#My sister said this is serial killer behavior

[spongebob-connoisseur]

Get yourself a man who looks at you as lovingly as Slappy does to Nosferatu <3

[astrophileous]

Love Bugs (Pt. 05)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: You and Derek Morgan have an arrangement. At work, your relationship is strictly business. Under the sheets, it's all about pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less. Until, of course, your feelings start to get involved. Your situation is complicated enough without the unexpexted predicament that suddenly befalls upon you. But with a maniac serial killer on the loose, will you ever get the chance to make everything right?

Warning(s): psychopathic behaviors, kidnapping, captive situation, verbal and physical threats, threatening use of knife, curse words

Word Count: 2300-ish

Tag(s): @camilaheroine @crazyunsexycool @whateverrrrrrrrs @wifeyofeveryone @louderfortheback @marvelousgoldroses

Author's Note: HI I'M SORRY FOR THE DELAY, YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT A CRAZY-FUCK-LOAD DAY I JUST HAD 😭 in summary: my sister had a breakdown, I almost succumbed to the hellhole of road rage, and someone in my life is possibly trying to get a divorce :) so yeah :) it was fcking crazy :)))) buuUUTT I managed to quickly revise and edit this (heavy emphasis on quickly in case there's any mistake found). as usual, you know the drill: LIKE+REBLOG+COMMENT pls pretty pls and thank you 🌹

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

For a whole minute, the silence that conquered the entire bullpen would make a pin drop sound like an exploded grenade.

Everyone was scared to even breathe, let alone to say anything, to make any kinds of noise that would solidify the reality they were facing.

Not a single pair of eyes could jerk their gaze away from the screen as they watched the UnSub closing in on you. Pulling out a dagger and pressing it against your jaw before tilting your head just right so that you would look straight into the camera.

Derek flinched.

"Garcia," Hotch's voice was the first rip into the silence. When the tech analyst failed to answer his call, he tried again, "Garcia."

"Yes?" Penelope's eyes were watery. Her voice was wavering as she answered, "I-I'm sorry. Yes, sir?"

"I want you to start tracking down his location."

"I-I tried to do that, sir. Earlier. I couldn't... the signal, they kept being bounced around and I don't--

"Garcia." Hotch's voice was colder this time. "Try again."

Penelope immediately sprung into action, reaching for her laptop where the projector was connected.

"I'm sending units to her place," Hotch informed before making a quick call. As he waited for the line to connect, he turned to the others in the room. "Emily, (Y/L/N) said she was going to a hospital yesterday, try finding out which one she went to. Reid, JJ, start tracking her past movements, I want to know about every person she's had any contact with recently."

"How far back do you want us to go?" JJ asked.

"The day of the press conference," Hotch answered. "This must be why he's been lying low for a while. He's got his eyes on her since that day. If we can find out where she's been, we can find him."

Hotch pocketed his phone back after sending units to your home. The other three agents had all scurried away to fulfill Hotch's requests.

Derek, however, hadn't even moved an inch.

"Derek?" Hotch called out. When Derek didn't make a single gesture of acknowledgment, Hotch began to approach him. "Derek, do you--"

Hotch didn't manage to reach Derek's side before he was interrupted by the sound of the telephone ringing.

Penelope's eyes were frantic as they darted to the remaining people in the room. "I-Is that--"

"Garcia, get ready to trace the call," Hotch demanded. He moved swiftly to where the phone was located, glancing at Rossi who gave him a single nod of encouragement.

Taking a deep breath, Hotch put the phone on speaker. "FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit."

"Agent Aaron Hotchner?"

"This is he." Hotch waited for the other person to answer, but it never came. "Can I ask to whom am I speaking?"

"You know who I am, Agent."

"Do I?"

"Well, we have a very important mutual person in our lives. I know you. So you must also know who I am."

Hotch's eyes flickered towards Rossi, exchanging a conversation in the silent language which only those two could seem to understand.

"Are you talking about (Y/L/N)?"

"You know I do," the person answered. "You're watching right now, aren't you?"

"Yes, we are," Hotch confirmed. "We need to know if she's safe."

"Of course she's safe. I would never hurt her."

"Yes, I'm sure you wouldn't. But we still need confirmation, alright? It's just how this works," Hotch explained. "Please, can you pass the phone to Agent (Y/L/N)?"

A beat of silence passed. Hotch glanced back at the projector to make sure that the UnSub hadn't done anything untoward. Finally, after what felt like hours, he pressed the phone to your ear.

"Tell them you're okay, Darling," he commanded.

"H-Hotch?"

Derek stood straighter at the sound of your voice.

"(Y/L/N)." Your name almost sounded like a breath of relief out of Hotch's mouth. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Hotch."

Before you nor Hotch could say more, the UnSub tore the phone away and brought it back to himself.

"See? I told you she's fine."

Everyone's eyes were directed back to the screen, seeing your assailant unglue the dagger from your neck and walk straight towards the camera. Even in the darkness, his eyes were provoking. Arrogant. He never broke eye contact as he spoke his next words to the phone in his hand.

"I should thank you, Agent Hotchner."

"Thank me?"

"For giving me the opportunity to know such a beautiful creature in the first place."

The UnSub walked away from the camera, refocusing his attention back towards you. Your determined eyes never so much as faltered, even when he brought the tip of his blade on your skin, dragging it across your collarbones, neck, and back. Forceful enough for you to know not to cause any scene if you didn't want the blade to be plunged into your flesh, but sickeningly gentle as to prevent it from drawing blood.

"I know it was your idea to set up that press conference with Agent (Y/L/N) for me, Agent Hotchner. Wasn't it?"

Hotch gritted his teeth at the UnSub's taunt.

"So, really, I owe it all to you. If only you hadn't made that call--" the UnSub paused, touching your shoulder and leaning down until his lips brushed your temple, "--we would've never had the chance to be together like this."

Then, to everyone's horror, the UnSub's hand trailed away from your shoulder, down and down until it rested upon your belly.

"The theee of us," he sneered.

In that moment, Derek's entire world shifted under his feet.

Every cell in Derek's body went erratic once the true implications of the UnSub's words registered in his brain. His heart plunged into a void before restarting instantly into a sequence of thunders. Inch by inch, his body and soul were consumed by a fog filled with the worst snippet of dread and the darkest terror he had ever encountered in life.

"What is he talking about?" Derek questioned as soon as he had found his voice again. "Hotch?"

But the older man remained stoic in his place by the phone. On the other line, a booming laughter sounded.

"Oh? Did no one know about this?" the UnSub cooed. "Have you not told anyone about the good news yet, Darling?"

The clear panic in your face, along with the whimper that slipped past your lips, was the scissor to Derek's final resolve.

In big strides, he marched over to the phone, voice raw and splintered as he cried, "You sick son of a bitch."

The room stood still at the magnitude of fury laced within Derek's words.

Your voice was muffled when it came through the phone, but Derek heard every fiber of emotions in it all the same.

"Derek..."

"Derek?" Your captor tilted his head. "Ah. Agent Morgan?"

"You're a dead meat, do you hear me?"

"Morgan," Hotch warned sternly.

"So much rage," The UnSub suddenly mused. "I told you, Agent Morgan. There's no reason to worry here. I'm going to take care of them. They're in very good hands."

"Fucking bastard! You get your filthy hands off her," Derek fumed. "Get your fucking hands off my child."

Derek's admission was a butcher knife in the thick silence.

"My child?" the UnSub's voice broke through from the other end of the line. "Darling, what is he talking about?"

Your captor's question managed to lift some of the fog from Derek's head. Before he could begin to form any more words, Hotch pushed him to the side before pressing the mute button to block the noises inside the bullpen from filtering into the telephone line.

"Rossi, can you take over for a second?" Hotch asked before turning towards Derek, "Morgan, my office. Now."

Every one of Derek's movement was robotic as he followed Hotch away from the bullpen. As soon as the door to the office closed behind them, Hotch wasted no breath before stating his order, "I need you off the case, Morgan."

"Absolutely not."

"Morgan--"

"Hotch," Derek cut him off, eyes blazing with a ferosity matching that of a thunderstorm. "I'm not going to stand around and do nothing while she... while he still has her."

"The team and I will never let anything happen to her. To both of them," Hotch promised. "You need to trust us."

"I trusted you, too, last time, Hotch. Look where that got us."

He knew it wasn't fair. Derek realized it as soon as the last syllable had passed his lips. But Derek wasn't himself right at that moment, and Hotch understood it all too well.

Closing his eyes, Derek leaned back against the desk in Hotch's office. Exhaustion was the fruit of fright as it diverged in his bones. It raced along his bloodstream, reaching the deepest points of his entire being until there was no corner left for hope to fill.

"Would you have done it?" Derek asked eventually. "If any of us had told you to stand down when Foyet was holding Haley and Jack--if I told you to trust us--would you?"

"No," Hotch replied truthfully. "But this is different."

"How the fuck is this different?!"

"It's different because your personal feelings almost cost us (Y/N)'s life."

There was nothing Derek could say to counter Hotch's accusation.

Flashing scenes of the earlier phone conversation sped through Derek's mind. For a second there, right after the UnSub unknowingly declared your condition, Derek almost thought that he was on the brink of losing his complete sanity. All Derek remembered was red in his vision as he stalked towards the phone, shouting the first threats he could think of towards the UnSub, all the while failing to deduct how his rash behaviors could affect you later on.

The breath that Derek let out quivered in the air as he tried to stop thinking about what the UnSub might have planned to do to you in the wake of his action.

"She's pregnant, Hotch," Derek cried quietly. "He has them both. She's carrying my child and I... I didn't even know."

Derek didn't even realize he was crying until the burning ache inside his chest started to expand. The room around him was spinning. The only memory echoing in Derek's head was of the very last night the two of you had ever spent together--the night where he screwed up--and how you had kicked him straight to the curb because of his own idiocy.

"I fucked up, Hotch," Derek managed to croak out between his wretched sobs. "The last thing I said to her... God, what if I never get the chance to make it right again? What if the last memory I have of her is of the night I broke her fucking heart?"

Hotch didn't think he had ever seen Derek in such a state before. Gone was the capable and confident man that Hotch had the pleasure of knowing for the last few years. In his place was a broken shell of a man who looked like Derek, talked like Derek, but void of any semblance of life and spirit that Hotch always associated with the man.

The life and spirit that were gone in the absence of you in Derek's arms.

"Morgan, everything's going to be fine," Hotch tried again. "JJ and Reid are scouring everything to figure out her movements over the last couple of weeks. I've assigned Emily to find the hospital (Y/N) went to yesterday. We'll figure out who took her. End this for good."

Derek's gaze never strayed away off the ground. Hotch took a long breath before adding, "Morgan, we will find her--"

"How did you know she went to the hospital?"

The question came as a shock to either of them. Derek's eyes were more curious than incriminating, but the accusation behind them seemed to inflate with every second that passed by in Hotch's silence.

"You didn't seem surprised when the UnSub told us about her condition. Why?"

"Morgan--"

People liked to say that anger was the ultimate fuel for human beings.

And for Derek Morgan, anger was exactly the propulsion he needed to throw himself right off the edge, where the line between flaming vengeance and common sense had blurred together into one another.

It was the propulsion that, somehow, rationalized his instinct to surge forward and slammed Hotch back against the hard surface of the office wall.

The harsh impact knocked the air entirely out of Hotch's lungs, but the choked sound was stifled in Derek's ears by his own roaring wrath. Hotch almost didn't recognize the man beneath all of that hostility. The only thing left of Derek Morgan, in that moment, was his name.

"You knew?"

Each syllable not welded with rage in Derek's question was fused with betrayal instead.

"Morgan--"

"Answer me, goddammit!"

Hotch's resolve remained steadfast as he answered, "Yes."

That one simple word managed to drain every last bit of energy from Derek's body. He fell back a step, then twice, before the choking hold he had of Hotch was finally released.

"How long?"

"I only found out yesterday."

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose.

"She told you, but not me." He chuckled dryly. "Why the hell didn't you tell me, Hotch?!"

"I didn't know you were the father," Hotch said. "She never told me it was you."

Before his legs could give out, Derek sank on the chair in front of Hotch's desk. A million different thoughts were going haywire in the neurons of his brain. He wanted to scream. To flip the earth upside down and find the location where you were being held hostage. He just wanted the universe to stop messing with him and started giving him answers.

And then, five seconds later, the door to the office swung open.

Emily stood in the doorway, unassuming of the palpable tension lingering in the air. When she finally uttered her next words, Derek thought he could finally start to breathe again.

"We may have something," Emily announced to the room. "We think we know where (Y/N) is."

Derek flew out of the chair before anyone had the chance to say anything else.

He was coming to get you.

And this time, Derek had no intention of letting you go.

[classicanalyzer]

The Acolyte - Destiny Thoughts

"Destiny is not decided for you by an anonymous Force. You get to make a choice, Osha. If you want to pull the Thread, then pull it." Mother Aniseya

I love how the logo of the show matches the colors of a small part of the skies, especially when the Ascension was happening with the orange and light blue converging together. I do love how we get further humanization of this witch coven. However, I have a feeling we might have our view of them subverted since we see them from their POV.

Mae (her full name being Mae-Ho) was incredibly messed up as a child. With how Mae used the Force on the butterflies, as my friend said it best, those are serial killer signs (it also reminds me of Momin). I was incredibly surprised at how she thought killing her own sister would stop her from leaving. No wonder she became an Acolyte.

I like how Osha (her full name being Verosha) shows her desire to be more and explore the galaxy. It's hard for her and for anyone who is in her shoes to speak out for herself than others expect you to be. I also like the parallels to TPM Anakin which is even more apparent with no they were born with no father.

This leads to a major reveal of how Osha and Mae were conceived by the Force (or the Thread) by Mother Aniseya and Mother Koril. I hope we get to know more of the specifics behind this since the Force might not have liked this (in Legends, I believe Plagueis tried to manipulate the Midiclorians using the Force for immortality and the Force not liking being manipulated reacted back to this by creating Anakin) I do love this unique direction and exploration and I hope we get to learn more.

I really like Mother Aniseya. She was incredibly understanding towards Osha's well-being despite her preferring Osha to stay. It humanizes this group of witches despite the implications that the witches might've done something bad to warrant Jedi's caution. Since the Jedi did tolerate other Dark Side groups that weren't Sith, it makes one question what's up with this group in particular. I also like how her relationship with Mother Koril is shown. They both love each other but they clearly have different views on how to raise their children. It's also understandable of why the group doesn't want to give up their children given their trauma but they also have to respect that Osha wants to be more than a witch.

The HR Jedi are also portrayed well here. They're doing their best (understandably cautious towards the coven given the implied past of the group being not so great) and wanting to protect Force-sensitive children (the possession thing and what we know happened to Force-sensitive children). Sol continues to be one of the best Jedi of the HR Era and in general. His kindness and understanding of Osha stand out and show why Osha thinks so fondly of him. How he sympathizes with Osha about feeling scared just like her and comforts her that she isn't alone in this is great to see. You can feel the weight of his guilt when he had to tell her that none of her family survived.

The entire witch coven definitely didn't die in the fire (their bodies aren't charred). There's something much more going on and perhaps the Jedi are involved in it though I highly doubt they went out of their way to kill them if they did (I highly doubt Sol was a part of it if that's the case). Perhaps even the Sith or an Acolyte (the mysterious Dark Side user) was responsible for the explosion. However, I definitely think the fire was the first domino that led to the tragedy. Mae's irrational and disturbing behavior had inadvertently resulted in the loss of everything.

Episode 3 continues Acolyte's greatness and I hope Episode 4 continues this streak. Kogonada, a South Korean-born American, directed this episode and I can't for his work in Episode 7.

[cosmic-ships]

Something to me; 💜🧡

Ship: Phillip x Kaden

Words: 1,768

cw: Mentions of parental abandonment and just general shitty parental behavior doesn't go into heavy detail.(Its my reality hhh so this is scary for me to post) One little suggestive joke but nothing detailed or anything just a quick way to make Kaden smile dlfjds

Summary: A jokester is really good at being heartfelt and sweet.

If you're not a self shipper please dni, nothing against ya. I have anxiety lol || self shippers are encouraged and welcome 2RB <3

The breeze was warm but cooled in the night air, crickets chirped their little tunes and fireflies lit up the backyard. The only other sounds were soft sniffles every once in a while. to anyone else this was the perfect night, it was warm, there wasn't a single cloud in the sky, and stars twinkled high above but to Kaden this night felt incredibly heavy.

"psst.."

"psst!"

"Kaden!"

Kaden jumped a little, quickly bringing their hands up to wipe their tears as they looked behind them to the best of their ability, They were sitting in the backyard at the patio table. "What are you doing awake?" Kaden asked as Phillip approached them.

"Seeing why the grass out back was sniffling, obviously" He teased with a grin. "Why're you crying out back at 3AM?" He asked, the teasing tone replaced with a more serious concerned tone.

"I wasn't crying." Kaden sighed as Phillip took a seat next to them and without warning he reached over, swiping his thumb across Kaden's cheek only to find it damp.

"Uh-huh. Clearly." Phillip chuckled softly which caused Kaden to smile in response. "So what were you not crying about?" He asked once more, leaning back in his chair.

"Not so sure I'm ready to talk about it right now" Kaden sighed.

Usually when it came to someone being emotional Phillip always seemed to freeze up or get confused about whether he should press the person or just go away and leave them alone. The only one he was ever really able to talk to was his sister Wendy but oddly enough it was also incredibly easy to talk to Kaden too.

"If I leave you be are you going to cry again?" Phillip raised a brow and Kaden sighed heavily, there were already more tears.

"N-No" They tried to say confidently but it came out weak and a bit broken as their voice cracked.

"Okaaaaay" Phillip sighed softly as he shifted his chair closer to Kaden. "Just say whatever is on your mind. I won't judge."

"I lied to your sister--" Kaden swallowed thickly.

"How so? uh oh, you're actually a serial killer and I'm the first to go." Phillip grinned and earned a small chuckle from Kaden which only made Phillip smile.

"No, you're safe." Kaden shook their head to which Phillip placed his hand over his chest and breathed out a little 'oh thank god'

"I said I had family here but we weren't really on speaking terms-" Kaden shifted a little in their chair.

"annnnnd you don't have family here?" He asked, leaning forward in his chair a little.

"I do but….they aren't family…I mean they are but.." Kaden inhaled deeply as they tried to think of how to word it. "I was never their family." Kaden glanced up at Phillip. "I don't want to unload all this on you…"

"No no I want you too" Phillip reached out, placing his hand on the back of Kaden's chair. "unload all over me"

Kaden raised a brow and Philip flashed them a grin to which Kaden laughed and rolled their eyes. "Gross."

"Just tell me. I bet you'll feel better" Phillip hummed softly. If there was one thing that Phillip knew how to do it was making people feel better when they weren't feeling the greatest, Kaden noticed he was like them in that sense. He could easily be a goof just like them.

"Fine, you bug" Kaden teased and Phillip smiled. "I guess I'll start by saying I wasn't brought into this world with the intent of being cared for and raised. My dad's ex found out he was with my mom and she went off on him and her, basically told my mom that my dad was sterile and his words were "wanna bet" and nine months later here I was, a few years after that he left." Kaden sighed heavily.

Phillip was now grasping the weight of the situation, he was still holding the chair that Kaden was sitting on, his thumb brushed against their back when they spoke and he shook his head. "If you're too uncomfortable to continue it's okay."

"No… it's okay…I might feel better." Kaden echoed his previous words. "I always had other people taking care of me and by taking care of me I mean leaving me to my own devices while they either got high off their asses or drunk. Amongst other terrible things-" Kaden rolled their eyes. "Mom was never around and treated me more like a paycheck than anything which was evident when I became a teenager. I stopped going to school because I had a huge bully issue to the point where I was literally afraid to go to school, my bully was very violent"

Kaden felt Phillip gently place his entire hand on their back and he hesitantly rubbed their back, he knew if they felt uncomfortable with him doing it he'd stop but he was happy that Kaden didn't even mention it, Kaden felt very comforted in that moment.

"Long story short my mom stopped getting government checks for me, once she realized she wasn't getting any money she booted me out on my ass. I was 16- I've been struggling to find my place ever since. One bad relationship after another. I tried giving my mother multiple chances and failed.." Kaden's throat went dry.

"Then I get invited here by your sister and while you guys all seem to be at each other's throats half the time I can tell that you all care about each other very much, despite your differences you're still a family and you spoke about your childhoods and what you all did and it was nothing like what I experienced and I don't know I feel…robbed and cheated. Why am I here? To win a bet?" Kaden's eyes glassed over before tears rolled down their cheeks. "I feel like I was an error, put into a world that I wasn't supposed to be in. I'm nothing and I am no one, I have no place and I don't fit in. Being here just reiterated it for me"

"Hey…hey hey" Phillip got off his chair and knelt down in front of Kaden, he was quick to take their hands into his, and he looked at them, his expression softening as he wiped away their tears. "That was a lot of heavy things you just said and I'm not always the best at words but Kaden, you are something, you're not a no one, I see how you've interacted with me and my family and you leave an impression on them that most people don't and no doubt anyone you've ever met…Everyone you've ever spoken to, I'm sure they know who you are in some way. Might not be well it might just be that person with the dark blue hair but..in some way, people remember you" Phillip gently squeezed Kaden's hand, reminding them he was there for them.

Kaden lifted their head to look at him and Phillip cupped their face as he wiped their tears away. Their eyes flicked up to meet his.

"You've at the very least made quite the impression on me." Phillip dropped his arms to rest his hands on Kaden's knees, he remained squatted down in front of them. "You're something to me." He gave a little shrug. "Call me an idiot for feeling like this but ever since you showed up I haven't had a moment of peace up here" he pointed to his head. "You're infectious." He said with a small smile. "My family thinks I'm a royal fuck up, while I can't relate to you completely and what you went through, I do understand the feeling of standing on the outside looking in on something you wish you had"

Kaden almost didn't know what to say, they were shocked. They didn't think Phillip was like this, for someone who doesn't always know what to say he really does talk from the heart and it was damn near perfect what he said, they felt a wave of relief wash over them and they felt a comfort they had never really felt before. "If it's any consolation…I don't think you're a royal fuck up.." Kaden gave him a soft smile.

Phillip stood to his feet, grabbing Kaden's hands, yanking them to their feet, Kaden nearly stumbled forward but was caught by Phillip who enveloped them into a tight hug. Kaden couldn't speak, their eyes went wide as they felt themselves pressed against his chest, their arms trapped between his body and their own as his arms wrapped around them.

"And you my dear are something, you're something and someone and you fit perfectly. Right here." Phillip rocked with them slightly to get his point across, Kaden felt a flush cross their cheeks as they looked up at him with a confused expression on their face.

Phillip looked down at them and grinned "You heard me" He chuckled, leaning his head down to kiss their forehead. "Not saying slap a label on it or anything but I would really like to spend more of my time with you." Phillip hummed as he pulled away enough to look at Kaden.

Kaden smiled sweetly, their heart felt like it was pounding out of their chest. "I'd really like that."

"Ohohohooo my sister is going to haaaaate me~" Phillip nearly giggled and Kaden laughed softly. Phillip dipped his head down a little to better look at Kaden, his arms slipping to their upper arms. "You feeling better?"

"Yes." Kaden nodded.

"You sure? I'm not going to hear the grass crying in an hour from now?" He grinned.

"I'm okay, promise." Kaden giggled.

"Good~ I'm gonna go to bed now then, you try and get some sleep too okay?"

"I'll try my best~"

Phillip pulled Kaden forward slightly only to dip his head down and kiss Kaden's cheek with a "MUUAH" sound. "Goodnight sweetie, see you in the morning" He grinned and let them go.

"It…It is morning though?" Kaden flushed darkly and laughed.

"Oh shit.." Phillip said, looking at the sky that was slowly getting brighter. "Okay then" Phillip grabbed Kaden's hand, gently tugging them along back into the house. "We'll have a quick nap and then I'll make coffee…lots and lots of coffee.."

It would turn out that Kaden and Phillip didn't actually wake up until his sister found both of them snuggled up on the couch sleeping in the living room. Nothing says good afternoon like a blood curdling "Nooooooo!!"

Tagging: @ama-ships || @heatobrienswife || @kylars-princess || @lysandreslittlechatot || @dragonsmooch

SCARY SCARY VERY SCARY! I'm not used to being open about my past so this is SCAAARRYYYYYY

[seeyouslater]

Spoilers for Creep and Creep 2:

Note: I will be switching names for the killer when I start talking about the sscond movie, since that is how he's referred to by other characters.

First off, can I just say, I appreciate how weird and out there these movies are? The cinematography choices in both films work well for the stories they are telling and add to the atmosphere. By not being able to see both characters on screen at the same time, it leaves the audience to guess how the other half is reacting- when it is not audible.

Aaron's decisions throughout the first movie, while addressed later by Josef, baffle me to no belief. I understand (in some way) wanting to get closure and answers. The police are not assisting the capture of Josef and are not taking Aaron's concerns seriously. Due to this I can see where Aaron's mindspace might have been in that moment. He's scared, it's obvious that Josef can freely access his apartment without his knowledge, and Josef's claimed to be and have done several things that have been proven wrong. Aaron wants this to end and maybe a part of him wants to help Josef.

The two things I do not understand is 1. He does not bring a weapon with him. It can be reasoned he didn't want to escalate the situation by bringing one, but I still would have brought at least mace. 2. He turns his back on him! I do not care how harmless this man is, he has threatened you, and I would never turn my back on someone like that.

Remember when I said there were only two things I didn't understand?? Well, I've now realized that's not true. 3. Who is Angela? She answers the phone when Aaron answers and seems to know that Josef is unstable. I was reading some theories on Reddit and they all seem viable. From her being the actual Josef's sister (implying that real Josef can be perhaps as unpredicable as on screen Josef and real Josef's house is used as the next lure-murder scene after he himself gets killed), to her being on-screen Josef's wife/sister, to his accomplice. A third movie is in production, so I hope they explain this and it isn't just a continuity error.

Finally, we get to the second movie. Right out the gate, Sara is iconic and by far my favorite character from both films. She's just so openly accepting and willing to take people as they are, with all their eccentricities. Which is a hazard for what she does on YouTube but alas, I believe it is this quality that saves her.

Sara is able to get Aaron to see a different perspective on his work, life, and most importantly, purpose. Aaron no longer sees killing as his whole life's purpose and starts to remove himself from the narrative of prolific serial killer to prolific serial killer with a unique ending. This ending is what ultimately saves Sara. Instead of just being another one of his countless victims, Sara, by virtue of her being genuinely and honestly herself, has convinced him that she can create a better story than he ever could.

This ending sequence, however, is the one thing that bothers me as far as Sara's behavior goes. She is given the opportunity to run away, and she does not. She charges at Josef, and he's able to get the knife back. After this altercation, he stabs her and starts monologing. He talks about how he will now continue his work as a serial killer, switching from himself killing, to dying, to them both dying, to just her. It is evident that all the work Sara did to get him out of that cycle is gone now. Sara is able to hit him.om the back of a head with a shovel, but yet she doesn't make sure he's dead?? It seems from the framing of the last scene that she doesn't even call the cops?! I get not wanting to kill him (even though he tried to kill her but that aside), as that's never an easy thing to do. She one hundred percent should have called the cops on him though. Then he would be a wanted man and would not be able to come after her like he does. I do like to think that instead of Josef killing Sara, that either she becomes his accomplice or is able to get away/finally kill him, but I doubt that anything other than the first scenario will happen.

All in all, I thought these movies were funny more than anything, and that made it more enjoyabpe than anything. To be able to laugh at it and the absurdity of it all. That's exactly that's how I approach the Scream movies too and it makes it a more enjoyable watch.

[aviculor]

The people who run the yarr harr sites need to wake up and upload V/H/S/Beyond already. I'm going to have to watch something else in the meantime.

Creep. I know what happens in Creep. A guy takes a gig taping a video diary for someone who's allegedly terminally ill. And the client is a creep. A weirdo, if you will. You might be tempted to ask what the hell he is doing here. It may be evident that he does not belong here. So on and so forth. At the end, the two men part ways with the client being seemingly benign in spite of all his unsettling behavior. But when they meet again, our protagonist gets an axe in the head because the client actually was a serial killer toying with his prey this whole time. That's the long and short of it. But as I've said before, a film cannot be assessed by a plot summary alone. It is an experience. And the experience is in fact the meat of this movie.

At an hour and 17 minutes, it is indeed a little more svelte than some of the other films I've experienced. Not a bad thing, as it is a rather straightforward narrative. The film is from 2014, and you can see how it evolved out of the "cruel for cruelty's sake" and "invincible villain" flavor of the aughties that gave us Saw and The Poughkeepsie Tapes.

Oh yeah, Josef is getting naked as soon as Aaron agrees to the job. That is setting the tone just as well as Aaron spying the axe in the stump outside.

Knowing how it ends, it does rob a lot of the "what the fuck is going on here? Is this guy being sincere about Tubby Time and Peachfuzz the Wolf?" ambiguity from the events that are unfolding. But because I am watching all this knowing it's just Josef (and that's not even his real name) completely fucking with Aaron, it's like watching a car crash. Or a Greek tragedy. You know what I mean? And then it makes sense why Josef would "break script" to take the camera and record Aaron and ask him invasive questions. Because that footage was never being filmed to show a child whose father will die before he is born. Josef literally did just pick that idea up from the movie he mentioned. It also explains why his marital rape story gives a completely different origin for the "Peachfuzz" mask than what he said in act one.

So who exactly WAS Angela, anyway? What did she know? What was she doing? Why was she calling Josef? Why did she not have more urgency in telling Aaron to leave? Why did she not contact the police? IS Josef his real name since she called him that, or was Josef the name of his last victim the same way he calls himself Aaron in Creep 2? Was that why he ran away and dropped the pretense of having cancer and a pregnant wife after that point, because Angela was his last victim's sister and he thought that Aaron learned more than he actually did?

My recollection of events was accurate aside from the day ending with Aaron getting into a physical altercation with Josef and escaping, and Josef stalking Aaron. Which only begs the question of why Aaron agreed to meet Josef again. He should have contacted the police again when he got that final CD. He gave up on that way too easily and then he willingly went to a second location of Josef's choosing. Josef even pointed it out, Aaron should have been on guard enough to look behind himself even just once.

[adamwatchesmovies]

Tin & Tina (2023)

If you only ace one part of your movie, make it the ending. For the most part, I was enjoying Tin & Tina but it didn't seem like anything special. After the final act, my thoughts on it changed completely - for the better. Due to that period of uncertainty, I have to be slightly conservative with my rating, but this is a movie I’ll remember down the line.

Set during the early 1980s, in Spain, Lola (Milena Smit) and Adolfo (Jaime Lorente) have just said their marriage vows when they unexpectedly lose their unborn twins in a miscarriage. Hoping to make their family whole again, the couple adopt twins Tin (Carlos González Morollón) and Tina (Anastasia Russo) from a nearby religious convent. Lola soon becomes suspicious of the children, though Adolfo insists their odd behavior stems from innocence rather than malice.

When we meet the twins, they seem needlessly creepy. They’re either albino or extremely blonde, they’ve got weird haircuts and their smiles are too big. The children are extremely religious. They've never watched TV, they quote the Bible for fun, the idea of not saying grace before a meal mortifies them. It's offputting but you can understand where that behavior comes from since they were raised by nuns. They're introduced playing the organ with a skill far beyond their years (reminded me of “The Orphan”), which is another sure sign that these kids are baaad news. Despite their appearances and strange habbits, you can see why Lola wants to adopt them, however. As a child, she lost a leg. She was also a “weird” kid and she’s specifically looking to replace the twins she lost.

Soon after arriving to their new home, Tin and Tina's actions raises some serious red flags. Not necessarily the kind that exposes them as evil but they would make any sane parent go back to the orphanage and ask the sister in charge (sor Asunción, played by Teresa Rabal) if she ever noticed anything weird from them. Less patient parents would go to the police and tell them to investigate the orphanage. Whatever those nuns are teaching the rugrats, it’s going to make them all into serial killers. Even for loving parents who really want a family, even for the place and the time period, Lola & Adolfo are way, way too cool with what happens. No one watching would tolerate some of the horror movie behavior exhibited. It’s enough to make you want these people to fall victim to whatever terrors await them once the kids turn full-on evil. I mean when you can’t read ANY of the signs, you deserve it.

Although I still feel like sometimes, Lola – and to a certain extent Adolfo too – let things that no one else, not even a saint, would let slide and that is frustrating, the ending changes all of that. This movie is much smarter than it seems. You see the creepy kids, you witness the horror-movie behavior, you think you know exactly where the plot is headed. You dismiss the characters as too stupid to live and essentially give up. What you don't realize is that you’re the one who's made the mistake. There’s something you haven’t considered while evaluating this story and probably wouldn't have in a million years: the possibility that although this is a horror film, the children aren’t actually evil. What if they’re not the problem? What if it’s Lola and Adolfo?

There are indeed subtle details that hint at the couple not being idyllic. At the orphanage, Adolfo insists that they’re only for children free from deformities. His wife wears a prosthetic leg. She has since childhood. What does this statement say about him? We find out that Lola has a bitter relationship with God. Bitter enough to make her subconsciously hate children who love Him more than anything else? Maybe. Trust me. I know not knowing if a movie is better than "just ok" for nearly 2-hours is hard, particularly with several developments that make you think "Oh come on. How many more signs do you need?!" but it all comes together so well during the conclusion you'll feel foolish for having doubted the film.

There may also be a deeper meaning to some elements of the picture, since it's set during a tumultuous period of Spain's history that I'm not familiar with. I can't say for sure. What I do know is that Tin & Tina deserves your patience. I'm still not 100% sure the characters are not a little bit dumb but that conclusion is so solid I'm more than willing to forgive it. It's scary and makes you think in the most unexpected way. (Original Spanish with English subtitles, May 28, 2023)

[enbyleighlines]

Leigh plays Tellius prt 23

Ugh. Featured above is what I believe to be the most frustrating decision Radiant Dawn made. Astrid had so much potential! She's from a noble family, but left to become a knight so that she could escape an arranged marriage! (Likely inspired by seeing her elder sisters enter into unhappy marriages.) She's timid, but determined to become stronger. She starts out weak, but grows fast, due to her special skill. The fact that she becomes demoted to Makalov's devoted groupie is so disappointing.

I mean, in comparison to her original betrothed, Makalov is a vast improvement. But that's more of a comment on Lekain than Makalov.

And here we have the most baffling decision Radiant Dawn has made. I don't hate it, I'm just... confused. Why did Devdan change his name? Why is he pretending to be a different person? Did he actually lose his memory or is this a bit? Or is it a poorly designed scheme to keep himself out of trouble?

I don't know. I do wish Devdan/Danved had more story importance. He seems like a cool character. I especially liked his base conversation with Ike in PoR. If only we could have had more of that.

Crimean Royal Knight Fifth Platoon Captain Kieran hath returned!!! I am so happy to see this absolute buffoon. He just reads as so fruity to me. I can't wait to pair him with Oscar again. Those two were monsters in my PoR playthrough. And with Oscar's avoid bonus, they were nearly untouchable, too.

Man, this map took me so long. I went into it thinking that it would be easy. After all, most of the enemy units are fairly weak. Surely my units won't have any issue staying alive.

Oh, how wrong I was. The amount of times Marcia got sniped by an crossbow, or Geoffrey got crit by a sniper... I didn't keep count, but trust me, it was a lot. And it didn't help that the enemy and ally turns took so long, so redoing this map was a trial of patience.

At long last, however, I managed to pull through.

This part of the game is so heartbreaking. The fact that Ludveck actually sent Elincia Lucia's hair... like, that's serial killer behavior right there. And while I do think Lucia looks better with short hair, I would have much preferred it if she didn't have it chopped off against her will by the world's most evil Southern gentleman. That's a massive violation of Lucia's bodily autonomy, meant to humiliate and degrade her, and I'm again sad we don't get to murder Ludveck for this.

I've always wondered what all the people gathered here think. Are they predominantly on Elincia's side, or Ludveck's? I hope it's the former. I know Elincia isn't enjoying much popularity from the nobles, but I hope she at least has a devoted following among the common folk.

And how I pray to remove your head from your body, Ludveck. God, he's so creepy. Why are all the male villains in RD so creepy? They all have such terrible incel energy.

THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN

I SAID THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN

Gosh, this isn't my favorite cutscene in the game (that happens in part 3), but man this one is SO HYPE. My own complaint is that Soren is the only one who doesn't seem to have a voice actor assigned to him, aside from maybe Rhys. Even Gatrie does a little grunt at one point. But Soren is a main character! At least hire someone to do some quiet chanting in the old language. They did that for Micaiah in the first cutscene.

Oh, well. I'm too happy to complain any further. I'm just relieved to finally get the Greil Mercs back. Part 3 is probably my favorite part of the game, though part 4 is also a lot of fun. It has some of the best cutscenes in the game imo. I cannot wait to see Ranulf animated. His smooth voice and subtle little ear twitches... ah, I'm in love!

[princeescaluswords]

#35 🤔 for the ask the writer game

#35. What is one essential thing to remember when writing a villain?

This is an excellent question. There is one thing, when writing villains that I feel an author must never forget, because to me it's the literal difference between a villain and an antagonist or even a morally-gray or morally complex character.

THEIR VICTIMS.

Conflict is the soul of stories, and in conflicts, characters are going to be hurt either emotionally or physically, sometimes by others, sometimes by themselves. Heroes can be forced into situations where they have to kill another person or they can be forced to choose between two equally unpleasant outcomes. Antagonists can have legitimate reasons to hurt others or even kill their enemies. A character with deep flaws can make decisions that hurt the people who care about them or are part of their lives. But villains have victims: individuals who are hurt as a means to an end, whatever that end might be, who would never be involved in the story without the villain expressing their will-to-power.

Let's look at some examples. Teen Wolf is my fandom, so I'll use the villains of that show.

If the lies that Peter Hale had told in Season 1 had not actually been lies, i.e. "I was out of my mind" and "Only the responsible ones," he would not have been a villain. Scott may have felt that he had to stop Peter's plan for revenge, but that would have made him an antagonist. But if Peter truly had bit Scott in a fit of moon madness and then said "Oh, shit, I involved a perfectly innocent boy in all this" and not mentally and physically violated him repeatedly, there would be a legitimate argument that he wasn't a villain. If he hadn't murdered the school janitor or savaged Lydia or tried to force Scott murder his friends, then there might be grounds for arguing that he was just an antagonist. But he did Bite Scott on purpose and he did murder people who had no knowledge or involvement in the Hale fire, and he did use Lydia in a degrading and sadistic manner. He's a villain.

This distinction is why I consider Derek Hale an antagonist in Season 1 and a villain in Season 2. In season 1, Derek manipulated and bullied Scott, but Scott was already involved. Derek was doing what he thought was necessary -- avenging his sister -- though I have to stress that he certainly wasn't "trying to help" Scott. The only lead he had was Scott McCall, and while his behavior was downright reprehensible, he didn't create the situation in which he found himself. This changes in Season 2 with Jackson, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd. He knew that Kate's death would bring repercussions, he knew that the Alpha Pack would be coming, he watched Gerard declare war, he had the means to avoid it, but he went and involved four teenagers anyway. Their deaths, and the deaths they caused, are an expression of his will to get what he wanted, when they wouldn't have been involved without it. Boyd might be lonely, Erica might be dealing with epilepsy, Isaac might be in foster care, and Jackson might be nursing a bruised ego, but they wouldn't have faced what they did without Derek's decision to manipulate them into getting the Bite. That is what makes him a villain.

What does that mean for other villains? Theo was manipulated and kidnapped by the Doctors. Monroe crossed the line out of ignorance. Meredith suffered from true mental illness. None of these stories are simple. It's not supposed to be simple, which is why the key always comes back to the victims: Carrie, Zach, Edgar and the people like them who never chose to get involved, who weren't the protagonists, but were hurt anyway.

That's why fandom vanishes the janitor from Night School (1x06) when trying to turn Peter into a morally-gray character rather than a serial killer. That's why fandom vanishes Jackson's claws to Allison's throat when they try to make Scott into the villain rather than Gerard in Master Plan (2x12). Fandom cannot deny that the victims are what make the villain.

When I want to make a villain in your writing, I ask myself which people are they hurting who would not have been part of the story without the will of the character I am identifying as the villain?

[the-homicidediaries]

Ed Kemper

Hello, everyone who takes the time to read this. <3

I hope everyone has had a good Mother's Day. I've had one of the best days. My children are so lovely, thoughtful, and caring. I couldn't be prouder of who they are becoming. BUT Enough about me.

Idk, I kinda figured I hadn't talked about a serial killer in.. toooooo long, so in honor of Mother's Day, I will be shedding some light on Mr. Edmund Kemper, The Co-Ed Killer. (I'm also totally waiting for my Sims game to redownload, so I had some time to kill, lol.) If you've never read one of my essays, well, sometimes they can get gross and I'm obviously not being very professional. I told Del it's like I'm just talking to one of the girlies, haha. So please keep that in mind; it may get graphic and I may say a curse word here and there. I am 32 after all.

When I think of Edmund Kemper, a few things come to mind. In no particular order: Number one, he's unbelievably intelligent; he's said to have an IQ of 145, only 15 points away from Albert Einstein. I know he's dangerous because he is a serial killer, but brilliant people are just as scary. The level of power they hold, the mind games; terrifying. And it's pretty rare for us to see serial killers who are so smart. Like just to name a few people off the top of my head.. Robert Pickton, Henry Lee Lucas, Ottis Toole, Arthur Shawcross, and Gary Ridgeway, not so bright to be honest. Another thing I think of is how MASSIVE Eddie Boy is. (SPOILER: Oh, I am speaking in present tense on purpose; he's still alive in a medical facility in California.) This man is 6'9", over 300 pounds. Is he the biggest serial killer? Let me google real quick. YES HE IS, HA! Just wait until you see the pictures I post of him next to the police officers when he was on trial. He's SCARY tall, and he was actually really good friends with said police officers, but he couldn't become a police officer like he wanted to beCAUSE he was so massive. (Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself.) I also think, (imagine this in big, flashing red, neon lights), MOMMY ISSUES. It was pretty clear early on in Ed's life that his mother hated his stinkin' guts and favored his sister's instead, but we will get into alllllldat girrrrrrl.

Edmund Emil Kemper was born on December 18th, 1948 in Burbank, California, to E.E. and Clarnell Kemper. (Omg I just realized why she is so angry all the time. Clarnell? DISGUSTANG) Okay anyway, so, his parents divorced in 1957 when he was 9 and he was, of course, stuck with his angry, alcoholic mother. They ended up moving to Montana. She blamed Ed for everything bad that happened to her. (I think I've listened to some podcasts that said she was so angry because he looked so much like his father and that angered her. Don't quote me on that.) When Ed was ten, his mother forced him to live in the basement away from his sisters because she was always worried he would harm them in some way. (I always go back and forth with this. Was Ed a normal child until his mother put it in his head he was a problem and he might start hurting his sisters OR did she see something everyone else didn't? I don't know.) Regardless, it's said soon after that, Ed started exhibiting some weird behavior. Weird like, like serial killer level weird. Like dark. And evil. Like he would play this game with his sisters that he called "Gas Chamber" where he had them blindfold him, have him sit in a chair, and he would writhe and scream in agony until he "died". Like, idk sometimes my Barbie's parents or sister would die in an accidental car crash, but yeesh. He also admitted during this time he would have dreams about murdering his mother. (Ed LOVED to talk about himself, also pretty rare for serial killers, so there are lots and lots and lots and LOTS of videos of him being interviewed.) Also when he was ten, he buried one of the family cats.. alive. When he was thirteen, he stabbed the other with a knife. Clarnell noped the heck out of Eddie and sent him to live with his paternal grandparents in North Fork, California. (I do want to keep this essay mostly focused on the relationship between Ed and his mother, but when he was 15, he did brutally murder his grandparents "to see what it felt like." This led to him being sent to the California Youth Authority where, I am not kidding you, he was so charming and brilliant they let him do whatever he want and go wherever he wanted, so he spent a majority of his time learning the correct answers of the exams they were giving him until he was eventually released for being "cured" of his schizophrenia at 21. After fatally shooting both of his grandparents to death because he didn't like their rules. It's Ted Bundy vibes and it's awful. But yeah, sorry to quickly explain that without much detail. I highly recommend looking into it.) After he was released, it was reccommended he maybe not live with his terrible, alcoholic, abusive mother, but guess what Eddie Boy did? I'll give you two guesses. Yup. He freakin' MOVED BACK IN WITH CLARNELL. Clarnell was living in Santa Cruz, California, now (after her third failed marriage), and she had taken a job with the Univeristy of California. At this time, Ed had also accepted a job with the Department of Transportation after being rejected to become a state trooper due to his size, which I already told you, but the show must go on! Like he was CLOSE with these dudes. They nicknamed him Big Ed, one of them gave him a badge and handcuffs, the whole shebang. And his car! His car was a Ford Galaxie 500 and it highly resembled a police car. (I'll post a picture.) Like for all intents and purposes, he was basically a state trooper. His job with the Department of Transportation is critical in his serial killing career because that's how he lured the girls he murdered. He picked up hitchhikers and.. ya knoooow. Killed them. But even worse, he would murder girls from UC, but they trusted him because he had a sticker or something hanging in the window, I can't remember, that said he was connect to UC. (Like I said, I am not getting into these murders today, but they are bruuuutal. Ed is a special kind of effed up.)

Okay, so here is where I give the signal that it's going to be really bad, like really, really bad. So. I'm just saying, you don't have to read it! It's not too late to turn around and never look back. But, if you're a little messed up like me, hi. Let's get into it, yuh. (This is all awful, you can really tell how much he hated his mother.)

In April of 1973, Ed Kemper committed his last two murders. First was the murder of his mother, Clarnell Kemper. Before he murdered her, he went to her bedroom and she said, "I suppose you're going to want to sit up and talk now." He replied, "No, good night," and When she was asleep, he bashed her head in with a claw hammer and slit her throat with a penknife. He then decapitated her and proceeded to use his mother's decapitated head to perform oral sex. (I have learned that term is called 'irrumatio'. 'In the ancient Roman sexual vocabulary, irrumatio is strictly a form of oral rape (os impurum), in which a man forces his penis into someone else's mouth, inducing vomiting for sexual gratification.[2]' Gross.) After that, he set her head on top of a shelf and screamed at it for an hour. He also threw darts at it. He also cut out her tongue and larynx and shoved them down the garbage disposal, and the absolute symbolism of that is chilling. Like he could finally shut her up, except he couldn't. Like I said, he loved to talk about himself and give interviews, and when her vocal cords couldn't be broken down, he said, "That seemed appropriate, as much as she'd bitched and screamed and yelled at me over so many years." Afterwards, he hid his mother's body in the closet and Eddie Boy went to have himself a drink at a local bar. He ended up inviting his mother's bestie over and he murdered her too. :( Ed assumed he was going to be caught immediately and fled to Pueblo, California, where ultimately, he ended up telling on himself to his police buddies. They didn't even believe him, he had to prove he was The Co-Ed Killer. I think it's very important to realize that he turned himself in after his mother was murdered. Like she was connected to all of his other murders somehow. I think he said in an interview that after he killed his mother, his "original purpose was gone" and he couldn't emotionally handle it anymore. I personally think he lived out his most disgusting, most wanted fantasy and since it was over, he had no other reason to keep going. Fun facts to lighten the mood? Ed stays in the same facility as Manson did! And also Herbert Mullin. It's rumored that Mullin had a habit of singing that pissed Ed off, so he bribed him with peanuts to get him to stop, lol. He's a smart man. In his time in prison, he's been a model prisoner I reckon. I read he has scheduled other inmate's appointments with their psychatrists and he enjoys making ceramic cups. Ed has a very nice speaking voice, unfortunately, and also while he was in prison, he recorded over 5000 hours worth narrating a set of audiobooks which I have searched high and low for, but I can never find them. He's been very forthcoming with his crimes and has had several interviews. He's also been denied parole several times, and he's even waived his right to a hearing saying, "Society is not ready in any shape or form for me. I can't faullt them for that."

And that is the disgusting, unfortunately true, murder of Clarnell Kemper by her own son, Edmund Kemper.

Happy Mother's Day! <3

My sources: Wikipedia, of course. And also: https://www.biography.com/crime/edmund-kemper

Pictured below are: Ed Kemper as a child. Ed Kemper and Clarnell Kemper. Ed Kemper's victims. Some photos to how he towers over people. Ed Kemper then and now.

Thank you for reading, I love ya!

[ahaura]

i have SO many questions that the movie didnt exactly answer about legacy vs. nature vs. nurture like

i dont think just because she's billy's daughter that means she will turn out like him. sometimes children turn out like their parents sometimes the cycle continues, sometimes it doesn't. i know she kills the ghostfaces at the end but like... there's a morality/humanity component that wasnt with sidney because sidney's mother was murdered by her boyfriend and then after killing her boyfriend and his friend she had to kill like 12 other ghostfaces to survive. now im NOT going to armchair psychology my way around anything but while sam obviously killed in defense of herself, her sister, and others theres the question of "is she going to turn out like her father". like she said "it felt right" after explaining how she killed richie but there was no further elaboration or details which leaves this all up in the air. the thing with same is that up until a certain point and developmentally speaking sam was [considered] normal, there are no indications she exhibited any behavior that would be cause for concern until AFTER she found out billy was her father. that doesnt mean there weren't any but scream v was very specific in saying "sam's dad left" (which happened after both sam found out who her biological father was AND when her father found out that sam was not only not his child like his wife claimed) "and she started getting in trouble with the cops" (which, to be frank, i dont fucking blame her??? like she's a teenager, and being a teen is already hell, but on top of that she 1) found out her dad wasnt her biological dad 2) blames herself for her and tara's dad for walking out on them and 3) IS AFRAID SHE WILL TURN OUT LIKE BILLY SO SHE RUNS AWAY TO MODESTO! like she didnt develop a fascination or obsession with her father or serial killers or become one herself and well obviously its a movie so it is suggested the "dont fuck with the daughter of a serial killer" MAY lend to her survival but all things considered... she did NOT turn out like billy! and the fact that she killed to survive doesn't make her like billy either! but the question is... does "it felt right" mean she DID? and in this movie she's obviously hardened from previous events, she literally says "richie was a limp dick little fuck who cried when i slit his throat" which may be typical grizzled protagonist bravado but because of her parentage her worth, or humanity, or her place on the good vs. evil scale (what's that quote that was like 'once again reminding me of my place on the menu' or w/e) and like IN REAL LIFE this would not be indicative of "the poison dripping through" (to use succ lines) but because its a movie the audience is left to believe... IS IT???? and my conclusion is... well does it MATTER? if theres going to be another scream movie with sam i would want them to PROPERLY explore that avenue of "is she or isnt she" like sam is NOT just the sum of her parts or her father's daughter like she's still human after all that (what's that quote that's like 'evil is almost always human and boring' or w/e) like... sam makes the CHOICE of not being like her father and i am not of the belief that she is anything like him and even IF she has a natural inclination or affinity for murder for whatever reason then, like... idk, i still dont think that means shes like billy unless she literally devolves into a full-blown serial killer. is this anything????

[bilbobagginsomebabez]

lindsay graham once said “If you killed Ted Cruz on the floor of the Senate, and the trial was in the Senate, nobody would convict you.”

Is Ted Cruz really “Lucifer in the flesh,” as House Speaker John Boehner declared earlier this week, or is he merely — as 38 percent voters in Florida are willing to believe — a serial killer? Based on the way his 8-year-old daughter, Caroline, recoils from his touch, we could easily be convinced of either possibility.

At a rally in South Bend, Indiana, Thursday, young Caroline was happy to dance with her sister Catherine, but scampered away in horror when her father attempted to scoop her up in a hug. Such behavior has become a recurring theme on the trail: At a February campaign stop in Iowa, Caroline flicked her dad away when he tried to come in for a kiss, screeching, “Ow, ow, ow!”

It’s hard to blame Caroline. If your father subjected you to this woman’s singing voice, or divulged embarrassing secrets to the world, like the fact that your first sentence was “I like butter,” you’d probably despise him too. The fact that he’s Ted Cruz — a person who almost no one in the world likes — is secondary.

As Cruz’s former college roommate, Craig Mazin, once put it, “One thing Ted Cruz is really good at: uniting people who otherwise disagree about everything else in a total hatred of Ted Cruz.”

To wit, a treasury of people who really, really hate Ted Cruz:

George W. Bush: “I just don’t like the guy.”

Bob Dole: “I don’t know how he’s going to deal with Congress. Nobody likes him.”

John Boehner: “I have Democrat friends and Republican friends. I get along with almost everyone, but I have never worked with a more miserable son of a bitch in my life.”

Peter King: “I hate Ted Cruz, and I think I’ll take cyanide if he ever got the nomination.”

Donald Trump: “He’s a nasty guy. Nobody likes him. Nobody in Congress likes him. Nobody likes him anywhere once they get to know him.”

Marco Rubio: “Ted has had a tough week because what’s happening now is people are learning more about him.”

Rand Paul: “He is pretty much done for and stifled, and it’s really because of personal relationships, or lack of personal relationships, and it is a problem.”

Chris Christie: “For him to somehow be implying that certain values are more appropriate, more American, depending upon what region of the country you’re from, is to me just asinine.”

Carly Fiorina (aka, Cruz’s hypothetical running mate, as of this week): “Ted Cruz is just like any other politician. … He says whatever he needs to say to get elected, and then he’s going to do as he pleases.”

Conservative columnist Charles Krauthammer: “Everybody who knows him in the Senate hates him. And I think hate is not an exaggeration.”

Conservative columnist Ann Coulter: “Cruz is a sleazy, Rovian liar.”

Former Republican staffer John Feehery: “Cruz is an army of one, alienating anybody who is in his path. He advocates losing strategies purely to further his own career at the expense of the party.”

Princeton classmate Mikaela Beardsley: “There are not that many people in my life who I can think of who I didn’t actually have extensive interactions with who bring up such bad feelings.”

Another Princeton dormmate: “He was just sort of an odious figure lurking around.”

had a dream the other day that america decided to bring back the poena cullei (death penalty where you sew someone up in a sack with a bunch of animals and then throw the sack into a river) but only for us senators and so every senate meeting just devolved into people shouting "THE SACK! THE SACK!" whenever ted cruz talked

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

I saw that you mentioned that Haru has other timelines, what are some details of the relationships he has with other characters in these timelines?!

── 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 ──

Yeah! Haruko is an older OC of mine that I made in college, and he was originally part of a JJBA roleplay for part 4. Some time passed and he morphed into something without any affiliations, and throughout a lot, and I mean alot, of roleplays with my best friend @magicshadowkitten - he ended up being a part of her universe. Thankfully he isn't too involved in the main plot line so I don't have to worry about too much crazy shit happening to him; but he does meet and know plenty of her characters. And since I know she's going to read this ( hi!! mwah ) I'll go over a few of the more meaningful ones and how Haru feels about the people he interacts with, not in too much detail though because these muses have been interacting for ... 8 years.

MIN-JIN YOON ── Fuck if Haru doesn't hate this dude. In some of my threads with Haru it's referenced that he survived a murder attempt in his past; well this is who done did it. Min-Jin was introduced to Haruko's little sister, Hinata, and the two of them started dating when he transferred from South Korea for school. Granted they didn't date because Min was in love with her, he's a serial killer who turned the women he dated into statues that he'd present as art. Haruko had a bad feeling about him from the beginning, and Min decided that he could take care of both of them. Long story short he cut Haru's hands off to keep as a prize and tried to kill him - but he didn't, and ended up leaving the country before anything could really be done about him. Thankfully they were able to reattach Haru's hands and they retain much of the same function as before, he's had to adjust his tattooing technique obviously. But yeah no words cannot describe the amount of hate and fear Haru holds for this person, he still has nightmares.

ROY G. BIV ── Another person he really does not like; and he doesn't even know the full extent of the abuse this dude inflicted on his adopted children. Point is, he hurt alot of the people Haru is very close to and he actually thinks he's disgusting; he'd key his car if Haru could afford the possible legal fees. Haruko already has pretty deep dadyd issues so they bleed into this hatred too, and refuses to really give him the time of day. They've only really briefly met, for good reason; the people who he loves do NOT let them interact, it just isn't a good idea for anyone involved. He's an asshole, Haru hates him, and he isn't afraid to talk about how much of a fucker he thinks Roy is. Literally wishes nothing but bad upon him actually.

ROSEMARY MURATA ── She is his childhood best friend and neighbor, she went to the same elementary school as him, grew up down the street, and has known Haruko and Hinata since they were very small. She's always been a bit of a firecracker which mixes well with Haruko's own wild behavior, but she's very protective of him and his sister. She's still in his hometown and he visits often, usually taking the train to visit his mother for a few days, he always makes sure to call Rosemary beforehand so she can get off and they can catch up. She was present when Bonnie was adopted, and is a sister to Haruko. She is part of the ideal blunt rotation, and is invited to every event she can make. She's always been extremely encouraging of Haru, and was by his side during the entire Min-Jin incident, because she also smelled some fuckery a foot. These two are the kind of people you don't want to piss off; especially not hurting Hina.

JASPER BIV ── I actually have drawn him; I'll put it under this paragraph! But That being said, Jasper and Haru met under less than ideal circumstances; Haruko being drunk at a bar and Jasper being the bartender who ended up taking care of him and making sure he was ok. They ended up meeting more, eventually becoming friends and going to the same gym together. Granted Jasper is a bit ... well, he isn't all he seems to be. TDLR; Jasper is 1/3 of a broken God trying to make it within the world and live a standard, relaxed existence ( it was not relaxed, he's got a very cool backstory but I wouldn't want to accidentally butcher it so I won't go into detail here, but he's a cool af character ). He keeps this a secret from Haru, even once they start dating, but eventually he breaks and can't keep it up anymore and tells him. Yeah to say Haru laughed at him was an understatement, but he comes around eventually and he wonders how all of this weird stuff constantly happens within his life. They live in the city together in their little high rise apartment ( Jasper's old asf and has money ok he was ready for this life ), and have a pretty normal existence despite everything. We actually joked that if her writing ever became like a dating game, that the player would meet Haru once or twice in town before seeing him leaving his apartment. Obviously part of the ideal blunt rotation, these two really give off like ... well meaning bro dudes vibes. Guys being dudes.

LIAM J. ALLEN ── You know how there are those people in life who are just pure and good and who you want to protect? Yeah, that's how Haru feels about Liam. The man is Jasper's boss and owner of the restaurant he works at, and Haruko has pretty much become part of that family too. Liam is a really good, well meaning man who takes care of Jasper and is so fond of Haru that he'll change Jas' schedule around so they can have time together. Haru is always welcome in the restaurant and he stays after hours since he knows everyone in that place. Liam is 100% part of Haru's ideal blunt rotation, and he's invited to every public outing, barbecue, party, etc ; and Haru would happily be his wingman ( asked or not ). These two have a pretty close brotherly friendship, and may honestly be the only person Haru would let date his sister without throwing a fit over it. He trusts him and knows he's a good man, and he's very grateful that he's part of his life. He can babysit Bonnie.

AIRI BIV ── Oh he likes her. She's Jasper's sister, from another broken God, and has a pretty resentful, bitter personality when you get on her bad side; and Haru fucking loves it in a "Oh, she sounds absolutely demented, let's tell her everything" way. He loves how brutal and icy she is, and he really respects her for it - and he likes getting to hang out with her when she comes around. She also helps at Liam's restaurant, so he sees her pretty often, and she's invited to pretty much every event that they have, its easy to make fun of Jasper with his sister - she knows all of his embarrassing stories and given they are both extremely old, they never run out of shit to laugh at Jasper for. He trusts her with babysitting Bonnie, and absolutely love love loves talking shit about Roy with her since they're both bitchy bitter people.

[emepe]

— Pairing: Eren x Reader, friends to lovers

— General info: series, 18+, modern AU, serial killer AU, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

— Summary: Fate is a tricky thing. Certain situations can’t be avoided as much as certain people’s lives can’t be kept from intertwining. With a serial killer on the loose, and unexpected relationships blooming, how will the universe intervene?

— Chapter summary: A Halloween party where tensions rise and finally snap, and an unlucky encounter with the power to cancel out the happiness that comes out of it.

— Content warnings: slightly nsfw, drunken kissing, alcohol consumption, yandere behavior, misogyny, mention of murder.

— Notes: Hello, everybody! Welcome to chapter 4 (aka my favorite chapter in the series) <3 You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to post this one. Fun fact: the romantic scenes here were the first thing I planned for this story (added a serial killer and boom, Tunnel Vision was born). Happy reading!

Links: Read on AO3 | Chapter guide | Masterlist

can you feel my heart?

“I don't think this costume is original enough to place,” you mutter, smoothing out the skirt of your babydoll dress and shifting in your seat.

It's too cold to go out in minimal clothing, but you agreed to wear the dress for the sake of making the girls happy. Besides, you're supposed to match with Mikasa, who's sporting a red version of your dress so you can go as an angel and devil duo. It was her idea, so it saved you the hassle of coming up with your own costume while also filling you with reassurance from being well-liked.

“Well, we're not going for the costume contest. We're going to support Jean… and for drinks, of course,” Sasha prompts. 

“I still can't believe Jean is in a band. How did I not know this?”

“He's just filling in for the bassist tonight, but he's really good,” she explains. “He used to play in college.”

The Bobby pins in Sasha’s mouth mess with every other one of her words. You're sitting on the edge of Mikasa's bed as Sasha sits on her knees behind you, fixing your hair, while Mikasa is seated in front of you, doing your makeup.

It's not the most practical process, given that Sasha keeps moving your head around to do her job, earning annoyed looks from Mikasa as she struggles to finish applying your eyeshadow.

“Sasha, I love you to death, sweetie, but you're delaying my masterpiece,” Mikasa grumbles.

“Sorry,” Sasha sings. “I'm done now.” She climbs down from the bed and goes up front to admire her work.

“Ugh, you're so pretty,” she gushes, hands clasped together. You're not sure what Sasha is supposed to be. When she got to Mikasa's apartment, she said her costume was in her bag. For now, she's dressed in a black turtleneck top, black leggings, and red Converse. She squeals one last time before sitting down at Mikasa's vanity to fix her own makeup. 

“It feels a little weird,” you admit. “I'm, like, hyper-aware of how different I look.”

You like dressing up, looking sleek and polished. But the combination of the glitter sprinkled in your hair, the feathery halo headband on your head, and spaghetti straps step too far out of your usual fashion choices. It all leaves you feeling a bit vulnerable. 

Mikasa smiles.

“Don't sweat it. You look amazing.” 

The way she says it, so warmly and confidently, is comforting enough to pull a smile from you. You've never had a sister, but if you did, you imagined someone like Mikasa would be perfect.

“I know for sure one guy won't keep his eyes off of you tonight.”

Her words throw you off guard. Your lips fall open, ready to ask questions, or throw an excuse, or change the subject. But nothing comes to you, so you end up just staring at her in shock as you feel yourself build up a sweat.

She giggles as she makes the last finishing touches on your face.

The doorbell rings.

“Sash, get the door, please?” she asks as she walks to her vanity and starts rummaging through her makeup drawer in search of the perfect shade of lipstick to tie the look together.

“On it.” Sasha promptly stands, gives herself one last look in the mirror, and walks out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Eagerly, she unlocks the front door and swings it open, only to instantly drop her smile for confusion when she takes in all four men lined before her.

“What are you supposed to be? A bunch of beat-up accountants?”

“Hey,” Armin whines.

Jean, Armin, Connie, and Eren are all wearing suits stained with fake blood. Minus the bass case slung on Jean's shoulder, which likely isn't part of his costume, there aren't many more hints to go off of.

Jean scoffs as he hooks his thumbs around his suspenders.

“Um… Reservoir Dogs? Hello?” 

“I've never heard of it,” she deadpans. She turns on her heel and goes to the sofa where she left her bag earlier, leaving the door wide open for everyone to follow inside.

“You cannot be serious, Sasha. It's Quentin Tarantino!”

“Ew, the foot fetishist?” Her face contorts in disgust.

Eren throws his head back in laughter. 

Jean throws his hands up in the air. 

“Oh, that you know.”

Sasha shrugs, not caring one bit about Jean's frustration.

“Connie, help me get this thing on,” she says, smoothing out her costume on the sofa. It's a hot dog.

The rest of the guys watch amusedly as the pair struggle to get Sasha into her costume. When her head finally pokes through, strands from her ponytail have come loose and she's gasping for air.

“Oh, man. They should add a zipper to these things,” she huffs.

Armin leans closer, his eye catching a flicker of silver movement on the side of the costume. His fingers hold onto the zipper as he looks up at Sasha with pursed lips.

Jean scoffs incredulously. 

“It has a zipper, you big dummy. I swear–”

He and Sasha lose themselves in a wave of bickering. That is until Eren clears his throat. He's been looking for signs of more people around the apartment, glancing at the kitchen or through the open crack of the bathroom door.

“Where's… everyone else?” he asks nobody in particular.

Jean abandons his play fight with Sasha to smirk at Eren. 

“Excited to see your girlfriend, Jaeger?”

Eren freezes, instantly taken aback by Jean's accusation. Everyone else exchanges shocked glances with each other, before ultimately landing their focus on Eren to gauge his reaction.

But he doesn't even move. All he does is look at the floor, cheeks red, and lips curled inwards as he struggles for a comeback.

Sasha’s the first to move. Her palm lands with a reprimanding force against Jean's head, who whines in protest.

“Oh, come on! We've all seen the way he looks at her.” He turns to Eren. “Why don't you just ask her out?”

Armin's quick to intervene.

“Jean, I don't think it's our place to say anything. I'm sure if Eren wants to, he will. It's none of our business.”

“I'm just saying… we all know you like her, you've got our support, Jaeger.”

Eren rolls his tongue against his cheek. When he finally speaks, his voice is practically a ghost of itself.

“We're just friends.” 

“And you're okay with that?”

Jean's question burns at Eren's cheeks. But before anything else can be said or done in his defense, Mikasa's bedroom door cracks open and the raven-haired girl's head pops out. Sasha instinctively shoots a warning glare at everyone to be quiet.

“Sorry for the wait, everybody.” Mikasa grins as she opens the door wider and steps out into the living room. “We're ready now.”

Eren waits with bated breath for you to come out. It seems like an eternity between the moment Mikasa moves aside and when you finally reveal yourself in a flowy white dress and a halo bouncing above your head. 

A soft ‘woah’ escapes him as he feels the usual flutter in his stomach he's been doing so good to ignore. 

Jean whistles in approval and all the other guys proceed to shower you with compliments. Your gaze bounces from face to face, flustered from all the attention, ultimately meeting with Eren, who keeps his distance from across the room.

It's been a couple of weeks since you last saw each other. It's been the same number of days since you realized why that flutter in your stomach came to be. It's no surprise to you when it happens now, along with a warm pressure in your chest when his lips curve into a shy smile. For a moment, it's just you and him.

The magic cuts off and scatters over the floor in imaginary golden dust when Connie announces the arrival of your ride to the bar. 

Everyone starts making their way out the door.

A heavy hand lands on Eren’s shoulder. Jean's voice murmurs the words ‘good luck’ in his ear before walking away.

Eren stands in place, watching as you close the distance between you with just a few steps.

“Hey.”

It might be Eren's imagination, warping his surroundings to further feed into the concept behind your costume, but he truly can't deny how breathtaking and radiant you look. It's like a vision from dreams he'll forever be too embarrassed to confess to. He can barely cough up a strangled ‘hi’ back.

You walk side by side until you reach the car. The entire time, Eren's careful not to brush against you, scared it might trigger his nerves and he won't be able to hide it. But once you're in the car, it's hard to avoid any physical contact, given that three of you are squished together in the back with Jean's bass. 

The entire ride is clouded with hyper-awareness of every accidental touch between you and Eren, hushed apologies for bumping knees, and trying to remain unfazed by each other's warmth as you draw closer to your destination — you're much better at it than he is.

The scent of your perfume is heavenly, the soft, mellow notes intoxicating Eren to the sweetest high. 

By the time you get to the bar, there's already a small crowd of people waiting for their turn to be let inside. In one swift glance, you make out several witch hats, vampire fangs, kitten ears, fairy wings, and much more.

A large banner that takes up the width of the entrance announces their Halloween weekend event in bursts of purple and silver tones.

Thanks to a laminated pass Jean digs from his pocket, the whole group gets to skip the line and are ushered inside right away. A staff member calls Jean aside to lead him to a greenroom in the back where the other band members are.

“I'll see you guys in a bit,” Jean calls over his shoulder, offering a salute before getting lost in the shadows.

“Let's find a booth before more people come in,” Mikasa suggests.

As you all follow her lead to an open spot, your eyes roam around, taking in the details of the place. It's a fairly large venue, the booths lined in an L shape against the left wall, and several round tables spread out before them until the open floor for crowds to gather in front of the stage. To the right, a dimly lit bar occupies nearly the whole length of the wall, with shelves upon shelves of liquor and glasses. Looking up, you have a view of the balcony contained by silver railings decorated in decorative skulls and purple tinsel, where more tables and booths line the four walls and large lamps hang from the high ceiling.

You shrug your jacket off your shoulders as you settle into the booth Mikasa chooses. It's center to the stage with a perfect view of every corner of the venue's bottom floor. Mikasa slides in at your right, Eren to your left, and Armin at the end.

“I'm gonna get us some drinks,” Connie offers, as he leans with his phone to scan the code for the menu taped to the table. 

“Gin and tonic, for me,” Armin says, not bothering to scroll further down the menu.

“Ooh,” Mikasa zooms in on an item on her screen.

“Long Island?” Connie grins, spotting the same name on his phone.

“Yup,” she replies.

“A cosmo for me, please,” you say, setting down your phone on the table. 

Connie shoots finger guns at you and clicks his tongue.

“You got it. Gin and tonic, Long Island, Cosmo…” He points to each of you as he recites your orders. “Eren? Vodka cranberry?”

Eren nods shyly.

“Yeah.” 

Connie recites your orders one last time before heading off to the bar, Sasha trails behind him to help carry the drinks back.

“What time is Jean supposed to come out again?” you ask.

“He's in the second band. I think around ten-ish?” Armin replies as he confirms the time on the flyer Jean sent into the group chat. 

“God, he's gonna be insufferable when he gets back,” Eren groans. Armin nods along, and Mikasa simply laughs.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“He's always so cocky after playing,” Eren explains. “When we were in college he had a ton of girls fawning all over him just because he was in a band, and it gave him an even bigger head.”

“Well, to be fair, he never acted like a jerk,” Armin argues. “He just liked the attention.”

“That's because he thought it'd make Mikasa jealous,” Eren scoffs.

Your head is whirling in every direction as you receive every new piece of information.

“I mean, it worked,” Mikasa counters with a shrug. 

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Not once did it ever seem to you that anything was going on between Mikasa and Jean.

“You're dating Jean?” you express with shock laced through your tone.

She laughs.

“Someone has to take one for the team,” she jokes. “I kid, it's been great.”

Before you can ask how long they've been together, her phone starts buzzing on the table.

“Speak of the devil,” she grins, eyes skimming the text on her phone before she slides out of the booth. “I'll be back in a bit.” 

With a cheeky wink tossed over her shoulder, she's off. 

“I can't believe I never noticed Jean and Mikasa are together,” you say as you watch her scurry off into the backroom.

“They're pretty lowkey,” Eren replies with a shrug. “But I don't blame her. I'd be embarrassed if I were dating Jean, too,”

You laugh. 

“Come on, don't be mean,” Armin says, nudging his friend with his shoulder. He then turns to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “He acts like he hates him, but he actually helped Jean out when he asked Mikasa to be his girlfriend.”

“All I did was blow up balloons and buy flowers,” Eren huffs, embarrassed that his affection for Jean is out in the open.

“A little help, please,” a strained voice calls from a few feet away. 

It's Sasha. She's slowly walking toward the booth with her hands contorted at odd angles to balance four drinks in her hold. You all stand to relieve her from one drink each.

As soon as you settle into the booth again, Connie makes his way back, balancing a wooden bowl on top of everything.

“I got us some peanuts,” he grins, carefully setting everything down on the table. You all pass around each other's drink and take your first sips.

“Where's Mika?” Sasha asks, popping a peanut into her mouth. 

“Making out with Jean, I bet,” Connie jests.

“You're not wrong,” Armin sings.

You're interrupted by a brief sound of feedback screeching through the speakers, followed by a tap on the microphone at the center of the stage. The first band introduces themselves and begins to play. Every song gradually builds up the energy of the crowd which starts to gather to dance and sway to the music. It's loud enough to keep everyone nodding their head along to the beat but low enough to still have a conversation where one doesn't need to yell to be heard.

The peanut bowl is refilled and a second round of drinks is soon brought to the table, courtesy of Connie's credit card.

He and Sasha are the first to stray from the group to check out the band up close, just moments before Mikasa finds her way back. 

She's got a giddy air about her, and the artificial red of her lips is replaced by a more natural one.

When she asks for the missing pair, the three of you that remain nod toward the crowd, where you can easily spot Sasha’s hot dog costume bopping around to the music.

Mikasa laughs at the scene in between long sips of her Long Island. The two of you engage in a mushy conversation about her timeline with Jean. By the time she's halfway through her second Long Island, she's a giggling and blushing mess.

“I was right, you know?” she smiles as she affectionately strokes your head.

“About what?” You can't help but feel amused by her behavior, her enthusiasm is contagious. It pulls upwards at the corners of your lips. 

“Eren hasn't stopped looking at you.” 

Though tipsy, she's still grounded enough to speak lowly and close to your ear — you're grateful for her consideration. Otherwise, it would make the situation a lot more embarrassing. 

You don't have the guts to look back to verify for yourself, but Eren's track record makes it believable. Even so, you've glanced at Eren a couple of times during the night, only to find his gaze already set on you. He hasn't shied away as much tonight — a likely effect on his courage from the drinks he's had, or maybe because his instincts are dulled by the liquor. He still blushes like crazy, though. It's driving the butterflies in your stomach mad. Mikasa's notice only makes everything more real. It's a reminder that the world surrounding you and Eren doesn't disappear each time your eyes meet. 

“I'm gonna try to get a good spot before Jean comes out,” she says in a slightly louder voice. She stands from the booth and holds a hand out to Armin, gesturing for him to come with her. 

Quizzically, Armin allows himself to be pulled from his seat by her but then looks back with a mischievous grin spread across his face when Mikasa speaks something in his ear.

They both leave, and it's just you and Eren alone at the booth. You haven't been drinking much, just enough to feel a soft buzz in your muscles. But the sudden tension builds up a fever in your system. 

You glance back at Eren. He's laying back into the cushioned seat, legs spread, tie loosened, and eyes zeroed in on the glass nursed in his large, veiny hands. When his emerald irises look up at you through his lashes, his lips slowly part as if he's about to say something — or to suck in a breath — and finally press together in a lopsided smile.

Mirroring his expression, you scoot closer to him to close the distance that's been growing without intention as you lost yourselves in separate conversations throughout the night. 

“You know, you look good in a suit,” you say, allowing your back to fall into the cushioned seat. You lean your head back, angling it so that you have a good view of his face.

“Yeah? You think?” He mirrors your actions and allows his head to rest next to yours. It's a safe distance, yet your perfume still circles around him, getting him a different kind of drunk. Albeit, you can say the same thing about his cologne. 

“It's a big change from your usual t-shirt and jeans get-up.” 

“But still the good kind, right?” 

Your eyes wander over the glassiness hovering over his eyes, to the messy strands of hair that poke about on his head from combing through it with his hands so much, to his plump lips glossed over with saliva from his last sip of watered-down cranberry vodka to the two unmade buttons on his bloodstained shirt. 

“Absolutely,” you murmur, lips curved softly.

He bites back a smile, eyes darting to the side to seem nonchalant. Your gaze flits to the movement, taking in the way his teeth dig into the plumpness of his bottom lip. 

“So was the whole angel thing your idea?” he asks, hand motioning in your direction.

“It was Mikasa,” you murmur. “She got the first pick so I was pretty much cornered.” 

Pursing his lips, he nods.

“I don't think it suits me, though. I feel out of place.”

“Ah, because you're the devil incarnate?” He quirks a teasing eyebrow, causing a laugh to sputter from your lips. “I'm surprised this thing isn't burning a hole into your head.” He flicks the feathered halo, causing it to bobble. 

“Does it make me look silly?”

He fakes a long moment of contemplation. 

“No,” he finalizes. His voice grows lower, gentler. “It makes you look cute.” 

You cringe.

“Ah… so without it I look…”

He laughs. 

“Come on, you know that’s not what I meant!” 

He runs a hand through his face. You're not sure if it's the alcohol or you that has him blushing profusely. 

“You’re still pretty without it. I’m just having an easier time talking to you when you’re wearing… this.” 

The irony of his nervous hand gestures and the cracks in his voice isn’t lost on you. Your eyes twinkle with amusement as he straightens his posture but continues to stumble over his words. 

“Not that it’s hard to talk to you. You’re not scary or anything! I mean, you can be a little intimidating but that’s only at the beginning! You just—”

He heavily sighs as he falls back into his seat again.

“You look cute right now, that's all. But you're always pretty.” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm his nerves.

“I’m sorry, I’m rambling. I just… I still get nervous around you,” he softly laughs. 

His admission can only be attributed to how foreign everything feels in his hazy state. It’s as if he can’t stop himself from spouting whatever comes to mind — no premeditation, no reason. He’s fully aware of what’s going on, but it’s easier to hide behind too many highballs as an excuse. This moment is what makes him finally understand what people mean when they refer to liquid courage. 

“I know.”

Your words knock the air out of his lungs. He already knows you know. How can you not if he’s been so blatantly obvious in his perception of you from the start? Still, it’s different when you openly acknowledge it. It breaks the barrier of politely feigned ignorance and makes everything much more real. And yet he held this microscopic hope this whole time that his date proposal is nothing but ancient history and his behavior toward you could’ve passed as ordinary shyness. 

Guilt starts pooling in his stomach. That feeling of rejection starts bubbling in his chest without warning. He doesn’t even register the affectionate way you gaze at him, glossy lips shaped into a gentle smile, as your eyebrows upturn in sympathy. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He keeps his head low, afraid he might’ve just set himself up for failure yet again. But you shake your head.

“Don’t apologize,” you murmur. “It’s cute.”

The world falls silent. It’s either that or the first band of the night is done playing and the following act has yet to come on stage — Eren can’t tell the difference. He turns to you, all too used by now to face you with reddened cheeks and wide eyes. 

There’s a soft smile playing on your lips as you stare down at your lap, where your fidgeting hands rest. He averts his gaze, facing forward to spare his mind a moment to clear itself of any silly assumptions. His lips curl inwards — a habit for when he’s unsure of what to say. But when he looks back at you seconds later, you’re already looking at him — glossy lips parted and that glassiness to your eyes that makes his heart flutter.

Eren knows better than to think your gaze flickers to his lips. There’s no other explanation than it being a trick of his mind, right? And yet his tongue darts out instinctively, coating his lips with saliva, as his breaths grow shallow.

In one swift motion, your fingers wrap around his loosened tie to pull him closer as you lean forward to meet him halfway. There’s a brief pause just a hair away from your mouths colliding — a moment for him to process that this is truly happening and for you to wind up more courage — where your breaths swirl together before they’re absorbed by the other. Your lips meld perfectly into each other in one warm, cranberry-flavored kiss. You kiss once, twice, three times, and then once more. Each sweet contact brings you closer together, makes your heads grow dizzier and your chests to be relieved from their previous tension. 

Eren’s hands grip the edge of his seat, nails digging into the leather as if to keep himself tethered to this dimension. Each time your lips slot into his intoxicates him several times more than any liquor can. For weeks he’s wondered what it would be like to kiss you, and now that it’s happening, he’s scared for the moment to ever stop, afraid that no matter how hard he tries to convince himself, it’ll lose its quality to be real, and he’ll be left to wonder if it truly happened.

You’re the first to pull back, slowly and carefully, like you fear he might fall apart if you move too fast — and he just might. 

As you catch your breath, faces still inches away from each other, the world slowly comes back. The music crescendos along with the collective buzz of scattered conversations and clinking glasses. Your eyes flutter open, slowly taking in the shiny emerald gaze and dilated pupils that look down at you, mesmerized.

An energetic voice calls your name from a few feet away. To Eren’s dismay, your hand loses its grip on his tie, falling to your lap as you tear your gaze from him to watch Sasha clumsily make her way to the booth. 

“Come on, Jean’s band is starting!”

She pulls you from your seat, urging you to follow her. Flustered, you slide out of the booth and allow her to drag you away, but not before looking back at a still dumbfounded Eren and saying “I’ll be right back.”

Eren watches you leave, the disappointment gradually settling into the deepest parts of him. He brings a hand to his lips to gently trace the place where you marked him with the pads of his fingers. He can still feel the plush of your lips against his. If he closes his eyes, he can conjure the moment again and replay it in his mind. The scent of your perfume lingers and it suddenly doesn’t seem like such a wild idea that he can deeply miss someone who’s only wandered a few feet from him.

“Okay, I had to get out of there. The girls are getting rowdy.”

Armin’s voice pulls Eren from his daze. He laughs as he slides into the booth next to his best friend. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, making note of Eren’s flustered state.

Eren turns his gaze to the cluster of empty glasses on the table. 

“We kissed,” he murmurs, a red tint pooling his cheeks.

Armin’s face goes through a myriad of emotions. His features contort from confusion to realization, to shock, and excitement. 

“Are you serious?” he yells enthusiastically, grinning from ear to ear at the news. “Dude, that’s fucking awesome!” 

He gleefully drums his palms on Eren’s back, slipping in a few teasing punches to his arm.

“I fucking knew it, I frickin’ called it. I’m literally Cupid!”

Eren finally laughs, raising a hand to comb nervously through his hair.

“So what happens next?” Armin asks, shuffling to find a cozy angle to hound his friend.

Eren shakes his head, still hesitant to accept his new reality. It’s starting to look foreign to him and he’d hate to think the kiss was just a spur-of-the-moment sort of thing.

“I don’t know. What do I do, Armin?”

The panic on his face causes Armin to soften with sympathy.

“What do you wanna do?” he murmurs.

A soft laugh pushes past Eren’s lips.

“I wanna kiss her again.”

Armin scrunches his nose, but he can’t help but grin at Eren’s bashful confession and his adorable demeanor.

“Well, she’s right over there.”

He juts his chin in the direction of the crowd in front of the stage. 

Eren presses a fist to his mouth. His cheeks are still burning and his heart has yet to fully calm down from the erratic rhythm your sudden kiss provoked.

“I think I still need a minute to recover,” he murmurs.

You didn’t make it back to the booth as soon as Eren and you hoped. When you did, there was usually another person or two coming back to catch their breath, leaving you no privacy to talk about what needed to be talked about. Eren had a turn to be dragged away to watch Jean’s performance. After everyone was back at the booth, you volunteered to get Mikasa, Sasha, and Connie — the drunkest of your group — water to rehydrate. The entire time it seemed to Eren like his luck had run out for a second chance to be alone. 

You make your way to the bar, navigating between people sober and drunk just the same. A few minutes go by before you’re finally at the front of the line. 

“Three waters, please,” you say, holding up the same amount of fingers to the bartender. 

He promptly slides three bottles over the bar, a flirty grin on his face.

“Here you go, angel.”

When you don’t give him a reaction outside of politely nodding and thanking him while offering your card to pay, he kills off his coy demeanor. You start to make your way back to the booth, going over the exchange in your head and feeling awkward about it. You’re sure bartenders can act a bit friendly with patrons —  it’s part of the experience — but you’re not big on acting overly friendly with strangers. 

A tall, muscular figure bumps into you, causing your body to stumble back and your hands to lose their hold on the bottles. You glance up, ready to apologize before you can even collect your things, but you’re met with a pair of concerned eyes. 

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” 

He crouches down to retrieve the dropped bottles for you. When he stands again, he smiles at you warmly. 

“I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. Again, I apologize.”

His polite manner seems sincere — certainly not like the kind other men have shown you.

For a moment, it seems like he hopes to hold a conversation with you. From the booth claimed by your group, a pair of stern emerald eyes watches the scene carefully, the owner ready to intervene against the man with his back to him. But the stranger’s chances of holding you up any longer are interrupted by a pretty girl calling his name — a name you don’t bother to register — from a few feet away as she stumbles her way to him. You catch a falter in his demeanor that goes as quickly as it arrives — though much too fast for you to get a hint of the emotion behind it. 

Before you can be witness to any foreign business, you murmur your own apology and thank him for his help before turning on your heel and continuing to where your friends are. 

“Sash, you don’t need two rides. I already told you, you and Connie live in the same apartment.” 

Armin pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. For the past ten minutes, he’s been trying to convince a still lightly buzzed Sasha that it doesn’t make sense for her and Connie to take separate rides. In her haze, she argued that it was completely reasonable for her to book a ride for herself and then book a second one for Connie once she made it to their apartment.

“Jean, you think you can go with them and make sure they get home safely?” 

Armin puts on his best pleading look for him. Jean clicks his tongue in aversion.

“No can do. I gotta take care of my girl.” He nods over to the bench outside of the bar where Mikasa is curled up in a way that should be uncomfortable but makes her look rather peaceful as she dozes off in fragments. 

Armin purses his lips, hands on his hips. 

“You know what? I give up, I’ll take them,” Armin huffs as he swipes Sasha’s phone from her hands and waits to be matched to a ride. He turns to you. “Oh, but we were supposed to ride together.”

You dismiss his offer with a wave of your hand. 

“I’m really not that tipsy. I can ride alone.” 

“You sure?” Armin’s eyebrows upturn in worry.

Eren raises his hand, a meek look on his face.

“I can make sure she gets home okay.”

“Don’t you live in opposite directions?” Jean smirks, as he hoists Mikasa up by her waist to prepare for their ride’s arrival.

Armin shoots him a warning glare over his shoulder. 

Jean clicks his tongue and theatrically smacks his forehead.

“Ah, no you don’t, silly me. I’m so out of it tonight.”

Ignoring Jean’s poor acting, you turn to Eren.

“You don’t have to. It’s fine,” you assure him.

“I want to,” he murmurs gently.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you nod. 

He whips out his phone to find a ride and minutes later, you all head your separate ways.

The ride to your apartment building is quiet, save for the low music playing on the radio. Eren can’t keep himself from stealing glances at your side profile from the corner of his eye, and you can feel the burn in your cheeks as you stare out the window.

“Did you have a good time?” he asks, finally fed up with the silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but he’s been fighting for a chance to talk to you since the kiss and this is a very brief opportunity, perhaps not to address what happened, but maybe just to get a feel for where you stand after the fact.

But you don’t seem up for a lengthy conversation, as you barely look back at him when you nod and reply with a solemn “I did”. 

He shrinks into his seat, chewing on his bottom lip as he tries to find a different tactic to get you to look at him. But again, his luck seems to have run out, as you hit every green light on the way to your apartment. Sooner than he would’ve liked, the car comes to a halt in front of the brick building.

In a desperate attempt to collect a couple more minutes with you, he climbs out of the car with you. 

“I’ll walk you up,” he says. You just nod and turn to lead the way. 

There’s a hint of tension as you ride the elevator to the third floor. There’s something awkwardly polite about the strict distance you maintain until the elevator dings and you step into the hallway.

The silence between you has never felt so dreadful to Eren now that there’s something he so badly wants to talk about. But how does one bring up a surprise kiss if not right after it happened? By now it seems too embarrassing to suggest for conversation, even if it did happen less than two hours ago. The moment has passed, and if you don’t seem willing to talk, maybe it’s because you’re hoping to leave it in the past. 

You stop in front of your apartment door, number 307, and fish around your purse for your keys. Eren steps back in preparation to bid you goodbye as soon as the lock clicks open. 

“I’ll see you a—”

“Do you want some tea?” 

The question tumbles so quickly from your lips that he almost doesn’t comprehend it.

He blinks at you in surprise. A flutter stirs in his stomach at the idea of entering your apartment — your personal space. He doesn’t even think Armin has been inside before. It’s exciting. There’s a look in your eyes he’s never seen before. They shine differently now — with hope.

He runs a nervous hand through his hair and clears his throat, nodding fervently.

“Yeah, tea… tea sounds incredible right now.”

You release a breath of relief and push open the door, welcoming him to your corner of the world.

A flick of a switch bathes the area in bright, warm light. Eren soaks up every detail of your home, not wanting to miss a single thing. There’s a bookshelf overflowing with hardcovers and paperbacks, a collection too big for its modest size that you’ve opted for stacking anything that couldn’t fit on the floor beside it. A handmade blanket in warm colors is thrown over the loveseat fixed in front of the TV. Everything is colored in joyful pastel hues with a few more vibrant splashes from vases with flowers and some ceramic figurines scattered along the windowsill and the furniture — a stark contrast to your mostly neutral wardrobe. It’s all neatly put together save for a single forgotten book left at a careless angle on the coffee table — likely to be your current read — and a faint cinnamon scent wafts in the air, the probable work of a candle or an infuser somewhere. There are three more doors he assumes lead to your bedroom, the bathroom, and perhaps a storage closet.  

You toss your purse, headband, and coat onto the sofa and make your way across the open space to the kitchen, turning back to ask him to follow with an inviting look.

You move in silence to fill a pink tea kettle with water and set it on the stove. Your hands rummage through your pantry to find a pair of teabags to set aside while you wait for the kettle to whistle. 

“Your place is really nice,” Eren murmurs as he takes a seat at the breakfast bar. “It’s very… colorful.”

The corners of your lips tug into an awkward smile.

“Does it not suit me?”

He chuckles softly, bringing a fist up to cover his amusement.

“No, it does,” he says, looking around once more. “It’s a nice surprise, to be honest.”

Your lips curl inwards as you nod. 

An easy silence blankets the room until the kettle signals the water’s ready. 

Eren stands to help you. 

“Where do you keep your mugs?”

You point to the cupboard next to his head as you grab a tea towel to wrap around the kettle.

He sets two mugs on the counter next to the stove — a yellow one for you, a blue one for him — and starts wandering around in search of something.

“You want sugar, right?” he asks, going through his memory of the time you met at the coffee shop. 

He spots a set of green ceramic containers on the counter and starts reaching for them until your voice interrupts him. 

“Actually, I'll have it with honey. It’s over there.”

You point him to the pantry where you took the tea bags from.  

A proud grin takes over his face as he strides over.

“I see I've spread the honey gospel.” 

You smile.

“Not really,” you murmur. “I use honey all the time. That day we met at the coffee shop was just an exception.”

He pouts.

“Why the sudden change back then?” he asks.

You shrug as you transport the mugs to the bar and fetch a honey wand from a drawer.

“Some stupid reason. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Eren’s brow furrows in confusion, but he doesn’t press any further. You take a seat next to each other and take turns with the honey wand before your first careful sip of tea. 

A fuzzy feeling swells in his chest when Eren looks over at you. The domesticity of the situation has him biting back a smile. He loses himself in your image for a moment. the way your hands nurse the mug as you blow at your tea, and the sheen left on your lips after you take a sip. Maybe this — being welcomed into your home and sitting beside each other while you share tea — is all he needs to gain some clarity on where your head is at. 

He takes another sip and sets his mug down, the heat threatening his pain tolerance in his hands.

“So, you live alone?” he asks.

You nod. 

“Yeah, I’m kind of a lone wolf.” You pause and start smiling. “I might be growing out of it, though.”

“What do you mean?”

A few seconds tick by as you ponder for an answer.

“I’ve never had this many friends before. I just keep to myself, usually, and that's worked great my whole life. But now I’m really happy to have met everybody.” You smile. “I’m having a lot of fun being surrounded by more people now. I can feel myself becoming a different person.”

He mirrors your expression as he returns his gaze to his tea. Your words tug at his heartstrings. Frankly, he couldn’t be any happier to hear those words come out of your mouth.

“I also told a guy I wasn’t into dating, but now I’m hoping he didn’t take it to heart.”

Your words echo in Eren’s head as he turns to look at you with hopeful eyes.

“Me?”

The question has him feeling stupid, but he has to know you aren’t talking about someone else, that it can only be him. 

Your timid gaze has his chest pounding furiously against his ribs. It’s not until you nod that he finally releases the breath that was caught in his throat.

“I thought that— You said you didn’t see me that way.”

Your expression softens.

“You kind of grew on me,” you murmur, looking down at the remaining tea in your mug as your cheeks warm with shyness.

Eren watches you in awe as you bite down on your bottom lip, too focused on the yellow mug to even notice his shaking hands and burning cheeks.  

The following seconds pass by in slow motion. Eren’s warm hands wrap around your face, demanding your attention as he closes the gap between you. Like you at the bar, he spares a split second for you to realize what’s happening before slotting his lips against yours. You sigh into his mouth as an instant fever courses through your body. 

His strong hands pull you closer in his desperate need to devour you. It’s all much more real now. Now he knows how you feel, and you’ve known how he’s felt about you this entire time so all that’s left to do is act on it. 

One of his hands drops its firm caress on your face to pull you from your seat by the waist and settle you on his lap. He presses you into his chest, relishing in the soft moans you pour into his mouth. 

It’s a moment that he’s sure will be etched in his memory for the rest of his days.

Your heart thumps erratically, threatening to break free from its cage. Your breathing has grown shallow and eyebrows upturned in desperation as you cling onto his shirt. His cologne travels to your nose, enveloping you in a comforting embrace as the hand he has pressed against the small of your back pushes you closer to him with every wanton kiss.

You pull back abruptly, breathless, chest heaving, and eyebrows knit together as you swallow thickly.

“You okay?” Eren asks, equally short of breath.

You nod. 

“I just— I keep forgetting to breathe… and it feels like my heart is about to burst out of my chest.”

You look down at him with distress painted across your features.

“I'm sorry.”

For the second time since Eren met you, you look so small and fragile even if your compromising position has him tilting his face up to look at you. 

“You're joking, right?” he murmurs.

With a tremor still consuming his bones, he peels your right hand from his shirt and slides it down his chest, resting it right above his heart. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, watching you closely to see if you understand his message and the effect you have on him — he’s right there with you. 

The erratic beat of his heart thumps against your palm. You stare at your linked hands, completely mesmerized by how perfectly your hand fits in his and how ardently his heart beats for you. 

A soft laugh travels past your lips as you find relief in Eren’s matching anxiety. 

Without removing your hand from where he’s pressed it, you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

You stay there for as long as it takes for your breathing to steady and your heartbeats to sync to a peaceful rhythm.

“I got scared when you barely talked to me on the way here.” 

The vibrations of his voice are a comforting sensation; if you could snuggle further into his chest, you would.  

“I thought you were regretting what happened at the bar.”

Your breath tickles his neck when you laugh.

“I just didn’t want to talk in front of our driver.”

It’s his turn to laugh and if you could capture the sound in a bottle to cherish forever, you would.

“I have a question.”

You hum in encouragement, feeling yourself grow sleepy in his embrace. 

“If I ask you out on a date right now, will you say yes this time?”

“I don’t know. I’d have to check my planner; now that I'm open to dating I’ll be pretty busy.”

You can’t tell from your angle, but you can hear the amused grin in his voice when he talks again.

“Ah, right, of course. I wouldn’t want to make a fool of myself all over again,” he jokes, rolling his eyes.

Neither of you makes a move to separate from each other. His thumb makes soft strokes against the back of your hand.

“I really like you,” he murmurs.

“I know,” you murmur back. “I really like you, too.”

“Did I tell you how pretty you look dressed like an angel?”

You straighten your posture but remain on his lap.

“Not once the entire night. I'm actually kind of disappointed,” you joke.

He stifles a laugh.

“The things you do to me, I swear,” he whispers as you lean forward, brushing your noses together. “I couldn’t stop looking at you. I felt like I was losing my mind.”

He leans closer, nipping at your bottom lip teasingly before pressing a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth.

Your phone buzzes from inside your bag on the sofa.

“You think it’s an emergency?” he whispers against your lips.

“Not likely,” you whisper back before returning his kiss.

You’re fully prepared to ignore whoever is on the other end, but the buzzing refuses to cease, so you ultimately stand to answer the call, though with much reluctance.

“Hey, Armin.”

Eren brings a fist to his mouth, mentally cursing at his best friend for interrupting such a tender moment.

“Yeah, I made it home safe… Eren? Oh, um…”

You turn to Eren for a sign of what to say. You’ve never been in this situation before, so you’re unsure of what to do. 

Eren mouths a response you struggle to understand.

“He’s… he’s still here.”

Eren’s jaw drops. You shrug innocently.

“Yeah… he’s on his way out though. We just had tea… Oh god, Armin.”

Eren watches your flustered demeanor closely, trying to make sense of the buzzing that reaches his ears from your phone — he deciphers nothing.

“Well, you can come over next time… okay… bye.”

You hang up.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing. Just something about never getting to see my apartment,” you mutter with a shake of your head.

He laughs as he makes his way over to you.

“He’s definitely gonna hound me later for this,” he groans, rubbing his hands down his face. 

He rolls his shoulders back as he catches a glimpse of the time from the clock on your wall. “Oh, man, I really should be heading out, though.”

“I’ll walk you to the elevator,” you offer, already leading the way to the door.

The two of you walk side by side, now close enough for your shoulders to occasionally brush against each other. You exchange secretive glances along the way, biting down on smiles as you recall the events of the night.

When Eren steps into the elevator, you wave him goodbye. A second before the doors close, his hand shoots out to keep them open.

Your eyebrows rise in question.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow, then? Or, I guess, later.”

He watches your lips part and eyes wander in confusion.

“For what?”

“Our first date,” he grins. “Or is it too soon?”

A pleasant warmth tingles in your stomach as you try your best to contain your smile, but the excitement in your eyes shimmers brightly for him.

“No,” you say. “Tomorrow’s perfect.”

His lips curl inwards to keep himself from grinning harder. He nods.

“I’ll pick you up for lunch, then? Two o’clock.”

You smile and nod. He smiles back.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Eren.”

October 27, 2024

There’s nothing I hate more than loose women. They’re the worst. Always throwing themselves onto men and desperately groveling for attention. That’s why I had to kill this one. Disgusting little whore wouldn’t quit following me around the bar the whole night. 

But the good news is, I met a girl tonight. An angel. She was a vision from my purest dreams dressed in white with a halo on her head, smiling and laughing with her sloppy drunken friends. But she’s different from them, I can tell. If she could just smile at me the same way she smiled at him, maybe then I’ll be satisfied. If I could just have her smile at me every day, I’d be so happy. I'll do anything to have that look of adoration directed at me.

I wasn’t even looking to fall in love tonight and yet there she was. It has to be fate.

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taglist: @erenjaegerwifee @youatemylollipop

[michaelcosio]

The Suspected Golden State Killer Witnessed Two Men Rape His Sister. It May Have Fueled His Rampage. "Maybe that was the start of Joe going wacko," said a nephew of Joseph DeAngelo, the man suspected of being the prolific killer.

Stephanie K. Baer BuzzFeed News Reporter

Updated on May 14, 2018 at 1:35 pm Posted on May 11, 2018 at 4:31 pm

Decades before he killed at least 12 people and sexually assaulted 51 others in a prolific crime spree that terrorized the state of California, the suspected Golden State Killer watched two men rape his younger sister on an Air Force base in Germany, family members said.

Joseph James DeAngelo, 72, who was identified last month as the serial rapist and killer who terrorized California in the 1970s and 1980s, was playing with his sister Constance in an abandoned warehouse on the base when two airmen walked in and raped her in front of him, Jesse Ryland, one of Constance's sons, told BuzzFeed News this week.

DeAngelo was about 9 or 10 at the time. His sister was 7 years old.

"That's pretty crazy for a kid to see his sister be violated," said Ryland, 35, who learned about the incident from his mother just before she died from cancer last year. "Maybe that was the start of Joe going wacko."

The incident may have sparked a fantasy with rape for DeAngelo, a former police officer and mechanic who served in the US Navy during the Vietnam War, according to an expert who has examined serial killers' backgrounds for the FBI.

Ann Wolbert Burgess, a psychiatric nursing professor at Boston College who studied the personalities of 36 convicted serial killers in the late 1970s and early 1980s with FBI agents in the Behavioral Science Unit, said serial criminals commonly develop a preoccupation with their crime at an early age.

It's possible that DeAngelo, who now faces a total of 12 counts of murder in Santa Barbara, Orange, Ventura, and Sacramento counties, became preoccupied with rape after his sister's sexual assault, Burgess told BuzzFeed News.

"Of course that would be significant and could have set the nucleus of the fantasy," she said. "What probably happened was that it was something that he kept on his mind."

DeAngelo was arrested at his home in Citrus Heights, a Sacramento suburb, on April 24 after investigators linked DNA from the decades-old crime scenes to DeAngelo using an online genealogical database. He has not yet entered a plea and is scheduled to return to court in Sacramento on Monday.

It was not immediately clear if his sister's sexual assault would factor into DeAngelo's criminal trial. A representative from the Sacramento County District Attorney's Office told BuzzFeed News they were reaching out to family to discuss the incident but declined to comment further.

Representatives from district attorney's offices in Santa Barbara and Orange counties declined to comment for this story. The Ventura District Attorney's Office did not immediately respond to a request for comment from BuzzFeed News.

Paul Holes, a retired cold case investigator for the Contra Costa County District Attorney's Office who spent 24 years chasing the Golden State Killer, said he wonders whether witnessing his sister's rape was a traumatic or stimulating event for DeAngelo.

"As more is found out about him and his childhood, we’ll get a better sense on how witnessing something like that would have contributed to him developing into the guy he was," Holes told BuzzFeed News.

His sister's rape was just one notable incident in what was a tough childhood for DeAngelo, his nephew said.

DeAngelo and his three siblings grew up in an abusive household where his father physically assaulted his mother, Kathleen, said Ryland. She also abused at least one of the children.

"She would hit my mom all the time," Ryland said, adding that his mother would at times wear two pairs of pants to lessen the blow. "I'm pretty positive they were all abused like that."

Joseph DeAngelo Sr. served in the US Air Force and the family moved frequently because of his job. Ryland said that after one violent incident on a base in Germany, military police warned Joe Sr. he would be kicked out if he touched his wife again.

A spokesperson for the National Personnel Records Center, which manages military records for veterans who served in the 20th century, said files for Joseph Sr. and Joseph Jr. were not available because another government agency had seized them.

Ryland said when his uncle and his mother told their parents about what had happened in the military base warehouse, they were instructed to never discuss it.

Burgess said that might have been confusing for DeAngelo, and the conflict between his parents also could have affected his psychological state.

Studies have shown that it's common for serial predators to have grown up in abusive environments, Holes said, but there are a lot of people who are exposed to that kind of trauma and don't become violent criminals.

"It's one of those mysteries," Holes added.

The Golden State Killer would often get angry with his victims and was probably "channeling part of his childhood psychology" into his crimes, the investigator said.

Constance's ex-husband, Kenneth Ryland Sr., told BuzzFeed News she never mentioned that she was raped as a child in their 26 years of marriage. He only heard about the incident recently from their son Jesse.

"I'm just trying to get my mind wrapped around it," Kenneth Ryland Sr. said.

The 71-year-old Placerville man married Constance in 1964 after she and DeAngelo's parents divorced. Their mom moved the family to the Sacramento area sometime in the early 1960s, he said.

Joseph DeAngelo Sr. ended up in South Korea, where he retired and had another set of kids, who were given the same names as his first three children: Rebecca, Joseph Jr., and Constance, according to Jesse Ryland and Kenneth Ryland Sr.

After serving in the Navy, Joseph DeAngelo Jr. was a police officer for the Exeter Police Department from 1973 to 1976 and then for the Auburn Police Department, where he worked from 1976 to 1979 until he was fired for shoplifting a can of dog repellent and a hammer from a drugstore.

Kenneth Ryland Sr. said that when he asked DeAngelo why he stole those things, DeAngelo responded, "Because I could."

"Something like that, and I thought that was really weird," Kenneth Ryland Sr. said.

Meanwhile, authorities say DeAngelo was breaking into houses, raping women, and ransacking their homes.

The last crime linked to the Golden State Killer was in 1986, when an 18-year-old woman was raped and killed in Orange County, but authorities have said they don't know if he stopped his attacks.

Growing up, Jesse Ryland said he never suspected his uncle was violent. DeAngelo was nice and seemed like a normal guy, he said. But when Ryland heard his uncle had been identified as the Golden State Killer, it suddenly made a lot of sense.

"Joe was young and saw my mom get raped," he said. "It instantly clicked in my head."

Ryland said although his mother and DeAngelo were close, he didn't see his uncle often when he was growing up and hasn't seen him in about 10 years.

"I almost wish I could go and see him and ask Joe about it if he remembers," Ryland said, though he admitted, "It’s probably not a good time for that."

CORRECTION

May 14, 2018 at 1:35 PM

After this story was published, Kenneth Ryland Sr. said his daughter had not told him that her mother, Constance, had been raped. He said he was made aware of the incident by his son Jesse.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Like i have not read the comics nor have i read anything by neil gaiman but if i do say so myself, i think the first part was so detailed and well described it could have been an excerpt from the original text 💖 now allow me to quote and react to a bunch of parts of this fic

(Also-also I've been staring at this fic for so long now I don't even know if it makes sense anymore)

First of all, this!! HAHAHAHAH REAL

Felt been there done that

You bite your lip as you consider this, stories of human trafficking ploys and hitchhiking serial killers appearing at the forefront of your mind. It’s dangerous, and probably stupid, but something in you knows that this isn’t a scheme to kidnap you. Your eyes were on the road the entire time, and this being was literally dropped down right in front of your car. Grabbing your phone, throwing your hazards on, and unhooking the pepper spray from your keys, you cautiously open your car door and walk to the front of your car.

THIS IS ALSO SO REAL. My biggest fears rolled into one. I enjoyed the fact you wrote that in

The next thought that crosses Dream’s mind is that he shouldn’t be able to stretch any of his limbs, considering he’s meant to be curled up in a glass ball.

She begins to approach him, but the glower he sends her way is enough to stop her in her tracks. It does not matter that she was stating the obvious when she said what she did, referencing his physicality. He will not be told what he can and cannot do, where he is allowed to exist. Not anymore. “Do not come any closer, mortal.”

DAMN. 👹😔

“Okay, I won’t.” 

Me HAHAHA

He looks at her warily, but slowly takes the glass that is apparently designated for him. After over a century, he’s more than a little parched. Though he will not show any gratitude before it is earned, he is thankful that at least one of his needs is being met.

😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔

Contrary to his belief, she looks at him in surprise. “Why?” When he nods, she shrugs. “I guess…because if I were naked and unconscious in the middle of the road on a rainy night, I’d want somebody to help me to relative safety.”

aWWWW but also kinda scary to do irl lol,,, like hell a stranger

She doesn’t stop rambling even as she returns and hands Morpheus another glass of water. Though, even if she were to stop long enough to take a breath, Morpheus doesn’t know what he would say. He’s so bewildered at this entire situation that the Prince of Stories himself is at a loss for words.

🤣🤣🤣🤣 me and dream fr. I like to think this scene is somehow comforting for him

Destiny himself must surely be breaking his stoic demeanor to laugh at his younger brother’s misfortunes.

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭real sibling behavior

“It’s nice to meet you, Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares,” she smiles after saying all of his titles, apparently finding it amusing to be in the presence of a king, “I’m Y/n.”

GIRL YOU DID NOT

You’re in the kitchen chopping vegetables for a soup, still working on building Morpheus up towards being able to eat actual meals, when he actually comes to you seeking companionship. He hovers at the edge of the kitchen, watching silently as you go through the familiar motions. Finally, he moves just a couple of steps closer, like a feral cat being enticed by food from a human who’s determined not to look at them. It’s not that far off from reality, you realize.

AS SOMEONE WHO HAS CATS I WANT TO SAY THIS IS VERY REAL ALSO i want him in my pocket

“Yes, have your laughs at my expense.”)

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 I WILL THANKS

“Throw me off a bridge, maybe? That’d surely get your sister to show up.”

AT FIRST I WAS LIKE thats funny if you do that to dream, then i realized she was talking about HERSELF 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀HAHAHAHAH SHE REALLY WENT THERE I MEAN SHE'S NOT WRONG

It’s here, on the floor of the library, that things majorly change between you. It’s here that Morpheus kisses you for the first time.

HUH

“Do you think that I am incapable of making my own decisions?”

Girl you did not just stop this man from kissing you you clown you absolute candlestick

You can feel Morpheus smile under your touch. “It is chivalrous of you to refuse me because you believe that you are taking advantage of me. However, I can assure you that you need not worry.”

IM SAYING

“Are you sure? What about, like, power dynamics?”

⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️WHAT POWER WHERE

“Y/n, I’m eons old. If anything, I have all of the power here based solely on that.” Oh, yeah. Before you can actually beat yourself up over the stupidity of that statement, he continues. “I can promise you that I have my wits about me, and there is nothing clouding my decision-making. I care for you, and I would very much like to continue kissing you.”

IMMMMM SAAYYYINNNGGGG THIS RAT THINK SHE DID SMTH OR WHATEVER ////:

(He’s also very happy to be sleeping in bed with you instead of on the couch.)

Same

In the dim light, Morpheus looks at you. “What is what like, beloved?”

eveRYONE CALM DOWN HE JUST CALLED HER BELOVED BE STILL MY BEATING HEART

“It does not make me sad to talk about it. Rather, I love the Dreaming so much that it overwhelms me sometimes. I am the Dreaming, you see. It is a part of me.”

“So it’s perfect, then.” You don’t mean to say that out loud, but the way that Morpheus looks away bashfully makes you glad that you did.

WHEN YOUR OTP SAILS

Her head falls against his shoulder, and he smiles down at her when he sees she’s fallen asleep. In moments like these, he wishes more than anything that he was connected to the Dreaming once more. What he wouldn’t give to be able slip into her mind and give her the sweetest dreams that she deserves. As he closes his eyes and leans his head against hers, he imagines that he can feel that link to his realm.

Morpheus takes great care not to wake her up when he moves her off of him to lay down on the couch. His fingers trace the slope of her nose, down to her lips and across her cheeks, mapping out her face. If this is to be the last time he sees her, he wants to remember everything about her. Knowing that he will have to depart without telling her where he is going or knowing if they will be together again grieves him. He has not felt pain of this kind since he helplessly watched Jessamy be murdered in front of him.

HO WHAT DONT DO IT DONT DO IT HES GOING TO DO IT ISNT HE HES JUST GOING TO LEAVE AND HE LEFT

When you lunge forward, it’s not to hug him, which is what you always expected you would do if you were to be reunited with him. Instead, you say, “I can’t believe you fucking left me!” and shove at his chest in anger, which, if the look on his face is anything to go off of, he hadn’t been expecting either. 

THATS RIGHT BEAT HIS ASS CHEW HIS HEAD OFF BREAK HIS NOSE I WANT BLOOD

“You couldn’t have left, I don’t know, a note or something? Just to let me know that you were going to disappear without a trace?”

RIGHHHHTTTTTTT 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄 HE LIVED THAT LONG AND RETAINED 0 COMMON SENSE GILR

ANYWAY THIS WAS A TREAT I STAYED UP LATE AGAINST MYSELF AND IM SO EXCITED TO GO TO SLEEP NOW THAT IVE READ AND REBLOGGED THIS IM SO HUNGRY I CANT WAIT TO WAKE UP TOMORROW AND EAT BREAKFAST AND READ SOME MORE FICS THAT MAKE ME FEEL

Hopes, Dreams, and Everything In Between (Morpheus x Reader)

Summary: Just when Morpheus finally escapes capture at the hands of the Burgess lineage and begins to make his way back to his realm, his weak connection to his power disappears completely. Left stranded in a world with no knowledge of what has transpired for over a century, no powers, and no clothes, Dream of the Endless must let down his guard and place his trust in a human whose path he was quite literally dropped in the middle of.

Word count: 10.7k

A/N: So! Here we are, with what is arguably the longest oneshot I've ever written. @glitchmeharder had left a comment on a post I made, pointing out that they wanted more fics of Morpheus getting stuck in the Waking World and needing to live with Reader for a little bit.

My mind took this sentence and RAN with it. Like, I apologize in advance for how long this is. I'm pretty pleased with it though, especially for my first Morpheus fic. I hope you're pleased with it too.

(Also, the POV jumps back and forth between Morpheus and Reader, but it alternates every other section and is pretty clear which POV is which)

(Also-also I've been staring at this fic for so long now I don't even know if it makes sense anymore)

Let me know your thoughts! Likes are appreciated, comments, asks, and reblogs make my world go round! My inbox is always open for you guys :)

*This fic uses she/her pronouns and includes the use of Y/n*

Freedom.

After being held captive for 106 long, painful years, Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares, is on the precipice of securing his freedom. The younger Burgess’s lover had erased a small part of the runes encircling his glass cage with the wheel of the old man’s wheelchair, sending little more than a sorrowful glance back towards the prisoner. So this was how he would attempt to secure his safety, by breaking the circle of runes surrounding him. Barely a scuff, really, but it’s enough.

It’s enough for Morpheus to feel the faintest bit of his power return to him.

It’s enough that it’s all too easy for him to influence one of the security guards, waxing poetically about his upcoming beach vacation, to close his eyes for just a moment.

It’s enough for a dream to form, one of sun and sea and sand. Sand that Morpheus is able to gather a handful of, right in front of the horrified guard’s dreaming eyes.

The guard, lost in his dream nightmare, shoots at what he thinks is Morpheus. In the Waking World, he’s shooting at the orb that he’s meant to be diligently watching. A bullet hits, and a crack forms. Another, and another, and another, even as the other guard screams at her colleague to stop.

The glass explodes, and Morpheus fills his lungs with his first huff of fresh air in over a century. He can’t get lost in the joy that threatens to burst like a dam at finally seeing and feeling freedom. Not when he has a job to do, not when he has a kingdom to return home to.

He steps past the broken runes, now useless at keeping him trapped, and towards the two that are commanding him to stop where he is. He does as they ask, standing still in front of them. When the female orders him to open his closed fist, he is nice enough to listen to that command as well, lifting it to his mouth and blowing the sand in their faces.

A portal forms above him, and all Morpheus can think of is home. The Dreaming. He can feel it calling to him, a kingdom beckoning its ruler back. His power lifts him, and Morpheus welcomes the sensation of traveling through realms.

Then, just as quickly as he had his power, he loses it again.

Like a spelunker who’s just had their trusty rope give out on them, Dream finds himself free-falling with no way of stopping or controlling where he’s going. He tries desperately to clutch onto the tendrils of power that have abandoned him, but they refuse to obey.

He lands harshly on cold pavement, weak and disoriented with no idea of where he is. There’s a flash of blinding lights, the sound of rubber squealing, and then…

Darkness.

•••

It’s late at night, late enough that the few traffic lights that you pass are continuously blinking red and yellow. You hadn’t intended to be out so late, but catching up with friends at a restaurant had led to all of you losing track of time, talking and laughing and reminiscing until a manager politely informed your table that the restaurant had closed ten minutes prior.

Large tips had been left as apologies and your group hustled out of the door, leaving one another with hugs and goodbyes and promises to do this again, sooner than the months it had taken to get together in the first place. You got into your car, locking the doors immediately after, and you were happy.

Still, as you watched those you know and cherish depart with their significant others, you can’t help the pang of melancholy that taints an otherwise-wonderful evening. You’re at the age now where everybody that you know is in relationships, getting engaged and married and settling down and coupling up. You, however…are not. And you’re happy with being single, truly; the best company you can have is yourself. But knowing that you’re going to return home to your quiet apartment, where you’ll go to sleep in your empty bed and wake up to eat breakfast alone before repeating the monotonous cycle that is working a full time job and being an adult in general is making you just a little bitter.

You dwell on this as you drive the deserted roads home, even though you shouldn’t be. Shaking your head at your tendency to mope, you decide to do something about it and turn your radio up with the hopes that something good is playing on the random playlist that had begun when your phone automatically connected to the car’s sound system. Hell, maybe even something bad. Anything to get you out of this thought pattern that is quickly attempting to derail your mood.

“Now here I go again, I see the crystal vision

I keep my visions to myself

But it's only me who wants to wrap around your dreams, and

Have you any dreams you'd like to sell, dreams of loneliness?”

Ironic, considering you were just lamenting your own loneliness, but you’ll forgive Stevie Nicks for almost anything, so you let it slide. Tapping your thumbs on the steering wheel, you hum along to the song and stare out at the empty, rainy landscape ahead.

Empty, until it’s suddenly not.

You don’t look away from the road, you know that you don’t. But in the literal blink of an eye, a white figure appears right in front of your car. Slamming on the brakes with a scream, you watch as the figure collapses ahead of you. You don’t hit whatever it is, thankfully, and after lurching to a harsh stop, you peer through the windshield at what your headlights illuminate.

It’s a person, or at least you think it is. They’re pale, paler than any person you’ve seen before. They’re also stark naked, which, for a number of reasons, can’t be comfortable. Should you get out and help?

You bite your lip as you consider this, stories of human trafficking ploys and hitchhiking serial killers appearing at the forefront of your mind. It’s dangerous, and probably stupid, but something in you knows that this isn’t a scheme to kidnap you. Your eyes were on the road the entire time, and this being was literally dropped down right in front of your car. Grabbing your phone, throwing your hazards on, and unhooking the pepper spray from your keys, you cautiously open your car door and walk to the front of your car.

“Are you okay?” you ask, looking down at the man. 

He’s laying on his side, his face tucked into the crook of his arm. A mop of unruly, jet-black hair covers any other facial features that might have made him distinguishable to you. 

He doesn’t answer, and you swallow harshly. Oh God, is he dead? You thought you didn’t hit him, and your car doesn’t have any damage, but maybe you did.

Crouching down next to him, you take note of just how skinny he is when you lay a hand on his wrist to check his pulse (which is thankfully thrumming steadily beneath his near-translucent skin). No, not skinny. The man in front of you looks emaciated. What happened to him?, you wonder as you move your hand to his bony shoulder and begin to shake him.

“Hey, can you hear me?” 

This time, a muffled groan answers you. Okay, that’s better than before. At least he’s semi-conscious. Still, he doesn’t look well at all, and you should probably get him to a hospital to be checked out. When you voice this thought, you finally elicit a reaction from him. Long, ice-cold fingers grip your wrist weakly, and you stare at him in shock as he mumbles something unintelligible.

“What?” You lean down next to his covered face, trying to hear what he’s saying.

“No…” he mutters. “Please…no…hospital.”

He’s delirious, that much is obvious. Still, you find yourself mulling over his request. He really does need some sort of medical attention, but he managed to muster up enough strength to specifically tell you that he didn’t want to go to a hospital. As you think about it, you also start to come around to the “no hospital” idea. 

After all, what are you going to do? Show up at the hospital and dump a naked, starving man on their doorstep while claiming that you have no idea how he got like this? At best, the authorities would probably be called and you’d be questioned for kidnapping. No, it’s probably for the best to keep away from the hospital.

Logically, you know that you’re so stupid for even considering the idea that you’ve had. But really, what is this man going to be able to do to you? Even if he weren’t in and out of consciousness, he’s so frail that you could easily take him down were he to try and attack you. Against your better judgment, you decide what you’re going to do.

“I’ll be right back,” you assure the man, who you’re not even sure can hear you, before you stand up. “I think I have a blanket in the trunk of my car.”

A quick search through your mess of a trunk does reveal a blanket, hauled around at the insistence of your mother who preached needing an “emergency kit” in your car at all times. Now, you silently thank her as you grab it and hurry back to the man, though you definitely will not mention to her what the emergency kit was finally used for.

You haul him to a sitting position, his head falling back limply as you fix the blanket over his shoulders. “Do you think you can stand? I’ll get you to the car, I just need to get you on your feet.”

He makes a slight movement that looks like a nod, so you move his arm around your shoulder and wait until you feel his light grasp on your shirt before slowly bringing both of you to stand. Once you’re sure that you’re not going to drop him, you struggle with him towards your car. He’s lighter than most adult men, but considering he’s dead weight, it’s still tough to walk with him. You fumble with the handle of the car door, nearly throwing it open so that you only have to let go of him for a brief moment.

You cringe when he falls backwards onto the seats, landing harshly across them. It doesn’t seem to hurt him at all, the only sign that he even felt anything is a groan in the back of his throat. Whispering out a “sorry,” you cover his body with the blanket and make sure all of him is in the car before closing the door and getting into the driver’s seat.

Sighing heavily, you think about your life choices as you glance into the rearview mirror to look at the unconscious man in the back of your car. You’re really going to do this, aren’t you? Taking home a naked man that passed out on the road in front of your car so that you can hopefully wake him up and get him well enough to be on his way without killing you?

Yes, you are.

•••

The first thought that crosses Dream’s mind when consciousness finally returns to him is that his limbs ache. They really, truly ache. It’s not often that an Endless has lingering pains, but it does happen. He stretches his legs out in front of him, feeling his muscles twinge as he attempts to loosen them.

The next thought that crosses Dream’s mind is that he shouldn’t be able to stretch any of his limbs, considering he’s meant to be curled up in a glass ball.

His eyes snap open when he realizes this, and he’s bewildered to find that he’s not staring at guards looking at him disdainfully from the table they’re always perched at, nor is he looking at the wrought-iron bars separating the large, underground room from the staircase upstairs. No, instead, he’s looking up at what looks to be a ceiling fan, spinning lazily around and around.

The events of what happened before he ended up here (wherever “here” is) begin to come back to him in fragments. First the runes being erased, then securing the sand from the guard’s dream. The orb shattering, sand being blown, and beginning to make his way home. That’s where his memory becomes muddled.

There were lights, and a voice. He thinks he remembers the vague sensation of being moved, but he’s not too sure. Whatever happened, he ended up here…on a couch, under a number of blankets. Certainly not in the same basement that he had been in for over a century, with its familiar cold seeping through the very glass he found himself trapped in. No, this room is warm and inviting. Comforting, almost.

Wherever he is, it’s not in the Dreaming. More alarmingly still is that he can’t sense the Dreaming at all. After that small glimpse of his power that got him out of the Burgess basement, his power has completely abandoned him. A not-unusual feeling, considering he spent the last 106 years without it, but being “free” and powerless is not something that he’s used to.

He has had a lot of time to think about what his lack of power feels like. After a few decades, the best he could liken it to is missing a sense or losing a limb. It’s something functional, something that he should have, but that he doesn’t. Cruelly, he was granted a taste of what he should have for a mere second before fate or karma or the universe itself decided to play yet another cruel joke on him.

Dream slowly takes in his surroundings, his thoughts sluggish and confused. There’s a table next to the couch he’s laid on, a glass of water placed on it. A black screen sits on a stand across the room, and he stares at his reflection in it for a moment before the sound of humming draws his attention away.

A figure – the person humming, he assumes – comes through a doorway, eyes immediately meeting his own. Curiously, she smiles at him when she notices this. Dream’s muscles tense, on guard in the presence of an unknown being so soon after escaping Burgess. Has he escaped one prison, only to land in another?

“You’re awake!” she exclaims, as though she’s happy to see this. “How are you feeling?”

He ignores the human’s question. “This is not the Dreaming.”

“No, this is my apartment.”

“I must go.” Dream attempts to stand up, but finds that he struggles to just barely sit up. “I need to return to my realm.”

“You’re not going anywhere, look at you! You’re too weak to even move.”

She begins to approach him, but the glower he sends her way is enough to stop her in her tracks. It does not matter that she was stating the obvious when she said what she did, referencing his physicality. He will not be told what he can and cannot do, where he is allowed to exist. Not anymore. “Do not come any closer, mortal.”

“Okay, I won’t.” 

She puts her hands up in the air, presumably to show him that she means no harm. The move reminds him of what one might do in the presence of a frightened animal. In her mind, he is a frightened animal. 

“Have you drank any of that water? I don’t know where you were before I found you, but you look like you haven’t had anything to eat or drink in a while.”

He looks at her warily, but slowly takes the glass that is apparently designated for him. After over a century, he’s more than a little parched. Though he will not show any gratitude before it is earned, he is thankful that at least one of his needs is being met.

The woman waits patiently for him to make the next move, choosing to sit on a large chair near the couch and tap at a rectangle she holds in her hands. Morpheus appreciates not being watched as he greedily drains the water that he’s been offered. Only after he places the now-empty glass back on the table does she look up at him and wait for him to make the first move.

“How did I end up here?” Morpheus asks slowly.

“When I found you, you basically appeared in the middle of the road from out of nowhere. You were passed out, and you only really came around so that you could tell me not to take you to a hospital.” She nervously plays with her hands, which rest in her lap. “I wasn’t about to leave you out there, so I brought you here.”

“Why?”

It comes out harsher than he intended, but considering the only interaction he’s had for so long with other beings involved threats and pleas for immortality, riches, and power, he isn’t expecting much. In fact, Morpheus is preparing himself to listen to her list of demands before acting. Though he’s powerless right now and unable to manipulate her dreams the way that he did the guards at Fawney Rig, he still has millenia of experience to draw on when it comes to escaping a captor.

Contrary to his belief, she looks at him in surprise. “Why?” When he nods, she shrugs. “I guess…because if I were naked and unconscious in the middle of the road on a rainy night, I’d want somebody to help me to relative safety.”

Ah. It’s at this point that Dream realizes that he is, in fact, very much still naked. Though he’s hardly shy about his form, he is aware that most humans have a more puritanical point of view when it comes to the covering of bodies.

“Are you hungry? You look like you’ve been starved, so I’m guessing it’s been a while since you’ve had something to eat.” The woman stands and takes the glass off of the table, musing to herself as she walks to another room. “We’ll probably have to start you on something light so that you can get used to eating again. Maybe toast?”

She doesn’t stop rambling even as she returns and hands Morpheus another glass of water. Though, even if she were to stop long enough to take a breath, Morpheus doesn’t know what he would say. He’s so bewildered at this entire situation that the Prince of Stories himself is at a loss for words.

He’s been left completely powerless in the Waking World, and he would have to fend for himself were it not for this random human whose path he’s been literally dropped in the middle of. A human who, apparently, has no devious intentions towards him, though he finds it hard to believe that all humans aren’t evil and heartless like Roderick Burgess and those complicit in his captivity. He finds it especially hard to believe that the first human he comes across after the Burgess affair would be the exact opposite of those he’s been around for so long.

Destiny himself must surely be breaking his stoic demeanor to laugh at his younger brother’s misfortunes.

“Seriously, when was the last time you ate something?” After a moment of silence, Morpheus realizes she’s asking him a question.

His attention is brought back to the woman, who’s reclaimed her seat in the chair across the room. Lifting his chin, and with what he hopes is a voice befitting the ruler he once was, he says, “One hundred and six years ago.”

She laughs at what she assumes is a joke, until she realizes that the expression on his face doesn’t change. He can see this mortal begin to make the connections in her mind. His mention of his beloved realm, the fact that he called her “mortal” to begin with, the century plus of imprisonment. The Waking World is so quick to dismiss magic and the supernatural as “fairy tales;” if it is beyond their comprehension, then it therefore doesn’t exist.

Yet, even with what they believe to be sound logic, humans just know when they encounter something that they can’t quite explain. Morpheus has always seen it in the way that people back up when he or his siblings or any of the many other preternatural beings that wander this plane walk past. The fear in their eyes as something primal activates within them, something telling them that they are no longer the apex predator.

Even with his lack of powers, he still carries his innate abilities that are woven into his very being. He can hear the woman’s heart beat faster, see her pupils dilate in apprehension. She knows, even if she does not want to admit it.

Quietly, she asks, “Who are you? What are you?”

“I am Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares.”

A long minute passes as she takes in the information he’s given her. She does not run away from him in fright (which has happened to him a couple of times), nor does she call for someone who will attempt to capture Morpheus and use his powers to their own advantage. Instead, she thinks over what she’s heard and nods.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares,” she smiles after saying all of his titles, apparently finding it amusing to be in the presence of a king, “I’m Y/n.”

Morpheus is not used to thanking others, especially mortals. However, this woman’s helpfulness seems to warrant that he learns how to do so, so he nods. “I thank you for offering me aid in my time of need, Y/n.”

“I’m going to get you some food.” He hardly opens his mouth to make a rebuttal before she’s pointing at him accusingly. “Don’t argue with me, you need food. Then after that, we’ll get you some clothes. Sound good?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer before she’s back through the door, presumably towards the kitchen. Though Morpheus is still wary of relying on anybody, let alone a human, he doesn’t exactly have a choice. Not when he’s this weak, and certainly not when he’s powerless. No, he has no choice but to place his trust in this strong-willed woman who was crazy enough to rescue a stranger in the rain.

Fates help him.

•••

So, the random, naked stranger you saved out of the middle of the road turns out to rule the collective unconscious of all of humanity. And he now lives on your couch for the time being (with clothes, thankfully; you had procured a shirt and a pair of sweatpants for him when he had finally agreed to let you help him), because he’s apparently lost the powers that connect him to said collective unconscious. No big deal.

You didn’t want to believe Morpheus at first. After all, just the mere idea of some being who is eons old and is, in his words, “the anthropomorphic personification of the concept of dreams” sounds insane. But the same sense that told you that it was safe to take him home tells you that he’s telling the truth. And as you get to know him more, you find that that sense was right.

From the way that he talks to the memories of empires long gone and the recollections of those great figures of history that he’s met and inspired, all of which he shares with you as the days go by and it becomes obvious that he can’t just ignore you and hope that you go away, you find it very easy to believe him. He hasn’t given you a reason to not believe him, and until he does, you’ll continue to trust what he tells you.

It’s at least a week before your new roommate is strong enough to move easily around your apartment, though he still looks half-starved. On his second day of staying at your apartment, you had offered to help him to the shower. After all, if you had been deprived of showering for 106 years, it would be one of the first things that you wanted to do. After thinking it over for a long couple of minutes, Morpheus had begrudgingly agreed. The moment he attempted to stand, he had been unable to support himself and had fallen to his knees. This left him no choice but to take your outstretched hand.

It was very obvious that the proud king felt humiliated at needing to use you to support most of his weight as you maneuvered him through your apartment and to the bathroom. You couldn’t exactly blame him, because you’re sure that it is humiliating, especially when you’re a being that’s normally more powerful than a literal god who has to rely on a mere human for help walking a few feet.

According to Morpheus, if he had his powers, he would have recovered at a much faster rate. Since he doesn’t, though, and he’s effectively human for the time being, he has to recover as a human would. When you come home from running a couple of errands one day to find him sitting up on the couch without needing to lean on anything for support, reading a book from your collection, you’re extremely glad to see that his “human” recovery is progressing nicely.

As time passes, though, you’ve found an odd companionship with him. He’s slowly become less wary of you, and you of he, which has allowed you both to trust the other and actually, dare you say it, form a tenuous friendship.

It seems like he’d been expecting you to basically tiptoe around him and ignore him throughout the duration of his stay with you. Considering you don’t want to wake up to a corpse on your couch because you abandoned him in his time of need, and because you’re a person with a conscience, you’ve done the exact opposite, much to his chagrin and bewilderment.

You’re in the kitchen chopping vegetables for a soup, still working on building Morpheus up towards being able to eat actual meals, when he actually comes to you seeking companionship. He hovers at the edge of the kitchen, watching silently as you go through the familiar motions. Finally, he moves just a couple of steps closer, like a feral cat being enticed by food from a human who’s determined not to look at them. It’s not that far off from reality, you realize.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

Though it’s pretty damn obvious what you’re doing, you decide not to be sarcastic with him. “Making soup.”

He nods, leaning against the counter to watch. You feel a bit like you’re on a cooking show with the way that he’s viewing your actions so intently.

“What’s so interesting?” you ask after another moment of unwillingly being on Iron Chef.

“I suppose I’ve never really watched someone cook before.”

The knife pauses in midair, and you turn to look at him. “I’m sorry, what? You’ve been alive for as long as beings have had consciousness, but you’ve never watched someone cook?”

“It’s not often that I have to eat. If I choose to enjoy food, the palace staff typically prepares it for me.”

Oh yeah. It’s easy to forget that Morpheus literally has a castle when he’s standing in your kitchen with bedhead. You would make a joke about him being spoiled, but you suppose that if you were in his position, you also never would have taken the time to actually step inside a kitchen.

“Do you want to learn?”

“How to cook?” You nod. “Are you sure that you want to teach me?”

“I’m literally just going to have you cutting vegetables,” you say with a laugh. “It’s a pretty easy task, even for you, your highness.”

His lips just barely move upwards, and you stare at him, stunned. Did he just smile at you? You didn’t even know that he knew how to do that. You’re about to try and convince yourself that it was just a trick of the light when he says, “Being that I am a king, it’s ‘your majesty,’ not ‘your highness.’”

He did smile! And he made a joke! It’s such a small accomplishment, yet you can’t help but to feel immensely proud of yourself. Hiding your own pleased grin, you step back from the cutting board. “Okay your majesty, come over here so I can teach you to cut vegetables.”

Morpheus definitely isn’t going to be on any cooking shows of his own anytime soon. Actually, you don’t know that you’d even trust him to be in the kitchen by himself anytime soon. He nearly cuts off a finger a couple of times, and he struggles to figure out how to hold whatever he’s cutting so that it can actually be cut. The vegetables he’s been in charge of cutting are uneven, but you can see how proud he is of having completed this task himself. You’re proud of him too; though you can tease him for having never done something like cooking before, it must be hard to learn a new skill after so long.

After this, Morpheus becomes less of an unwilling house guest who’s only putting up with you because he physically can’t leave and more of a friend. It became inevitable that you would have to spend time together, since he’s living on your couch until he can figure out how to get back to the Dreaming, but it’s become actually enjoyable to be in his presence, and vice versa. Though he can still be cold, distant, and haughty, that’s to be expected. Your relationship has changed, and he’s changed.

It takes a couple of weeks, but Morpheus finally starts to feel well enough to re-enter the land of the living. At least, he’s well enough to insist that he can start researching how to regain his powers or go home. Naturally, you join him. Morpheus has long-since given up on asking you why you help him, finally realizing that this is just how you are. If he wanted to be left alone, he should have landed in front of the car of someone who didn’t care about his well-being.

You’re sitting in your local public library with him, one of your now-regular visits as you search through book after book to try and find answers. The both of you are tucked in a corner near a set of windows, enjoying the way that the sun warms your skin. Books from a variety of subjects are scattered all around you; religion and history, mythology and occult. Anything that could potentially give you an idea of how to help an Endless regain the powers that they were created with. Needless to say, there’s not a lot of material written on this topic.

Yet another book with no answers is tossed to the side in frustration, and you begin to just fire off random ideas off the top of your head. Most of them involve seeking the help of any magic contacts that Morpheus has here in the Waking World, which is made difficult by the fact that Morpheus has no way of contacting these beings. Both because of his lack of powers, as well as the fact that he’s not the most open person for one to make a contact with.

(“You? Not friendly? I’m shocked, truly,” you had said with obvious sarcasm coloring your tone. Morpheus simply sighed, turning the page of the book he’s reading harsher than needed.

“Yes, have your laughs at my expense.”)

It’s more than a little discouraging to have absolutely no answers, and you’re starting to get desperate. You tap your fingers against a book you’ve already looked through, hoping that maybe you’ll learn something through osmosis.

“You could…”

You pause, trying to think of a good idea. Your mind is racing as you turn from logical plans that could actually work to the illogical. After all, if you can’t find something that works, you’re at least going to have some fun. 

“Throw me off a bridge, maybe? That’d surely get your sister to show up.”

Morpheus only looks at you. “That is not funny, Y/n.”

“I didn’t say it was!”

“I know your sense of humor well enough by now to know that you find this suggestion of yours at least slightly amusing.”

Your lips twitch, because he’s right. The mental image of Morpheus chucking you off a bridge and then eagerly waiting for his sister, literal Death, to appear while you’re screaming and falling to your end does make you want to laugh. 

“Well, it’s the only idea I’ve got,” you say with a shrug.

“A terrible idea, truly.”

You roll your eyes jokingly and mutter, “Jerk.”

When you first met Morpheus, he would have taken your words and actions quite seriously and been offended at the perceived insults. Now, he simply rolls his eyes right back at you and smirks. Just one of the many things that have changed between you.

It’s here, on the floor of the library, that things majorly change between you. It’s here that Morpheus kisses you for the first time.

You had taken a solo walk around a few of the shelves under the guise of seeing if you had missed any research, but really you needed to get away from the corner of no answers before you started shredding books out of anger. It helped enough that you were able to return to the research with fresh eyes, and it seems like it’s paying off.

In a book about pagan rituals, you find the first promising information that you’ve seen in the last three library trips. You lay your hand on Morpheus’s shoulder to get his attention. “Wait, listen to this! This book talks about summoning the Fates.” 

You point down to the passage. 

“‘It is fitting to begin December with an offering to the Three Fates, the weavers of destiny. Put out three small cups of red wine, fruit and bread, along with three knives. This is a way of honoring the powers that will bring more provisions during the coming year. Have ready three candles, red, black and white.’ It’s not December, but I would think this could potentially be done year-round? We give them an offering, they recognize who it’s coming from, and they give us some answers. What do you think?”

When you look up at Morpheus, you find him already looking at you with his beautiful blue eyes. He’s told you that, when he has his powers, his eyes resemble two stars. With the way that they always twinkle when they catch the light just right, you’d argue that they already do. You smile at him, unable to stop the awkward giggle that escapes you as he continues to look at you with something you can’t quite name.

“What?”

His eyes look from your eyes to your lips and back again. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize what he’s about to do, a mere moment before he leans in and presses his lips to yours.

Morpheus is a really good kisser, which is to be expected since he’s been alive for longer than you can fathom. He kisses you softly and sweetly, and the butterflies that flutter in your stomach make you feel a bit like a teenager receiving her first kiss from a beau. You sigh against his lips, bringing a hand to his cheek while he places one of his on the back of your neck.

Then, it actually hits you what you’re doing. Though you don’t want to (like, you really don’t want to), you need to put a stop to this. What if the only reason he’s doing this is because he feels some sense of gratitude towards you for saving him in the first place? You can’t take advantage of him like that, even if he is a very attractive man that is currently kissing you.

“Wait.” You put a hand on his chest to put some space between you, though you still rest your forehead against his. “I don’t want you to kiss me just because I’m letting you crash on my couch.”

“Do you think that I am incapable of making my own decisions?”

“No, of course not! I just–I worry that you feel like you owe me, or something. You don’t.”

You can feel Morpheus smile under your touch. “It is chivalrous of you to refuse me because you believe that you are taking advantage of me. However, I can assure you that you need not worry.”

“Are you sure? What about, like, power dynamics?”

“Y/n, I’m eons old. If anything, I have all of the power here based solely on that.” Oh, yeah. Before you can actually beat yourself up over the stupidity of that statement, he continues. “I can promise you that I have my wits about me, and there is nothing clouding my decision-making. I care for you, and I would very much like to continue kissing you.”

“Okay,” you whisper, unable to believe that this is actually happening.

He laughs lightly. “Now, may I kiss you again?”

You nod. “Yeah, you can definitely kiss me again.”

Morpheus is more than happy to reclaim your lips with his.

It would almost be embarrassing, how quickly you’ve fallen in love with Morpheus, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s fallen just as fast. You’ve lived blissfully in your own little corner of heaven with him for almost four months now. Though getting him home is still important to both of you, it’s also become less of a priority as you’ve fallen more in love with each other.

(He’s also very happy to be sleeping in bed with you instead of on the couch.)

Laying in bed with him one night, you’re transfixed with mapping out every inch of his skin that you can touch with your fingers and watching goosebumps form in their wake. You don’t think you’ll ever get over just how unreal Morpheus seems to be. You understand, of course, that this is due to the fact that he’s an Endless, that he is physically more than a human, and thus a human form can not truly contain all of him. But to be up close and personal to such a phenomenon really drives home just how ethereal he really is. You can easily see why he’s been mistaken as a god so many times throughout history.

“What’s it like?” you whisper to him, unwilling to fully break the tranquility you’re experiencing.

In the dim light, Morpheus looks at you. “What is what like, beloved?”

Your heart jumps at the pet name, so sweet and unexpected. Fighting to keep your wits about you, you ask, “Your kingdom. The Dreaming.”

“I don't even know where to begin when I tell you that it is the most wondrous place you will ever lay eyes upon.” He closes his eyes briefly and sighs wistfully. “It has been over a century since I have been home, and yet I can still see it as if I were merely there yesterday.”

“If it’s hard to talk about, you don’t have to.” You should have realized that asking him about the home he currently has no way of getting back to would make him upset.

“It does not make me sad to talk about it. Rather, I love the Dreaming so much that it overwhelms me sometimes. I am the Dreaming, you see. It is a part of me.”

“So it’s perfect, then.” You don’t mean to say that out loud, but the way that Morpheus looks away bashfully makes you glad that you did.

“That is what some believe, yes. It’s a vast plane, considering all the universe’s dreamers use it when they close their eyes at night. The area around the palace, my direct kingdom, is stunning. Imagine the most beautiful landscape you can. That beauty would pale in comparison to Fiddler’s Green, with its orchards and valleys and rivers and mountains.”

“Really?”

“Mm. My personal favorite is a small clearing ringed by trees that make it seem as though you’re completely blocked off from the rest of existence. There’s a waterfall there, too, and I believe you’d quite enjoy the mermaids.”

All of it sounds wonderful, but that last word has your mind sparking with excitement. “Mermaids? Like…actual mermaids?”

“Of course. Mermaids are creatures of dreams. And nightmares. They are subjects in my realm.”

“That’s amazing.” You pause for a moment. “Would I be able to meet them?”

“You will be able to do anything you wish when I finally get to bring you to my realm. Though, it may be difficult to get you out of the library once you’re there.”

“I should have assumed you’d have a library.”

“Yes, and it is my sanctuary in the Dreaming. The library holds every book that has ever been written, every book that will be written, and even books that have merely been ideas in the minds of authors. It is overseen by Lucienne, without whom I fear the library would fall into permanent disrepair.”

“That sounds wonderful.” You yawn, your eyes too heavy to keep open for much longer. Morpheus notices this and pulls you closer to him. “Tell me more about it. Then maybe I’ll get lucky and be able to catch a glimpse of it while I sleep.”

It’s merely wishful thinking, considering dreams since the night that Roderick Burgess trapped Morpheus in his basement have been nothing more than fragments of scenarios. But his voice is so deep and calming, and you can tell that it makes him happy to talk of his home. Maybe tonight will be the night that the Dreaming decides to welcome its king back home. And even if it doesn’t, you’ll enjoy falling asleep in your lover’s arms.

•••

When Morpheus first woke up after his captivity, alone and confused and without his powers, he thought that he would never be able to feel anything except anger. Anger at his situation, anger towards those that had captured them. And for a few days, anger was all that he felt. But slowly and surely, Y/n had managed to chip away at the anger that had threatened to harden around his heart. Though he was not looking for love, nor did he expect to ever deserve love again after everything he had done to ruin every relationship he had been in, he had found it with her. The anger became replaced with an incandescent happiness, happiness that threatened to swallow Morpheus whole if he allowed it.

And he was certainly tempted.

It’s been approximately four months since the night he was freed, but it certainly hadn’t felt that way. Where he had spent the past 106 years counting day after agonizing day, four months with his beloved seemed to pass in the blink of an eye; an impressive feat for an Endless. Morpheus has, dare he say it, enjoyed getting to be a human, learning more about humanity and all that he had missed. Though he still lamented the loss of something so integral to his very being as his powers, his realm, he was able to recognize the gift that he had been given in spending the last four months with Y/n.

He’s sitting with her on the couch where it seems as though everything began, reading yet another book in the hopes that he might find a way to regain his powers, while she watches a movie on the television about some sort of battle in space (yet another aspect of humanity that she enjoyed teaching him, modern technology and everything along with it). She had meant to show him this movie, claiming that it was one of her favorites and that she believed every being needed to see this. Of course, it took a total of five minutes before he found himself hopelessly lost among the plot and had turned to the book next to him.

She had pouted for a moment, more to try and make him feel bad than from actually being upset. He had simply smirked in her direction, kissing her forehead before laying his arm around her and drawing her closer to him. Yet another thing that he loves about her, among many things, is that he can just exist in companionable silence with her. It’s rare, at least in his experience, when one finds another where this is possible.

Her head falls against his shoulder, and he smiles down at her when he sees she’s fallen asleep. In moments like these, he wishes more than anything that he was connected to the Dreaming once more. What he wouldn’t give to be able slip into her mind and give her the sweetest dreams that she deserves. As he closes his eyes and leans his head against hers, he imagines that he can feel that link to his realm.

After a moment, Morpheus opens his eyes and jarringly realizes that he can feel it. Her dreams, and the Dreaming itself. After 106 long years, the Dreaming returns to him as naturally as if he had simply blinked. His power suddenly twining through his veins again, something which he had taken for granted nearly his entire existence, has tears pricking at his eyes. Oh, how he has missed this.

Morpheus can return home now to reclaim his mantle and rule the Dreaming once more. He should be thrilled about this. He is thrilled about it. Thrilled, until he looks at the sleeping woman leaning against him and realizes that a decision must be made, and soon.

His power has returned, yet it’s still incredibly weak. Weak from not using them so long, and weak due to his not having his tools–his sand, his helm, and his ruby. Thus, he cannot be at his full strength until he recovers them. Will his power disappear yet again if he waits too long? If he wakes her to relay the good news, to take a moment to say goodbye, will the Dreaming escape from him? If his power does leave again, will he ever have another chance such as this?

It’s something that he cannot risk. And yet, he finds himself unsure, even though he knows what he has to do. This woman, this mortal, has managed to ensnare his heart so completely that Morpheus considers potentially forsaking his kingdom just for the chance to properly part with her in the way that he wants to, in the way that she deserves.

Morpheus takes great care not to wake her up when he moves her off of him to lay down on the couch. His fingers trace the slope of her nose, down to her lips and across her cheeks, mapping out her face. If this is to be the last time he sees her, he wants to remember everything about her. Knowing that he will have to depart without telling her where he is going or knowing if they will be together again grieves him. He has not felt pain of this kind since he helplessly watched Jessamy be murdered in front of him.

He lingers when he kisses his beloved’s forehead, not sure when, or if, he will have the pleasure of seeing her again. If she’ll forgive him for what he has to do, how he has to leave her. He whispers this in her ear, a simple, “I love you. Forgive me.”

Then, he closes his eyes and feels that tug that has always connected him to the Dreaming. He envisions the sandy dunes outside of the Gates of Horn and Ivory, the way they melt into the rolling hills of Fiddler’s Green in the distance. He sees his castle and his library, Lucienne and Mervyn, Cain and Abel, the seas of dreams and nightmares. He places himself there, and when he opens his eyes to see Lucienne leaning over him, when he feels the sands of his realm against his back, he knows…

He’s home.

•••

Waking up on your couch that day with no sign of Morpheus anywhere had confirmed your worst fears. Just as suddenly as he had appeared in your life, he was now gone without a trace. And as the hours eventually turned into days without him, you had to come to terms with the fact that he was really, truly gone.

Life without Morpheus, after having had him as yours for a few glorious months, just felt dull. Literally, it felt as though your senses were dulled now. Colors weren’t as bright, songs weren’t as beautiful, things didn’t taste as good, flowers didn’t smell right, and things that were once soft now felt harsh against your skin. He was gone, and you were alone. Things were as they were before that fateful night when he landed in front of your car.

It’s not even that he left you. Rather, it’s how he left you. Never would you have expected him to just completely abandon you, with no note left behind or anything to explain where he had gone. You assumed he had gotten his powers back, which was wonderful, truly. After all, that was the end game, wasn’t it? But for him to just…leave, after everything you had been through and shared with each other, hurt worse than you could have imagined.

You became intimately familiar with the five stages of grief in those first few days after his departure, cycling through each stage until you would come back around to the beginning and do it all over again. It felt pathetic that you were this heartbroken, but how could you not be? Morpheus had held your heart in his very hands, only to discard it as if the gift you gave him, of your love, meant nothing. You couldn’t even mope for as long as you wanted to, because you just reminded yourself of fucking Bella Swan in New Moon, and god forbid you share any similarities with her.

Eventually, you settled on feeling angry. Angry at him, angry at the circumstances, angry at yourself, angry at the world. You’re so mad, but then you feel like you have no right to be mad, because he got what he wanted! He has his powers and his realm back, which was the only reason he was with you for as long as he was. You both knew that, and still…

You really wish that you could hate Morpheus.

He hadn’t even come to visit you in your dreams, which had really sealed the deal for how little you meant to him. If he had gotten his powers back and returned to his realm, surely he would have spoken to you while you were asleep to at least let you know that he was alright? But no, you didn’t even receive that from him. And so you were left without closure, which made getting over him really difficult.

Still, you try your best to get over him, even though you really don’t want to do so. Two months after Morpheus vanished without a trace, you’re finally returning the last library book from your research sessions with him. You felt silly, holding onto it for as long as you did, but it proved that he had been here, and that what you had experienced was real. It was a tangible link to him; it was your only tangible link to him. Unfortunately, the library has only let you renew the book so many times before needing it back, and today is that day.

You stand in front of the book deposit box in the library, holding onto the book and feeling the cover that you’ve mapped out time after time as you attempt to work up the courage to let go. Let go of both the book itself, as well as the hope that Morpheus will come back to you. It’s obvious that it’s not going to happen, and you’re doing nothing but hurting yourself by continuing to hold out hope that it will. You need to live your life again, even if it means letting go of the best thing to ever happen to you.

Somebody clears their voice behind you to draw you out of your inner monologue, and you realize that a line has started to form. Smiling sheepishly at the grandma waiting for her turn, you whisper “sorry” to her before taking a breath and finally dropping the book inside. The flap of the box closes with a finality that signifies that you aren’t getting that book back. Stepping away from the deposit box to allow the line to progress, you take a deep breath as the finality of the situation hits you.

That’s it. All that you’re left with from your four months with Morpheus now is memories. You were hoping that this would feel more freeing, that you’d feel a weight lifted off of your shoulders and go waltzing out of the library like the main character in a coming-of-age movie as the end credits played to signify that you were turning a corner in your life. Instead, you just feel a pit in the bottom of your stomach, a sickness that this is really it. Now, you have to figure out what to do next.

Even as you turn to leave, you can’t help but think of Morpheus. You glance into the corner of the library that you spent many days with him in, the corner of the library where he kissed you, and you just want to cry. You miss him. You really, truly miss him, and it seems like it’s going to take more than returning a library book to get over that.

You wish you had pictures that you could burn, like every other normal relationship.

As you exit the library, you find yourself making eye contact with the fucking crow sitting in the tree across the street that seems to follow you around now. You’re probably just paranoid, because you don’t even really like birds, but it feels like you see that giant black bird everywhere you go. At first, for a hopeful second, you had allowed yourself to believe that maybe it was a sign from Morpheus. But when you had quietly said hello to it and it just did crow things, you realized that you were being stupid. Of course a random bird isn’t going to be a messenger from the lover that had left you.

Because this is already a terrible day, it gets worse when you harshly knock against someone when you’re walking in the parking lot to find your car. You stumble backwards, nearly falling from the force of it. The only reason that you don’t fall is because the person who you’ve just inadvertently assaulted grabs onto your forearm to steady you.

“Shoot, I’m sorry,” you mumble, squinting against the sun.

“I believe I’m the one that should be apologizing.”

That voice. You know that voice. Could it really be, or have you just finally lost your mind and are imagining what you want to happen?

But then your vision clears, and you look at him, and no. It’s real. He stands in front of you two months after you last saw him, looking down at you like you’re the one that left him suddenly.

Your mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. There are so many things that you want to say to him. After all, how many times have you imagined this exact scenario and all of the things that you would say to him in said scenario? Now you’re here, with his hand around your arm, and all you can think to say is, “Morpheus?”

He looks better than he did even at his healthiest when staying with you, which goes to show just how drained he was without his powers. His lips are lifted just slightly, his version of a smile, and he looks good. His coat fits him perfectly, as though it were made just for him (it probably was). He’s dressed in all black, of course, from the coat down to the black boots he wears. You finally meet his eyes, and you gasp when, for a split second, you see the stars that make up his eyes before you blink and they’re back to the blue you’ve known.

“Hello, beloved,” Morpheus says. The deep timbre of his voice sends shivers down your spine, a side effect of not hearing it every day like you used to.

You want to be mad at him. You are mad at him. He left you with no warning and disappeared from your life without a trace. He had left you so suddenly, in fact, that sometimes in the middle of the night when you were out of tears and hadn’t yet cried yourself to sleep, you wondered if you had simply imagined everything about him. Yet, seeing him again, all you want to do is fall into his arms and tell him how much you missed him. 

When you lunge forward, it’s not to hug him, which is what you always expected you would do if you were to be reunited with him. Instead, you say, “I can’t believe you fucking left me!” and shove at his chest in anger, which, if the look on his face is anything to go off of, he hadn’t been expecting either. 

The shove hardly moves him, but it fills you with satisfaction to be able to physically assert just how upset you are, so you shove and hit his chest again and again. Morpheus, to his credit, just stands there and takes it, hopefully because he knows he deserves it.

Even the patience of an Endless, however, is not endless. Morpheus grabs your wrists with one of his large hands and stops the physical manifestation of your rage in its tracks. You fight him for a moment longer, but eventually the hot tears building in your eyes spill over, and you look up to face him defiantly. If he’s going to make you cry, he’s going to have to see it.

“You couldn’t have left, I don’t know, a note or something? Just to let me know that you were going to disappear without a trace?”

Morpheus looks pained at this, and a sick part of you whispers ‘good, he deserves to feel bad.’ “When I realized that I could feel the Dreaming after you fell asleep that night, I was not sure if that would be my one and only chance to reclaim my throne. I had to make a choice, however difficult it was, to return to my realm through your dreams.”

“But you didn’t think to let me know that you were okay after you made it back?”

“You remember my tools? My helm, my sand, my ruby?” He waits for you to nod. “I had to retrieve those before I could return to you.”

“Don’t forget about the whole ‘dream vortex’ thing after that! Ugh, that was a mess.” You look up when another voice chimes in, only to find yourself looking at the crow that you had been mentally cursing minutes ago.

“Did–did that crow just talk?”

“Raven, and yes.” Said raven flutters down to land on Morpheus’s shoulder, who glances at his corvid companion like he’s a nuisance.

“This is Matthew, my emissary,” Morpheus introduces.

“Uh, it’s nice to meet you, Matthew.” You feel a bit stupid saying hello to a raven, but it’d be rude not to. “I’m Y/n.”

“I know!” Matthew says cheerfully.

“You may return to the Dreaming, Matthew. I no longer require your assistance.” You stifle a laugh at how obviously Morpheus wants his raven, who is apparently enjoying being a third wheel, to hit the road.

“Right, right, you don’t have to say another word. I’m off!” Matthew flies from Morpheus’s shoulder and presumably back to the Dreaming, though you’re not quite sure how the logistics of traveling between dimensions work.

Left alone now, Morpheus stares at you, and you he, for a long moment. He seems to be waiting for you to make the first move, to see if you’re going to react with anger again. Finally, you rip your hands from his grasp and throw your arms around him. “Fuck, I missed you.”

Though slowly, Morpheus returns your hug, pulling you to him and pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his chin on your head. “I missed you as well. I have ached for you and your presence since the moment I had to leave. Believe me, if I could have taken you with me, I would have.”

You close your eyes, savoring the feeling of actually having Morpheus here and being in his arms. It’s all you’ve dreamed of, for lack of a better term, since he left, and it feels just as good as you imagined it would. You could stay like this forever, and you almost do…until a car honks at you and you remember that you’re standing in the middle of the parking lot.

Sheepishly, you wave at the car and mouth “sorry!” as you grab Morpheus’s hand and pull him towards the actual parked cars. The driver that you’ve now royally pissed off glares at you the entire time that they slowly drive past you, making you giggle nervously. When you look over and see the bewildered look on Morpheus’s face (you would love to know how he would have reacted had you been flipped off), your laughter increases.

Your laughter is cut off when Morpheus leans down and kisses you. Whether that be because he’s trying to get you to shut up or because he actually wanted to kiss you, you’re not sure. Either way, you enjoy finally getting to kiss Morpheus once more.

When you pull away, you look him in his piercing eyes and say, “I’m still mad at you, y’know.”

“You have the right to be so. However, if you are amenable to spending more time with me as I attempt to win back your affections, I would like to show you my kingdom.”

“You wanna take me to the Dreaming?” Morpheus nods, smirking at the way you try to act nonchalant and not excited. “...Can I meet the mermaids?”

This makes him chuckle, a rarity for him. “Yes, you can meet the mermaids.”

The excitement at this prospect wins out, and you grin. “Okay then. Woo me, your majesty.”

•••

Morpheus had feared the worst when he had decided that the Dreaming was rebuilt well enough to receive its (hopefully) future Queen. He worried that Y/n would have taken another lover, or that she would not love him at all anymore. A frequent criticism by his siblings is that he gives too much of himself to romantic relationships, and that very well may be true. But Morpheus knew for certain that, were Y/n to turn him down when he finally reappeared in her life (and he would not even blame her for doing so; not with the way that he left and remained away for so long), it would crush him in a way that no other rejection ever had.

He thinks it would hurt even worse than the Nada affair.

When he finally coaxed his beloved to smile in response to something that he said–a sight which he will never take for granted again–those fears were assuaged. When she agreed to accompany him to the Dreaming, Morpheus allowed himself to hope.

Hope. A word so simple, yet a word that carried so much within it that it could defeat Lucifer themself.

Hope blossoms within Morpheus as he holds out his arm for Y/n to grasp onto so that they can travel safely to the Dreaming, and it turns into a flame when she instead grabs onto the lapels of his jacket and allows him to wrap his arm around her waist.