#Source: good-beans

[pochapal]

ate meat this weekend for the first time in three weeks (crispy chicken strip wrap). two fun curiosities: the first is that lowkey i'm feeling a little nauseous as it digests and the second is that this low level joint pain i've been having on and off dissipated nearly instantaneously

[thekenobee]

So I watched 14 films in a week what’s your superpower

[benzgarfield]

BenzGarfield at This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans Premiere July 5, 2024

[zakiyah]

blessings roll call!

[borom1r]

[rachiller]

I do think they should start offering tonka syrup in coffee shops bc it may be the best thing I’ve ever had in coffee ever and when I leave this job I will be stealing a large container of it

[pourpasserlamelancholie]

[a-sleepy-ginger]

8/8/24

❊✺❂✺❊

Sweet potato chips

Ender toast

Made a lot of progress on a drawing

[foggysilverfeathers]

Fake HC 10 dashboard mayhaps??

0 notes

☀️ pearlescent-post Follow

Reminder to love yourself! Smell the trees! Everything will be okay in the end 😊 ☀️

☀️ pearlescent-post Follow

nvm gem ran out of pickles im depressed again

🐟 gemstone Follow

I RESTOCKED THIS MORNING HOW HAVE YOU ALREADY SOLD ME OUT

☀️ pearlescent-post Follow

1,930 notes

🎣 mending-book-fanatic Follow

day 126 without a mending book

27 notes

🚂 scars-axasqottles Follow

uM hey @.hpo-official could i ask why you havent' received my messages?/? Every calsl Ive made just puts me on holdd

⬜️ hpo-official-948204deactivated

Sorry about that, sir. Admin error. I'll speak to my manager.

🚂 scars-axasqottles Follow

...hELLO?

🌸 joel-beans Follow

lmao they deactivated what a loser

🎣 mending-book-fanatic Follow

Remember there's a person behind every poor worker! I see you bullies in the notes

🐟 gemstone Follow

@/mending-book-fanatic is a hermit permit office spy confirmed??

2,441 notes

🌸 joel-beans Follow

Guys everyone agrees that purpur is cheap and beautiful and godlike and everyone should go buy it right now this second *sweats*

🌲 supreme-judge-bd Follow

I feel like I'm missing something...

🌸 joel-beans Follow

SHE HAS EYES EVERYWHERE BDUBS

☀️ pearlescent-post Follow

Joel!

🌸 joel-beans Follow

If I don’t respond within the hour assume she got me

133 notes

🎩 symmetrical-minister Follow

anyone know a good shop for ethically-sourced wood?? i normally shop at big wood but ive heard things about a mafia :/

🪓 big-salmon Follow

That is absolutely NOT true!! If anything you should be targeting the crypto scheme at Big Wood,,

⌛️ d0ctorm77 Follow

aaaand this is why you should never trust businessmen in red suits

🪓 big-salmon Follow

says the one compensating with a massive HOURGLASS of all things

🐍 puppet-master Follow

Actually @.big-salmon Xisuma_voyd made a really well-explained video here going into detail about all of the shady elements of Big Wood, it's worth a watch.

🐟 gemstone Follow

To answer the original question OP here are some safer (privately owned!) shops :)

Gem's Moss Shop (azaleas for sale which can be bonemealed)

Bdub's Bamboo Shop (bamboo wood is a good eco-friendly alternative to your typical spruce or oak)

The Purr-purr bus (if you're okay with having slightly more exotic trees, from the End)

Hope this helped! <3

⌛️ d0ctorm77 Follow

Why would you pay diamonds for less when you could just pay a few grains of sand for the best quality wood in the shopping district? You people confuse me

🌲 supreme-judge-bd Follow

actually the Purr-purr bus isn't ethical at all!! ive heard they blackmail people into giving them sails!!!

🐟 gemstone Follow

*sales

🌲 supreme-judge-bd Follow

SHUDDUP

☀️ pearlescent-post Follow

:(

2,750 notes

🎣 mending-book-fanatic Follow

day 131 without a mending book

34 notes

🎣 mending-book-fanatic Follow

day 164 without a mending book

🐍 puppet-master Follow

Grian you know you can get free mending books at the cat cafe right

🎣 mending-book-fanatic Follow

it's not the same

🎣 mending-book-fanatic Follow

I need to be able to smell the breath of the sea between its sodden pages

🎣 mending-book-fanatic Follow

continue along the same path and you'll soon be facing villager unions

2,316 notes

🔥 tongo-tak Follow

Friendly reminder that not everyone wakes up at 2am, so please tag your Pearldle spoilers for at least a few hours!!

☀️ pearlescent-post Follow

skill issue tbh

1,102 notes

🇸🇪 death2diorite85 Follow

hallo how flirt with pretty girl time sensitive question

🌺 git-gorgeous Follow

sell them something

🔥 tongo-tak Follow

bribe diamonds

🐍 puppet-master Follow

kill them

🇸🇪 death2diorite85 Follow

okay will do!!!!

🇸🇪 death2diorite85 Follow

wait

2,989 notes

🐍 puppet-master Follow

Happy pride month to lgbtqia+ people of all ages, genders and sexualities, you're all so valid and so loved <3 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️ ❤🧡💛💚💙💜

🐟 gemstone Follow

<3

⌛️ d0ctorm77 Follow

I'm making a rainbow beacon for pride, come look for it! i'll be with it by my husband @ renthedog's hole all week

⌛️ d0ctorm77 Follow

*HOLE

⌛️ d0ctorm77 Follow

*HOME

⌛️ d0ctorm77 Follow

WAIT I ACCIDENTALLY TAGGED IT

🐾 renthedog Follow

um.

2,655 notes

🌸 joel-beans Follow

etho is just kakashi on maple syrup send post

🌸 joel-beans Follow

almost forgot to add important additional difference! etho is also obsessed with me

1,113 notes

[shailion]

This is why you should always carry some cheese on you at all times, skeletons can be appeased with calcium and if you don't run into any you have a nice snack at the end of the day.

I understand that museums have to be dark because light can destroy fragile artifacts. That said, I’m always afraid to walk around the blind corners because what if there is a skeleton

[sunnywalnut]

Today I saw my first Starbucks ad that had careful product placement, no words or obvious promos, and just two people having a good time.

And to that I want to say.

Fuck you Starbucks.

I know what you're doing.

Lost enough money due to supporting Israel that you've finally turned to sneakiness? Your brand suddenly isn't enough to sell? How saddening.

Like I know that brands and businesses do product placement. I know they do ads and promos. I know they do things to show their "customers"(actors) having a good time with their products. That's not just a Starbucks thing.

But what IS a Starbucks thing is the sneaky approach to it now. They were so careful to have the only logos showing being on the cups. It's subtle. And it's definitely on purpose. Trying to get you to crave both the drink and the experience.

BUT HEY.

REMEMBER.

STARBUCKS AIN'T SHIT GUYS.

IT'S BITTER, OVERROASTED COFFEE BEANS IN A CUP COVERED UP WITH ENOUGH SUGAR TO KILL A MAN.

There's no fucking way that you're going to be enjoying yourself while choking down a caramel French toast macchiato that tastes like licking a dirty brick y'all.

Also like. They're supporting genocide, so.

Maybe. Don't fall for the new promos. Okay?

Free Palestine.

EDIT: I have since been informed that the Starbucks brand itself is not complicit in genocide and instead, it is the CEO of Starbucks who is a Zionist. I have since made an apology post for accidentally spreading misinformation in the reblogs and have tagged my sources with evidence. If you can, please do repost that version of this post instead.

I will still be leaving this version of the post (the original) up and unedited, because I do not want to appear as if I am trying to change the narrative in any way or pretending as if what I have said doesn't exist or effect people.

While I am more than a little embarrassed about my initial approach to the subject, I have since learned more proper ways of threading together my thoughts as well as vetting my resources thoroughly. Thank you, and I hope you have a good night/day.

Free Palestine.

[intoxicated-chan]

Daryl Dixon request! You and Daryl have just recently got together a few months ago! You and Daryl wander off from the group when you're on the road too look for food water ext, you both get a bit frisky and your sexual tension builds(maybe a bit of bickering), but it’s dangerous, so Daryl takes you against the tree your legs wrapped around him your back against the tree a gun in hand just in case a walker hears, but he’s also kissing you to muffle your moans 💕💕

𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫

Summary ➳ Daryl fucks you against the tree. (Idk what else to say) 

(A/n) ➳ I am not made to write smut! Most of one-shot is just fluff and only a couple hundred words is smut... I’m sorry.   

Word Count ➳ 1.4k 

Content Warnings ➳ Female reader, sexual content, mainly fluff, little smut, typical TWD violence, swearing, pet names (Sweetheart, darlin’), getting caught but not knowing? Unprotected sex, p-in-v, outdoor sex, creampie... 

“I ain’t gonna say it again.” You pushed Daryl as the two of you walked through the empty streets. “Move your damn ass.”  

“Stop yer damn whinin’.” Daryl retorted. “And I know yer ass ain’t talkin’ crap when ya nearly lost yerself in places like this and I had to find ya.” Finally, he picked up his pace, just like you wanted him to do for the past two hours, maybe more. 

You rolled your eyes, arms crossed and scoffed but quickly shut yourself up when you tripped on your own feet.  

“I heard that.” Daryl commented.  

“Piss off.”  

“Swearin’ ain’t gonna scare me away sweetheart.” He chuckled and stopped, loading his crossbow as he caught sight of a lone walker. “Yer stuck with me.” He murmured, aiming the crossbow with a finger on the trigger.  

“Sadly.” You playfully sighed, standing back as you let Daryl deal with the simple threat.  

How long has it been? Three- no, four? Yes, four months. You both had strayed from the group, a habit you both developed over the past few months, much to the group’s dismay. 

“Top that.” Daryl said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He walked to the dead walker, putting his foot on its head to pull the arrow out of its skull. “Now, ya sure we ain’t lost?” He asked, wiping the blood from the arrow.  

You shot him a grin, unfolding your arms and placed them on your lips. “Lost? Please, I could navigate these roads blindfolded.”  

Daryl raised an eyebrow. ���Remembered that happened when I left ya with Rick.”  

“Please, don’t remind me.”  

“Then stop lyin’.” 

You shook your head. “Then do you have any idea where we’re headed, Dixon?” You asked, as you pulled at the straps of your bag, trying to relieve your shoulders.  

Daryl shot you a glance, his smirk turning into a genuine smile. “Jus’ followin’ the trail, darlin’.” He answered in his trademark gravelly voice. “Ain’t like we got a map or somethin’.”  

“Well, let’s hope your tracking skills are as good as you say they are.”  

He huffed but then laughed, his eyes moving to what’s in front of them for any sign of movement. “Trust me, (Y/n), ain’t no walker gonna sneak up on us while I’m around.”  

Your smile dropped by the sound of rusting in the bushes beside the road. Daryl aimed his crossbow while you unsheathed your knife. Slowly, they approached the source of the noise, ready to attack. 

But you gasped, a small rabbit darted out from the bush, scurrying away into the distance. Daryl lowered his crossbow.  

“Looks like dinner jus’ ran off.”  

You clicked your tongue, sheathing your knife as you reached into your bag. “Guess we’ll have to settle for canned beans again.” 

The two of you decided to make camp when you noted the sunset, and you knew it would be some time before you reached the group. Daryl gathered dry twigs and branches, making a small fire.  

Sitting side by side on makeshift logs, you both shared a meal of canned beans that were heated by the flames. The fire flickered over the silence, luckily, you both were comfortable.  

Though you side eyed Daryl when he refused the spoon, he found it easier to eat with his hands. Daryl looked at you as you ate, noticing the pistol he had given you for protection wasn’t on or near you. “Where’s the gun I gave ya?”  

You hesitated for a moment, scrapping the sides of the can with your spoon. “I... I couldn’t get it to work.” You admitted sheepishly. “It feels like it’s clogged.” 

Daryl sat his half-eaten can of beans to the side and licked his fingers clean. He reached down to your bag to retrieve the pistol, examining it near the fire. His brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to find the issue.  

As he worked, you couldn’t help but stare. The way his rugged features were softened by the firelight, the way his gruff hands moved with such precision... It made you rub your thighs together.  

He was always skilled with his fingers, making you crumble and become weak with just his hands.  

“-Good to go.” Daryl’s voice made you jump, catching the pistol in time before it hit the ground. “Test it out.”  

You looked around. “Here?”  

“There’s a silencer on it for a reason.” 

“And waste bullets?”  

“Ya gonna complain or try it?”  

Daryl pointed at a tree not far but barely visible. “Try it,” he stood, motioning for you to stand. But you just stared at him. “C’mon.”  

You stood and looked where he pointed, it was a tree with a giant rock to its left side. You gripped the pistol and aimed it.  

Daryl moved behind you. “Ya gotta straighten your posture.” He murmured, his voice low, his hot breath hitting your ear. “Like this.”  

Gently, he adjusted your stance, his hands lingering on your shoulders for a moment, longer than necessary. His hands, his voice, his breath... It all sent shivers down your spinel, a sensation that sent a rush down to your cunt.  

“Is this better?” You said, your voice barely audible. 

Daryl nodded, you couldn’t see but there was a faint smirk. “Much.”  

“Should I-” You stumbled when you felt his hands come on your hips, you felt your face starting to burn. “Daryl?’ 

He hushed you. “Don’ think.” He replied softly. “Go on, fire it.”  

“I can’t.” You retorted. “Walkers are nearby-” 

Daryl snatched the gun and pushed you against a tree, you didn’t see it coming. “Guess I gotta keep ya quiet.” He muttered, leaning in. “Think I didn’t notice ya starin’? Oglin’ me? So damn desperate.”  

“Ain’t my fault.” You said, shrugging, trying to act natural. “Looking like a goddamn meal.”  

“Wanna taste?” Again, he spoke in your ear, nearly making your knees buckle.  

“Please.”  

“Then shut up.”  

He used his free hand to pull you in a kiss, the hand that held a pistol remained by the side of your head. You immediately returned the kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck.  

God, he tasted so good. He smelled so good, some fucking how. Or maybe it was your nose playing with you, but you didn’t care. You needed more of him.  

You then jumped on him, using your own strength to keep you upright. It startled Daryl as he didn’t expect it.  

Daryl's hand squeezed your ass, gaining a moan from you.  He pulled back. “Gotta keep quiet for me.” He said. “Think ya can do that?” 

Yu didn’t understand a single word that came out of his beautiful mouth, but slammed your lips against his, becoming addicted to him.  

“Do me a favor.” Daryl hummed against your neck. “Unbuckle my pants for me.”  

Maggie froze in place, lifting his hand up to stop Carol. “Did you hear that?” She murmured, it sounded like a whimper or maybe a moan.  

“Sounds like a person.” Carol responded.  

“Might be survivors.”  

Nodding in agreement, Carol followed Maggie as she cautiously followed the source of the nose. Moving slowly and carefully, her guard was on high alert.  

But she didn’t expect to see Daryl with his pants around his knees with your legs around his waist. The strap of your tank top fell past your shoulders, exposing one of your breasts.  

It looked like his lips were glued to yours, he only took a couple of moments to catch his breath before they were back on you.  

Carol sighed and covered her eyes turning away, honestly, she wasn’t surprised. She just didn’t think you both go as far as to do it out in the open.  

“That doesn’t look comfortable.” Carol commented.  

“It isn’t.” Maggie replied. “Should we-” 

“Let them get it out of their systems.” Carol grabbed Maggie’s arm to walk away.  

Daryl had you up against the tree, your back throbbing from the uneven trunk digging into your skin. Your lips are most likely swollen by now, saliva dripping down your chin. 

There was something thrilling about being fucked out in the open with danger nearby. But there wasn’t a single ounce of fear with Daryl holding the pistol. 

He felt your fingernails digging into him as he fucked you, he was getting off on it. 

Your moans were always cut off, as well as your words. He took pleasure in seeing you getting frustrated.  

Daryl felt your walls tighten around him, desperately trying to hold him in, chasing an orgasm.  

And when Daryl comes, he does it inside. He manages to go deeper than before. You slumped against Daryl, eyes shut.  

“don’ go sleepin’ on me now.” Daryl now had you standing on your feet, his only hand keeping you up as he looked around. “We got a couple hours before day. I say we use ‘em.” 

© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission. 

Taglist ➳ @celtic-crossbow , @mrdixon , @duffmckagansbandana , @raspberryslxt , @lor-geeked , @thegeorgiahuntsman , @snailss , @xmaeyonaiise , @suniloli , @ladylincoln , @of-storms-and-sadness , @annhells , @sexyxdylanxobrien , @TWDgal , @yoowhatthefuck , @oikawarz , @mylifeinthetardisforever , @let-love-bleeds-red , @virginsexgod69 , @scudslut , @theesexystallion , @yondus-girl , @raoudixs , @sleep-queen , @gyustarzzi2 , @stunt-lads , @Lettersfromyourlove ,  

[gofu-kurself]

continuation scene of this steddie college/taco bell au lmao

—

steve is sloshed.

he didn’t exactly plan on getting so wasted that he ended up leaving the party before midnight and escaping without telling anyone goodbye. but that’s what’s happening. it’s just one of those kinda nights, he guesses.

so he’s fucking drunk, the frat party j-name something from stats class invited him too was shitty and robin had a date with chrissy (“it’s literally just a study session, steve” “um no, no one studies on a friday night, she just wants to hang with you alone while her roomate is out”).

without robin there wasn’t anyone to make fun of people with him and make bets on who was going to hook up with who.

so obviously he drank too much, too quickly, because he was bored. and now he’s drunk stumbling back toward his apartment that’s right next to campus when he sees it.

taco fuckin bell

“live más” he whispers under his breath, already salivating at the idea of smashing like, 5 bean and cheese burritos before going home, texting robin to solicit details about her “study sesh” (read: date), and falling asleep with the worst burrito induced heartburn he can imagine. sounds stellar.

steve walks into the establishment and the fluorescents flood his eyes so much he sobers up a decent amount. at least now the menu board isn’t swimming in his vision, he still has to squint though. he’s trying to see how many burritos the $10 in his pocket can get him.

“hi, welcome to taco bell” says the most deadpan voice steve has ever heard. he thinks of the ‘welcome to chili’s’ vine and chuckles to himself because, heh. and he’s still pretty drunk.

he drags his eyes away from the menu and finds the source of the voice.

holy fuckin shit

steve is pretty sure his jaw sorta hangs open a bit.

“hi” he says, ya know, like an idiot. internally steve is barking a little. because who invented this guy.

how does he look good in taco bell fluorescents? he’s wearing a visor, of all things, and he’s making it look sexy. his hair in a high ponytail with strands poking out everywhere like he just threw it up and it fell perfectly without any effort. even steve can’t make a visor look good. this guy makes it work, this guy makes everything work. he’s tall, wearing tight black jeans with so many rips there’s no way they’re actually within the dress code. his stupid black polo uniform thingy is just on the side of too-tight across the guys shoulders but loose at the waist. steve wants to scream.

“what can i getcha?” the guy asks with a smile. he seems dead on his feet, but the soft smile seems genuine and sweet.

steve continues barking in his head, and attempts to order, “uh—can i get. uh six of the rice and bean burritos.”

“sure man, comin right up” says hottiemchottie as he types something into the register.

steve finally finds it in his own drunken mind to read the guys nametag.

‘hello! my name is: eddie’

eddie.

“that’ll be $8.67, cash or card?” he—eddie—says.

“uh…cash!” steve helpfully replies. he gives himself a mental fist bump at his ability to fish the $10 bill from his tight ass jean pocket.

eddie fiddles with the register and goes to grab the change.

“keep the change!!” steve blurts out. he wants to tip the guy. and he doesn’t think change will fit back into his pockets.

“oh, cool,” says eddie with a smile, “‘preciate it”

“anytime!” steve replies, because like, literally. anytime, pleasepleasepleaseplease.

eddie grins again and steps away from the counter to slip towards the back, steve tries not to be a freak and stare at the guys ass, but those jeans are fucking tight. damn, guy has a nice ass and smile? unfair.

eddie returns holding the bag of his burritos, “here you go man, hope it hits the spot,” he says with a wink.

holy shit a fuckin wink

“thanks,” steve is trying to stay calm, “it’s gonna slap. can’t wait for the heartburn of my life.” bruhhhh who even says ‘slap’ anymore. steve is internally crying.

eddie doesn’t seem like he’s repulsed by steve’s lameness, so that’s good. “real. but it’s worth it, drunk burritos can’t be beat.”

“exactly, you get it,” steve smiles, “thanks man, have a good resta your night.” he then promptly turns on his heel and makes to get the fuck out of here before he can embarrass himself further.

“you too,” eddie says as steve exits.

steve is in love. he has burritos and he’s in love. best. night. ever.

“LIVE FUCKIN MÁS BITCHES” he screams into the night as he starts his short walk back to the apartment. paper bag of burritos clenched tightly in his hand, smile plastered on his face. a girl he didn’t notice earlier throws up in the bushes and her friends pat her on the back and give steve a weird look.

he laughs to himself and tries to plan out his week around multiple taco bell visits. he cannot wait to be delusion and talk to robin about his future husband the taco bell employee who’s dead inside 🖤

[kaijutegu]

@bramblepatch that is a really great question and there's actually a cool answer! Chicago has a robust public art program that has invested in the weirdest shit possible. And that's the point!

So Chicago has a lot of extremely normal sculptures- lots of historical figures, Lincoln, Goethe, this extremely shiny Alexander Hamilton...

And then there's some... other stuff, and it's mostly Pablo Picasso's fault.

So up until the late 50s/early 60s, most of the public art in Chicago was just... y'know, what we think of as public art. But in '63, the folks at the Chicago Civic Center wanted something new and fresh, and so they commissioned Pablo Picasso to do... well, really whatever he wanted. So he made this thing and ended up donating the design to the city. And the city was STOKED because this was Pablo Picasso we're talking about here, and so they started doing things like having all these press events and displaying the maquette without copyright notice and long story short, they accidentally turned it into the public domain... and they kinda leaned into that! it's public art, after all!

Naturally, art critics hated it, so that only made the city lean in more! Let's push boundaries! Let's go weird and abstract! Let's experiment and do things that other cities aren't doing! The push to collect and house contemporary art in the city also got a boost from the foundation of the Museum of Contemporary Art in 1967 and the development of the Art Institute's modern collection.

Then the 1968 Democratic National Convention happened and the statue got even MORE famous because of the pig. Jerry Rubin, Phil Ochs, and the other Yippies held a press conference where they nominated a pig named Pigasus for president of the United States right before the DNC kicked off. They held this at the Picasso statue, and then they were arrested for disorderly conduct. Yes, the pig was also arrested. The pictures and controversy surrounding everything about that convention shoved the Picasso into the spotlight on an even grander national scale, and it really became a striking emblem of the city.

So all this attention to a piece of art that made people really question what public art should and could be really pushed a lot of dialogue and decisions about art that the city continued to accept and commission. After the Picasso came Flamingo in '74:

Four Seasons, also in '74:

(less abstract but still VERY modern for civic art in what was the 2nd largest city in the country at the time)

Miro's Chicago in '79:

Monument with Standing Beast in '84:

And so on and so forth. This period of heavy investiture in large, public works of modern art helped cement Chicago as a place where contemporary art could thrive in public spaces- and we haven't really stopped! From Cloud Gate (the Bean) to Agora to a lot of neat, thought-provoking pieces scattered around the city. It's something I think is really cool, even if it did get us the nightmare that is Crown Fountain.

And if you want to read more about it, here's some more resources:

This guide is outdated, it's from the Rahm Emmanuel administration, but it has a lot of good pictures and locations for things. It also correctly uses the Sears Tower's name.

A couple of great blogs detailing and cataloguing Chicago's public art scene.

The Public Art Archive isn't Chicago-specific, but it has lots of collections to look at from cities all over the place!

A fascinating look at lost pieces of Chicago's public art- sadly, that now includes Monument with Standing Beast, since Google bought the Thompson Center and tore it down. (The Thompson Center had over 150 pieces of public art, an amazing collection... that's all in some state warehouse now. Hopefully it comes back or is displayed somewhere else that's public, since I'm not sure how much access we'll have to the Thompson Center once Alphabet moves in.)

Anyways I think public art is cool as hell thank you for reading this whole thing!

[birdofwildness]

⋆°·☁︎Dreambound part 5

⋆°·︎☁︎Morpheus x underworld princess!reader

Summary::A whole day of being teased and a new friendship.

Warnings:: Nothing that I can think of, please tell me if we're going too fast with the story🥺

You woke up smiling.

It was stupid. You knew it was stupid but your body didn’t seem to care, stretching with a kind of warmth that had nothing to do with temperature. It lived in your chest and fingertips. In the soft hum of contentment that lingered under your skin like starlight not yet faded.

Memories drifted up without your permission. The way his voice had sounded—lower than usual, gentler, like spoken velvet. The look in his eyes when he'd said you weren't a stranger. The weight of his hand at your back as he’d guided you toward your chambers, and the ghost of warmth it left long after he'd let go.

You turned over in bed and groaned into the pillow.Gods,you were acting like a teenager. Like some love-drunk mortal girl.And not even in a "let’s go out sometime" kind of way—more like a "you’re tired, go to sleep" kind of way. And it had still made your insides rearrange themselves.Pathetic, that's how you felt.Still, the smile tugged at your mouth again, uninvited.

You forced yourself upright and rubbed a hand down your face. The Dreaming waited, and thankfully, it didn’t care that you’d apparently become the protagonist in your own embarrassing coming-of-age novel. There were things to do, places to be, strange creatures to encounter. Possibly even coffee, if you could figure out where Mervyn kept the good beans.

You weren’t sure what time it was—not in the Dreaming sense, anyway—but that didn’t really matter. The sun here never quite behaved normally, and neither did anything else. The ceiling of your room glowed in soft lavender and deep gold.

You got dressed with unusual care. Nothing too obvious.Not for him, of course. A hint of color at the lips, a bit more attention to your hair. Just out of habit and personal pride. God,you were the only daughter of Hades himself — you had to look somewhat splendid.That’s what you told yourself, at least.

You stepped out into the hallway and let the castle breathe around you. Its walls stretched and yawned, reshaping themselves gently as you walked—hallways unraveling into curved staircases, light following you.The Dreaming had grown fond of you. You could feel it. The rhythm of it welcomed you like an old friend.

Maybe that was enough.Maybe today, you wouldn't obsess over his voice, or the way he’d looked at you like he saw all the versions of you—even the ones you hadn’t become yet.Maybe.

Your feet led you to the library before you even made the decision.It had become a habit—one you’d never meant to start, but now found oddly comforting. Maybe it was the books or the quiet. Maybe it was the way Lucienne always had tea ready without asking, like she somehow knew the exact moment you’d show up.

As you stepped through the tall archway, the library greeted you with its usual hush: books whispering on shelves, dust motes suspended in sunbeams that didn’t have a source, and Lucienne seated at her long desk, cataloging something with the kind of precision that made your brain itch just looking at it.She glanced up, already reaching for the extra teacup.

“Right on time,” she said, adjusting her glasses. “You know, this is beginning to look a lot like routine.”

You dropped into the armchair across from her and accepted the tea gratefully. “I thought you liked routines.”

“I like efficient routines,” she said, lips twitching. “This one’s grown increasingly inefficient. Yesterday we only talked about books for five minutes before spiraling into an entire conversation about whether Cain should be allowed to redecorate the gardens.”

You grinned. “To be fair, that man has violent opinions about landscaping.”

Lucienne raised an eyebrow. “And you’re enabling them.”

You sipped your tea, hiding your smile behind the rim. “Guilty.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It rarely was with her. Lucienne had that rare ability to fill space with presence alone, like the silence had been her idea in the first place.

Eventually, your eyes drifted to the open book at her desk. You tilted your head. “Is that one of the old tomes from the eastern wing?”

Lucienne nodded without looking up. “I’ve been trying to repair the binding. It's been resisting. Very stubborn text. I think it’s offended that I moved it.”

You leaned forward, peering at the book. “So it holds a grudge. Sounds familiar.”

Lucienne looked up sharply, gaze narrowing ever so slightly. “Are we still talking about the tome?”

You gave her a wide-eyed, innocent look. “Aren’t we?”

Her stare lingered for a beat too long, and then she shook her head with a soft, knowing sigh. “You’re in a good mood today.”

You shrugged, sipping again. “Must be the lavender tea.”

“Or the brooding entity you’ve been spending time with,” she said without missing a beat.

You didn’t answer, just swirled your tea around in the cup like it was suddenly the most fascinating thing you’d ever seen. The silence stretched again—longer this time—but not unkind.

“I’m glad,” she said finally, turning a page with care. “You’ve… shifted, lately. Something about you has settled.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. Maybe because it was true.You’d stopped waiting for Morpheus to become someone he wasn’t. You started paying attention to the version of him that actually existed. Quiet, strange, complicated. And—though you still weren’t ready to admit it out loud—kind, in his own terrifying, ancient way.

“I think I’ve just stopped fighting the Dreaming,” you said instead. “Stopped trying to decode it.”

Lucienne gave a small smile. “Well,it was never meant to be decoded.”

You raised your cup in a mock toast. “Spoken like a true librarian.”

She inclined her head. “I do try.”

You were halfway through your cup when Lucienne spoke again—lightly, almost too lightly.

“So,” she said, not looking up from her work, “how is your husband?”

You nearly choked on your tea.Lucienne didn’t react. She simply turned another page in the ancient tome, like she hadn’t just launched a conversational dagger with perfect aim.

You cleared your throat. “Oh,you mean Lord Morpheus...He’s… well. He's brooding. You know— Classic.”

“Oh yes,” she said, voice smooth. “His favorite hobby.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re enjoying this.”

“I’m a librarian,” she replied, deadpan. “I observe.”

You set your cup down. “What exactly are you observing, Lucienne?”

She finally glanced up, arching a single brow. “Only that the two of you seem to spend a great deal of time on that bench lately. And that it’s been... peaceful.”

You raised your mug halfway to your lips, squinting at her over the rim. “Peaceful is a good thing, isn’t it?”

Lucienne hummed, a neutral little sound that somehow carried centuries of quiet amusement. “It is. Though some might say it borders on... intimate.”

You nearly choked on your tea.Lucienne didn’t even blink. “I’m merely observing. Conversations in the open air. Lingering silences. A certain softness in the air. Very literary.”

You set your cup down with exaggerated care. “You’re enjoying this.”

She offered a smirk. “Immensely.”

Lucienne tilted her head, like she was weighing something. “He’s softer with you.”

You blinked at her. “Softer?”

She nodded. “Not entirely open, of course. But... he listens more,lingers longer. As if he’s beginning to believe you’ll stay.”

That stunned you into silence for a beat too long.Lucienne, perhaps sensing she’d gone too far, looked back down at her papers. “But what do I know? I just keep the books.”

You exhaled through your nose, the kind of laugh that was equal parts affection and quiet terror. “You’re dangerous, Lucienne.”

“And you,” she said mildly, “are smitten.”

...

You found them in their usual spot near the eastern towers, where the air smelled faintly of smoke and oil, and a cloud of ash seemed to hover over the area like an ever-present ceiling.

Mervyn Pumpkinhead was hunched over some poor broken contraption—again. Wires dangled like entrails and something sparked every few seconds. Matthew, perched nearby on a metal beam, was pecking idly at a loose screw like it owed him money.

“Hey, look who decided to grace us with her royal presence,” Mervyn drawled without looking up. “Morning, Your Dreamy Majesty.”

You groaned, instantly regretting every decision that led to this point.“Don’t call me that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, dramatically slapping a hand to his wooden chest.

Matthew cackled. “She walked right into that one.”

You gave the bird your best deadpan glare. “I came here to have a peaceful moment. Not to be harassed by a pumpkin and a feather duster.”

“Oof,” Mervyn grinned, finally glancing up. “The claws are out. Wonder what’s got you in such a mood. Can’t imagine.” He waggled his brows—or rather, his carved brow ridges.

“I swear,” you muttered, “one more word and I’m telling Lucienne you broke another cleaning charm.”

Matthew tilted his head. “So... you and the boss. You’ve been spending a lot of time together lately.”

“And a lot of time not in this part of the castle,” Mervyn added. “In fact, we barely see you anymore. Someone’s got a new hobby.”

“I don’t— It’s not a—” You sighed. “You know what? No. I refuse to defend myself to two men who can’t go five minutes without making a mess or a pun.”

“Oof,” Matthew teased again, wings fluffing. “Classic deflection. Totally means something’s going on.”

Mervyn leaned closer like he was about to share the world’s juiciest gossip. “Let me guess: moody talks under starlight? Silences that feel meaningful? A brush of the hand that lingers a bit too long?”

You crossed your arms. “No.”

Matthew narrowed one beady eye. “Wait a second... you’re blushing.”

“I’m not.”

“You are!” Mervyn bellowed, standing so fast a bolt popped out of his machine. “Holy crap, she’s blushing. I thought you said the man didn’t know how to flirt!”

“He doesn’t,” you hissed. “That’s the problem!”

They both erupted into laughter, the kind that echoed off the stone walls and made you want to melt into the floor.

“Oh yeah,” Merv grinned. “She’s doomed.”

“You know,” Matthew added, hopping closer, “he’s not the easiest guy to figure out. But if he’s talking to you, he trusts you. That’s rare. Real rare.”

Your smile softened just a little.

“Still,” Mervyn smirked, “I give it three days before he does something stupid and romantic, like offering you a star or composing you a constellation or whatever the hell brooding gods do.”

“I hate you both,” you muttered.

But you stayed longer than you meant to. Maybe because their teasing, beneath all the sarcasm, was warm in its own chaotic way. Like a couple of gremlin uncles who secretly wanted you to be happy—even if they'd never admit it out loud.

“Okay, serious question,” you said, looking between the pumpkin-headed janitor and the oversized snitch bird. “How does everyone know?”

Mervyn paused, screwdriver mid-air. “Know what, exactly?”

You leveled him with a look. “Don’t play dumb. About me and... him.”

Matthew gave a theatrical shrug. “Oh, you mean how you’re suddenly all dreamy-eyed and moonlit and definitely not falling for the brooding lord of the realm?”

You groaned. “This is unbearable.”

“C’mon,” Mervyn grinned. “The dude’s got a vibe. And when that vibe shifts even slightly, the entire Dreaming feels it. He smiles one percent more than usual? Lucienne starts cataloguing it. He spends more than five minutes talking to someone without vanishing into mist? That’s front-page news, sweetheart.”

Matthew bobbed his head. “Plus, you’re not exactly subtle. You glow every time he looks at you like you’ve just been blessed by a moonbeam.”

“I do not glow.”

“You do,” they said in perfect, demonic harmony.

You threw your hands up. “Okay, but what if I was just trying to be nice? Or learn more about this place? That doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“Sure, sure,” Mervyn said with a wink. “And I clean this place out of pure love for health codes.”

Matthew fluttered his wings dramatically. “Look, we’re not judging you. We’re just saying… the vibe’s different. He's different around you.”

Mervyn scratched at his wooden chin. “That kinda freaks you out, huh?”

You hesitated. “I just didn’t realize I was that visible.”

Matthew's voice was softer this time. “You’re not. But to us? You matter here,more than you think.”

It silenced you in a way that wasn’t heavy. Just grounding.Mervyn cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable with the sincerity. “Right, well. I’ve got a pipe to fix and a wall to yell at. You want more unsolicited advice, you know where to find us.”

“And next time,” Matthew added with a smirk in his tone, “try not to look so adorably flustered. It’s killing the boss’s whole aesthetic.”

You flipped him off on your way out—but your smile gave you away.

...

The sun was always in a strange place here.Perpetually low, like it hadn’t made up its mind about rising or setting—hanging there with just enough warmth to graze your cheek as you walked. The air was still.

You found him exactly where you expected.

On the old bench beneath the thornless tree, one leg crossed over the other, cloak folding around him like smoke. His gaze was somewhere distant, as usual, but the moment your footstep shifted a pebble, his eyes flicked to you.They softened immediately.

“Hi,” you offered, walking the last few steps.

He inclined his head. “Greetings.”

There were no grand declarations,no questions. Just space, carved out wordlessly, as he shifted slightly to make room beside him.You sat down.

For a moment, you just... breathed. The quiet between you was no longer awkward, not after so many visits. But you still felt a strange little flutter in your chest every time he looked at you like this—like you were worth observing.

“I spoke to Mervyn and Matthew today,” you said, voice casual, but testing.

His lips curved faintly. “That explains the mischief in your step.”

“You think I walk mischievously?”

He didn’t answer right away.Instead, his gaze drifted back toward the horizon, unreadable as ever. “You walk like someone with intention,” he said finally. “Whether that intention is mischief… I suppose only you know.”

You snorted. “That’s very on-brand for you. Vague, poetic, slightly accusatory.”

“That wasn’t meant as an accusation.”

You shrugged. “Didn’t say it was. Just saying—I’ve been here for a while now and I’m starting to decode your language.”

That earned the faintest quirk of his mouth, a twitch that might’ve been amusement.“I imagine that’s difficult,” he said.

“Oh, unbelievably,” you replied dryly. “Every conversation feels like I’m translating from riddles to metaphors and back again.”

“And yet, you persist.”

You glanced sideways at him, brow raised. “You sound surprised.”

“I am not.” He paused. “Merely… curious.”

He finally turned, dark eyes brushing over your form as if confirming your presence made something in the world align correctly. “Are you ready to meet the dreamer?”

You tilted your head. “Thought you'd never ask.Is that a trick question?”

“No.“But I would not take you unprepared.”

You gave a small shrug. “I don’t know if I’m prepared. I’ve never exactly traveled into someone else’s dream before. Do I need… shoes for this?”

That earned the tiniest twitch of his lips. “No shoes required. Only your consent.”

You blinked. “That sounds ominous.”

He stood then, smooth as shadow. “Dreams often are.”

You hesitated only for a second, then stepped closer. “Okay,” you said. “Let’s go dream-hopping.”

He didn’t reach for your hand, but there was a sudden shift in the air around you—cool, electric. Like the moment before falling asleep. Your vision wavered, the garden melting at the edges, until color and form dissolved completely.Darkness folded in on itself.Then came light and a pub.

Of all things—a slightly smoky, dim-lit pub, warm with laughter and the clink of glasses. You stood there blinking as the scent of old wood and ale hit your nose.

“What the hell—?”

Morpheus stepped forward beside you, utterly calm. “Welcome to one of Hob Gadling’s favorite dreams.”

You glanced at him, then at the crowded pub.

“Oh my god,” you muttered. “You’re introducing me to a dreamer in a bar.”

He gave a single nod. “He’s in his favorite century tonight. Be kind.”

Morpheus stopped a few feet away and spoke, voice like thunder.“Hob Gadling.”

Hob blinked, spun around—and immediately froze.“Bloody hell,” he breathed. “You—? Here?” Then his gaze flicked to you. “With someone?”

Morpheus didn’t smile, but his expression softened at the edges. “This is my wife.”

You blinked at the casual drop of the word, the way it rolled off his tongue like it wasn’t still new and strange and stitched into every weird beat of your heart.

Hob’s eyebrows hit the ceiling. “You got married?”

“Arranged marriage,” you clarified, as if that answered the entire question of the universe.You gave Hob a little wave. “Oh,— hi”

“Hi?” Hob repeated, still staring. “Hi? You—you married this man?”

You gave a tiny shrug. “An anthropomorphic personification...but yeah,sort of.”

He barked out a laugh and looked to Morpheus. “You just drop in here without warning, after you told me you may not come to our next meeting? And you bring your wife?”

“I thought it was time you met,” Morpheus said simply.

Hob blinked once.“Well,” he finally said, grinning wide, “you’ve just made this the best dream I’ve had in years. Come on, both of you—drinks are on me.”

You exchanged a glance with Morpheus, who gave a small nod.And just like that, you were being ushered into a booth, with Hob Gadling beside you, asking how on earth you ended up married to him—and Morpheus, across the table, listening like it wasn’t the most surreal night of your life.

[cavalarbor]

butter on cake? how decadent, i've never tried that

I will valiantly tackle this challenge alongside you, maybe with some melted butter and caramel