#Sweat Dreams

[turquoise-cyan]

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #167

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction - practically first drafts - posted daily (haven't missed one yet!) and sometimes written with the express intention of being terrible… but, you know, in an endearing way. Please like and reblog if you enjoy - the notes keep me going!

Another night of dreams with a stowaway: my father, acting as if no time has passed at all, with all the imperfections scrubbed away. He's my sidekick (about damn time, after how long I spent as his) as we peruse the nightlife back home.

We pop into a shop that isn't there anymore. The warming lamps keep cozy an assortment of plastic-contained meals, reasonably priced. I used to come here for chicken tenders and a Mexican Coke during my lunch break. No particular item calls to me, so we look through the frozen section this store never had. But there isn't time. There just isn't time. A microwave set to thirty seconds lasts an eternity. They're closing in five minutes.

It's not how it usually is. I don't have a boat to catch. I'm not late for anything, not really going anywhere, for once there's nothing to worry about. Except eating. I have to eat.

“You need to take this pill with food. That's why you're feeling so sick.”

“I can't keep track of it all. I just can't, Mom.”

“You need to take care of yourself.”

He says if we don't find anything here, we'll have to go to Pete's. Cheese fries sound nice, and for once I'm in the mood for the way they serve them there: straight from the fryer into styrofoam, melting the polymer just a little, quickly topped with more nacho cheese sauce than it can contain. I never used to like the hint of jalapeño in these fries, couldn't stomach it, but it calls to me from an emptied past.

“One cracker. That's all. There just needs to be something in your stomach.”

“Is it really that simple?”

“Of course.”

“But no one told me.”

Usually I eat very slowly, but before I realize I’ve taken a single bite, I lick the styrofoam clean of sauce and seasoned salt. I ate more fries than he did, but he doesn't complain, doesn't tell me it's ‘not a race’. I'm not quite sure he's said anything at all.

I'm back in an apartment up the hill, where I'm staying, even though I haven't had a key to it since the summer after high school, when my grandmother had a stroke. I'd spent a week there, packing. The place was infested with ants since it hadn't been cleaned in weeks. There's no resemblance to that now; it's a calming, cozy, lonely place. It's only been five minutes since we were at the store, or so my watch tells me. Where did he go?

“It's all I could find, but it does have cranberries in it. Sip on this, don't chug it. It should help.”

“Thank you. For everything.”

“Maybe take some melatonin… sleep through the worst of it?”

“Yeah. The worst of it.”

“The heating pad should help too, but don't fall asleep with it on.”

It's so funny, isn't it? The nightmares gone, all I have to fear is what happens to me while I'm awake.

[tzarrz]

i listen to fog lake too much

[ruporas]

birthday party (id in alt)

[rileyclaw]

turn on the lights, this cannot last forever

watching and dreaming promo

[opikiquu]

these 2 gonna drive me insane

[jasperyourmutt]

Before we leave the house, he asks me to sit, and I do, of course. He clips on my collar and leash, rewarding me with an edible, and we leave-

We’re meeting with his friends, I know that much. The whole drive there his hand is on my thigh, squeezing it, telling me that we’re going to have so much fun. By the time we pull up to the house, I’m pleasantly high, my anxious nerves somewhat receding. He ruffles my hair, pulls me in by the collar and kisses me; a deep, passionate, possessive kiss. Without a word, we head inside. I know better than to ask questions- I trust him, and I wouldn’t get any answers anyways.

He holds the leash and I follow him, shyly sticking to his side as we enter. There’s several people about, laughing, talking, drinking. Some stop as we enter, cheering, coming up to greet him, and then me. My face burns hot, my puppy ears going back shyly as they begin to study and admire me. Some come up and pat my head, one grabs my ass and tugs on my tail, another putting a hand under my shirt and feeling the bare skin of my chest. I’m still clinging to his arm, unable to form words.

“He’s my very good boy, I’ve trained him well. He’s such an eager pup, isn’t that right?” He smiles to me, petting my head. I’m comforted by this, and I nod, letting out a small woof.

“So timid- he’s not usually like this, c’mon pup, let’s show them how smart you are,” he steps away from me and tugs off my shirt, then my trousers, leaving my in my briefs. A small circle has formed around us now, calling me handsome, cute, pretty boy, as he tugs on my leash. I’m nervous being so exposed around all these strangers, but I keep my eyes on him. I’m already aroused, as I know what he has in store for me, and I can feel the wetness forming between my legs.

“Sit, puppy,” and I do, eagerly getting to my knees, looking up at him with obedience. Any word he says is law to me- I could never disobey. Would never disobey. I wait for the next command, focused completely on him.

“Good dog. Now, open wide.”

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I was drawing multiple pieces of artwork that were explicit and very much gay in nature on my tablet. Somehow, my dad saw it all on HIS PHONE. It was mortifying, but I hoped he would forget.

I then went onto a rollercoaster with my family.

He did not forget.

[repressedgaymer]

"I dream about him... The thing is when you've had a relationship like that for so long, such a deep relationship. I love it when people revisit you in your dreams. I often have band dreams and they're crazy… I'm often with John, just talking about doing something, and I come to get my Hofner bass, ready to play, and it's covered in sticky tape. You know, dreams! I'm picking all this stuff off trying to talk to him."

— Paul McCartney, Sept 24, 2019, on The Late Show with Steve Colbert -> link here

[turquoise-cyan]

[poolboyatthevampiremansionx]

Do you know where I'm coming from

[fizzytoo]

this version of us only lives inside a dream❣️ (happy valentine's day!)

[scorpiusmalfoylovesoscarwilde]

albus "I hope I die first, because I can't live without you" potter

and

scorpius "I hope I die second, so I can save you from that grief" malfoy

[lelelego]

had a dream and drew it :o)

[enderham]

"I dreamt that you died." Aventurine says, apropos of nothing.

Veritas lifts his gaze from the book he'd been reading, across the first class cabin they're sharing, and to his colleague. Nothing in his expression betrays any emotion or thought about the statement he let out into the world, as is customary for the gambler. Veritas takes a moment to study him more thoroughly.

Aventurine isn't looking at him. The chip in his hand is dancing faster than usual, he's wearing his tinted glasses despite there being no need for them on the transport, and his other hand is hidden in his coat. Veritas has learned to look for that left hand whenever he suspects something is amiss with Aventurine.

He considers his next words carefully. "In many cultures across the galaxy, dreaming of someone's death is believed to produce the opposite effect. It is considered a good omen that brings longevity and prosperity."

There's a long moment of silence, then the chip suddenly stops. Aventurine had been looking at him from the corner of his eye, an indicator that he was listening as Veritas spoke, but he looks away again now.

"Not in mine," He says lightly, almost sings it.

It sounds like mockery, like Aventurine's typical attempts to get a rise out of him, like contradiction for the sake of it, but Veritas knows him better than that. The gambler may seem frivolous on the surface but he always speaks with purpose. The trick is figuring out what that purpose is.

Closing his book, Veritas leans forward, almost into Aventurine's space. The other does not lean away, and finally looks him in the eye, but he can see his shoulders are tense. His left hand is still hidden in his coat. Perhaps, instead of a non-sequitor, his opening statement was a damning admission, Veritas thinks.

"We both know this upcoming mission will be dangerous." He says quietly, he doesn't expect Aventurine to interject, but he pauses anyway. True to expectation, Aventurine stays silent, watching him intently. Veritas continues. "However, we also both know that your role in it is much more perilous than mine. I believe you made sure of that yourself, no?"

The gambler still remains uncharacteristically silent. Gauging Veritas' reaction to his grim statements no doubt. Veritas has passed many a test in his university days with little stress, so it is a new feeling to experience, this uncertainty. He feels like there is a right and a wrong thing to say in this situation, yet he does not know exactly what it is.

"It is my opinion that you should be worrying about yourself, gambler, instead of me, but if it eases your mind, I shall promise to stay alert on Penacony. Not that I wouldn't otherwise be, as you should well know by now."

Perhaps he's revealed too much, shown his hand, as the resident gambler would say, but he's found himself much too invested in said gambler's emotional wellbeing as of late, so he doesn't mind. Especially as that wary glint fades just a little from Aventurine's vibrant eyes, and he wrestles his signature grin back onto his face.

"True to form as usual." He teases. "I can always rely on you to bring rationality to the table, Doctor."

[harrywavycurly]

I just know a One Direction reunion would fix about 99% of the issues in my life.