#Sweat Dreams

[raustenacious]

SLEEPING

[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.

[poolboyatthevampiremansionx]

Do you know where I'm coming from

[fizzytoo]

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

[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.

[yaknowlikenyah]

This heat is KILLING me

[lvgrdn]

dreamscape • zoro

note: hello! thanks for stopping by for a read ☁️ i took a spin on sleepy mosshead's napping habits and what came to be of it was this piece. it was an interesting "inner monologue"-esque study of how the man with near perfect resolve when it matters most, is actually quite the vulnerable person in his dreams 🥺

warnings: dream depictions of assumed death (strawhats), inner turmoil of inadequacy

everyone always assumed they knew why zoro slept so much. answers usually ranged between obvious rest and tlc, to snarky remarks of obliviousness to the sun and how high it hangs in the sky. despite the rapid responses and reactions to his snoozing form, it was a wonder why no one bothered to actually ask the swordsman himself.

yet he was thankful that the question has never come up, zoro admitted quietly to his own person as he jolted awake again for the subtle fourth time that bright afternoon on the deck of the sunny. it was a grace period of calm waters after visiting a small touristy island a day ago for restocking purposes, activities on deck simplified to those of solitude or seclusion as everyone took advantage of the chance to recharge. with the ability to control his composure by the minute millisecond upon settling back down to reality, not even the ever so observant eye of somebody like robin has caught the utter wave of disappointment that crashed through zoro every single time he came back to earth from his dreams.

he doesn't recall when it started or how it came to be like this — but he has been treating going to sleep the last while like a game; a puzzle that his mind created that felt like there were infinite possibilities upon starting but zero valid solutions after attempting.

why? why did it matter to him?

why did it fuel him so much to enter these mental landscapes, over and over and over? why does he have to remind himself on the cusp of falling into his subconscious that he could easily clear his head of all that roamed around up there, only to let himself tumble through the same sceneries constantly?

why was he here again—?

and why were you in front of him once more, just like the last thousand times?

zoro took in a breath, air staggering in his lungs. his eye adjusted to the fog surrounding the two of you, the looming mist bellowing over the rocky terrain environment in his peripheral vision.

he knew this was familiar, all of it, yet he relished in the way the edges of the dream twisted inward as it usually does. three more heartbeats resonating in his ears and then the smell will hit him with the force of several obliterating suns. the fog swirling around your hair and gliding over your skin wasn't fog at all, he noted almost nonchalantly. he watched as blooms of grey and black dusted across your features, his own growing ashen as he brought the corner of his arm up to shield his nose.

it was smoke.

"what the goddamn hell?!" he muttered the line as if rehearsed, sounding phony even to his own ears. zoro tried to orient himself though he doesn't have to, his eye darting around and taking in the flames that fluttered beyond the haze. like clockwork, he registered the ground he was standing on wasn't stable; in fact, it has been rumbling in tandem with an otherworldly uproar located behind him.

despair lodged itself in his gut when he turned around. he knew what sight would welcome him every time he got to this point. zoro felt them before he could see them — his crew and their fear, unadulterated and raw, icing his blood over despite the fires zeroing in and licking at his ankles.

someone was screaming for him but his name got muffled behind the horrific growl of the hidden beast amidst the shadows. the concentration of dust and ash stung at his eyes, his feet wobbling as the ground beneath him shook with the strength that would knock anyone else backwards without a moment's notice. one would think by repeating this dream sequence time and time again, he would know how to properly calculate the distance and strength needed to save everyone — but somehow, no matter what, it was never enough.

this was it — this was the part where he found out how nightmares were formed.

everything happened in slow motion. his gaze befalling on each of his friends, arms and hands outstretched to only him; the saviour that they were counting their lives on, the one that would choose to capture his crewmates' souls in safety and release his own into hell unbounded.

the earsplitting crack of the earth beneath them all, fissures dividing up the land and revealing blood red magma below. zoro finally toppled backwards, losing the grip on the hilt of his swords as he went, body numb upon impact. he couldn't move, he couldn't understand why he couldn't move— but it was futile, he was helpless, and his throat closed up with the guttural wail kept intact as he watched his friends disappear over the cliff's edge.

silence enveloped him instantly. sound and space vacuumed out from his vicinity before he could fathom the loss of the people he called family in such quick succession. the echoes of their horror still rattled within the forefront of his head before his mind took over. disorientation grappled him by the heartstrings when a hand landed on his shoulder, jolting him from his stance as he jerked his head upward.

there you were again, ethereal and pristine. nothing tainted had touched you and you didn't look like you were harmed in any way. a wisp of pure relief brushed his gut at the sight of your face, always a beckon of serenity for him in times past, but the feeling was quickly snuffed out and replaced by wrenching guilt by the words that you spoke next.

"you could have saved them."

"i..." his breath failed him momentarily. i'm sorry. "i... i know."

you blinked, once then twice, before nervousness twinged against your features. hesitantly, you took your hand off his shoulder and raised it in mock innocence. "w-wait, you actually sound distraught. luffy and chopper are okay! they were just play-fighting a little too rough on the upper deck, is all..."

a gentle breeze wafted across the sunny, picking up the scent of the familiar salty sea below that made zoro's skin prickle with awareness. he was awake. and you had no idea what he was referring to earlier based on that wary look in your eyes. they continued to scan his face as your words tumbled out of your mouth, awkwardness taking over and you tried desperately to fill the void of his silently tormented demeanour in front of you.

"when they fell over the railing and screamed, i just thought you heard them but decided to ignore them... like the rest of the crew..." your voice dropped several octaves when zoro casted his gaze away from you finally, noticing how his shoulders sagged a tad as he sighed gruffly. "... sorry for the dramatics— i genuinely thought you were awake. i didn't mean to wake you."

"no," zoro said quickly in retort, the sharp rigidness of his back straightening itself out. when he looked up at you again, it was his turn to notice how you pressed your lips together in a grim line, albeit finding yourself backed up in a corner with how he was handling this chance encounter.

this was all simple in retrospect and you couldn't have known what he was going through mere moments ago — for the last several moons, really — so he sighed again; gentler this time. "don't apologize. the dream wasn't so great anyway."

before you could process what he said, zoro got himself up in one fluid motion, throwing his arms up above him to stretch. the sound of ruckus and chaos still echoed from the other side of the deck, and you watched the swordsman make his way over. with his hand confidently on the hilt of one of his swords now, he turned his head around just enough to let it be known he was addressing you. zoro's other hand flicked up slightly, gesturing you to follow him.

"let's see what the commotion is about."

questions aren't zoro's forte. answers are expected to be concrete, purposeful, and solid. as much as he has molded himself to embodying that type of persona, any chance of doubt — even the theoretical or subconscious — lodges a thorn in the deepest corners of his soul that he would rather not visit to find. he knew curiosity was pulling you to him but zoro was yet again grateful the questions you had never landed as you fell in step with him to join the others.

maybe one day, he will know why.

[one-time-i-dreamt]

Tumblr instituted an update where OP could delete individual reblogs. Naturally, this caused a lot of chaos on more unsavory sides of Tumblr.