confused look takes over Oliver’s face when he turns around. 

“No, not that remote, the other one,” You laughed and went ahead to the fridge to warm up some milk anyway. 

“Which remote, you have, like, 13 for no reason!” He cries out exasperated but goes to the stand to find the correct remote.

The news continues to play and with nothing better to do, you listen in while you wait for your milk to warm up. 

“There has been a recent murder here in our lovely city and we encourage citizens to remain vigilant. The killer has not yet been caught and there is no pattern as to what kind of victims they take.” The news anchor speaks. 

“Oh, shit.” Oliver stops his search as he, too, starts listening in to the news. 

“Welcome to the city, I guess,” You shrug with a defeated sigh. The milk starts to shimmer before you turn off the stove. 

“Still, you should stay safe,” Oliver comments as he finally finds the correct remote, turning in to a streaming service and picking a light hearted movie. You’re mixing the chocolate powder, spoon clinking against the non-matching mugs, and when you don’t answer right away, Oliver presses again. “You will be safe, right?”

“Yes, mom,” You sarcastically groan. “I’ll be safe.”

“That’s my Poppet,” He chides, some of his accent slipping through, and sits down. He opens an arm for you to sit next to him before you hand him the hot chocolate that you made. 

“Careful, it’s ho-”

“JESUS!” Oliver exclaims as his face flies away from the mug. His shocked face makes your own burst out into laughter, so much so that you have to set down your mug so that you don’t spill it all over yourself. 

“Are you laughing at my pain?” Oliver jokes and pokes your sides.

The ticklish action only makes you laugh harder, if that was at all possible. Seeing your reaction, Oliver goes to poke you again, and you defend weakly as your laughing makes you all but weak. 

“Sto-stop, you’re going to make me pee,” You choke out between fits of giggles. Your hands were clenched to your sides as a last ditch effort to conceal your weak points. Your cheeks were starting to hurt and your smile was so wide that you couldn’t even open your eyes anymore. You were simply at the mercy of feeling true happiness.

Oliver eventually stops and the T.V. goes into a mandatory ad break (I mean, you’re not going to pay for no ads after already paying for the streaming service, let’s be real). Your energy is sapped out of you and you deflate into the couch with a satisfied sigh. 

“That was the first time tonight I heard you laugh that hard. Has the city been that mean to you?” Oliver asks, now cautiously sipping his drink. 

“The city is not mean, it’s just different than home,” You reply with a roll of your eyes. “I wouldn’t change it for anything though.”

Oliver hums in response, whipped cream stuck on his upper lips. You could tell he wanted to say more but decided to keep quiet instead. Eventually, the two of you fell into a comfortable and familiar silence as you watched the rest of the movie. 

You ended up crying at a particular scene and Oliver, same old Oliver, poked at you again to try and get you laughing. The rain still hasn't stopped and you’re glad to live on a higher floor of the apartment complex or else you would’ve had to worry about potential flooding. 

At the end of the day, you ended up cooking dinner for the two of you as well, convincing Oliver to stay and have a warm meal before going home alone. Especially considering the news about the killer on the loose. You’re on your third movie when the two of you finally finish your late dinner and you fall asleep on the couch against Oliver’s much warmer body. 

The body underneath you shifts and your eyes snap open. 

“Sorry, Oliver, didn’t mean to fall asleep on you,” You apologize before you’re completely awake. 

“It is nothing of note,” Someone else’s voice responds instead. 

You rub your eyes and take a closer look at him and are surprisingly greeted by your mystery man. He wears the same clothes as the last time you met, only this time it’s warranted as you feel the chilling wind brush against your prickling skin. Unconsciously you crawl closer to him again and he wraps a protective arm around your body. 

Looking around at your surroundings you notice that the two of you were huddled amongst the clouds. Stars and nebulas dance around the two of you in sparkling wonder. When you reach out your hand to touch a star and find it surprising when you are greeted with a cold feeling. Your hand snaps back quickly and you tuck it under your arms to quickly warm up. 

“Guess I’m dreaming again,” You comment nonchalantly and lean back. The clouds seem to know where to stop and you’re lying comfortably by the man’s side again. 

“Ever the perceptive one,” He responds back. 

“I didn’t know I could dream of something this… spectacular,” You think to yourself, taking the risk to rest your head on his shoulders. Besides momentarily stiffening under your touch, he doesn’t move away, something you took as a good sign. 

“You did not, I did,” He says slowly. 

“Hmm, it’s nice, thank you.” You close your eyes and enjoy his warmth. 

Besides you, the Endless smiles to himself at your compliment. To him, it was nothing more than the wave of his hand to gift you this dream. He would be lying to himself if he were to say he hasn’t been waiting for you to cross over to the Dreaming since your last dream. His fascination for your abilities grows stronger yet. 

Yet, he has created a beautiful enough dream that you didn’t find the need to change anything, something he takes pride in. Your waking world has left you tired and weary, and he is here to provide. A tugging sensation pulls at him and he remembers why he is here. 

“My Dreamweaver, I have something to tell you. You must listen carefully.” His words were calculated when he spoke. “You are in danger, be cautious.”

“What?” 

“This dream is over.”

You wake up in your bed with a dry mouth and a pounding headache. When you roll over to look at the glowing digital clock, it reads 3:00 AM. With a groan, you leave your warm bed to tread the treacherous cold apartment for a glass of water. 

You fill up a small cup with some water and notice that by your sink is a small note, scribbled in red crayon. Your tired eyebrows shoot up at the note and grimace at the atrocious handwriting that was undoubtedly Oliver’s.

“Poppet, I can’t find your pens but I found this crayon by the TV remotes Don’t worry I called a cab I won’t get murdered tonight cause I’m vigilant unlike some people Mwah, Oliver” 

That night, your mystery man didn’t visit you again. He only leaves his vague message that echoes in the empty chambers of your heads. You’re plagued with dreams of drowning and despite all you can do to take control of the nightmare, there is nothing you can do but subject yourself to the violent, crashing waves. To constantly inhale gallons of gallons of salty water, to feel your muscles tired out, to feel yourself lose control. 

Your only salvation throughout the week was seeing Oliver again at the art exhibit. The murders haven’t stopped and it’s gotten enough traction for everyone in the office to talk about it, too. Yet, you could turn to your dreams instead to find relief. 

The man clad in black follows you still into your dreams, any mention of his message is quickly shut down or ignored completely. At the end of the day, you don’t mind, his company is more than enough to make your dreams sweet. He accompanies you through wildflower fields and stardust skies, he brushes your hair by the seashore and tells you the myths of old. Each day is a new dream and brings forth a reason to keep going. 

“A few nights ago,” He starts as he watches you gently touch the petals of a flower made of snow and glass. You turn to him expectantly and urge him to continue silently. “You did not call for me when you were having that nightmare.”

It takes a few moments for you to realize he was talking about your drowning nightmare. The one you so “wonderfully” had after an amazing time in the swirling cosmos. You begin to walk again, your shoes making no noise against the cold snow. The man follows beside you, face tilted towards yours in anticipation. His question had been burning at the back of his mind since it happened and he held on, barely, for the answer. 

“You can’t really scream when you’re drowning.” Your lousy excuse comes out and even you flinch at the words. 

You don’t dare to look at him, knowing the disappointed look he was surely giving you. Everyone knows that anything is possible when you dream, even more when you can lucid dream. After a very pregnant pause you give you real reason. 

“I don’t know your name, how would I call out for you, my sweet mystery man.”

It’s now that he stops walking and after a few steps, you too pause and turn to look at him. In the cold mountains of your dream, the snow is stark in contrast to his ebony form. It is here that you recognize how different he was, like the snow pulls away from any distractions and you look at him, really look at him. The facade of just a man falls away, and within, you see a being beyond your comprehension, held together by sheer will. You were right, he was more than mortal, more than a god, something more in every sense. 

“I am Dream of the Endless,” He says, voice slow, calculated and raspy as he closes the gap between the two of you. “I am the very dream you are in, the voice inside your head, the person you think you’ve met before while walking the street.”

You’re very aware of how close he was to you now, to see the precipitation of his breath, and the way his eyes are never truly one color. His form keeps the winter chill away from your body, warming the very spot you stood in where snow turns into sunlight and the ground beneath you turns to soft valley grass and wildflowers made of toffee candy and sour rope candy. 

“Would you really have come if I called for you?” You ask timidly, head turned down and away from his gaze. 

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You say with a smile, cheeks crinkling your eyes as you look at him again. All Dream could think about was making a sun that shines as brightly as you. 

Your dreams seem to start leaping out into your waking life as the words of the Endless follow you. Every now and then you would notice a flurry of black and alabaster skin in the peripheral of your vision, but when you go to look it’s nothing but a chair, or a stack of books. His familiar face haunts you when you space out on the bus ride home, or when you’re simply walking down the street and someone bumps into you that just barely looks like him.

Each time you shake your head no, it was impossible, he was only a dream. 

The night before the exhibit, Oliver gives you a text message that explains that he would need to be picked up from another location. A client had called him for an at-home euthanasia early in the morning right before the exhibit. You agreed and were sent an address. You brush your teeth and wash your face before turning into bed, sleep coming easily. 

Your dream starts, as always, with you counting your fingers. Then you look at your watch, and then you count your fingers again. Your clock had 5 hands instead of two and with control over the dream, you find yourself standing in an Asian inspired pergola surrounded by water for miles around. The only sounds that accompany you are the sound of the sloshing water and the wind’s percussion between the mountain cracks. 

You sit on the wooden flooring, cooled by the water, and inhale the scent of fresh water. You bring your fingers together, just like always, and watch as the golden strings move with your movement, producing a pouch of fish food. Large koi fish swim beneath you and you run a finger across the water’s surface and watch with a small smile as they chase your fingers as you sprinkle some of the golden kibble along the water's surface. A koi leaps up and bites your finger and the sharp pain flings your arm away from the water. 

“Ow, what the hell?” You frown and look at your finger, the pouch dispersing into gold dust. Pressing into the digit allows blood to leak from the wound. You don’t have time to think about it when your alarm blares at you and you wake. 

Your day starts in a rush, slamming your hand over the off button of the alarm clock. You skiddy your way into your bathroom, brushing your teeth, combing your hair and doing your makeup. Your outfit was ready on the door of your bedroom. The casual formal wear was perfect for the day ahead. Comfortable but respectable and easily spotted if someone were to come looking for you. 

You look at your watch before briskly walking out the door, a few minutes ahead of schedule and traffic. When you arrive at the house Oliver had told you to, you stand outside the door as you hear murmuring from inside the door. You remember why Oliver was here in the first place and slowly lean against the wall to wait for him. 

“He was the most perfect dog, he was loved, he was cared for. And it gives me great honor that you allow me to ease his suffering so he may continue to run in the never ending fields of the afterlife.” Oliver’s voice carries through the thin wall. 

Sobbing follows after and hushes of comfort as the dog passes in the arms of the owner. Uncomfortable that you were involuntarily eavesdropping in such a private conversation you start to play with your hands, picking at the nails and the cuticles around them. It’s now that you see, with a quickening heartbeat, a closed over wound on your finger. When you run your thumb over it, the pain long since subdued, you are reminded of a feisty koi bite from a certain dream. 

Was it real then? The dream, or merely the pain?

“Ah, Poppet, you’re here already,” Oliver’s whisper pulls you out of your thoughts slowly. “Is your finger hurt?” He notices and reaches for your hand.

“No,” You say quickly, perhaps too quickly, and move your hands away. “It’s just a scratch. Shall we go?” You turn before you give him a chance to answer. 

The exhibit, while productive, was blanketed over by a feeling of grief and melancholy. Your artist was soaking in the praises of success, but you find yourself sticking by Oliver’s side, drinking mimosas hoping the little alcohol could erase the uneasiness in your throat. Your finger gives phantom pains now and then, reminding you of the breaking cracks between dreams and real life. 

It’s only noon and you’re exhausted, giving the keys to Oliver to drive you back to your place. As if to taunt you even more, the elevator was down for repairs and so arm in arm, you and Oliver make your way up the seven sets of stairs until you reach your own apartment. 

“Oh my God, I can taste blood,” You whine, leaning all of your weight onto Oliver by the fifth floor. He, on the other hand, could not have looked more pristine. 

“When was the last time you exercised?” He chuckles as he lets you rest for a moment. 

You groan as your hand grasps onto the worn metal railing. “I briskly walked to my car this morning,” Your voice is gravelly and hoarse as you use your arm to continue upwards. “After the elevator ride down to the main floor.”

“Good grief, woman,” He jests. “We need to get you to the gym.” 

“Over my dead body,” You huff as you make your way again, steps heavy and stomping, the sound echoing in the empty chamber. 

The barren of your door gave you the last bit of energy to finish. The sight of your couch was enough for you to flop onto it and simply wish to perish. You’re breathing heavily out of your mouth, face to the ceiling and bounce when Oliver sits down next to you with exaggeration. 

“Don’t be dramatic,” Oliver teases, barely winded by the seven flights of stairs. You on the other hand felt like you had just come from a week at sea with nothing but a row boat and canned crackers. 

“I’m going to go shower, do you want to stay for lunch?” You ask, already halfway to your room after you caught your breath. 

“No, I’ve got my own thing to do, packing mostly.” You hear Oliver’s voice from the bathroom. You turn on the water to let it warm up and peek out of your bedroom. “Alright, I’ll see you off in a few days, yeah?” 

Oliver’s outside your door and the sudden proximity makes you jump in your skin. 

“Geez, you scared me. I thought you were still in the kitchen,” You say behind a small laugh. 

“I’m going to head out, alright? But yeah, let’s meet one more time before I leave later this week.” Oliver smiles and pokes your forehead. 

“Sounds good,” You agree, staring at the finger. 

“Stay safe out there, Poppet.” He waves and goes for the door. “I’ve got a cab waiting for me downstairs.”

You use the shower to cleanse yourself of not only the physical properties of today, and more importantly the sweat you accumulated walking up the steps, but also the more emotional toil. The warm water seemingly soaking up all of your depressive thoughts. It runs down the water and out the drain, and you feel lighter when you step out. 

You’re drying your hair with your towel when you see the brown square that is Oliver’s wallet sitting on your couch - opening it and seeing his ID card clarifies it. You groan as you know that he can’t get anywhere without his wallet, especially if he wants to leave. 

An internal debate was settled with going to his place before you pick something up for dinner. You place the wallet by your keys near the front door and make yourself some lunch, and put some much needed laundry into the washer while it cooks. You watch a small episode while you eat before returning to your work laptop and answering emails. 

The day goes by quickly and the rumbling of your stomach tells you that it’s time for dinner and more importantly, returning Oliver’s wallet. You redress in the same clothes you wore earlier that day, deciding to just deal with the high heels as any other shoe wouldn’t tie in well with your outfit, and you were not going to go out looking anything less than put together. 

How lucky you were when you walked down the hall to find the elevator back in operation. Down, down you went, seven flights of stairs to the parking garage. The echoing beep of your car tells you where Oliver had parked for you and you climb in. 

Traffic was a pain in the ass and you couldn't take another slow minute during dinner rush. Beeps and honks accompany you all the way to Oliver’s home and it takes a solid 45 minutes to travel 10 miles. You knock on Oliver’s door and you don’t know why but you’re nervous. There wasn’t an answer and you knocked again. Nothing. The door is unlocked and with a shrug to yourself you enter. 

All of the lights were turned off when you entered, fumbling about to turn on the lobby light near the door. The rented home was much bigger than your medium apartment and you seriously start to regret your career choice. 

“Oliver?” You call out, taking off your shoes and putting them aside. 

No answer.

“Ollieeee…” You sing out as you make your way further into the house. You drop the wallet on the dining room table and still nothing. You knew he was here, somewhere, the rental car he had was still in the driveway when you pulled up.

You bring out your phone, about to call him, when a small noise directs you to a staircase that leads downstairs and you make your way into the finished basement. When you open the door, something you never thought you would see greets you instead. Yes, Oliver was there but so was another woman. She’s tied down to a wooden table and you think you’re interrupting something if it wasn’t for the way her teary eyes snap towards you. Despair is washed out with a small glint of hope as her trembling hand reaches for you. 

“Help me,” She pleads. 

Oliver calls your name, almost breathlessly, and walks closer to you. In his hand holds a small knife, blood already smeared on the glinting metal. He greets you with a smile, but your attention is on the woman on the table. 

“Please.” She sobs again. 

You’re numb, on the brink of hyperventilation, and you’re sure that if you had gotten dinner before coming here you would’ve thrown up all over the vinyl flooring. 

“Oliver,” You gulp down as you take a step back.

He advances with another step, knife still in hand as the blood drips down onto the floor. He approaches you like a predator to scared prey, and he wouldn’t be wrong. His weaponless hand wraps around your wrist, warm and alive just like all of the other times he has done since you became friends all those years ago. 

“Come here.” He guides you closer. “This is our guest, Poppet.” He introduces. 

The woman squirms against her restraints and cusses. “Stop calling me Poppet, my name is fucking Alora, let me go!”

Oliver guides you closer and then slinks behind you, using his body to trap you from the exit. From this distance you can see the cuts and bruises Alora endured and you lean away in denial. Bile crawls up from the bottom of your throat begging to be released, it’s acidity painful to swallow. Alora’s tear stains seem permanent as another one follows its path as she watches the two of you lean over her. 

“Let.. let her go,” You say with a shaky breath. It’s the opposite of assertive, the opposite of a demand.

Oliver sighs behind you and slams the blade down on the table and both you and Alora flinch at the sudden noise. He laughs behind you, the breath tickling the nape of your neck. 

“I thought we could… share her,” He responds. You feel his lips on the junction of your neck and your body trembles again. 

“Share… her,” You echo.

This wasn’t real, there was no way this was real. No, you were definitely dreaming, Oliver took you home and then after your shower you fell asleep. He never left his wallet at your place. Oliver heals, he would never… 

You look down at your fingers, they’re shaking but still countable. One, two, three, four, five. You look at your watch, and with dread you notice that everything is in its place. One, two, three, four, five. It’s still the right time. One, two, three, four, five. 

“A dream, this has to be a dream. A nightmare.” You lie to yourself. Your thumb presses into each of your fingers and to your dismay, there are still five. 

You look down at Alora again, her eyes wide and begging and her fingers go to grab at you. 

“Ah, ah, none of that.” Oliver notices and pushes her fingers away from the two of you. 

His attention turns back to you again. “What do you think of it?” He asks, his hands resting on your hips and to your further disgust inhales your scent. 

“What do I think of it?” You echo again except this time it was more harsh, judgemental as it should be. 

Oliver scoffs and leaves your side. He walks to the other side of the table, knife back in hand as he points it to Alora’s face. 

“Look at Poppet here, notice anything?”

That’s when you look at her, really look at her. At first you didn’t see it, or maybe your mind was simply trying to prevent you from seeing it, but under Oliver’s scrutinizing gaze you notice with teary eyes. Her hair was the same color as yours, so were her eyes, they even mimicked the way yours were shaped. Her lips curled just like yours as they’re upturned in agony. 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” You gag, your hand flies to cover your mouth as you dry heave. 

“No, don’t be, my sweet Poppet,” Oliver comes to you again and holds your face steady. His eyes have always been like they are now, caring, soft, non-dangerous, but seeing his actions made you doubt everything. “Here, you can watch for the first time instead, how about that?”

“Wh-what?” You gape and he pulls away from you. He places the knife over Alora’s throat and her sobbing and pleas grow louder. 

“NO!” You scream and go to reach for the knife, unsure where the sudden bravery comes from. But, it’s too late, he slices, you feel the way his muscle moves under your palm, how it grips the blade, how it ticks when it kills.

The blood sprays and decorates you in its red and sticky liquid and you’re left stunned. Beneath you, you hear as Alora chokes on her own blood as her body trashes as a last ditch effort of escape. Oliver looks at you with a smile, his white shirt decorated just like yours. He looks at you with adoration and something like pride as he places the knife down and comes to you again. 

“You look even more beautiful in red, Poppet,” He compliments, but it falls on deaf ears. His lips press to yours in a one sided kiss and you weakly push back. “Let me clean everything up and then I’ll take care of you, okay?”

You stand still as you watch him, rag in hand as he begins to clean. 

“You were the most perfect person, you were loved, you were cared for. And it gives me great honor that you allow me to ease your suffering so you may continue to live free in the never ending fields of the afterlife.” Oliver’s familiar eulogy snaps you out of your shock, if not for a brief moment. 

It’s enough for you to run out the door, adrenaline blazes down your spine and pumps to all of your limbs. The door almost flies off its hinges as you open it into the dark night. You don’t know where you’re going to go, but anywhere is better than here. 

“Poppet! Wait!” Oliver screams behind you and he’s fast to catch you. 

Your bare feet scrap across the concrete sidewalk as your vision blurs with salty tears. You trip into an alleyway and sob, your pristine clothes now covered in dirt and blood, and you hear the crack of your watch as it breaks under the fall. At the edges of your mind, a small girl with wild and colorful hair peeks at you in fishnets, the world warps, distorting the difference between reality and delirium. 

A moment of clarity comes to you as you remember something. It tries to fall between the crevices of your mind but you grab onto it and hold it close. 

“Would you really have come if I called for you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Dream,” You cry out into the darkness. Oliver finds you on the ground and his arms pick you up. “No, no, let go of me!” 

The man clad in black doesn’t show his face and you beat yourself over it, because of course he doesn’t. It was just a dream. This is reality. Despite it all, you try one more time. A name falls on your tongue, one you didn’t previously know. 

“Morpheus!” You scream and the calling echoes in the suburban neighborhood. 

Oliver pays you no mind and hoists you onto his shoulders. You’re pounding at his back but his muscles never falter. He walks back with heaving breaths to his house when he is suddenly stopped and drops you. You unceremoniously roll and then sit quickly to run away again. You’re stopped short at the sight. 

In front of Oliver stands a man, his form fuzzy at the sides and blends in to the night around them. He wears a helm made of bones, accompanied by a bright ruby necklace, and a leather pouch of sand. 

“Dream?” You question and his gaze turns to you. You can’t see his eyes past the large bug-like design of the helm, but you know he sees you. 

“Who the hell are you?” Oliver sneers at him.

Dream doesn’t reply and instead he shrinks back into the shadows and wisps around until he stands in front of you. You hide behind his back as he protects you from Oliver. 

“Hey, get away from my Poppet.” Oliver takes a step forward but is stopped by Dream’s words. 

“Be quiet,” He commands. It’s two words, but it renders him speechless. “I turn you into prey. Your judgment upon you is to be hunted. Even after you wish for death, you will form into another and be hunted again. This is my gift to you, Oliver Barlowe, make good use of it.”

The curse is etched in stone as he speaks. He pours from his leather pouch and sand falls between his fingers. He curls then unfurls them before blowing the particles into Oliver’s face. You watch with horror as his form shrinks under the swirling sand and he turns into a shrew. He runs into the grass, his brown fur lost amongst the foliage. 

“Hello, my Dreamweaver,” He whispers and crouches to your height on the cold concrete. He extends a patient hand and you grab hold. “Come, nightmares shall hunt you no further.” 

“You came,” You say, still in disbelief as he helps you stand. 

“I kept my promise. I do not break such vows, ever.” His fingers gently wipe away the tears from your face. 

"You're real," You whisper, still not believing that he stands before you.

His fingers trace across your bottom lip as he comes closer to you still. Dream doesn't say anything, he simply soaks in your presence, drawn to you in a way neither of you could comprehend. His fingers still trace your face, running over your nose and the apple of your cheekbones.

You feel the swirling of sand around your feet and the world changes around you. You’re in the meadows again, surrounded by flowers made of snow and glass, and you see the cabin your grandfather built. Dream sits you down on a white and red checkered picnic blanket with two glasses of lemonade. 

“Will you stay?” You ask as you grab the cool glass cup of lemonade. Your gaze turns to the sweet yellow drink and you rub the smooth glass as a way of calming yourself. 

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You smile. 

Alsooooo, very inappropriate use of being a veterinarian, we don't kill people and we don't make that much money, sigh

My Sandman comics came and they're so heavy... Second also, Comic Dream is such a mood

Maybe a more lighthearted fic for next time, hmm?

♡ Yours, Layla

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

girls just wanna have fun 5

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, blackmail, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your struggle to push back against your controlling father result in a misguided crush. (Silverfox AU)

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

Shelby leaves and you deflate. You’re bored. You’re going to be bored forever. Your dad bitches at you until you do the dishes and vacuum but that only makes you more restless. 

As you decide to read on the porch, more a cover for your peeping behaviour, your dad appears with his golf bag and clears his throat. You sit up on the bench and take your feet off the little table. He hates when you do that. 

“Going to play a few rounds. Try not to make a mess.” 

“Yes, sir,” you say dryly. 

“I mean it,” he sniffs. 

“Alright. Jeez. Not like I'm doing much to make a mess.” 

“Oh yeah? Definitely not,” he mutters. “I didn’t find an empty bottle in the recycling...” 

“What?” You bat your lashes innocently. “I swear, it’s not mine.” 

“Sure, whatever. One won’t kill you but I don’t want it in my house,” he points at you. 

“Fine,” you huff. 

He leaves without much fanfare. No see yas, no I love yous, he’s never been that kind of dad. Only the type to point out everything you’ve done wrong.  

You wait for him to drive away as you plot behind your book. You can’t use your own friend to get your way. That made you feel too rotten. The answer is obvious but not one you relish. There is someone you can use but you don’t know if it’s worth it. 

As you mull over the failure of last night and hide behind the book, the low whir of an engine approaches. A car door brings your gaze above the pages and the very man on your mind appears. For once, it isn’t Bucky. 

Hm. Your mouth slants as you weigh the choice. Sam gets out of the car and bends to check his reflection in the side mirror, taking off his sunglasses as he winks at himself. God, he’s so annoying but he said he could help. Everything you’re doing is exactly wrong. 

You close the book and drop it on the table. You skip down the steps in your crop top and cut-offs and come around the white picket. He stops as he sees you and smirks at your advance. You stop before him, your chest bouncing shamelessly. 

“Well, hello ladies,” he makes no effort to hide his leering. You scoff. 

“Sam,” you say pointedly and fold your arms over your chest. “How?” 

“How what?” He tilts his head as he eyes you, bring up the arm of his glasses to chew on the tip. 

“How can you help me get to Bucky?” You ask. 

“Ha,” he laughs, “you’re really serious about that? You ran away last night.” 

“That was for my friend. She was scared.” 

“I don’t know, you looked pretty freaked out yourself.” 

“I’m not afraid,” you insist. “Maybe you are. Maybe you lied. Talk a big game. I shoulda known. You’re just like all the boys I know--” 

“Now hold up, I’m no boy. This right here, that’s grade A man. American meat,” he declares, “you want Buck, I get it. He’s got the whole angry old man thing the girls drool for. But I want something first.” 

“You’ll get it but how exactly can you help me get what I want?” You barter. 

His cheek dimples and he sucks his teeth, “well, I know my guy. Trust. And I know what he wants.” 

“Which is?” You narrow your eyes. 

“Now, now, I can’t just give away the good right away.” 

“Tell me, please,” you plead as you clutch your hands together.  

He huffs and looks towards the house, “are you sure you wanna go down this road?” 

His doubt stokes your own. Why wouldn’t you? It’s harmless. Just sex, right? It’s what adults do! You’re twenty years old and you don’t want to go back to campus a virgin. 

“Please,” you whimper. 

He chuckles again, “you’re exactly his type. He’s playing hard to get.” 

“Hm?” You perk up, “really?” 

“Yeah, I hate to admit it but he’s into you.” 

“He is?” 

“Calm down, sweetheart, we have a deal. You wanna get to him, you go through me. Which ironically, is what he’s into.” 

“Uh, what?” Your voice crackles. 

“Yeah, he loves to watch.” 

You laugh nervously, “you’re messing with me. I knew it.” 

“I’m not,” he’s more serious than you’ve ever seen him. “One day, when you’re older, more experienced, you’ll realise the freakiest freaks walk around like they have a stick up their ass. Hell, sometimes they do.” 

“So, what does that mean? What do I do?” You lower your voice, shaky as you realise what you’re asking. 

“Well, pretty kitty,” he boops your nose, “you look real good in those shorts, but you got anything sexier?” 

“Um, sure, I have some thongs.” 

“Good start, Lace?” 

“Probably,” you shrug.  

“Right, why don’t you show me? You need an expert.” 

“Really?” 

“You asked for my help. I’m helping.” 

“Ugh, you better not be fucking with me.” 

“Not right but hopefully soon,” he snickers. 

“Whatever, come on.” 

You turn and stomp back up the sidewalk. He follows casually and you peer around. You hope no one sees and tattles to your dad. Maybe you can make something up about a clogged pipe. Doesn’t matter right now. You doubt he even cares. 

Sam pulls the door shut behind him as you reach the stairs. You make a swift ascent and he comes up a few steps back. You enter your room and rush over to the dresser. You sift through and pull out your sexiest pairs. You can hear him tinkering around with your shit. 

“What are you doing?" You snap over your shoulder. 

“Just looking,” he comes up next to you and reaches into the drawer. He pulls out the vibe and rolls it between his fingers, “Mmm, this will be handy too.” 

“So?” You ignore him and spread out several pairs across the wood. “Which ones?” 

“Now, baby, I can’t decide if you don’t try ‘em on. I need the whole effect.” 

You huff. He keeps delaying. And it feels like he’s playing with you. 

“Promise you’re not lying.” 

“I swear,” he shows his palms and backs up. “I’ll close my eyes. The black lace.” 

He sits on the foot of the bed and slaps his hands down on his thighs. His pants are taught across his bulge. Oh god. He closes his eyes and you turn back. You pull of your shorts and switch out your panties for the black lace thong. 

“There? How is it?” You stand before him. 

He opens his eyes and grins, “turn around?” 

You cringe but obey. He lets out a long breath and tuts, “damn, that is a fine ass.” 

“Sounds like a yes,” you face him again, “so, it’ll work?” 

“Oh, you think it’s just the thong? No, baby, no,” he scoffs, “this is how it’s going to go down. I’m gonna tell Bucky I found a real fun girl. It’s been a while, he needs it, and you’re going to be waiting, in just that,” he reaches forward to touch the lace, “and you’re going to let me fuck your mouth, you can fuck mine too. That’ll get him nice and worked up.” 

“What?” You bluster, “you’re fucking with me. Oh my god. I can’t believe--” 

“I’m really not. We share all time. Or used to. Been a while, not gonna lie. Like I said, he is in need.” 

You step back and stare at him. You were prepared for Bucky. Prepared for just one guy at a time, but both. You’re not so sure. You put your hand to your neck and turn as you think. 

“I don’t know... maybe it’s stu--” 

You hear the digital shutter of a lens and face Sam as he holds his phone up. 

“What the fuck? Did you take a picture?” 

“Collateral,” he shrugs as he stands, “can’t have you flaking.” 

“Delete it.” 

“No.” 

“Delete--” you try to snatch his phone and he holds you at arm’s length. 

“Your dad would hate to see this, wouldn’t he?” He taunts. “You want help, you got it. You bring your fine ass and I’ll bring Bucky.” 

[brackishkittie]

୨୧- CHAPTER FOUR, blame it! - ୨୧

summary: you go to a party with your friends and see ellie, you try avoiding her the whole night but when she sees you talking to an old friend, her blood boils and she just has to say something.

c/n: alcohol usage, strong language, jealous!ellie, you and ellie argue ( kinda idk ), and ellie going crazy..again.

a/n: idk why this took me so long to finish but here you guys go! come get y’all juice!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️‼️‼️‼️

series masterlist! - chapter four ➝ chapter five!

"girl I'm outside hurry up," ashlesha said as she tapped her nails on her grey leathered steering wheel as she signaled for nari to scoot over to the other seat with her bag. “I’m coming outside just let me grab my bag and I’ll be right out,” you answer back while fixing your lip liner and ending the call. you walk out of the house and head straight for ashlesha’s car, “girl we thought you were gonna take 18 years and 5 business days to get ready..” nari says as she fixes her blush in her small mirror. “oh please I didn’t even take that long..now let’s go, I’m ready to down some tequila and henny.” you all laugh as ashlesha takes the car out park and puts it back in drive. 30 minutes later, as soon as it hits 8, you all finally make it to the party. “I’m telling y’all..if ellie is here I’m leaving..” you say but get pushed infront of the door by your two friends, “GIRL GOOOO SHE’S NOT HERE!!” nari says, putting her hand on her hip, and groaning.

“ok ok!” you push open the door and walk in as ashlesha and nari follow behind you. you all rush to the kitchen for that well known red solo cup and only a few cranberry and hennessy shots later, you all are on the couch laughing your asses off at the littlest things and then you see her. the one person you didn’t wanna see was right across the room, in the corner, looking down into her cup, and her eyes suddenly dart towards yours as if she knew you were looking at her. she smiles slightly and looks back into her cup but god if you only knew..while she looked unbothered, she was sweating and panicking. “oh my god she’s here? MY PRAYERS!! MY PRAYERS HAVE BEEN ANSWERED!” she thought to herself and had to stop herself from screaming at the top of her goddamn lungs.

you furrowed your brows and huffed looking at your friends, “you guys said she wasn’t gonna be here” you groaned and playfully hit them both and they giggled. “it’s not funny cmon I wanna go home” you frowned and laid your head on nari’s shoulder. “you should go talk to her” nari says as she pats your head, “no way I don’t wanna talk to her” you sigh and look to your left and see dina and jesse making out in a corner like some freakishly horny crazy highschool teens. “ugh..get a room..” you roll your eyes and look to your right and see a very familiar face, “oh my god? jasmine?” you gasp and she looks at you, “y/n? oh my gosh, hey gorgeous!” you stand up and she comes over and hugs you. ellie sees this and immediately her face drops from “omg my favorite sexy ex that I miss so much is here!!” to “who the actual fuck is that touching her. what the hell.” she clenches her jaw as she watches you two from the corner of the room, her face hot and red.

the more and more you and jasmine laughed and giggled the more ellie felt herself losing her cool. she knew she was your ex now and she knew she couldn’t just march over there but the alcohol was kicking in and she was feeling bold. she walked over to you and jasmine and put her hand on your shoulder, “can I borrow her for a sec? yes? ok thanks.” ellie says as she pulls you away from jasmine who looks extremely confused. “what the hell ellie? what do you want?” you turn to her and say while she just stares at you, pulling her hand away from you and biting the inside of her cheek. “y/n are you doing this on purpose?” she says which makes you tilt your head and show visible confusion to her question. “what the fuck are you talking about?” you’re frustrated, folding your arms and leaning against the wall while she just stares at you trying to get you to fess up about whatever she thinks you’re doing.

all of a sudden, ellie’s face turns red out of embarrassment realizing you actually weren’t trying to make her jealous and that she probably needed to sober up from the alcohol. she rubbed her neck and opened her mouth to speak when she didn’t even get a chance because you immediately read her like a book once you saw her face turn red. “you’re jealous aren’t you?” you squint and almost laugh, “we aren’t together anymore els..move on please.” you say while pushing yourself off the wall to walk away.“whatever..there’s no one better than me anyway.” she now crosses her arms as yours fall to your sides. “oh fuck you. you sound like a man.” you roll your eyes and walk off while ellie flips you off and you can hear her mutter “fuck you too.” and you start giggling to yourself as you walk back over to jasmine.

as it got later on into the night you, nari, and ashlesha all fall asleep on the couch and around 3 in the morning you feel someone shaking you awake. “y/n? Y/NNNN!!! GIRL GET UP LET’S GO.” nari lightly slaps your face trying to wake you up and you start to open your eyes. “ughhhh my head hurts...I have a fucking headache what the hell.” you rub your head and look up at nari, “how many shots did I take?” you ask as she shrugs and looks at ashlesha for the answer but she just shrugs too. “god..can we go back to my place?? you guys can just stay until it’s finally morning.” you sit up from the couch and stretch. “yeah..can we order wingstop when they open? I’m fucking starving and I could fuck up some mango habanero wings right now…a cow even.” nari says while patting her stomach while you pick up your things and follow behind your friends who left the house. “do you think dunkin donuts is open? I need something sweet like now. I feel like a pregnant woman bossing around her wife and child.” nari says as you all fucking lose it while ashlesha starts driving back to your house, still laughing her ass off.

meanwhile with ellie though…

“oh cmon ellie..it couldn’t have been that bad...I hope…” dina says as she pats ellie’s back as she ugly cries into her hands about how much she fucked up that small interaction she had with you a few hours ago at the party. “well I mean..it could’ve gone worse.” jesse says as he chuckles and runs his fingers through his hair, “wow thanks jess, that totally makes me feel better!!” ellie says sarcastically which makes jesse huff and roll his eyes. “all she said was fuck you ellie..she could’ve like slapped you for even pulling her away or cussed you out even more for everyone at the party to hear.” he says while falling back on ellie’s bed and staring up at the ceiling. “jesse, you’re gonna send the girl into cardiac arrest please stop.” she looks at him and hits him on his arm, “well call me kevin gates because you know exactly what happens next after the cardiac arrest.” he laughs while dina and ellie turn to look at him with the most “shut the fuck up” expressions ever. “bad timing?..sorry.” he mutters and looks away.

“obviously?? and stop with that kevin gates video, it’s making me feel extremely ill.” dina says as she shakes her head and sighs, “ellie you really need to talk to y/n…SOBER and IN THE RIGHT MIND.” as soon as dina said that, ellie immediately stopped her ugly crying and side-eyed her so hard. “no shit dina..no shit..and stop yelling in my EAR because I’m right NEXT TO YOU.” ellie says as she wipes her face with her sleeve and goes to the kitchen for a tissue to blow her nose. dina looks at jesse and shakes her head, “man..she’s hooked on this girl..I feel bad because y/n may not come around and she’s on her bad bad BADDD.” dina scratched her head while jesse nodded in agreement.

ellie came back into the room and sat back down on the bed, “so what should I do? it’s only been like a week since our breakup. I can’t just say I wanna get back together now..” ellie groans and grabs her pillow that jesse was laying on, “hey! I was laying on that..” jesse sits up and frowns, “well that’s too damn bad.” ellie scoffs and hides her face in the pillow. “I say give it a few more weeks or a month maybe??” jesse says in response to what she said earlier which she freaks out about. “A MONTH?? ARE YOU CRAZY? she’ll already have moved on by then..I’ll just give it a few more weeks maybe, hopefully, she’ll unblock me on everything and talk to me...if not I’ll have to text her off one of my lurking accounts.” ellie sighs and rubs her temples, “I’m sorry did you just say ONE OF?? AS IN THERE’S MORE THAN ONE??” dina looks at her with pure concern as ellie turns to her and makes a face that says “uhm hello???? obviously???….”

“why do you need more than one?? one is enough to lurk at her..bro what is your problem?” dina blinks a few times before turning away from her and shaking her head in disbelief and disappointment. “in case she finds out it’s me and blocks me? duhhh like I need to have multiple accounts. it’s a necessity when it comes to lurking..you wouldn’t know anyway.” ellie rolls her eyes and nudges dina. “ok so like what if she presses all new accounts made will be blocked??” jesse blurts out which makes ellie’s neck snap towards him and she throws the pillow at him. “take that back NOW. do not manifest that negative energy into my life jesse.” she frowns and gets up, grabs her phone from her desk, and goes onto instagram. “now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go do my daily lurking on y/n’s account.” ellie says with a smile while jesse and dina groan in unison.

tags: @elsmissingfingers @astrcmoni @cowgirlcherrie @theganymedes @ximtiredx @ellieswifee @liabadoobee 🩷🩷

[discount-shades]

Sleepy Baby: Part 13

a/n: There are only going to be about 5 more parts to this story I think.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin / Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1200 ish

Summary: Meet the Parents

Previous          Masterlist         Next    

“I spy with my little eye something that is pokey.” You gaze out the window at the Arizona landscape enroute to some small town east of Dallas.

Jake fakes concentration while answering, “hmmm, is it a cactus?” Jake had moved into your house a few months ago, and you were driving to his home town to pick up some of his stuff that he had been keeping at his parents. It still feels fast but at the time you had been together for eight months and spent every evening together anyway. It did not make sense for Jake to continue to rent. 

“Yeah,” you sigh, “your turn.”

“I spy with my little eye something tall.” Jake says with a grin glancing at you. 

“Cactus.” You say with confidence. “I spy something reddish.”

“A rock?” You nod at his response. “Ok, I spy something rocky.”

“Jaaaake!” you groan, “You have to come up with your own things to spy!”

“There is nothing to spy but cactus, sagebrush, and rocks.” You roll your eyes but he is right. You are eight hours into the trip and still have another hour until you reach the campsite you are spending the night at. 

“Ok, new game,” he says. “Would you rather fight fifty chicken sized alligators or one alligator sized chicken? 

You ponder his question for a moment before answering. “One giant chicken. All I would have to do is cut its head off,” you say with confidence. “It would flap around and get blood everywhere but I think if I had a machete I would win.”

“I am horrified with the violence inside you.” Jake says with mock disgust. “I wish I had known of your atrocious blood lust before I moved in.” 

“OH MY GOD!” you laugh, “you asked!”

“And I will always regret it,” he says solemnly to your giggles, “I'll never be able to look at you the same.” 

– – – 

The rest of the drive passed in contented silences, radio singalongs, and long discussions both serious and irreverent. Before you know it you are pulling up at a neat farm house a few miles outside of a small town. When Jake puts his pickup into park you feel the nerves that have been bubbling in your stomach rise to the top. You are nervous to meet Jake's parents.

Jake takes the hand that is not carrying your bags and gives it a reassuring squeeze, leading you up the walk. His mother comes running out of the house, wearing blue jeans, runners and a t-shirt. Her blond hair pulled into a ponytail.  “Oh my baby boy is home,” she dramatically rushes past you and throws her arms enthusiastically around Jake giving his noisy kisses on the cheek. You step back and eye Jake’s blush over his mothers head trying to get a read on his response. Your lips pressed together to hide any emotion you might have. Whatever you were expecting it wasn’t this. 

His mother turns to you, “Well aren’t you the sweetest thing!” Her accent is much thicker than you expected, you say a polite hello and introduce yourself. “Well my name is Tammy and my husband George and I raised this young man here,” she says, pinching Jake's cheek causing his face to redden further. 

She turns and leads you into the house, “Now I have you set up to sleep in Julia’s old bedroom,” she says to you. “I can’t have an unmarried couple doing the devil's tango under my roof.” You feel heat flood your face and stare wide eyed at Jake.

“I didn’t mention that?” he asks quietly at your expression.

“No!” you whisper back before turning to Tammy, “That will work fine.” Tammy directs Jake to take the bags upstairs and ushers you into the kitchen and gives you a glass of lemonade. 

“Now I hope you understand, I want there to be no horizontal refreshments happening here.” Tammy continues as you choke on your drink.

You manage a hoarse, “Ok,” between coughs. 

Tammy tuts as she bustles around the kitchen placing a tray of cookies and fruit in front of you. “I don’t know what kind of mattress testing you get up to in California, but under my roof you will not be wiggling the toothpick.” You nod mutely and feel as if your face is about to catch fire. “And there will be no rolling in the hay either when you go riding next door either!” she shakes a spoon at you as she gives the lemonade another stir before filling more glasses.

A noise announces the arrival of a man who can only be Jake’s father, George. They have the same eyes and face but George's greying hair was originally brown. “You must be Jake’s girlfriend," he says kindly and pulls you into a hug before leaning back to look at you. He takes in the embarrassed look on your face and sighs. 

“Tammy, I told you to stop with your anti-sex hazing!” 

Tammy groans and immediately drops the elaborate accent, shifting to one that matches Jake’s. “Dammit you ruined it! I almost made it to six different ways to describe sex!”

You are glancing back and forth between the two of them confused. “What?”

George sighs, “Tammy likes to greet all of our childrens partners with an elaborate ‘no sex while you are here talk,’” he explains. “You’ll be sleeping in Jake’s room, just ignore everything she said.” He scratches his head in embarrassment. “I do have to say the walls here are incredibly thin and I am a very light sleeper so please be very quiet whatever you do.”

“I sleep like the dead,” Tammy chimes in with a smile, “I won't hear anything, so scream and moan away!”

You groan and rest your blazing face on the cool granite countertop listening to Tammy’s laughter, George sits beside you pats your back in commiseration. “Did Jake know you were going to do this to me?” you say in a muffled voice. “Is that why he ran off?”

“I did,” Jake sounds sheepish as he walks into the room and you raise your head to glare. “In my defense I laughed so hard at Jules’ husband when Mom did it to him that Julia threatened to say something I will not repeat if I didn’t let my mother do it to the next woman I brought home.”

“You sold me out!” you say in outrage. “Either you tell me that secret or Julia will, I deserve to know for the suffering you put me through.”

“Deal,” Jake readily agrees. “I need to limit the amount of blackmail Julia has on me to use on you.”

“Oooh,” Tammy pipes in, “tell me too!”

“That will never happen.” Jake declares. 

After your embarrassing introduction the rest of the evening of getting to know Jake’s parents goes smoothly. They are welcoming and so incredibly kind it’s almost overwhelming. When you eventually head to bed Tammy sends you a wink, “remember I sleep like the dead,” and heat floods your face and you can see Jake’s face go lobster red. 

Jake's childhood bedroom had been remodeled into a guest room and you are disappointed to not get a look into the life of teenage Jake. “Trust me,” Jake says, “it’s for the best.” 

It’s nice to go through your evening routine beside Jake and the two of you are soon snuggled into bed. Despite Tammy’s encouragement, it’s George’s advice that wins out and after a few kisses, you drift off to sleep with Jake’s chest pressed against your back. 

[lyrenminth]

Quiet love 5/5

This is the last part of Quiet love . Thank you for all your support for this short series.

"Bitch, why you didn't tell me you were dating a football player?" Lydia spat, surprised.

You hid your smile while saying "We decided to keep it private"

"How? Justin Herbert is like the most private person around the league? Did you slid into his dm's?" She demanded.

You rolled your eyes. "No, we are childhood friends"

"C-childhood friends?" she was stunned.

"Yes, we separate during college" you answered "before that we're pretty close"

"Oh my god! You're from Eugene too, I completely forgot that. Were you staying at his house then?" she remembered, you nodded. She studied you for a few seconds, then she smiled. "Am I invited to the wedding?"

You laughed. And you felt like walking on clouds.

***

The off-season started but Justin was still busy doing commercials and sponsors. You really enjoyed to have him around and missed him a lot when he was out. You took your coffee together every morning, and kiss him goodbye. Help him to find nice outfits, but he was reluctant to change his Nike wardrobe.

"I don't have to think" he explained while dressing up. Justin without doubt had one of the best legs in the league. Period. And that wide back was begging to be scratched "Just put it on and looks good, you know?"

"You look good in everything, especially when you are on top of me" you teased him. He blushed fiercely and you started laughing. You love to tease him and making him all flustered.

"Well, I'm not using suits except for special occasions" he reiterated.

You sighed. "My coworker, Lydia knows about you"

"That's ok" when he was fully clothed, he turned around for a kiss "We are going to Oregon in March, do you want to talk with your boss about it?"

Since you started dating and made it official, Justin always talked in plural. "We're going to do this, and that "- "We should do this and that"

We.

And it was the best thing ever.

You nodded. "For how long?"

"One week or so"

"Okay, I'm gonna ask" you wiggled your eyebrows "are you going to show me your acres of land?"

He laughed. "Yes, my ranch can seduce you"

"I don't think so" you explained "Ranches are a lot of work"

"Well, you don't need to work on it"

"I can make a pie from scratch though"

"I will take it"

***

Eugene was the place that watch you grow together. But now that you came back as boyfriend and girlfriend, it was different. You were in love, so maybe that's why everything was so beautiful. You spent the whole time meeting with old friends, making grills and having excellent dinners at Justin's house. Justin was in fact, a good host. He made the meat most of the times, and you named him King of the Grill because he dislike people getting closer when he was cooking. On the other hand, you were the pastry girl. You made all the sweet food and drinks you could think of.

Those nights were so much fun.

"I think you complement each other very well" said Tate, one of Justin's closest friend during a dinner, in private to you "Like we saw it coming at one point" you could tell Tate always care about Justin. "During highschool he told me he kinda like you but he was worried"

"We grew up together" you simply said. Tate was there too. "I'm lucky to have him all these years"

"Are you going to marry, uh?" He said smiling, you blushed "I think it's early" you said.

"You have known each other for years, it's ok" he nudge you "Just be patient with him, he's a football player"

And day after day, between dinners and meetings people said similar things to you. Everyone was so positive that made you cry. And you could tell by the way he looked at you, Justin was feeling the same. "You don't know the way he looks at you" your friend from highschool, Melissa said happily. "Like he's stolen glances every second and oh my god, why you did to him? He smitten"

One night while you were falling asleep on each other's arms, he said it.

"I love you" you raised your head from his chest, astonished and suddenly awake. "Oh, I thought you were sleeping"

You laughed. "What? Repeat it" you requested. Your heart fluttering as his. "I love you" he whispered in the intimacy of the room. And you could only kiss him. "I love you too, Justin"

"Tell me what you want, I'll give it to you"

"Babies" you started, he snorted "No problem with that" he replied within seconds.

"Two dogs, a baby cow" he frowned "If you own a ranch you need cows" you explained. "Okay. I can give you a cow"

"Tate talked to me" you mentioned, casually.

"What did he said?" he asked against your forehead. His growing beard was ticklish.

"He's happy for you. For both" he let out a sound right from his chest that turned you on slightly. "I'm very happy right now"

"When the season starts..." He begun, and you know what that meant. "We're going to find ways, but you need to be more open to me Justin. We're in this together"

"Yes" he replied, breathless. He hugged tighter and you felt like his arms were the most safe place for you.

You came back to L.A in a daze. There were slow mornings, were you would make love for hours, looking at each other's eyes. There would be days of rush, mostly for your work. Justin truly had your back, he never mentioned quitting your job because he knew you loved it. "When we have children?" He asked, during one of those table conversations "I can quit my job, I would love to raise them" you said, it was true. You would be a stay-at-home mom for them. "But I would like to have some support, too. And I know you are super busy"

"We can hire someone as we do now" he suggested. "Yes, I suppose"

And having those conversations about the future were refreshing. He was serious and all in about the relationship. And you loved that too. It made you feel special and secure about your relationship.

No matter what happened you would enjoyed all the time you had together.

[solar-sunnyside-up]

hey, something i've been struggling with recently is i've been struggling with "finding my people" because i'm a minority in my hometown, and a lot of people... aren't. they don't understand me, and often when i try to get them to understand they seem like they fall back into the old systems they were traumatized with (elitism, classism ect.,). 1/2 -solidarity anon

Im gunna say this at the top, this is so rough and im so sorry you gotta go through this sweetie. We are so isolated and filtered into categories within our current system in order to keep that isolation and to fight solidarity and unity. Now I cannot know for 100% sure what your going through or the extend your suffering. But will say I am from and currently still live in a oil loving, god fearing, anti-LGBT, and very racist city while i was raised wiccan by a poly core family and all my gay aunts/uncles and have been dreaming of an earthship my whole life plus every summer id be stuck in an even more harsh farming community that was so small they gotntheir first street light when i was 9 and the chruch is also town hall (mayor works in a wing off of the building). So there is at least some overlap in the experiences your having.

But that being said, how I got weirdly connected to people and involved in so many projects and stuff might not work for you.

Personally? I just yelled and yelled about the injustice of the system at work, about cool forestry projects and people buying ghost towns to start up Co-loving villages. Sharing discworld and different philosophers with coworkers backed up by their fave hobby. About how terrible the conservative politics are. About how cool transit could be if we funded it. About community art projects and how cool solar glass would make things look. About drags shows and events and did you know there is A SOUP FESTIVAL? I'm autistic and have only really interacted my whole childhood with friends with ADHD so my brain is weird and won't shut up once it starts going.

As a result of my ramblings, I have gotten a lot of responses mostly ones that are positive since if they didn't agree with my absurdist philosophy ramblings or solar project ideas they'd just leave the coffee shop. If they enjoyed it, say they want to join a community garden/event or if someone was as stoked as I was about again UNLIMITED TASTINGS SOUP FESTIVAL than we'd chat about that. The thing is a lot of these things have overlap. Someone who wants to convert their lawn into a pollinators habitate prob also likes little libraries and as a result prob also likes the idea of dark sky street lights. And down the rabbit hole you go.

That being said... my best actual advice is 2 pronged.

RESEARCH and REACH OUT

I personally have done years worth of research on my city. What local events and politics are happening? Even in rural places there is at least garderns, there's engineers, there's usually a LGBT focused club. And from these spaces, you can build a network. Doing research I found out about 5 different organizations in my city (most of which was founded 40 yrs ago??) That where sustainability focused. Doing research made me realize how cool community associations could be and how I could help mine out. It also gives you all those ideas for convos.

Second, I reached out to those groups about weird ideas I had, about if I could hang up posters for them in my local area, if I could buy groups worth of tickets in advance, and than also reaching out to the ppl I already talked to and had these ppl interact. My fave example of this is T. T is an engineer who built a fully functioning solar car during his degree program but specializes in hydroponics (how we ended up talking was over plants) he than gets shown my fave farm near by and now he's building the farms hydro system and Seedling house. Writing in to newsletter ppl and showing off weird layout design. This is ultimately very anxiety indusing. What if I'm bothering them? Why should I be spamming them like this? But the secret here is-

No one will ever be mad about you showing interest in their interest once you find those ppl. They want the interaction just as much as you do.

[sweetandabitspycho]

Eric Draven x Reader

Title: The Crow’s

Summary: Soul mates.

Request: YES

Warnings: Probably a few ( a lot of...) grammar errors

I'm so, so, so sorry it's taken so long and is short! But I’ll probably make a part two, let me know what you think, please.

It was a nice day, the weather was sunny well that was until it turned 5, l the rain came hard and fast. To top it off I'm in thin black pants and a shirt. I walked at a faster pace trying to get home faster, I decided to take an alleyway, not the best  decision but it  offered a little bit of shelter from the cold. I was almost out when someone grabbed my shoulder, it forced me to turn around. God he was ugly, he looked about 40, with white hair. Damn I forgot my knife, fuck.

“What do you want?” I question sternly one rule, NEVER let anyone know if your scared. He let out a chuckle and tried to move closer to me, I moved back. I was trying to keep the distance between us, until ether I found something to defined myself or if someone saw.

The man tried to grab me but someone stopped him, a tall man with white paint on his face scared him off after the old man tried to hit him.

"Thanks for saving me," I said looking at my savior. He looked at me for a minute, it wasn't a scary look just a look that made you feel safe. He smiled "No problem. Do you want me to walk you home?" He asked in a sweet voice. “Yes, please?” I said.

“So…. Do you always save people and walk them home?” I asked as we walked. “Just the cute ones.” He let out a chuckle. “But no. But this is a dangerous area,” he looked at a crow that was flying by. The rest of the walk was quiet but not uncomfortable, it was nice. “This is me,” I said turning to him, that's when I noticed the blood. “Are you okay?” I quickly question, and he looked down at his side. “Yeah, it was from a knife,” he said like it was nothing. “Let me look?” I said moving to unlock my door. “No, I don't want to be a burden,” he said turning. “Please? As a thank you for saving me.” I said trying to convince him.

“Okay.” he walked into my house, I told him to sit on the couch as I grabbed the things I need. “Take off your shirt, please?” I asked placing the stuff down. Once his shirt there was a crow tattoo just like mine on his heart. I let out a laugh he looked at me like I was crazy. "You're my soul mate," I said moving my shirt for him to see my tattoo. He laughed too.

"Thankfully I saved you huh?” he asked laughing, “After I cleaned your cut, how about we talk?” I asked smiling, he said that was fine.

[myonos]

Partner In Hatred (pt 2/4)

• heeseung x female reader • e2l • wc: 1.4k

• genre: fluff, angst?

• warnings! mutual bullying(?), swearing, heeseung and y/n are both dickheads to each other 🤣 insults, rumor spreading, physical violence in the first part, mention of a bone breaking.

• summary: Y/N and Heeseung have been enemies since the age of 5. The universe keeps them in each others lives until one day when Heeseung moves away. After years apart, Y/N and Heeseung meet again after he moves back home for college. Both are dreading seeing the other again until they realize, they’re both hot now?

taglist: open @cowstiddymilk

masterlist

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ONE YEAR LATER

You look around at all your classmates as you prepare to walk the stage.

After four somewhat grueling years of high school, you are officially graduating.

You got top grades and are graduating fifth in your class.

Your top college choice was the one right in your hometown, whose programs are some of the best in the country. You got accepted and were ecstatic to start in the fall.

Now you get to enjoy the summer with your best friends. Hanni already had plans to do multiple fun outdoor things. Ningning wanted to stay inside more, have girl time, sleepovers, etc.

Yunjin was in the middle and didn’t care what you did, as long as you all did it together.

The announcer took you out of your thoughts.

"I’d like to congratulate the class of 2023!"

Everyone got out of their seats, cheering and throwing their caps, as you did.

You turned to your friends on the right, smiling. Now the fun begins.

You all decide to go home, change your clothes, and relax. The day was slow and exhilarating. As you all sit on your couch, a jarring sound outside your house.

Hanni gets up to see what it is. "Someone’s moving into the house across the street."

Oh, that’s the house Heeseung lived in.

You get up yourself, maybe you’ll be close to them.

As you stop at the window, your eyes nearly blow out of your head.

There he is, the same menace who plagued your life for years, Lee Heeseung.

"No fucking way."

"What?" Everyone says it simultaneously, looking at you.

"It's him."

"Him... as in Lee Heeseung?" Yunjin says.

You can't do anything but nod.

Ningning and Yunjin run to join you and Hanni at the window. Ningning whistles, "Damn, he's fine as fuck!"

"Ningning!" You scoff, "You're not supposed to complement my enemy!"

"Well, he is," Yunjin says. Hanni nods in agreement.

"None of you are helping," you shout, pulling the curtains closed.

"Are you having trouble admitting he's attractive?" "That's not usually hard for you," Ningning laughs.

"He was ugly when I last saw him; now he's not."

You sit on your couch in disbelief. Is this Lee Heeseung? The same Lee Heeseung who called you ‘four eyes’ and ‘noodle arms’ and made childish rumors about you?

What if he sees you and thinks the same?

No, he can't see me. We’ll return to how we were, which is stupid because we're too old for that.

Just then, your phone dings with a notification.

It’s a text from your mother.

Mom

Heeseung’s mom just told me they moved back into their old house!

We’re going there for dinner tonight. I want you to be on your best behavior.

How fucking great!

You send her a dry "ok" back and put your phone away.

"Well, now I have to see him. We’re going there for dinner tonight."

The girls squeal, clapping their hands erratically.

"We’re going to make you look so good, not that you don’t, but even better, so he’ll drool over you," Ningning says.

You scoff, "I don’t want to look good for him. Why would you think that?"

Hanni grabs your shoulders tightly. "This could be your chance for the relationship between you two to take a 180."

"From total enemies to lovers, it’s perfect," Yunjin adds.

You take Hanni’s hands off your shoulders and ask, "What movies, books, or, god forbid, fanfics have y’all been looking at?"

"Forget that!" Ningning interjects. "Let’s go plan your outfit."

You groan as they pull you upstairs.

The girls take their time finding an outfit for you.

By the time they do your hair and put light makeup on you, it’s almost time for dinner.

Just as your mom gets home, they leave, reminding you to tell them what happened afterward.

You can feel your hands shake as you and your mother cross the street.

Once at their door, you feel yourself staying behind your mother, just in case Heeseung answers the door.

He doesn't, and instead his mother answers, immediately hugging your mother.

"Y/N!" she says excitedly. "Look how big you’ve gotten. You’re even more beautiful."

You smile hesitantly and say, "Thank you, Mrs. Lee."

She ushers you inside, and as you approach the kitchen, you see Heeseung is already sitting on his phone.

When he looks up, his eyes widen as he spots you.

You ignore his gaze, but you feel it follow you as you sit down.

Dinner is a whole buffet of korean food and you feel grateful that Mrs. Lee cooked for you and your mother.

Everyone helps themselves and as you’re loading your plate, you feel Heeseung’s gaze back on you.

“The tension in this room is crazy. Can you two lighten up?” Your mother says, laughing with Heeseung’s mother.

That just makes you tighten up more.

“Anyway,” Heeseung’s mother starts, “Y/N, how have you been these last couple of years?”

You clear your throat awkwardly. “Well, I graduated 5th in my class and got accepted into my dream school.”

She congratulates you before saying, “Heeseung also graduated top of his class.”

For the first time tonight, you look at him.

“Congrats,” you say, clearing your throat again.

“Thanks,” he says, “You too.”

“You’ve gotten so handsome since I last saw you, don’t you think so, Y/N?” Your mother always puts you in awkward situations.

You look at Heeseung again and it’s almost as if he’s waiting for you to say no. It’s almost funny.

You nod, “You’re very handsome.”

He visibly relaxes, and you have to stifle your laughter.

“Thank you, you’re beautiful. You always have been.”

That makes you do a double take in your head. He’s always found you beautiful? Wow.

You know you were lying earlier when you told your friends he was ugly when you were younger. He wasn’t, but of course, you didn’t want to admit that at 13.

When dinner has finished, you offer to do the dishes, but of course, Heeseung offers to do them with you.

As you stand next to each other, you wash while he dries, and you keep your mouth shut.

"You’ve grown up a lot," he says.

You were hoping he wouldn’t say anything.

You reply, not to be rude, "You have too."

He chuckles from beside you and says, "I hope you realize I’m not the same as I was all those years ago. I know our hatred of each other was technically my fault."

Wow, I wasn't expecting that.

"I realize, and I’m sure you realize the same for me."

"Maybe we could be friends," you say, hoping you’re not rejected.

"I’m sure we can."

You take the initiative as new friends to flick soapy water at him, getting his shirt wet.

"You did not," he says, his mouth open in shock.

"I did," you giggle, but it barely escapes your mouth before he’s gathering water in his hands to splash on you. He gets the entire front of your shirt wet as you gasp like you weren’t expecting it.

Then it’s a battle, with both of you splashing each other with whatever water you can reach.

You pull the hose out of the sink and spray him with it.

He shrieks at the cold water, and before he can get you back, your mother comes in.

"I’m glad to see you two getting along for the first time, but why at the expense of my kitchen?" Heeseung’s mother sighs.

You both look at her sheepishly as you apologize. She waves it off but decides you’re both going to clean it.

You spend the next half hour wiping up water and finishing the dishes.

Once you and your mother are ready to leave, nudge Heeseung in his side and say, "I’m glad we’re friends now."

"I am too," he says. "Maybe we’ll hang out over the summer. I heard we’re going to the same college."

Your eyes widen. "No way, that’s great. We’ll hang."

You smile at each other one last time before you and your mother trek back to your house.

As you get ready for bed, you think about Heeseung.

Not only is he hot now, but you became friends. You never thought the day would come when you two would get along, but you’re happy to have a new friend, even if it took 15 years.

As your eyes are about to close, you remember to text the girls. Within seconds, they’re blowing up your phone, asking more even though there’s nothing more to say. You decide to be mean and not answer; sure, you’ll get it in the morning, but why not?

As your eyes finally close, you think to yourself, this summer’s going to be great.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

notes: well, here’s part 2! i’m thinking there’s gonna be 3 or 4 at most but we’ll see. i really struggled getting this to a higher word count cause i’m so rusty 😭 if there are any mistakes in terms of spelling/grammar etc pls excuse me i am stupid and have adhd 🫣

[kerubimcrepin]

Liveblog 8: Episode 5, AKA the one where we discuss Kerubim's dead family again

Since I made pointing out the food they eat A Thing we do here, let's start out with that for this episode.

First of all, their household is so fish-centric. An octopus? A lobster?? A different lobster and a fish?? Plus, multiple bags, one under the lobster, and one under the giant veggie on top of Joris's other veggies. Probably some grain, I guess. Simone is also carrying some greens in a bag.

Basically... Man, they love fish and veggies, I guess?

Yet again, we see Kerubim's low self esteem and need for validation in action.

Yes, he thinks he's amazing. Yes, he uses magic to force people to laugh at his jokes. And yes, it makes him very happy and proud.

Don't worry about it. :)

I find it kind of interesting that Joris is resistant to the magic, but the simplest explanation is that his soul is intermixed with a dragon. I won't think too much about this.

Joris should have a salary for the way Kerubim's reputation hinges on him not talking about the shit that goes on in their house.

Like the deadly swords and cursed items everywhere. Or having mold and rotting meat at every corner for his whole life.

Considering that bamboo milk is alcoholic, I am fascinated by the in-universe implications of this line.

I wish boil-able, alcoholic oat milk was real.

The best way to get Kerubim to do something stupid is to make fun of him. Again, his low, low self-esteem making an appearance.

Genuinely, instead of being at the bar, he should have been in therapy.

Very small note, but we can see an amputee among the many patrons who listen to Kerubim's scary drunken rambling. I wish more cartoons included this sort of thing.

Though, this might be a bit of a brick-joke, considering what we learn about YeCh'Ti and his arm collection.

COUGH COUGH COUGH. ANALYSIS EVENT LEVEL 10 ALARM WEE WOO WEE WOO.

Firstly, god. The sheer insanity of going from his child self's grief and pain over losing both of his parents, all of his sisters and brothers, to making jokes about this, jokes about having no family and being lonely.

Is it really funny to you, Keke? Or are you just pretending again?

Second of all... I could talk for hours about how much I love/despise this man, but fuck, the sheer level of cruelty in this line knows no bounds.

Are you really The Last Crepin in your family, Keke?

Or are you just being cruel and facetious again?

Cruel, and towards the only other person in the whole world who would understand what you went through, because he also went through it?

(This is, yet again, your signal to go read The Wheel of Destiny #8: Kerub Crepin and Dessous De Dofus)

No wonder Atcham wants to turn him into a coat. I would fucking hate him too.

Though, with Atcham kind of using his hate for him as a coping mechanism for not having control in his life, and canonically not thinking that Kerubim really... mistreated him, when they were young, it's far more complex than that.

Especially with the way Kerubim's own conflicted feelings on their relationship are portrayed in-canon.

I'm so normal about them. Haha.

...Aaaanyway, onto the rest of the ep, while trying to pretend this doesn't make me feel all sorts of emotions:

This moment is a continuity error, because Ogrest hasn't started his quest for Dofus yet. Also, he may not even be alive yet. Yes, Kerubim and Joris are that old.

It's too cute of an easter egg for me to mind, though.

God. Joris needs better loved ones. His standards are so low he's looking at Kerubim like 🥺

Something-something Kerubim would genuinely kill himself if it meant people thought he was funny and cool.

I don't think he learned anything from this, actually.

I think we have to kill this guy with hammers.

[runninriot]

20 Questions For Writers

i'm a little late because i took a break while on vacation but THANK YOU for the tag @ataliagold and @sidekick-hero 🖤

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

52

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

468,074 (written in 16 months, which is a personal achievement i'm actually quite proud of)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Steddie only for now because these boys still have me in a tight grip i can't get out of

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

thought i'd only look at the stats for the ones i wrote this year out of interest

Liberate Me

Worship Me

Sweet Thing

Tomorrow

You're A God (Be My Sinner)

5. Do you respond to comments?

always!! i appreciate everyone who's taking the time to comment on one of my fics so much. love these little interactions

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

it's 'happy endings always' in my house but the ending of Only Love could maybe count as angsty?

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

it's hard to choose but Where The Sun Still Shines has one of my favourite happy endings

8. Do you get hate on fics?

people have always been very kind to me (thank you, people! 🖤)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

yes and any kind? since i started the The Best You Ever Tasted series i have tried not overthink it and not to limit myself anymore when it comes to writing smut and to just go for it. there's still more to explore 😏

10. Do you write crossovers?

apart from my first ever steddie fic Real Love Is Forever (ST×The Crow mash-up), i haven't written any crossovers yet

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i think/hope not?!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope. but i'd love it if that ever happened

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

no but i think it could be a fun experience although i'm not sure i'd want to burden anyone else with the chaos that is my writing process 😅

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Steddie. don't know what it is exactly but i love them being in love and writing and reading about them makes me fucking happy

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Weight of the World. do i want to finish it? yes!!! will i ever? only the stars and moon know (it's been a year, man 😔)

16. What are your writing strengths?

people have said i'm good at writing dirty smut mixed with deep emotions which is a compliment i hold dear to my heart

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

ugh. plotting/outlining, just planning ahead in general. i always start my fics with a random sentence and just take it from there which has cost me some nerves in the past because i never know what i'll end up with

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

love when people do that. i think it can be a nice way for authors (like me) who aren't native english speakers to sprinkle bits and pieces of their own first language into their fics

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Steddie (any hand-written sins from my youth are well-hidden in old notebooks and will never see the light of day again)

20. Favorite fic you've written?

oh god, that one's hard because i love all my brain babies equally but

We Are The Lifeless Stars (Shining In The Dark) is the one that broke me most

Small Treasures To Keep is my favourite prompt inspired fic (kudos to all of those amazing people providing us with writing challenges and prompts, i love you guys!)

i absoluetely loved creating Vampire Steve's background story in Show Me What It's Like (To Live On The Other Side)

Unlovable is very special to me in many ways

and Monsoon and Harrsion was probably the silliest fic idea i ever had, inspired by Jemma who came up with the names. it was so fun to write and it still makes me laugh when i think of my google search history while writing that porn actors au 😆

that was fun!

feel free to ignore me if you've already done this or don't want to but i'd love to read your answers

@thisapplepielife @morningberriesao3 @steddieas-shegoes @thefreakandthehair @steddie-island 🖤

[thewritingofspencerrose]

Mamma Masterlist

The Lake House

Summer 2018

"Jim! Can you get the door honey?" Ellen's voice sounds from inside the house, making Quinn chuckle from my side, our luggage in his hands.

The door swings open, revealing Jim Hughes, the yelling of the boys clear as they run around the lake house. Our last summer before Q joins the Canucks full time.

"It's Quinner and Ruthie!" Jim bellows, and it's clear where the Hughes boys get their volume from. "Hi sweetie," He greets me, pulling me into a tight hug.

"It's nice to see you too, Dad," Quinn greets, making his father laugh as he pulls away, going to hug his eldest.

"Don't act like it's not clear that Ruthie is the favorite child," Jack speaks up, the chaos having calmed as all the boys crowd the hall that Jim lets us in to.

"Q," Jack greets his brother, Quinn setting down our bags for a moment to hug his brother as Luke approaches us, the 16 year old heading straight into my arms.

"Hey kiddo," I welcome, giving him a tight squeeze. "You're practically a string bean. When did you turn into a giant?"

He chuckles, giving me another squeeze before pulling away. "The same time you got old."

"Old!" I yell, shoving him back. "How dare you! I am barely four years older than you! Q, Moose is being mean to me," I complain jokingly.

"Dude, you never call a woman old, Ladies 101," Jack advices, him and Lu switching places as I pull the 18 year old into a hug. "It's good to see you Ruth."

"Always good to see you kiddo," I return, looking towards where Trevor, Alex, Cole and Jamie stand. "And hello to you boys."

"Hi Mom," Trevor is the one to respond, and from the corner of my eye I can see Quinn roll his eyes at the wild teen.

"Speaking of mom, where is Ellen?" I question the Hughes.

"Right here, sweetie, which means it's my turn for a hug!" Ellen speaks up, apron still on as she pulls me into a hug. "God, I've missed having another girl around," She all but groans.

"How does it feel, knowing our parents like your girlfriend more than any of us?" Luke asks Quinn, the younger boy wrapping his arm around his brother as Jim disappears with our luggage.

"I don't like her more," Ellen defends, pulling back with a directed look to her sons. "She's just the first girl in the family. Let me appreciate her," She requests, smiling brightly before looking to me. "Why don't you get settled sweetie? I need to borrow Quinn for a few minutes to catch up with my oldest baby."

"Of course Ellen," I assure, giving her a side hug before making my way to Jack's friends. "Now, who wants to tell me what y'all have been up to?"

"Is everything ok Mom? We talk almost every day, there's nothing to catch up on," Quinn questions as his mom pulls him into the kitchen, leaving Ruth with his brother's and Jack's friends, all of who call her mom.

"What are you and Ruthie planning about Vancouver? Is she going to stay at UMich?" Is the first thing out of Ellen's mouth. "I think you should propose before you take off. I trust her, but men will hit on her otherwise."

"Whoa Mom what? I'm not proposing just because I'm moving to Vancouver," He denies the crazed idea, not admitting it had run through his head as well. "And Rue is staying in Michigan. She has to finish her degree."

"Oh poor thing, with her exams and student teaching schedule, and you everywhere all the time it's going to be so hard for her to visit, or for you to visit."

"Isn't student teaching just a couple days a week?" Quinn questions, having thought it was just like any other class when Ruth had said she was applying.

"Honey, student teaching in 5 days a week, 7am to 5pm, on top of coursework. Ruthie said it'll be a lot but she thinks if she leaves immediately after work on Fridays she'll be able to visit you on weekend-"

"I can't let her disrupt her life and scurry around to see me," Quinn interrupts, his Mom knowing where his head is.

"Then it sounds like you have some thinking to do, Honey," She says softly. "Because that girl out there would do anything for you. Move anywhere, travel anywhere, and do everything she can to make you two work. And it sounds like you don't want that work for her."

And as much as Quinn hates it, his mom is right. He doesn't want the constant stress and traveling for her. He loves her too much for that.