#anything for brandi broke ANYTHING FOR BRANDI BROKE

[rasoyas]

first project of the new year? committing to willow creek with the help of @inspiredsimmerx's fantastic builds and a familiar broke build

[mystery-pixels]

random shots from my pleasantview gameplay with Dustin and Dirk

[budgieflitter]

WELCOME TO STRANGEVIEW

oh hey its budgieflitter and her swap aus obsession again descriptions are under the cut 🔽

CALIENTE + LOTHARIO = BEAKER When Don got a date with the Caliente sisters, he thought he won a jackpot. What he did not expect, though, was to wake up next morning on an operation table in their basement. Will this test subject last or the sisters will have to look for a replacement soon?

GOTH = SPECTER Turns out not only relatives are buried in local oligarch's graveyard. Ever since Mortimer's wife Bella mysteriously disappeared, he became more reclusive than he already was. She was not the only victim - all of his daughter Cassandra's fiancés seemed to disappear one by one. Will Alexander get used to living with ghosts? Can Cassandra ever find love again?

BROKE + DREAMER = GRUNT Brandi and Darren found comfort in each other after a terrible tragedy struck their families, however it seems this comfort is about to crumble. Darren is determined to reach the stars someday, and Brandi would rather stay close to the ground. Will Dustin and Dirk ever get along? Will little Beau follow his stepfather's footsteps?

PLEASANT = SMITH

Daniel has been fascinated with space ever since his father's Mars expedition hit the news. Good thing he found a woman whose eyes reflect the beauty of the universe itself. Will Mary-Sue get her long-awaited promotion, and can Angela and Lilith make the right choices when it comes to love?

BURB = CURIOUS Jennifer is interested in the vastness of universe, but for a different reason her brother is. Where is she from? What really happened on her father's Mars expedition? Was it anything like the experience her husband went through during his abduction? Maybe the answer is much closer than she thinks.

OLDIE

Oldies have been a long-time residents of Strangeview. Unable to fulfill her role as a Birth Queen, Coral escaped with her beloved with a tiny alien aboard. Will Herb realize that the result of his last mission as a Pollination Technician is somewhere nearby? okayyyy i had so much fun making this. the idea hit me literally yesteday and i was on the rideee hope u enjoy ^_^

[fanficsdumpomg]

Brozone x Reader (As Parents Headcanons)

John Dory:

*John Dory always dreamed of starting a family of his own during his young adult years but after brozone broke up and him hiking/adventuring the last decade that dream seemed further and further away.

*All that changed when he met you during his travels you too had a meet cute and after some slow burn you had finally gotten together! Suddenly John Dory felt a little less alone in his life, with his brothers back you both discussed starting your family together, and while you weren't actively trying; John was excited

*Which leads you to today, when you had woken up you discovered a turquoise egg with (H/C) nesting in your hair.

*John was ecstatic when you told him, to say the least, already planning many family adventures for your family.

*During the egg's nesting cycle you will have to fight this man to hold your child, he will constantly be bringing the egg everywhere and anywhere showing them new sights and smells. Also likes showing off the egg to other trolls, Like a toddler saying look at this cool thing i made!

*His bro's got him some dad-themed merchandise i.e. coffee cup that says world's best dad, a t-shirt that says which says soon-to-be dad which he wears with pride.

*Once the egg does hatch, he is going to be emotional all day.

*Y'all have a daughter who has his skin color and your (H/C).

*John Dory and you are pretty mellow parents, you let your kid do whatever as long as they are not breaking any laws/committing genocide/murder.

_________________________________________

Spruce:

*Bruce never had dreams of starting a family of his own, he was content with his life and when Brozone broke up he was content to go find a new purpose with his life.

*And that's when he met, you! You were a troll working for Brandi on Vacay Island and when she introduced the two of you, you hit it off and formed a relationship.

*Y'all were content with your lives and not looking to add anything else in the mix but all that changed when you woke up one morning with not one but two turquoise/purple eggs with (H/C) nesting in your hair.

*Bruce was nervous, you were nervous; what if you weren't ready to be parents? But Brandi and the other vacay islanders were there to assure you that no matter what they would be there to support you and be your family in this next stage.

*You both traded off in nesting the eggs, Bruce would take mornings and noon to let you rest and you would take afternoons and evenings to let Bruce rest.

*Bruce loves talking/snuggling to the eggs during his shifts. even though the little trolls had yet to be born he wanted them to know how much he loved them and that they'd always be a family no matter what

*When the eggs hatch, y'all are going to be swarmed with two hyperactive boy babies but honestly, you and Bruce wouldn't change anything and actually start trying for more once the twins have grown a little.

*Y'all Rock those Milf and Dilf vibes

_________________________________________________

Clay:

*Clay plans his life down to the very last scenario, even during his "fun boy" days he always planned on meeting the "one" and having a couple of trollings.

*Clay and you had met when he joined Putt-Putt village, you escaped with viva during the troll's escape from Bergen town. You and him had hit it off and with a little push from Viva you two had finally gotten together

*Clay and you are married for a year before you start actively trying for trollings.

*After a couple of months you both had given up hope of having trollings, I mean the other villagers could do it so easily why couldn't you??

*However your bad luck turned around when one day after waking up you noticed a bulging knot in your hair. Two small turquoise/lime green eggs with your (H/C) were nesting in your hair.

*Clay and you were ecstatic!! So was everyone in Putt-Putt Village; your small family finally felt complete.

*Clay is super annoying during the egg's nesting period, constantly following you around to protect you, limiting what kind of work you can do, how much rest you get, and what you eat. Honestly, you're pretty fed up with this man after this.

*When you're resting, he likes to keep the eggs safe in his hair. Man is like a feral dog with a piece of meat, will not let anyone near his eggs not even Viva; he will growl.

*Finally after a long two months, you're twins finally hatched! Two turquoise girls with your (H/C).

*Clay is definitely the strict parent, those protective instincts that arose during the eggs' nesting time are amplified to 100%. You are totally the girl's fun parent. Despite the differences in your parenting the girls love and respect the both of you!

________________________________________________________

Floyd:

*Floyd like his older brother had always wanted to start a family but that became like a distant dream after Brozone broke up, starting his solo career, and getting kidnapped by Velvet and Veneer.

*After his eventual rescue and recovery with Branch in Troll Village, he met you; a friend of Poppy's.

*Poppy saw how hard the two of you were crushing on each other and pushed the two of you together which led to your eventual dating and marriage!

*A month after the marriage, to your surprise; you had found a turquoise/red egg with your (H/C) nestling in your hair.

*You were ecstatic but Floyd was nervous. He had always wanted to have a child but what if he screwed up his relationship with them like he did with Branch.

*But after some gentle reassurances from his brothers, Poppy and Viva; he felt ready to take on this next phase of his life albeit anxiously.

*Cries every time he receives gifts for the baby, cries when he feels the egg kick inside its shell, and cries every day about how lucky he is. Man is taking all the emotions during the incubating period.

"Floyd would be too nervous to nest the egg in his hair so you would be the main nester for the duration of the incubation period.

*When the hatching day is here, Floyd is a bubbling mess. Cries throughout the entire day but those are happy tears that your baby is finally and your family is complete.

*Y'all have a healthy boy troll with your (H/C). Your baby is so chill too, rarely cries and loves to play and giggle

*As your child grows, Floyd is definitely the parent who would let the child get away with everything. You are going to have to be the rule-setter.

_________________________________________________

Branch:

*Branch has been alone for a long time, his brothers left him and his grandma had gotten eaten trying to protect him from a Bergen. So he had a deep desire to recreate the feeling of family he had once lost.

*But you had always been by his side since you two were you and through everything so it makes sense about the major crushes you two had on each other.

*After regaining his colors, Branch finally had the confidence to ask you out and you happily accepted; (even though you loved Branch no matter what).

*Y'all dated for a couple years and then were married before he discussed wanting children with you. To his surprise and excitement, you too had also wanted to have kids.

*So began your journey of trying for little trollings.

*A year after getting married you were surprised and excited to spot three turquoise/blue eggs with your (H/C) nesting in the knot in your hair.

* Branch goes feral during the nesting time. you will have to fight/argue with him to leave the bunker because he will try to keep you down during the nesting period.

*Will growl at anyone who comes near you and the eggs; only lets his brothers and poppy (with supervision) come around and see you and the eggs.

*Branch loves to carry the eggs in his hair when you need a break. Spends time talking/reading to them and telling them how much he loves them and can't wait to meet them.

*Poppy, Viva, and his brothers throw a baby shower for y'all and while Branch cringes at the dad-themed merchandise he is gifted, he secretly loves them and wears them all the time around the bunker with pride.

*Then when hatching day comes along, Branch is in a panic. What if he wasn't a good dad, what if they hate him?? But after he sees his little trollings, those worries dissipate.

*Y'all have two healthy boys and one healthy girl.

*Branch's protective instincts go from 100% to 10000% after the trolls are born. Your children definitely have Branch wrapped around their fingers and can get anything if they look cute or beg hard enough.

__________________________________________

[taylormarieee]

~A hunter's first love~

A dean winchester drabble

Summary: You were dean's first love, yeah I know it's hard to believe with every girl he's been with but you... you were different from the rest, here's you guy's story...

Word Count: 2.8k

Pairing: dean winchester x hunter!reader

Warnings: kissing, mentions of death, mentions of blood, typical supernatural stuff, dean confessing, angst, a argument, dean being a bit of a jerk, a lil actual smut, piv sex, dean himself, trauma dumping, also reader isn't a hunter in the beginning but closer to the end she is.

A/N: I've been meaning to post this one for awhile but it's just been an idea in the back of my head. I NEED to write for dean more, and I swear I will, my word is my bond guys even tho sometimes i don't commit, ntm on me tho, love y'all and enjoy!

You were dean's very first love. Yea he had that chick in highschool but there were always chicks digging him in high school.

didn't mean he loved them. dean never did meeting parents and saying I love you. he was a cold kid that broke everything.

distanced himself from the people who needed him most. the exceptions were sammy and you.

something about you was special, something about you made dean's heart ache. it made him feel things that he usually would never feel.

he met you when sammy had went off to college to do his own thing. he was proud of sammy but he felt alone. yes of course he had his dad but there were nights where dad would always be gone and dean was left to handle himself.

but that was before you. during you, when he met you in the bar for the very first time, you looked like you were having a hellish day.

"bad day?" he asks as he slides into the barstool, drink in hand. you chuckle and look at him. your eyes widen a bit at how attractive he is.

"y-yea, s-something like that." you stutter as you take another sip of your brandy. after that you both kinda just hit it off.

laughing and having deep genuine conversations. he told you his name and you told him yours. he even offered you a ride back home to which you gladly accepted.

"thank you for the ride dean, I really appreciate it." you thank him and then get ready to walk up the stairs to your apartment but you pause.

"would you like to come inside? I just feel bad for making you take me home and then not offering you anything to sober you up a little. just come inside, please?" you ask.

he smiles and nods. "yea yea sure, i'd love to come inside." he says with a smirk on his face when he stands next to you.

"must you ruin the moment?" you hit him playfully as you chuckle.

"hell yea!" he exclaims with a chuckle as well. you unlock the door to your apartment and step inside. it's not the best but it's enough for you and it was simple and modern and you loved it.

dean seemed to have loved it too, to him though, it was very old-schooled. very 90's. you had these cute posters and paintings on walls. little records piled up on the coffee table.

it was adorable. it was very you. you had an electric guitar on a stand next to your tv in the living room and you had all your favorite rock band cd's splayed everywhere on the couch.

"just gimme a sec, I didn't exactly expect company." you say shyly.

"oh no, your totally fine. I dig it. AC/DC? I love it." he says pointing at the band poster framed up on your wall.

"oh that's old, my dad gave it to me, I basically grew up listening to many rock bands. guns n roses, AC/DC, Metallica, yk the goodies." you smile up at dean.

"that poster was actually signed by the entire band when my dad got a backstage pass. He was so happy til the day he died." you say staring at the poster with a smile on your face.

"guessing he got the best day mug when you were a kid huh?" he says with a smile.

you laugh and shake your head. "yea actually, I did get him one for his birthday one year, he had the proudest smile ever when he saw Axl Rose's signature on it." you smile.

"wow, you were the best daughter." he exclaims.

"I mean I tried to be. my mom split when I was eight and that took a huge chunk outta my dad's heart. so I slowly had to rebuild it back again. I missed seeing him happy. It was just me n him, no point in trying to make life harder than it already was." you explain.

"Yea I get that. your better than me. see when I was little me, my mom, my dad? we were the happiest family. and then when my baby brother was born, I was so happy! but uhm a few months after he was born my uh my mom died. then it was just me my dad and sammy." he explains.

"that was hard for all of us. even harder for sammy considering he never even got to talk to his mother. my dad was hard on me and sammy growing up. I of course was always the lash out kid, constantly angry, never liking how he acted or did stuff. then of course that anger when out to sam because I couldn't yell at my dad, I was 10." he continues.

you hum to let him know your still listening and you grab him some water and prop it on the coffee table in front of you two.

"thanks. but yea, sammy never really understood why we always moved, never stayed in one place too long until he got tired of it. tired of that lifestyle. now he's in college and he's thriving, my dad on the other hand, he's avoiding me any chance he gets but hey, I would avoid me too if I was him. I break everything I touch." he finishes, taking a long gulp of his water.

you both sit in silence for a second and dean looks at you, hoping you say something other than "get out of my house."

"oh dean, I'm so sorry. no child should ever have to go through that. and I can assure you dean, you don't break everything you touch, I'm here and see! I'm not broken, i'm standing ten toes behind you." you says with a smile.

"I hunt monsters for a living with my dad. and we kill them so they can't ahrm people anymore." he blurted out randomly. he wanted to push you away, because he was falling in love with you too quickly. he wanted you to see him as scary.

your eyes widen. you pause. your hand is still on his arm and his thigh. you blink once, then twice. your jaw opens to say something but closes again.

"speak now, scream now, curse me out or forever hold your peace and i'll leave." he says.

you immediately spoke not wanting him to leave. "don't leave. I'm just a little shocked is all. do you and your dad really do that? does your brother know?" you ask.

"Why do you think he went off to college, to live a normal life like the rest of you." dean says.

"wow. uhm that's a lot to take in. thank you for telling me. there are parts of me that don't believe you, but i'm going to trust my heart. I believe you dean. you're a hero."

"I'm not a hero, i'm a monster." he says.

"you save people dean, how is that you being a monster." you counter.

"because it's almost like i enjoy it, the thrill."

"ok but heros i'm sure enjoy the thrill as well."

"That's not the same thing sweetheart I-"

"Why can't you just accept that your not a monster."

"because I lived with this my whole life ok? I am a monster."

"ok, but you help people, how do monsters do that? how is that YOU being a monster?"

"Because I just am!" he shouts at you. you gasp and scoot away from him.

"oh, i'm sorry. I won't bring it up."

"for fuck's sake, I'm sorry sweetheart. I-I didn't mean to shout at you, i'm sorry. c'mere." he says.

you scoot back to him and he wraps your body in a hug.

"what are you so scared of dean? If your brother can live a normal life, why can't you? why do you think you don't deserve a happy ending?" you ask.

you look up at him with puppy dog eyes and he folds immediately. he kisses the top of your head and smiles down at you.

"you really think I'm a good person? you truly believe I could have a happy ending?'" he asks.

"If I didn't think so, would I have bickered with you about it like a toddler?" you ask with a chuckle.

he laughs.

"I guess not."

you both stare at each other for a good 2 minutes before you look down at his lips. he looks at you and stares at your lips as well.

you lean up closer to his face, your noses touching. he closes his eyes, waiting for it to happen. he of course wasn't prepared for his mind's decision to pull away.

"I have to go sweetheart. I'm sorry." he says as he pulls away from you. he can't bare to look at you as he stands up from the couch but he does it anyway and his heart sinks.

your pouting. god why must you look so good when you pout. "oh, please stay dean, I don't want to be alone. and I don't think you do either." you say standing up and grabbing his hand.

"just spend the night, and then in the morning you can leave, just don't leave without saying goodbye." you say pointing a finger at him.

"ok sweetheart, I won't." he says with a smile. "good." you respond with a smile as well.

"now, I have one more gift for you." you say with a smirk on your face.

"Oh really, what is it? it better be pie." he says with a chuckle. you roll your eyes playfully as you pull him towards you bedroom.

"i mean it'll be some kind of pie if you want it to be? but it's also much better than pie." you say seductively.

"mhmmm" he groans, "I like the sound of where this is going.

he runs his hands down your waist as you drag him towards you bed. you shrug off his jacket and he grabs your ass once his jacket is on the floor and goes straight for your jeans buttons.

"please kiss me already dean, I need you." you beg.

his lips are smashed on to yours immediately after your request. guess dean couldn't wait any longer either.

you tug at his shirt and he pulls it off. you take your shirt off as well and that's when dean pushes you on to the bed. you grab at his road shoulders and scratch at his back.

he nips at your neck leaving little sweet kisses after. you were so having hickeys afterwards.

he smashes his lips against yours again and you bite his lip. he groans at the feeling and you release his lip but he can taste the blood on his lip.

he licks his lips and looks at you. "you tryin to devour me huh?" he asks with a smirk.

"Maybe?" you ask with mimicking smirk on your face. he kisses you again and you moan in his mouth. god he lives for your noises.

"do that again." he demands. he kisses down your neck looking for that spot that makes you reel. you moan in his ear again and he physically fights the urge not to shove his fingers in you ight now.

his cock painfully aching in his boxers. you both roll around and moan in each others ears. you tug on his hair and he tugs on yours.

he inhales your scent and he feels like he's on cloud 9.

you were amazing. even more amazing when he first entered inside you. god you were so fucking tight. so delicious. so enticing.

you were pulling him in and he was hitting all the right spots to make you scream his name like a mantra, like a prayer.

you loved the feeling of his fat cock inside you. it made you feel euphoric. no one has ever made you feel this way, dean hit every spot. he made you cry and scream and feel so good.

you needed him. you desired every bit of him. he's the man you daydream about, the one you read tumblr fics about.

you feel your orgasm approaching and dean feels his but he solely his focused on making you feel good. sadly that doesn't work because he's struggling to not cum inside you.

"it's ngh- ok dean. please cum inside me, I want it so bad. please." you beg him and he loses it. he kisses you one last time before he releases inside you, still thrusting and over stimulating himself just to make you feel good.

you eventually cum around his cock as well, feeling so good. you arch into him and tug on his hair really hard he groans. he moans into your ear as he lets out the last spurts of his cum into your stoamch.

he rearranged your guts like no other before and you loved how it made you feel dean winchester makes you feel alive. he makes you feel like yourself.

dean pulls out of you and lays right behind you. you cuddle into him throwing your leg over his to tangle up in his warmth.

he smiles to himself and you kiss him again as you both fall asleep. dean couldn't stop thinking about you. and you couldn't stop thinking about him.

he's your saviour. your hero. your perfect man. your first love.

your his daydream. his fantasy. his perfect girl. his first love.

It's been a year now and you and dean are thriving. he calls you every day and every night when he's on a hunt.

you even got to meet his brother. you comforted him when his dad died and you even let them stay at your place whenever they were in town.

two years go by and you and dean are on a little break. he said that he didn't feel like he could give you what you wanted and asked if he could take a break from the relationship to give him some time to think.

you didn't know he slept with an old fling and it broke your heart when sam told you.

you went on hunting alone. you met bobby on a hunt and he treated you well. he made sure you were safe.

four years go by and you meet dean again, you never blocked him and he called from time to time. sometimes you'd answer other times, you'd not even give him the time of day.

you looked at dean and realized he hasn't aged a day, if anything he looked more mature, he looked just as good as the last time you saw him.

his voice deeper and still demanding. you hug him and he tells you how much he's missed you. you missed him just as much.

he told you he was sorry and you forgave him. you forgave him a long time ago. he offered to try again and you agreed.

the three of you went hunting together like a family and it was fun. but one night you decided to play hero.

"dean, I once told you you deserved a happy ending, that you weren't a monster." you say quickly while panting.

"yea babe, but why? why are you saying this?" he asked his glossy eyes staring back at you.

"you know I love you right?" you tell him.

"I love you too sweetheart, now tell me what's wrong?!" he shouts.

you hear the footsteps of the vampire and you look at sam and dean.

"babe, it's my turn to be a hero ok? you go on without me. you live your life and you find your happy ending. I love you both so much." you say holding the both of their hands.

"Now run." you say.

you shoot at the vampire and it rushes towards you choking you. you try to fight it off but it stabs you in the stomach and you scream out.

Sam runs to rescue you and dean screams for you. the vampire throws you off to the side and bloods seeping out of your mouth and wound. dean runs to your limp body on the floor and he cradles you in his arms.

sam quickly runs back over the vampires body on the ground with a wooden stake in it's heart and it's head cut off.

you try to speak but dean shushes you.

"no no baby don't speak i'm gonna get you help ok, y-your- fuck your gonna live ok. SON OF A BITCH! baby please don't die on me, I love you please please please." he cries.

"i-i love you too, my sweet hero." your last words before your eyes shut and your no longer moving.

he says your name and sam checks for a pulse. he looks at dean and shakes his head no. dean shakes you and screams your name some more but no response.

he sits there and cries with sam by his side crying as well.

you were dean's daydream. his fantasy. his perfect girl. his first love and the last one he ever loved. the one he couldn't save.

Taglist: @dollyfl1rt @itzdarling @sammyluvr @liliesdiary @ribbonprincess @bellahadidnt16 @iilovefictionalpeople @aerangi @keiva1000 @madafton @niktwazny303 @prettyluhdavis @kqmbr1a @nuemanfilms + anyone else who wants to join

[misscinnamonroll16]

Don't mind me, just have trolls brain rot. Here are some of my headcanons

Jd and Floyd are both left handed, clay is right handed, Bruce and Branch could either way for me.

Clay was an absolutely FERAL child. No filter, bad ideas left and right, a little chaos gremlin. Boy should have been put on a leash.

Clay was also a creepy kid. Hed stare into JD and Bruce's souls in the middle of the night.

It probably goes without saying but Floyd was a crybaby. Especially when he was a baby.

Jd knows how to do magic tricks. It was a dumb skill that he learned to entertain his lil bros. But when they got older they started to think it was lame so he stopped. He still uses it when he encountered a kid on his travels

Clay once pulled one of Floyd's baby teeth out to get the quarter that the tooth fairy would leave

Until the band broke up, JD was the only one who knew how to cook.

Clay is great at math (thus why he's a CPA). So when they were still in school, Bruce and JD tried to get clay to do their math hw for them.

There were times when JD and Bruce ganged up on the younger ones and told them lies. Some of which being: they have a long lost brother, anything to do with Santa,the tooth fairy, or monsters and that you can buy babies from a special store (clay was on sale)

Johns go to greeting now that they're older is a smack on the butt for his bros

John still tries to pick up his brothers despite the fact that they are grown ass adults. Floyd's the easiest to pick up, then Branch then clay then Bruce.

Before branch, Floyd was closest to john

Jd and Bruce knew Floyd was gay before Floyd knew he was gay. They made jokes about it that went over the younger twos heads

When Floyd got into makeup, he looked like every little girl who got into her mom's makeup. Bruce caught him and helped him out the best he could despite the fact he had no idea what he was doing

Clay and Floyd also ganged up on the older two. Pranks and generally annoying younger sibling stuff.

Brandy is an only child, Bruce is not. So when their kids do something that their father did as a child, he knows what's up. Example: one or more of them put on a "show" to distract their parents while the others steal cookies out of the cookie jar. Bruce immediately knew something was up and called them out on it

That's it for now

[thecoolerliauditore]

long post: the neck kisses playlist on joel's spotify is about jimmy (and kind of etho too a little bit)

it's not actually about jimmy it very much is not about jimmy. however I had visions when I listened to it and I know at least one person really wants me to put this into words so

"I Miss Having Sex But At Least I Don't Wanna Die Anymore" is a pretty straightforward song about Awsten Knight's post-break-up life as well as his frustrations with his fanbase.

The feelings post-break-up are described as freeing, hence the title ".. don't wanna die anymore" but the ending of the song hints at some nagging regret despite that, with the desperate repeating mantra of "but I think it's fine, it's cool"

While I don't think all of these songs signify chronology (and some I don't think are literal at all unless c!Joel has some weird daddy issue lore I'm unaware of), I do like to think the start of the playlist calls to pre-3L jimmy/joel, most specifically their relationship in x-life.

In x-life, Joel establishes a totally-not-cult religion he dubs "Jeremyism", Jimmy being his first member after he fails to trick Lizzie into joining. He later gives up his leader title, quote, "for content". Jimmy is unhappy with this development and begs Joel to stay, but Joel refuses. While their relationship in x-life would be hard to define as romantic in any sense, they were clearly fond of eachother before Joel eventually broke away.

Things get a bit hazy here since "for content" doesn't really translate to anything in-universe, but I think it's interesting to note that both the song and Joel mention an audience, specifically one that they feel the need to appease. Whether this is a metaphor or watcher lore or some secret third thing I have no idea but it sure is there 👍

In my mind, it goes like this: Jimmy and Joel meet, they hit it off, Jimmy is affectionate and Joel starts to catch feelings. Joel cuts Jimmy off for making him feel weird.

the second song in the playlist reinforces this, being a much angrier post-break-up song.

While this seems out-of-order (why does the immediate anger come after the song about life after the break-up?), I think it's interesting if you look at it from an angle of this not being fully Joel's feelings towards Jimmy, but Joel's frustration towards himself for messing it up.

with a little bit of frustration being placed on jimmy too:

pictured: joel in third life with a message from jimmy that he very much. does not answer.

personally I like to think Joel held a lot of resentment towards Jimmy in Third Life, both for homophobic reasons (i.e. you made me feel gay and now I'm gonna punish you for it) and for jealousy reasons (start of his number one scott hater arc)

this one's just in the wrong playlist first of all why does he insert this between two waterparks songs. whatever man.

anyway this song's interesting to me because it's literally just about a hot babe getting rejected by some fuck who refuses to be ball-and-chained.

there's two directions this could go imo: one is that this is, once again, evoking joel and jimmy's relationship. Joel acknowledges that he a life with Jimmy would be nice, but he refuses to settle down because it would rob him of his identity/freedom.

the other is that brandy is joel and the sailor is etho, since brandy shows an admiration for the sailor but also an awareness that he loves his job more than her

this storybook like description of how brandy saw the sailor's tales is very smalletho to me idk. very hand-in-hand with joel's child-like view of who etho is.

I don't have much for this one tbh it's pretty much just a love song and Joel really liking waterparks (king)

That being said, there's some fun imagery to play with here:

yellow = jimmy makes a lot of sense (blonde hair, canary imagery, yellow also representing people on their second life in the life series which evokes neither the assumed skillfulness of a late game green name nor the danger of a red name), as does green = joel (the green streak. shrek. yeahg. and while red joel is iconic "green like my insides" could also be read in this context as "deep down, I am safe to be around" which I think is neat)

"natural blue" is a bit harder to interpret (especially considering the original context of this being a joke about Awsten dyeing his hair) but blue is of course scott's colour. this could be read spitefully as Natural blue (was in love with jimmy first) vs scott's dyed hair or it's. joel saying that's he's gay idk man.

"at least I match your eyes" is pretty simple, with both of them having brown eyes, "jealous and hypnotized" once again alluding to some jealousy, likely towards FH again if you believe the blue line is alluding to scott.

however joel has plenty of people to be jealous of in regard to jimmy so. shrugs. hey you can even interpret this line as talking about jimmy's desirability. neat.

there's also this, which again might allude to flower husbands, implying in this fake world I've created that Joel doesn't view them as actually "married"

ok this is getting too long lmao see you guys next time i feel like writing about this stupid fucking playlist again

[lovezbrownies]

Work affair. (Yandere!Boss x GN!Reader)

Masterlist

Synopsis: Your boss never cared much for you, until he did.

Red Ludenhart x Reader.

Warnings: Stalking, breaking and entering, alcohol, clubbing, drugging (to reader), death (minor character), forced memory loss,

Your boss was a tad bit strange, but you can put up with the strange behavior if it meant getting paid. Even if your boss didn’t allow you to step outside of his office and the VVIP area of the club that’s okay, maybe he doesn’t want you to be influenced by lazy workers! Or he doesn’t want any of the sleazy non-VVIP customers to harass you! It was all for your own safety. You think.

Red was delighted to learn your apartment was close by to his club. He would always offer to walk you back home when your shift is regrettably over, he has your address memorized, as well as the entire layout of your apartment. The second fact was not something you were aware of however, you should definitely get better locks. It was child’s play to break into your humble abode.

The first few nights he broke into your home he was far more cautious than he is now, Red didn’t know when your bedtime was, but when he decided to install cameras all around your apartment, he could finally have some peace knowing when you were and weren’t awake. And of course to spy on any guests you have over, watching you walk around and commit yourselves to your hobbies on the weekends.

You were the definition of perfection in his eyes. Red wasn’t one for love and that mushy stuff, he’d always preferred the more chaotic parts of his life than the mushy lovey dovey stuff he’s seen on TV. That's what he’s been saying to himself up until he met you, the new bartender. Red has no clue who hired you but he sure as hell is eternally grateful for it.

It wasn’t a love at first sight situation, nor did you meet immediately. You met the owner of the club you work at a month after you started working. It was during the monthly staff meeting when you did. Red was confused by your presence and asked who you were, after introducing yourself to him he brushed you off. Red didn’t care if there was a new employee, as long as you don’t cause trouble you’re not someone important to him at all.

Red thought you were attractive, sure, but most of his staff are– nothing new. Red doesn’t like the main entrance of his own club, usually taking the back entrance for special patrons, and into the VVIP area. So that means months passed, and the only times he’d ever see you are during the staff meetings. He’s sure you do at least the bare minimum since you don’t get a lot of complaints like other staff. Maybe the illogical assholes every now and then would accuse you of something but the floor manager usually has it handled.

It wasn’t until you had the closing shift while Red was still there that he realized how wonderful you are. Normally he’d be back home before the closing shift, today was different. It was a long complicated process but Red managed to convince an investor to put in double the money they originally invested; it was now 5:50 AM. Patrons have been kicked out, evident by the lack of noise, and Red’s sure the staff have left by now.

Red needed to drink something, and he needed it to be as heavy as possible. The VVIP areas didn’t have anything strong so he went to the general area of his club. Red expected the usual emptiness of the club, but someone was still there, vacuuming the confetti off the floors. In the middle of the large empty club stood you, headphones on as you nodded along to the music you were listening to.

This was something he hadn’t seen before; and he just stood there– watching as you cleaned up, unaware of the predator watching your every move. Eventually, tired of standing there Red just walked over to one of the bars around the club, took his favorite brandy bottle, poured himself a cup full, and kept watching. This time he was leaning against the bar counter. It was cute how you were none the wiser of his presence.

Eventually you turned off the vacuum. Turning around you expected nothing less than perfectly clear floors, which yes that you did see, but you also found the owner of the club, smirking at you, glass half empty. You stood there, motionlessly staring at Red as he stared right back at you. Not wanting to get into trouble for whatever reason you sped off into the restricted area for the staff and booked it to the janitor’s closet; just as Red was about to say something to quell your anxieties.

Well, not Red’s interest was certainly piqued. Picking up the vacuum you abandoned he made his way over to the staff only area, waiting to hear some shuffling but all he heard was the staff’s exit door opening and closing. You left. Not a trace of your existence to be seen. Looked like you were all ready and packed to leave, it’s fine, he’ll just put the vacuum back and see you the next day.

And see you he did. For weeks, he would approach you at the end of your shift, chat, and then walk you back home. A month and a half into your newfound friendship he promoted you to be the VVIP’s sole bartender, firing the old one for reasons unknown. Red watched your every move since, in his club, in your apartment, with your friends, shopping. Wherever you are. There will always be a camera following your every move.

Your boss was a nice man for getting to know you, walking you home as the sun rises, making sure no one bothered you, and when someone did he’d defend you like his life depended on it. Normally, you’d fall in love with a man if he did all that just for you. But you were already in a committed relationship. 

Your husband, Richard, is a military man, striving to be the next Chief. He moved away from the city you two lived in right before you started working at the bar– Rich was transferred over to a different city, and you didn’t want to move away from your family and friends, so you compromised. Richard tries his best to come by and visit, he still pays for your shared apartment, and always calls you morning and night. He is the man for you.

Red knew about Richard, of course he would. Red knew everything there was to know about you, and was he concerned over it? No. Red has connections everywhere. Including in the military, so when an unfortunate accident occurs, a misfire, or maybe a terrible case of food poisoning. Whatever it may be, your ex-husband is now dead. Leaving room for Red to be the sincere loving friend. Yes, come running to his arms, cry to him, it’s late and you don’t want to be alone? No worries, he’ll stay the night!

Red’s been doing an amazing job distracting you from the death of your ex-husband. Hugging you when you need, cooking mouth watering dishes just for you, and buying you many things to help distract you from the grief. Like gaming consoles, knitting yarn, books, art equipment, anything! If he ever sees you show interest in something he will immediately purchase it or at least try to get a hold of it. Whenever you show concern or guilt over the amounts he’s spent on you he softly pets you and tells you that his club is very successful.

Over time, Red truly weaseled his way into your life. He spent most of his nights in your bed; although platonically, as you so claim. Red likes to act like a good househusband when he does sleep over, wake up early, cook breakfast, and shamelessly flirt with you. You two walk together to work, he doesn’t dare think of work up until your shift starts.

Red doesn’t like to harm you, but he has been slipping a few pills into your food; a few anti-anxiety meds, with sleeping aids and here comes the perfect concoction for lapses of memory, causing you to forget quite a bit but not too much to be dangerous. He does this for a while, until you mostly forget about the fact that you had been unfaithful to Red by marrying some rando. Once that happens Red pulls back from the drugging. It was easy to do so, with a spare key to your apartment and him cooking you most of your meals.

You stare up at the ceiling with a soft smile on your face, you ponder how you hadn’t managed to fall in love with your husband sooner. He’s always been there for you, he’s protected you from creeps, and he’s spoiled you even before you got together. You were so lucky that you had him. You looked back down, gazing at the handsome man laying his head on your lap. You caress his hair, your perfect man, Red.

Red loves his little butterfly.

[zzoomacroom]

Live a Little

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Dreamling, One Shot, Fluff, Smut, Angst, Friends to Lovers, 6500 words

Late entry for @mr-sadman's Dreamling Week 2024 (Day 1: Indulgence, First Time). Also for @dreamlingbingo (Square A3: Friends to Lovers)

✨✨✨

Summary: Dream needs to be convinced that he’s allowed to indulge, to want, to live. Hob shows him some of the little things that make life worthwhile: good friends, good wine, fancy chocolate, and amazing sex.

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022), The Sandman (Comics)

Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Additional Tags: Fluff, Smut, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Sexual Tension, Getting Together, First Time, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Oral Sex, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Under-negotiated Kink, Dream has bad blowjob etiquette but Hob is into it, not beta read

✨✨✨

“Make yourself at home, my friend,” Hob says, ushering his oldest and dearest friend into the sitting room. Dream nods soberly and heads for the sofa, while Hob turns back towards the hall. “Back in a tick. I’ve got a nice Pinot noir I’ve been saving that I think you’ll like.”

Before his friend can launch into his whole “You need not trouble yourself, I have no need for sustenance, blah blah blah” spiel, Hob darts through the hall and into the bright, cluttered kitchen at the back of the flat. He uncorks the wine and crouches down to rummage through the cabinets, hauling aside dishes and cast iron pans that would almost certainly be considered antiques by now. He knows they’re around here somewhere…

“Ha!” Hob makes a little noise of triumph as he retrieves the pair of dusty earthenware cups that he’d bought at an art fair a couple decades back. They’re handmade and painted in brilliant blues and greens, and the small bumps and imperfections on them remind him of the Border ware dishes he had owned back in the mid-16th century (minus the lead glaze, presumably).

Hob gives the cups a quick wash and dries them off before pouring the wine. He’s learned the hard way that Dream is not a fan of glass drinkware these days. When his friend explained the reason for this sudden aversion, Hob’s heart had shattered like the brandy snifter that Dream had dropped minutes before. Afterwards, he had gone through and purged his flat of wine glasses, glass bowls, and anything else that even vaguely resembled the prison Dream had described. Not just for his friend’s sake, but for himself; he doesn’t want that reminder either—the thought of his dear stranger, trapped, alone… If Hob had known…

God, if only he’d known…

Anyway. The point is, he’s been sticking with coffee mugs since then. But he can’t serve fine wine to the King of Dreams and Nightmares in a “Shag of the Century” mug, even if it does feel hilariously apropos, so it’s lucky he remembered these. The flat’s a bit of a mess as it is and he doesn’t want to come across as too much of a slob.

Hob hadn’t expected his old friend to drop by today. Well, to be honest, he never expects it, but he’s always thrilled to see him. Ever since they broke their centennial tradition with that first meeting at the New Inn, Dream has started visiting more frequently. At first it was brief, sporadic meetings at the pub, but he gradually started to come around more often, much to Hob’s delight. He’s shown up a few times when Hob was leaving work, instigating a riot of gossip among Hob’s coworkers and sixth-formers alike. Sometimes he visits Hob while he dreams, which had destroyed Hob’s entire perception of reality the first time it happened and still never ceases to blow his mind.

Usually the two of them come up to Hob’s flat, ostensibly to watch a movie or so that Hob can show off whatever new gadget he’s acquired, but the truth is that he wants Dream’s attention all to himself. Hob has always been a selfish, greedy man, and he can’t help but covet this precious time spent together. One never knows if the next Will Shakespeare is lurking in the pub.

He can never predict exactly when his friend will show up, but these days it seems like hardly a week passes without seeing him. So it’s odd that this is the first time he’s been by in over a month. Hob had noticed right away that something was troubling him; Dream seems even more distant and shuttered than usual today, and so Hob had herded him upstairs the moment he walked through the door.

He’s trying very hard not to be a mother hen, but in fairness the pub was starting to get crowded, and Hob knows that his friend is not fond of the noise. He’s just being considerate, he tells himself. Yes, he’s missed him desperately these past few weeks, and yes, the worry that he’d been captured again has consistently been in the back of Hob’s mind. But he has to rein it in and play it cool, lest he trigger another incident like 1889. He knows how lucky he is, how spoiled he’s become, getting to see Dream so often after having gone a century (or more) between meetings. So he knows he’s being a bit silly, getting so antsy after only a month apart.

Still. He worries.

(Continue reading below or on ao3):

Hob returns to the sitting room, wine bottle in one hand and the two cups balanced precariously in the other. He stifles a gasp and nearly drops them when he sees his friend perched on the sofa, having evidently vanished his coat and shoes back to the Dreaming, leaving his feet and arms bare. Hob simultaneously feels like a prude and a pervert as he drinks in the rare sight of that flawless ivory skin.

Then his heart swells with fondness—Dream has actually attempted to make himself at home, like Hob offered. “Attempted” being the key word; he does rather look like he’s sitting in a waiting room instead of on his friend’s sofa. Like he’s not sure how comfortable he’s allowed to get. Hob wants to make him comfortable, wants to wrap him in soft blankets and feed him soup and make him understand how fiercely loved he is.

Steady on, Hobsie. Get a hold of yourself.

Dream looks up from the worn copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy he’s been thumbing through, and if Hob didn’t know any better he’d say there was a faint blush blooming on his perfect cheekbones.

See, that’s the elephant in the room: the ever-present sexual tension between them has been at an all-time high lately. Obviously, Hob fell in love with Dream the second he laid eyes on him—how could he not?—and occasionally, over the centuries, he’s felt a spark of… something, from his stranger (that look he’d given him in 1789 being the most flagrant example). And he’s been feeling that something more and more often these days.

Maybe he’s just a lovesick, hope-stricken old fool, but Hob has a sneaking suspicion that his feelings for his friend are, at least to some small degree, reciprocated. Hob is sure as hell not going to make the first move; he cringes as he remembers how that had gone the last time he tried it. But it’s alright. He can be patient. He has been patient. And if nothing ever happens between them, well, that’s alright too. This easy companionship that they’ve developed is more than Hob could have ever hoped for, and he considers himself a lucky man indeed.

At least that’s what he tells himself.

“Here we are, my friend.” Hob hands one of the cups to Dream—the blue one that matches his eyes—and settles beside him on the sofa, stretching and making a point of putting his feet up on the coffee table to signal to his friend that he’s allowed to relax. And he does seem to get the hint, his shoulders easing down a fraction as he leans back into the cushions. “To life,” Hob says, tilting his cup Dream’s direction. Dream responds with a small, slightly pained smile and gently clinks his cup against Hob’s before taking a sip, humming appreciatively as he drinks.

“Good, eh?” Hob grins, thrilled that his friend is enjoying it.

“Indeed. This is a fine vintage. I thank you for sharing it with me,” Dream replies solemnly.

“I can’t think of anyone better to share it with,” Hob says, perhaps a bit too earnestly, and Dream’s blush deepens ever so slightly. “So,” Hob clears his throat, “what have you been up to, my friend? It’s been a while since I saw you last.” Dream stiffens at that, and Hob hastily adds, “If you want to talk about it, that is. You don’t have to.”

Dream takes another long sip of wine and shakes his head before speaking. “I was with family. I spent some time with my youngest sister, as well as some other relations. One whom I had not seen in centuries, and. Another. With whom I had not spoken in millennia.”

To Hob’s credit, his mind boggles only a little at that. “Well, that’s nice, isn’t it? Family reunion and all?”

Dream makes a small noise—of agreement or skepticism, Hob couldn’t say—and looks away as he continues to drink his wine. It’s obvious that something has happened; Dream seems… hopeless. Resigned. To what, Hob doesn’t dare guess. Dream doesn’t seem inclined to share more at the moment, and there’s a beat of awkward silence as Hob fumbles through his mind for a new topic of conversation. He’s mentally reviewing his day for any interesting stories to tell when he notices his friend staring at the small box wrapped in gold paper on the coffee table, seemingly lost in thought.

Hob springs forward and opens the box, nudging the chocolates in Dream’s direction. “Oh! Where are my manners? Help yourself to those. Some of my coworkers got them for my birthday—well, what they think is my birthday.”

Dream blinks at him. “I do not need to eat.”

Hob chuckles. “Nobody needs to eat chocolate. It’s purely for pleasure. You don’t need to drink this very good wine either, but you’re enjoying it,” he points out, topping off both of their cups to underscore his argument. “And I bet these would go great with the Pinot.” He takes a vanilla cream-filled one for himself before pushing the box closer to Dream. “Go on, they’re quite nice. It’s the expensive stuff. I think that one’s caramel, and that’s a raspberry cream…”

A tiny smile creeps over his friend’s face as he speaks. “My sister is fond of those. Or. Something like them.”

Hob is immensely curious about these family members Dream keeps mentioning, but he doesn’t want to pry; he knows by now that if Dream wants to share something with him, he’ll do so in his own time. “Well, please, have as many as you’d like. I’ll never finish them all before they go stale, so you’d be doing me a favor.”

“I do not usually. Indulge,” Dream says, though he is still staring (longingly, one might almost say) at the cocoa-dusted confections.

“You mean to tell me you’ve got the entire Dreaming at your fingertips, and you don’t indulge in all the lovely things you’ve made? That, my friend, is a tragedy.” Hob smiles and shrugs. “Well, if you won’t indulge yourself, then why not indulge me? I won’t make you eat them, of course, but…” he takes a bite of the bonbon (it really is good, even if it’s a bit too sweet for his taste), “you’d be missing out.”

The gloom that had earlier enshrouded Dream seems all but dissipated, and Hob can’t help but notice the way his friend’s eyes flick to his mouth, the starry voids of his pupils blown wide. Hob is considerably flustered himself right now, but he manages to give his friend what he hopes is a roguishly charming wink.

Dream glances down, his cheeks reddening further. “Very well. If you insist,” he says primly, like he’s doing Hob a favor as he delicately plucks a milk chocolate truffle from the box. And he is doing him a favor; Hob already counted it as a win that he was enjoying the wine, and this is just… well, the icing on the cake. Hmm, maybe he can get him to try cake next time…

Hob loses his train of thought as he watches his friend bite into the chocolate. Dream’s eyes widen before fluttering shut, and the moan he lets out is downright sinful. It’s enthralling. Hob is in trouble.

Dream keeps his eyes closed while he savors the confection, his tongue darting out to lick the powdered cacao from his petal-pink lips. He swallows audibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and Hob shivers as he envisions…

No. Now is not the time. Keep it together, old man. Hob shifts and crosses his legs, vainly attempting to ignore the heat pooling low in his belly and the subtle tightening of his trousers.

“Thank you, my friend,” Dream murmurs, glancing demurely at Hob. “They are. Nice. As you said.”

“Of course. I’m glad you like them,” Hob beams. “Help yourself to more. Anything I have, you’re welcome to,” he adds, gesturing vaguely around the flat.

Dream stares at him for a long moment, with a hunger in his eyes that brings to mind that look, the one he’d given him in 1789. There’s something else in his expression, though. Something sad. But before Hob can attempt to decipher it, Dream schools his features, once more a mask of emotionless detachment (except for the telltale flush that has now spread from his cheeks to his ears and neck).

They’re sitting quite close together on the sofa, Hob notices. Had he scooted over without realizing, or was that Dream? There’s no body heat, no familiar human scent coming from his friend, but Hob can feel a strange sort of energy emanating from him—something like static electricity. Like the heavy, expectant stillness that comes before a storm.

Dream slowly, hesitantly reaches for another piece, and as he leans forward their thighs brush together ever so faintly.

Hob’s breath hitches.

Although they’ve been meeting regularly for a couple years now, they have never so much as shaken hands. This is unprecedented.

Hob exhales shakily, and he can’t hold back the embarrassing little noise that escapes him. He tries to disguise it as a cough, but Dream freezes and draws back suddenly as if he’s been bitten.

“It’s alright,” Hob says softly, almost a whisper, like his friend is some skittish wild beast who might flee at any second (actually, that’s about the size of it). “Have another one.”

Dream shrinks back into the sofa, looking suddenly rueful. “I should not.”

Hob laughs nervously. “Now don’t tell me you’re trying to watch your figure, because you’re already…” he splutters and trails off, tugging on his earlobe as a prickling heat creeps up the back of his neck.

Too much. Stupid. So bloody stupid, just shut up.

He hasn’t had nearly enough wine for his mind to be so fuzzy and his mouth so loose. So why can’t he get a grip?

"It’s just—I mean,” he goes on, his treacherous mouth continuing to prattle on despite his brain’s feeble protests, “my point is, it’s alright to indulge. You of all people deserve to indulge. And I offered, so… please. Take what you want. You’re allowed to want things, Dream. And you deserve to have what you want. And—and I know, you can conjure anything up out of dreams and stardust. But even so. I just… I want you to know that anything I have, anything I can offer, however trivial, it’s yours if you want it. And it’s just chocolate and wine, eh? So… why not live a little?”

Hob looks up, apparently done with his ramble, to find Dream staring at him, his head cocked in that adorable way of his. His lips are parted slightly and his eyes shine with unshed tears.

Oh, brilliant. Great fucking job, Hobsie. Just don���t know when to quit, do you?

“Hob,” his friend begins, his voice a deep rumble of distant thunder, more of a feeling than a sound. “You are very generous. More so than is wise, and far more than I deserve. But I am afraid that your generosity may be. Misplaced. You say that I should ‘live a little,’ but. I am not… alive, in the way that you are. I do not live. I simply… am.”

Hob stares at him, dumbfounded, while his heart breaks into a thousand pieces. That… is the saddest fucking thing Hob has ever heard in the two-thirds of a millennium that he’s been alive. It all makes sense now. That’s why Dream has always been so interested in the mundane minutiae of his life. He’s been living vicariously through Hob, and all the while he’s got no life of his own. Just… existing, not living, for billions of years, and on and on until the end of time.

But that’s not true, is it? No. Hob rejects the entire premise. Dream may not be a living, breathing human, but he’s a person. And he does so have a life; he’s got a family. He’s got friends. If nothing else, he’s got Hob. He’s more than just his bloody function that he’s always going on about. Hob wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Tell him that he can live, he must.

Hob’s mind is already racing with ideas—he’s going to have to up his game; they can’t keep meeting at the pub or in Hob’s flat. There’s so much more out there to do and see. Maybe, instead of living vicariously through him, Hob can convince Dream to do some living with him. Not like that… Just. Bucket list-type stuff, even though neither of them can die. Although he doubts Dream would go for it; the mental image of his dear friend skydiving is as far-fetched as it is hilarious.

Of course, he doesn’t dare say any of that. He’s sure he’s already overstepped with that unhinged rant he just went on. He ought to quit while he’s ahead and drop the subject before he offends Dream. Still, it’s impossible not to notice the way Dream has been swaying closer to him over the course of this conversation. The way the air between them seems to crackle with electricity.

“Nevertheless,” Dream continues, “I am grateful for your kindness. Thank you, my friend.”

"'Course,” Hob murmurs. “Like I said. Anything I can offer, it’s yours. So… what do you want?”

Dream falters for a moment and seems to be intensely focused on picking at a nonexistent loose thread on the hem of his t-shirt. “I… I must confess that I do not know what to say. When you ask me this. It is not in my nature to want; desire is the domain of my sibling. It is not within the purview of dreams. I do not live, nor do I want.”

“Bullshit.” The word spills from Hob’s mouth before the thought even crystallizes in his mind. Dream looks stunned and a bit offended, though more confused than anything else. He’s not getting up and storming out, though, so that’s a good sign. He’s frowning, but still watching Hob intently, like he’s curious as to how Hob will follow up that little outburst. Hob is curious where he’s going with this, too; apparently, sitting this close to Dream has caused his brain to short circuit, and now his mouth is running on autopilot.

Ah. Right. Better keep talking, then.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I shouldn’t have said that. But… I mean, obviously you wanted that chocolate. And you want to be here, or you’d have left already.” The furrow between Dream’s brows deepens as Hob speaks, and he clenches his jaw tightly. Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t give him ideas. Dial it back, old man. “But that’s alright! Really, it’s fine! More than fine! I—I don’t know about this sibling of yours, but… it just seems to me like you do want something, my friend. And whatever it is, if it’s in my power to give it to you, that’s what I want. So… what do you want?” he asks again.

Dream hesitates, gazing at Hob with those fathomless blue eyes as he appears to genuinely consider the question. He’s sitting so close that Hob can see his own reflection, blurry and distorted, mirrored in the glossy sheen of tears that rests on his friend’s dark lashes.

Finally, he seems to make up his mind. He swallows and leans closer still, his face mere inches away from Hob’s. Hob ceases breathing as a perfect, pale hand snakes upward at a glacial pace, coming to rest on his stubbled cheek. It’s smooth and cool, and Hob’s eyes drift shut as he leans into the touch. Then, impossibly soft lips are brushing against his own, and Hob lets out a muffled sob as one hand flies to Dream’s waist, the other gripping the back of his neck and pulling him closer.

Dream’s tongue probes gingerly into Hob’s open mouth, and lightning sparkles behind his eyelids. His heartbeat is a rolling crash of thunder as the clouds finally break—kissing Dream is like the first rain after centuries of drought; cool and sweet and refreshing and vital. Hob didn’t realize how parched he had been for so long, how desolate the desert of his soul, until this. This perfect kiss. It’s soft and slow and tastes like chocolate and red wine, and this—this may be what finally does Hob in after all these years.

Or it could just be that he hasn’t taken a breath in almost a full minute.

He pulls back, gasping and panting as he rests his forehead against Dream’s. Words fail him—a rare occurrence for Hob—and all he can do is grin stupidly at his friend.

“You,” Dream answers finally. “I want you, Hob.”

Hob lets out a wet, trembling laugh. “You’ve got me, Dream,” Hob whispers. “You’ve always had me.”

Dream surges forward to kiss him again, bolder and more eager this time, and Hob allows himself get swept away in the deluge. He could stay like this for hours—forever, even—and a needy whine escapes him when Dream pulls away again and surveys him with a smoldering gaze.

“Take me to bed, Hob,” he purrs.

“Oh, darling, absolutely,” Hob replies, scrambling up from the sofa and taking Dream’s hand to lead him to the bedroom. Then he freezes, struck by a sudden thought. “Er, quick question first. Is this really—I mean, am I awake right now, or…?”

Dream’s red, kiss-swollen lips twist into a fond smirk. “You are awake, Hob. But would it make any difference if you were not?”

“No,” Hob chuckles. “No, I s’pose it wouldn’t.”

Minutes later, they are entangled on Hob’s unmade bed, exploring each other hungrily with hands and lips and tongues and teeth. Hob is naked from the waist up, Dream having torn his shirt from his body with a fierce, otherworldly strength that was so startlingly arousing that Hob can’t even complain about the loss of his favorite button-down.

Dream sinks his delicate fingers into the thick pelt on Hob’s chest, humming approvingly into his mouth as he grinds against Hob’s thigh. Hob can feel his arousal through the soft fabric of his trousers, and he dips his hand beneath the waistband to squeeze the meager flesh of Dream’s arse. Dream goes still and inhales a sharp breath that Hob knows he doesn’t actually need.

“Hey. You alright?” Hob asks, withdrawing his hand and soothing it over Dream’s shoulder. “Sorry. I should have asked first. I know—after what you went through… I get it. We don’t have to keep going, love. Or we can, and you can keep—”

Dream cuts off his nervous babbling with a kiss. “I wish to continue. I trust you, Hob.”

Hob thinks he might explode from the affection that swells in him at those words. He beams at Dream and steals another quick, fervent kiss before peeling off his shirt.

“Look at you,” he breathes, drinking in the vision before him—Dream is utterly flawless. A marble statue come to life with creamy-white skin and elegant collarbones that flow into lithe, graceful shoulders and lean, well-muscled arms. “You’re so fucking beautiful I could cry, Dream,” Hob says raggedly as he runs his hands over smooth plane of Dream’s chest, circling his thumbs reverently around the firm, pink buds of his nipples.

Dream sighs and closes his eyes as he arches into Hob’s caress, dragging his fingers through the wealth of hair on Hob’s chest and continuing downwards, tracing the narrow trail down to the waistband of his trousers and unbuttoning them with nimble fingers.

Hob quickly shuffles out of his trousers and pants, groaning as his erect cock springs free. Dream’s eyes darken, the sky-blue of his irises nearly eclipsed by starry black as he (sweet Christ in heaven) licks his lips. “Hob,” he rumbles, his voice even deeper and silkier than usual. “You are. Exquisite.”

A laugh bubbles up from Hob’s throat unbidden. “Sorry. Sorry, it’s just—hearing that from you is… I mean, I can’t believe this is really happening, it’s like—”

“Hob,” Dream interrupts, raising his eyebrows and lifting his hips emphatically.

“Right. Sorry,” Hob says, bending down to unbutton Dream’s jeans. But just as his hand brushes over the zipper, the trousers vanish, leaving Dream totally nude with Hob’s hand just millimeters away from his flushed, heavy prick. “Someone’s eager,” he smiles, taking him in hand and gently stroking the delicate, velvety flesh. “Gods above, Dream, you have the most gorgeous cock I’ve ever seen.”

It really is lovely—long and slim and rosy, all wreathed in soft black curls. Even his balls are pretty; plump and pert and perfectly round. Hob wriggles down the bed and nuzzles into the hot, solid length, relishing the weight of it on his face. He licks from the base to the tip, laving his tongue over the leaking slit before mouthing his way back down to his balls, sucking on each of them in turn. Above him, Dream breathes heavily and lets out quiet little whimpers. Hob strokes his thighs—he’s so tense, his muscles taut as a bowstring beneath his silken skin.

“Relax, darling,” Hob says, placing a kiss to the bony jut of his pelvis. “I’ve got you. Just let go and enjoy yourself.” He returns to his task of exploring Dream’s cock with his tongue, and Dream takes a long, quivering breath, loosening a fraction as he exhales. Hob can’t help but feel a bit smug at the knowledge that he’s gotten Dream so worked up he’s apparently forgotten he doesn’t need to breathe. “That’s it, love. Let me take care of you.”

He takes Dream’s bollocks into his mouth again, then moves lower to give a tentative lick to his hole. Dream gasps and startles at that, and Hob hears a choked-off “ah!” somewhere above his head.

Hmm, interesting.

Hob raises his head to see Dream looking down at him in wonder, mouth agape and eyes glazed. His cheeks are flushed a deep rose, and glistening drops of pre-cum decorate the alabaster plane of his abdomen. Hob smiles up at him, tracing a finger around the tight, twitching furl of muscle. “Has anyone ever touched you here before?” he murmurs.

“No,” Dream replies in a trembling whisper.

“May I?” Hob asks gently?

“Please,” Dream sighs, and Hob nearly comes untouched on the spot.

He slides a pillow under Dream’s hips and pushes his thighs upwards, gliding his hands along the smooth white flesh and trailing light kisses down to his spread arse cheeks. “Gonna make you feel so good, love. Just promise you’ll tell me to stop if I do anything you don’t like, alright?”

He glances up to see Dream nodding frantically, his eyes wide and black and glittering. “Yes. I trust you, Hob,” he says again.

Hob grins before diving in and licking a stripe from his entrance to his bollocks and back down, circling his tongue around the rim and nibbling at the tender pucker of milky skin. Dream moans and keens beautifully as Hob thoroughly slicks his hole with saliva, slurping and suckling and reveling in the sensation of Dream’s hairless, baby-soft flesh against his cheeks and chin. He dips his tongue inside, and Dream wails while Hob hums and groans enthusiastically. Dream is hot inside, and he tastes of petrichor and electricity and something Hob can’t identify but that he knows down to the very foundations of his soul (dreams, his mind supplies. He tastes like dreams).

“Hob!” Dream gasps, his voice rough and rasping. “Please—please—!”

Hob works his tongue in deeper, then pulls back and jabs it in again and again, until Dream is mewling and sobbing and writhing in ecstasy. He thinks he doesn’t want? I could teach him to want. Eat him out for hours until he’s sobbing and begging to come.

Just as the vision materializes in his head, Dream howls and clenches around Hob’s tongue. “Yes! Yes, Hob, please please please—I want—ahh!”

Hob has long suspected that his old friend could read his mind, and this all but confirms it. He shivers as he realizes the potential there—the possibilities are, well, endless. Hob withdraws his tongue and glances up, only to be met with the most beautiful sight he’s ever witnessed: Dream, red-faced and panting, his chest heaving, his lovely prick rock hard and leaking steadily against his porcelain stomach.

“Look at you. So bloody gorgeous,” Hob says hoarsely. “How are you feeling, darling? Good?” Dream nods, and Hob smiles and nuzzles against the back of his thigh. “Be a dear and grab the lube? It’s just in the top drawer there.” He tilts his head in the direction of the nightstand and Dream twists around to procure the half-empty pump bottle.

“It is not necessary,” Dream mumbles once he’s remembered to catch his breath, though he nonetheless hands the bottle over. “You cannot hurt me.”

“I know,” Hob replies lightly, shrugging one shoulder. “All the same, I’d prefer not to risk it. Indulge me.”

Dream’s lip quirks and he huffs a tiny laugh before settling back onto the pillows, graciously allowing Hob to continue. Of course he’d be a pillow princess, Hob thinks fondly as he squirts a generous amount of lube onto his fingers, spreading it over Dream’s puffy, fluttering hole. He works a finger inside slowly, and Dream makes the sweetest little noises as Hob strokes his tight, satiny walls and brings his other hand to Dream’s throbbing cock. Dream moans and arches upward into his hand, sighing in relief as the tension begins to bleed from his body.

“That’s it, darling. You’re doing so well. Just let go,” Hob coos. He adds a second finger and finds Dream’s prostate, brushing over it teasingly on every other thrust. “You feel so bloody good inside. Would love to fuck you sometime. Want you to fuck me, too. I could ride that beautiful cock of yours all day. Would you like that, love?”

“Yes—Hob—anything—please!” Dream cries breathlessly, grinding down wantonly on Hob’s fingers.

“Mm, we’ll work up to that. Right now I’d like to get my mouth on you, and you’re not going to last much longer, are you sweetheart?”

“I can—” Dream begins what would no doubt have been a devastating retort, but it tapers off into a high, quavering whine as Hob lowers his mouth to his cock, sinking down in a slow glide until he can feel the bulbous head in the back of his throat, trickling a warm rivulet of pre-come. He swallows, and Dream’s hands fly to his hair, gripping tightly as he starts fucking furiously into Hob’s mouth. Hob groans and ruts his own aching cock against the mattress as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of Dream’s slick, clutching entrance. It’s raw and rough and animalistic, and Hob is more than happy to let Dream use him however he pleases right now; he might come just from this.

With no warning save for a guttural growl and a stutter of his hips, Dream comes down Hob’s throat in thick, hot spurts. He shudders and gasps, tugging roughly on Hob’s hair before abruptly going limp and boneless. Hob swallows down the last drops of spend and slowly pulls his mouth and fingers away, panting raggedly.

He crawls up the bed to wrap Dream in his arms, pressing gentle kisses to his neck and shoulders. “You did so well, love,” Hob whispers proudly. “So beautiful when you let go like that.”

Dream hums and grinds languidly against Hob’s still-hard prick where it rests between the cleft of his arse. He wriggles around in Hob’s hold and captures his mouth in a deep, desperate kiss. He trails his lips along Hob’s jaw, down his neck and chest, steadily traveling southward until he is face to face with Hob’s cock. It’s a bit shorter than Dream’s, albeit thicker, and darker-toned; not as pretty, in Hob’s opinion, though Dream would appear to disagree—he’s practically got hearts in his eyes as he glides his cheek along the hefty, engorged length. He glances hesitantly up at Hob through his thick lashes, looking almost shy.

“You don’t have to, love,” Hob smiles down at him, running his fingers through Dream’s downy, soot-dark hair. “I just wanted to make you feel good, is all.”

“Indeed?” Dream smirks. “I thought that you were teaching me to indulge. So. Won’t you indulge me?”

Hob lets out a delighted laugh. “Well, suppose I can’t argue with that.”

Dream makes a noise of agreement, then swiftly takes Hob’s cock into his mouth, swallowing him to the root in the blink of an eye. Hob gasps at the sudden velvety warmth enveloping his prick, and his hips jerk involuntarily. Dream stills him with surprisingly strong hands, pinning him down and bobbing his head in quick, fluid motions. Dream’s mouth is… fucking sublime. Christ’s bloody wounds, he’s good at this. Hob brings his hands to Dream’s hair, not pulling but stroking and kneading his scalp. Dream rumbles in approval, his deep moans vibrating through Hob’s cock, and Hob throws his head back against the pillows.

“Not gonna last,” he grunts in warning.

Dream only takes him deeper, hollowing out his cheeks and slurping hungrily as he bobs his head faster. Hob looks down to see Dream gazing up at him with a blissfully dazed expression, his forget-me-not blue eyes glassy and his cheeks streaked with tears. Hob is hit with a flash of deja vu; he’s fantasized about exactly this on many a lonely night over the centuries, though his imaginings never came close to the divine, earth-shattering perfection that is Dream’s mouth. He comes with a choked sob, flooding Dream’s mouth with a torrent of spend, and Dream’s eyes flutter shut as he swallows it down eagerly.

“I love you—!” The words escape unbidden in a breathless whisper, dragged forth from somewhere deep within the core of Hob’s being, unable to be contained any longer after being left unsaid for over 600 years. Hob doesn’t realize what he’s said until Dream freezes, tightening his grasp on Hob’s hips and digging his sharp fingernails into his flesh. Then, he’s crawling up Hob’s body like a tiger pinning its prey, steely eyes boring straight into his soul.

Fuck. Of course, had to go and fuck it all up, didn’t you?

“You mean that,” Dream intones, low and sonorous. It is not a question.

“Yes,” Hob replies softly, his voice wavering as he braces himself for the inevitable swirl of sand as Dream disappears.

Instead, Dream swoops down and captures Hob’s mouth in a savage, frenzied kiss, growling and digging his fingers possessively into Hob’s ribcage. He claims him with kisses and bites and scratches and bruises, descending on Hob like a starving man on a feast, and Hob is only too pleased to let Dream glut himself on him. Dream could devour him whole, if that would make him happy.

Once he has thoroughly left his mark, Dream runs his eyes over Hob’s body in apparent satisfaction before nestling into his side and draping himself over his chest. “I think,” Dream says, curling a tuft of chest hair around his long pale fingers, “that I feel the same. About you.” He buries his face in Hob’s neck, and Hob pulls him into a crushing embrace, beaming as he plants a kiss to the top of his head.

“So,” Hob laughs through joyous tears, “would you still say you’re just existing? Because I think we did a lot of living today.”

Dream huffs into his shoulder. “You make a convincing argument,” he concedes, his voice muffled. Then he raises his head to look at Hob, his eyes shining with amusement. “However, I believe I will need more evidence before I can draw an accurate conclusion.”

“Oh, just you wait, darling,” Hob grins. “I happen to be an expert on living, and I’m going to show you all the little things that make it worthwhile.”

Dream’s smile fades slightly at that. Hob brings a hand to his cheek, tilting Dream’s chin up and meeting him in a tender kiss. “Hey,” he whispers. “D’you want to tell me what’s been going on? It’s just… Clearly, something’s bothering you, love. And if there’s any way I can help… You know I’d do anything for you, Dream.”

“You have helped. More than you realize. And… I will tell you what has happened. What I have done. Not today, but… I will tell you. Though you may come to hate me for it,” Dream sighs heavily.

“I could never hate you,” Hob replies automatically. Because it’s true; he’d fallen arse over teakettle for Dream when he thought he was the actual devil. “Whatever happened, we’ll sort it out, eh?”

Dream simply stares at him for a long moment before speaking again. “What do you think happens to a character when their story has finished being told?”

“Er—” Hob doesn’t know what he was expecting Dream to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. Dream has him fixed with a piercing gaze, obviously awaiting a well-thought-out answer. “Well… I guess that’s up to the character do decide, isn’t it? Once the story is over, they’re free to do what they want, I suppose.” He shrugs. This discussion is far too deep for pillow talk.

Dream frowns, furrowing his brows as he considers. “I believe there is some merit to your words,” he pronounces thoughtfully. “I have long believed that I have no story of my own. Perhaps I am wrong.”

“Maybe you’re just in the wrong story,” Hob yawns. He’s honestly lost the thread a bit by this point, and he’s not entirely sure what they were talking about to begin with. But that feels like the right thing to say, and Dream evidently agrees as he rests his cheek on Hob’s chest, just over his heart.

“Perhaps,” Dream murmurs, almost inaudibly.

“Like I said,” Hob says, stroking lightly down his back. “We’ll sort it out.” He yawns again, then winces at the strain on his sore jaw. “Tomorrow, though. Because I am absolutely knackered, darling.”

Dream hums, burrowing contently into Hob’s hold. “Yes. Sleep, beloved. And dream of me.”

Hob chuckles drowsily. “I always do.”

✨✨✨

Thanks for reading! Reblogs, as well as kudos and comments on ao3 are always appreciated! 💗💗💗

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Sacrifices (BTR Series Book 2 of 3) a Jhea Fanfic.

Chapter 32: The Bitch Lied..

5:22 PM

Rhea pulled into the garage, the hum of the Tahoe's engine fading as she turned it off. She sat for a moment, staring at the folder on the passenger seat, still unable to wrap her mind around what had happened earlier. With a deep breath, she grabbed the folder and her backpack and headed inside through the garage door.

The house was quiet, the kind of calm that always greeted her when Jey was home and the boys were with their mom. She set everything down on the counter and called out, “Jey?”

“Coming!” his voice called back from upstairs.

Rhea hopped onto one of the bar stools, her fingers drumming on the counter as she waited. Moments later, Jey came down, dressed in a black tank and gray sweatpants, his hair still damp from a shower. He smiled, his presence immediately comforting. “Hey, babe. How was work?”

Rhea hesitated, her lips curving into a faint smile. “It was… great.”

Jey’s eyes flicked to the folder on the counter. “What’s that?”

Rhea stayed quiet, her expression unreadable. Without waiting for an answer, Jey grabbed the folder and flipped it open. His brows furrowed as he read the first line aloud. “‘You know, Kiddo, I’d like to believe that you’re aware enough even now to know that there’s nothing sadistic in my actions… I love you.’ King Cobra?”

Rhea nodded but didn’t say anything, watching as his eyes moved down the page.

Jey’s voice dropped an octave as he continued reading. “‘The items gifted include my estate property in Orlando, FL, and the sum of my bank accounts combined, which amount to $950,000,000 USD. I hope that they will serve their purpose with the utmost utility and continue to act as tokens of favor in your journey. I entrust their stewardship to you. Please understand that these assets are exempt from any claims, liens, and encumbrances and are being gifted to you without any obligations attached to them, except any relevant taxes associated with the transfer, if necessary.’”

Jey’s mouth hung open as he set the folder down, his eyes wide as they locked on hers. “Nine hundred and fifty million dollars?”

Rhea sighed, her shoulders slumping. “It’s from Morris. He left it to me. Brandy came by today to tell me. I guess he never trusted anyone else with his money.”

Jey blinked, still trying to process the words. “He trusted you? That much?”

Rhea nodded slowly. “Yeah. I don’t even know why he thought I’d want this. I mean, what am I supposed to do with it? I didn’t even ask for this.”

Jey ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. “First off…” He walked around the counter, standing in front of her and placing his hands on her thighs. “This doesn’t change us. Okay? Even though you’re now almost as rich as Kim Kardashian.”

Rhea let out a surprised laugh, shaking her head. “Jey, come on.”

“I’m serious,” Jey said, his lips twitching into a grin. “I don’t care if you’ve got a billion dollars or zero dollars. You’re still my Rhea. This doesn’t change a damn thing about us.”

Rhea reached out, grabbing his hands. “Thank you.” Her voice softened. “It’s just… overwhelming. I don’t even know where to start with this.”

“You don’t have to figure it out right now,” Jey said, squeezing her hands. “We’ll take it one step at a time. And you’re not in this alone. We’ll handle it together, yeah?”

Rhea nodded, her chest feeling a little lighter. “Yeah. Together.” Rhea pulled Jey into a tight embrace, her voice soft as she murmured, “I’m so glad to have you.”

Jey returned the hug, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I am too.”

After a moment, they broke apart, and Rhea walked over to the guinea pig’s cage, smiling as she reached in to stroke Bartholomew’s soft fur.

Jey leaned against the counter, watching her. He hesitated for a moment, clearly debating whether to speak. Finally, he said, “Rhea, actually… babe, I have to ask you a question.”

Rhea glanced over her shoulder, her hand still gently petting the guinea pig. “Go ahead, babe. What’s on your mind?”

Jey hesitated again, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s… a little off.”

Noticing the shift in his tone, Rhea turned fully to face him, her brows furrowed. “What is it, love?” she asked, concern creeping into her voice as she studied his expression.

Jey took a deep breath, his eyes meeting hers. “Did you ever… do anything with Morris?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, heavy with unspoken meaning.

Rhea blinked, momentarily stunned. “What?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jey shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I mean… you said he trusted you with everything, his money, his estate. That’s a lot for someone to just… hand over. It’s making me wonder if there was ever… anything more between you two.”

Rhea’s jaw tightened as she took a step closer to him. “You’re seriously asking me that?”

Jey raised his hands, sensing the edge in her tone. “Babe, I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just asking. It’s been bothering me since I read that letter.”

Rhea crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. She took a deep breath, deciding that honesty was the best course. “You said you wanted us to be more truthful… okay, Jey. We did make out a few times, but it never went past that. It was a long time ago, and it meant nothing. I didn’t think it was worth bringing up because it was so insignificant.”

Jey’s expression remained unreadable as he absorbed her words.

After a moment, he simply nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. Without saying anything further, he turned and walked upstairs to their bedroom, leaving Rhea standing by Bartholomew’s cage, her heart pounding in her chest.

She watched him go, a sinking feeling settling in her stomach.

Bartholomew squeaked softly, as if sensing the tension in the room.

Rhea sighed, leaning against the counter as she tried to process the sudden shift in their evening.

She knew they would need to talk more, but for now, she gave Jey the space he seemed to need, hoping that their honesty would ultimately strengthen their bond.

—

Rhea stirred the vegetables together and quickly flipped the grilled chicken, her movements precise yet distracted. Jey still hadn’t come downstairs, but she prepared a portion for him nonetheless. After serving her plate, she poured herself a glass of pink lemonade and sat down, trying to focus on her meal.

A sudden kick in her stomach drew her attention, and she gently placed a hand over the spot, smiling softly. “I know, sweetie… Daddy’s just upset right now. Sometimes, even when Mommy did something before she was with him, it feels like it’s her fault.”

She sighed, her thoughts drifting to the conversation they’d had earlier. The weight of unspoken words and unresolved tension hung heavily in the air, mingling with the aroma of the meal she’d prepared.

Taking a deep breath, Rhea resolved to give Jey the space he seemed to need, hoping that time would help heal the rift between them. She knew that open communication was essential, but for now, she would wait for him to come to her when he was ready.

As she ate in silence, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of loneliness, the empty chair across from her a reminder of the distance that had grown between them. Yet, with each gentle movement from the life growing inside her, she found a renewed sense of hope and determination to navigate this challenging time together.

Jey walked down the steps, his movements deliberate as he approached the kitchen. He grabbed the plate Rhea had prepared for him and poured himself a glass of water. His steps were slow as he made his way to the table, where Rhea was already seated. He sat down across from her, his eyes focused on his meal, not saying a word.

Attempting to lighten the mood, Rhea offered a small smile and said, “I met with Kendrick Lamar today to discuss the music for your return.”

Jey’s eyes flickered up briefly, and he responded with a curt, “That’s good.” His tone was flat, and it was clear he wasn’t in the mood for conversation.

Rhea’s smile faltered, and she looked down at her plate, the weight of the silence between them pressing heavily on her chest. She took a deep breath, deciding to give him the space he seemed to need, hoping that time would help mend the rift between them.

As they ate in silence, the only sounds in the room were the clinking of utensils against plates and the occasional squeak from Bartholomew’s cage. The atmosphere was tense, each of them lost in their own thoughts, the earlier conversation still hanging heavily in the air.

After finishing his meal, Jey stood up, taking his plate to the sink without a word. He glanced at Rhea briefly, his expression unreadable, before turning and heading back upstairs, leaving Rhea alone with her thoughts and the lingering tension between them.

Rhea sighed softly, her hand instinctively moving to her stomach, seeking comfort in the life growing within her.

—

9:48 PM

Rhea brushed her damp hair slowly, her reflection in the mirror revealing the storm of emotions she had been trying to suppress all evening. Her eyes lingered on her baby bump, and she took a deep breath. Jey was her partner, her love, the father of her child—and the distance between them tonight felt unbearable. If they didn’t talk now, when would they?

Determined to bridge the gap, she slipped into a black babydoll that hugged her body in all the right places, accentuating her shoulders and allowing her growing belly to be beautifully visible. She knew Jey couldn’t resist her in this; she was banking on that soft spot in his heart to bring him closer. She walked to the bed with a quiet confidence, though her heart was racing.

Jey looked up as she entered the room, his eyes instantly drawn to her. His gaze softened as he took her in, but there was still a hint of the tension from earlier lingering on his face.

“You’re making it hard,” Jey muttered, a faint smirk pulling at the corners of his lips despite himself.

“Good,” Rhea replied softly, climbing into bed beside him. She pressed her hands against his chest, urging him to wrap his arms around her. “Hold me, baby.”

Jey didn’t hesitate, pulling her close and resting his chin on the top of her head. The warmth of his embrace made Rhea feel safe, but she knew they couldn’t let this moment pass without addressing what had been left unsaid.

“I just want us to be okay,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat. “I want to be honest with you, Jey, but I can’t do that if I’m afraid of how you’ll react.”

Jey’s arms tightened slightly around her, his chest rising and falling in a deep sigh. “I love you, Demi,” he said, his voice low and serious. “I always have. But hearing about Morris—it messed with me. It’s not even about him. It’s just… I hate the idea of you being with anyone else, even before me.”

Rhea pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, her own filled with understanding. “I get it. I really do. But Jey, my past isn’t something I can erase, and it’s not something I’m proud of. It’s just… there. A part of me. But that doesn’t change how much I love you and only you.”

Jey nodded, though his jaw was still tight. “I know that. I do. But it’s hard, you know? I’m not trying to hold it against you—it’s just the thought of it… it’s eating at me.”

Rhea reached up and cupped his face, her thumbs gently brushing his cheekbones. “Then let’s deal with it together. Talk to me when you’re upset. Let it out. Don’t hold it in and let it fester, Jey. That’s not what we do, is it?”

He shook his head, his expression softening further. “No. That’s not what we do.”

“Exactly,” she said, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead. “Our pasts are just that—the past. Let’s focus on what’s ahead of us: our future, our baby. That’s what matters.”

Jey exhaled deeply, finally letting some of the tension in his shoulders go. “You’re right. I don’t want to let this ruin what we’ve got. I don’t want old ghosts messing with us. It’s just… I needed time to sort it out in my head.”

“And I get that,” Rhea said. “But you have to promise me something.”

“Anything,” Jey replied, his hands resting on her hips.

“Promise me you’ll tell me how you’re feeling—good or bad. Don’t shut me out. That’s all I ask.”

“I promise,” Jey said firmly, his eyes locking with hers. “I’ll do better. For us.”

Rhea smiled, the tension in the room dissipating as they leaned into each other. “I love you,” she murmured.

“I love you too,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her lips.

In that moment, as they lay intertwined, the weight of the earlier tension seemed to lift. They both knew their journey wasn’t perfect, but their commitment to each other was unwavering. Together, they would face whatever came next.

Jey kissed Rhea softly, his lips moving slowly as if he wanted to savor in her lips. He pulled back slowly, gazing into her eyes with an intensity that made her heart skip a few beats. There was a quiet tenderness between them, one that spoke volumes without the need for words.

“So, have you thought about any names for Baby Boy Fatu?” Jey asked, his voice soft, filled with love and curiosity.

Rhea, still basking in the warmth of his embrace, ran her hand over her baby bump with a thoughtful smile. “I like Jeyson,” she said, her eyes meeting his, her voice carrying a sense of certainty.

Jey’s face lit up with a wide smile, his eyes twinkling with affection as he took in the name. “How do you spell that one?” he asked, his tone playful but full of admiration.

“J-E-Y-S-O-N,” Rhea replied, her voice gentle as she repeated the name, feeling it roll off her tongue. She loved how it felt, how it connected them. “It just feels right.”

Jey nodded, his smile growing as he processed the name. “I like it,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Jeyson Fatu. That’s our son. Sounds like a champion already.”

Rhea smiled, feeling the warmth of his words settle deep in her heart. It was a feeling she couldn’t quite put into words, the way he made everything feel possible, the way he made her feel like the luckiest woman alive. “I’m glad you like it,” she whispered, her voice carrying a mix of love and relief.

Jey leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers, their noses brushing lightly. “I’m always gonna love whatever you choose, Demi. This little one—he’s already everything to me. He’s gonna be perfect, just like you.”

Rhea felt the familiar flutter in her chest at his words. Every time Jey spoke, every time he looked at her, it was as if her world brightened. He had this way of making her feel seen, cherished, and understood in a way that no one else ever could. She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him, holding him close as if she never wanted to let go. “I feel the same way about you,” she whispered against his chest. “You and Jeyson are my world. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

Jey tightened his arms around her, the deep sense of connection between them palpable. He kissed the top of her head gently, his voice soft and filled with emotion. “You know, I’ve been through a lot in my life, but nothing has ever felt as right as this. You and me, Demi… and now Jeyson. This is what I’ve always wanted, what I never knew I needed.”

Rhea pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes shining with the same love that he always gave her. “I never knew, either, until I met you. But you—you make everything feel so complete. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jey.”

—

Flashback – December 25th, 2019

The soft hum of the Christmas lights cast a warm glow in the cramped two-bedroom apartment Rhea shared with Demetri. She watched him tear open the neatly wrapped box she had handed him, her heart eager for his reaction. Inside was a sleek pair of Vans, a style she knew he had been eyeing for months.

“Thank you, babe!” Demetri grinned, leaning over to kiss her. His lips were warm, but something about the gesture felt mechanical, lacking the spark she once cherished.

Before she could revel in the moment, Demetri’s phone vibrated loudly against the coffee table. He glanced at the screen, his face tightening. “Give me a sec,” he muttered, standing and disappearing into the hallway to answer the call.

Rhea sat back, her smile fading, and turned to Dustin, who was still perched on the couch, sifting through his own modest pile of gifts. “Did you like your Christmas gifts?” she asked, hoping to distract herself from the uneasy feeling growing in her chest.

“Yeah,” Dustin replied, but his voice was hollow, his gaze fixed on the floor.

Rhea frowned, leaning forward. “What’s wrong?” she pressed gently.

Dustin shrugged, his expression hardening. “It’s just… another holiday where I have to go back to my mom’s after this,” he said, his tone laced with quiet bitterness.

“I’m sorry,” Rhea said softly, her heart aching for him. But before she could say more, Dustin cut her off, his voice rising with frustration.

“Don’t even try,” he snapped, his eyes meeting hers for the first time. “He could take you in, but he can’t take me in. What does that say about me?”

Rhea’s throat tightened. She opened her mouth to respond, but the weight of his words left her speechless. Dustin shook his head and stood abruptly, retreating to the other bedroom without another glance. The door closed with a muted thud, leaving Rhea alone with her swirling thoughts.

A few minutes later, Demetri returned, his phone still in his hand. “I have to go see Morris,” he said, his tone clipped.

Rhea frowned, her unease deepening. “About what?”

“It actually doesn’t concern you, believe it or not,” Demetri replied sharply as he grabbed his coat and keys. Without waiting for a response, he walked out, leaving Rhea sitting in stunned silence.

That night, the apartment felt colder than usual. The joy of Christmas was long gone, replaced by a gnawing emptiness that settled in Rhea’s chest. She spent hours staring at the Christmas tree, its twinkling lights mocking the loneliness she felt.

12:31 AM

The soft glow of a bedside lamp illuminated the room where Demetri and Valerie lay tangled in a sea of tangled sheets. Valerie leaned on one elbow, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on Demetri’s chest. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes as she spoke.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Valerie murmured, her voice a seductive purr.

Demetri smirked, his hand trailing over her bare shoulder. “I did too,” he replied smoothly before shifting the topic. “What happened with Charles? Why’d you come back so early?”

Valerie let out a throaty laugh, tossing her long hair over one shoulder. “Morris wanted him to teach me all that crap he taught you and Mamba. Hated every second of it,” she admitted with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

Demetri chuckled, his grin widening. “Maybe it’s because you don’t like people telling you what to do,” he teased, his voice dripping with amusement.

Valerie sighed dramatically, her tone turning venomous. “I just wish someone would put Charles out of his misery already. I mean, come on—55 years old and still teaching Morris’ ‘love interests.’” She arched a brow and gave Demetri a pointed look. “Which begs the question… you’re not a love interest, are you?”

Demetri burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking as he threw his head back. “At one point, he considered me a son,” he admitted, the laughter still lingering in his voice.

Valerie tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “What changed?” she asked, her tone quieter now, more serious.

Demetri’s smile faded slightly, his gaze growing distant. “I brought Mamba in,” he said simply. “After that, Morris focused all his effort on her. She became his new project, and I was… pushed aside.”

Valerie studied him for a moment, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Well, that’s Morris for you. Always moving on to the next shiny thing.”

Demetri shrugged, his expression unreadable. “It is what it is,” he said, his tone resigned.

Valerie leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear. “You’ve always been more than just a ‘shiny thing,’ Demetri,” she whispered, her voice a soft caress.

Demetri turned his head to meet her gaze, a flicker of something—regret, maybe—passing through his eyes. But before he could respond, Valerie pressed her lips to his, silencing whatever words had been forming.

For a brief moment, the world outside the dirty motel room faded away, leaving only the two of them and the tangled mess of their shared history.

—

7:36 AM

The next morning, the sound of the front door opening jolted her awake. Demetri walked in, his expression unreadable, and headed straight past her toward Dustin’s room. But as he passed, Rhea caught the faint but unmistakable scent of vanilla perfume lingering in the air. Her stomach turned. She didn’t wear vanilla perfume.

Demetri knocked on the bedroom door. “Dustin, come on. Get your gifts. I gotta take you to Mom’s,” he called out.

Rhea stood from the couch, her fists clenching at her sides. “Where did you go?” she demanded, her voice low but trembling with anger.

Demetri didn’t even glance at her. “I told you—I went to Morris’,” he said casually, as if the lie wasn’t written all over his face.

“Really?” Rhea spat, her voice rising. “Then why the fuck do you smell like Valerie?”

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap, and before Rhea could process what was happening, Demetri’s hand lashed out, the sharp sting of his slap making her stumble back.

“You don’t get to talk to me about what I do behind your back,” he hissed, his voice cold and venomous.

Rhea’s hand flew to her cheek, tears stinging her eyes as the betrayal sank in. Motherfucker…

Dustin emerged from his room, his arms full of gifts, his eyes darting nervously between them. He didn’t say a word as he followed Demetri out of the apartment, leaving Rhea standing alone in the silence once more.

—

11:21 AM

Valerie sat stiffly, her eyes locked on Morris as he loomed over her with a look of cold disdain. His voice was sharp, cutting through the silence with venom.

“You say you want to be more than just my pleasure toy?” Morris began, his tone low and mocking. “You say you want to be part of my shipments? Work with Mamba? You say you want all these nice things, all these great opportunities… but what do you do?”

Valerie clenched her jaw, her lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t respond, didn’t flinch.

Morris leaned closer, his voice rising. “You give up after three months. Three months! Mamba? She had less time, less chances, and mastered everything I taught her. But you?” He gestured at her dismissively. “You’re nothing but excuses.”

Valerie’s eyes flashed with defiance. “Well, I’m not your precious Mamba, now am I?” she spat, her voice laced with venom.

Morris straightened up, his face darkening as he stepped toward her menacingly. The room seemed to grow colder as his shadow fell over her.

“Consider yourself done,” he said with finality.

Valerie’s defiance faltered for the briefest moment. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Morris chuckled, the sound cold and merciless. “I mean, I don’t have a use for you anymore. You’re out. The only I will need you is when I need a quick fix. That’s all you’re good for now.”

Valerie shot to her feet, her voice trembling with anger. “You’ll regret this.”

Morris tilted his head, a cruel smirk spreading across his face. “Oh? Are you threatening me?”

Valerie’s hands clenched into fists. “I’m going to tell Demetri,” she hissed, her eyes narrowing. “I’m going to tell him you’ve been screwing Rhea.”

Morris laughed, the sound echoing in the room like a dark symphony. “And I know you’ve been screwing Demetri,” he shot back without missing a beat, his smirk growing wider.

Valerie froze, her breath catching in her throat.

Morris leaned in, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “Why do you think I don’t care when you leave? Why do you think I don’t chase after you? You’re nothing to me, Valerie. Nothing.”

Her confidence crumbled under the weight of his words, and she felt the sting of humiliation settle in her chest. She tried to keep her face composed, but the lump in her throat betrayed her.

Morris straightened, brushing invisible dust from his suit as if the conversation bored him. “Now get out of my sight,” he said dismissively, turning his back to her.

Valerie stood frozen, her mind racing with emotions—anger, humiliation, and a simmering desire for revenge. But for now, she did as she was told. She turned and walked out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

As she made her way down the dimly lit hallway, Valerie muttered under her breath, “You’ll regret this, Morris. You’ll regret all of it.”

—

April 5th, 2022

The room was dimly lit, with the cold fluorescent light flickering slightly above the steel table. Valerie sat stiffly in the chair, her hands resting on the edge of the table, fingers tapping anxiously. Across from her, an FBI agent slid a stack of papers across the table, his expression calm but scrutinizing.

“These are the list of names involved in this operation?” the agent asked, his voice steady but probing.

Valerie glanced at the papers before nodding, her face neutral, betraying none of the turmoil beneath the surface. “Yes,” she replied.

The agent leaned back in his chair, studying her. “We’ve heard of another person involved, nicknamed the Black Mamba. Any idea who that could be?”

Valerie froze for the briefest moment, her heart skipping a beat, but she quickly masked her reaction. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “No idea.”

The agent’s gaze lingered on her, as though he could see right through her. He tapped his pen against the table before nodding, as if accepting her answer—for now.

“And in exchange for your cooperation,” he continued, flipping through the papers, “you want full relocation services to Phoenix?”

Valerie nodded again, her voice steady despite the knot forming in her stomach. “Yes. I want a fresh start.”

The agent slid a pen across the table toward her. “Okay,” he said, his tone formal. “Sign here.”

Valerie hesitated for a fraction of a second before picking up the pen. Her hand hovered over the paper, her mind racing. This was it. The decision that would change everything. Her past, her alliances, her future—it all rested on this signature.

As the pen hit the paper, she signed her name with a flourish, sealing her deal with the government.

The agent took the papers and stood up, collecting them into a neat stack. “You’ve made the right choice,” he said, giving her a curt nod before walking to the door.

Valerie sat back in her chair, exhaling deeply as the weight of her decision settled on her shoulders. She whispered to herself, “Fresh start… fresh lies.”

—

May 31st, 2022 Flashback

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the cemetery as Dustin stood frozen, his eyes glued to the hole in the earth. The coffin containing his older brother, Demetri, was now out of sight, but the weight of its presence crushed him. His hands trembled as he clenched them into fists, trying to hold back the tears that burned in his eyes.

His mother had gently touched his shoulder before leaving earlier, offering a hollow “Take your time,” but Dustin barely registered it. His father, as distant as ever, had left without a word. They didn’t grieve for Demetri—not like Dustin did.

The world saw Demetri as nothing more than a drug dealer, a man who lived and died in violence. But to Dustin, he was more than that. He was his brother—the man who protected him when no one else would, who made sure he had food to eat when their parents didn’t care.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at the freshly packed dirt. The air grew cooler, and the sounds of the city faded as night crept in. The silence was broken by the sound of footsteps behind him.

Dustin turned to see a woman approaching, her figure barely illuminated by the dim streetlights surrounding the cemetery. She was tall, with dark, striking features that seemed both familiar and out of place.

“I knew your brother,” she said, her voice soft but steady.

Dustin squinted at her. “How?” he asked, his voice hoarse from hours of silence.

Valerie hesitated for a moment, folding her arms across her chest. “We worked together,” she said finally, her words heavy with unspoken meaning.

Dustin’s brow furrowed. “You mean… in his business?”

Valerie nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. “Yes.”

Dustin’s breath hitched, and he turned back toward the grave. “Do you know how he died?” he asked, his voice trembling. “My parents… they haven’t told me anything. They just said it’s done. That’s all.”

There was a long pause before Valerie answered, her voice quieter now. “She killed him,” she said, her words laced with bitterness.

Dustin spun around to face her, his eyes wide. “Who?”

Valerie took a deep breath, her gaze locking with his. “Rhea,” she lied. “It was self-defense… or at least, that’s what she says.”

Dustin staggered back a step, as though the words had struck him physically. “No,” he whispered, shaking his head. “No, that’s not true.”

Valerie stepped closer, her voice growing firmer. “It is. I was there. She did it. Your brother may not have been perfect, but he didn’t deserve that.” She lied again.

Tears spilled down Dustin’s cheeks as he stared at her, his heart shattering into pieces. He couldn’t reconcile the brother he loved with the story Valerie was telling. Nor could he actually believe that Rhea would kill Demetri.

“Why are you telling me this?” Dustin asked, his voice breaking.

“Because you deserve to know the truth,” Valerie said. “And because no one else will tell you.”

Dustin turned back toward the grave, his shoulders slumping under the weight of her words. The night stretched on, heavy and suffocating, as he stood there, grappling with a truth he didn’t want to believe.

[vixsims]

more lore brainstorming, again about another suspicious death.

There are so many great theories abt Skip Broke's death. Did Brandi kill him for insurance money? Did his life of crime finally catch up to him? Was it his time-traveling self / evil clone !!?

But what if it was something as simple as....a few unpaid bills and an accident turned cover-up?

Set the scene, Skip Broke is enjoying a relaxing soak in his tiny pool when....the Repo-man shows up. Uh-oh, looks like the Brokes were behind on their bills again. Oh well, there goes the TV, Skip thinks. Except, no. This time the Repo-man goes for the pool ladder.

Leaving Skip stranded the Repo-man continues to repossess a few more items while Skip panics as his needs decrease to fatal levels. When the Repo-man returns outside it's to find a grave beside the pool. Not wanting to get in trouble, he quickly pops the grave into his inventory and flees the lot.

Later, Brandi comes home from work and she just knows Skip is dead the way sims close to one another always do. However, finding no grave in sight she immediately becomes suspicious. She calls the authorities, and like Dina with Michael, claims someone did something, but once again the cops are useless and don't believe her! Instead they make assumptions and decide Skip must have skipped out on his family and run off with someone else, faking his death. After all, there is no gravestone and there's always a gravestone. Besides, a murder investigation? That means more work, and if there's anything SimCity cops hate it's work.

Repo-man has never been caught and continues to live comfortably in SimCity, going around to all nearby towns to gleefully repossess their items.

Eventually, Dina and Brandi become close friends, unlikely pair that they are, as they bond over the mysterious deaths of their husbands and the ineptitude of the SimCity Police Department. Together they start a support group for Family of the Mysteriously Disappeared and Deceased. With funds from Dina's days as a reality TV star and a hefty donation from Mortimer Goth after the disappearance of Bella, the group hires Detective Dan D. Mann to look into these disappearances...

[plumbogs]

i fully believe that the broke family's pinball machine came about because one day skip won literally like $150 on a scratch off and instead of buying food diapers a cute gift for his wife ANYTHING he went right to a stupid pawn shop and loaded that thing dangerously into his truck. not strapped down right or anything just raw in the bed held on with prayers. then had the nerve to tell brandi it was a birthday gift for dustin (his birthday was 3 months ago)

[brabblesblog]

Ch 19: There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear

Astarion has ascended, and she has stayed with him. Life in the Crimson Palace isn’t as idyllic as it seems. Is there a chance for their relationship to go back to how it was? Or is it too late for the Ascendant and his consort?

This series is about Ban, my Tav, and the Vampire Ascendant. Will be angst and smut, with sprinkles of fluff.

This fic is a softer take on Ascendant!Astarion and of the changes he undergoes after the rite. Can Ban handle the change, and if a chance came, would she choose to run? And can the Ascendant win her back in time? Inspired by the concept of vampire wives and that IGN interview with Larian that discussed the ascension.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

Two months after the trip to Reithwin, the Ascendant and his consort celebrate their first year in power.

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

Ban stood on the balcony, savoring a quiet moment before the guests arrived. With their numerous trips throughout Faerûn in the past two months, they’d only just barely managed to organize a party to celebrate the Ascendant’s first year in power.

Another night, another party. It should’ve been quite trite by now, except this was the first event they were hosting together since they’d reconciled. How things would be different, she couldn’t exactly guess; they hadn’t really discussed anything beyond the usual reservations and planning.

Planning that had not gone too well, incidentally. She had booked the caterers a little late, resulting in a lack of ingredients available for purchase in the market, which had in turn caused a delay in the delivery of the hors d'oeuvres to the palace.

Hands on the railing, Ban looked over the city sprawled before her. She was relieved the party had mostly fallen into place, the preparations having been slightly more challenging than they would have been, had she and Astarion not been constantly on the move the entire time. Not that it would have made any difference regarding the catering, though - she had just plainly forgotten.

Ban shut her eyes for a moment, failing to hear the near-silent footfalls behind her.

“Love.”

His voice was a soft murmur, his hands wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her close. He breathed in her scent, the fragrance matching his own: the faint smell of death, masked by bergamot, rosemary, and brandy. Beautiful as always, he thought, peeking at her face, although he couldn’t help the small worry that rose in his chest at the expression he found there. Tired, yes, he could tell - but of what?

She leaned into his touch.

They watched the world go by, watching the passage of time as they themselves remained timeless.

“Been an interesting year,” Ban said, turning her head to look at him. His gaze had shifted towards the city, but a smile broke across his features at her words; she watched his smile lines crease. He was dressed in black trimmed with gold tonight; the outfit never failed to make her weak in the knees.

“Hm. Nothing more significant than anything in the past two centuries,” he teased. His smile widened a fraction more, the tip of his fangs peeking out. The worry he’d initially felt eased a little, smoothed over by the sight of her relaxing in his presence and rather visibly admiring him.

She scoffed, nudging his side with her elbow.

“Your ascension’s not significant enough?”

The smile shifted again, becoming more pensive. “You would think it the most important thing, but no.” Astarion leaned down a little, just enough so that his breaths ghosted over the shell of her ear, making her shiver. He liked that, liked her responding to him in such a reflexive manner - as if she still couldn’t help how she felt for him, despite everything that had happened.

Astarion pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “This. This is what’s important.”

He let go of her waist, moving in front of her, blocking her view of Baldur’s Gate in an attempt to get her to focus on his words. The thought of what this day represented made his eyes go impossibly soft, a little guilt seeping into his voice.

“It’s also been a year since I turned you, you know?”

Ban considered that for a moment. A year since she’d technically died, reborn into this unlife in her lover’s arms. A decision that could have honestly gone horribly wrong - and for a while, it had.

Did she resent him for it? A question without any real answers. It should probably be a resounding yes, given the turbulent times that had come afterwards, but the truth was that she didn’t regret anything, because it all led to being in this moment with him.

“Do you ever regret that? Turning me?” she asked, waiting as he searched for a response, his face unreadable.

Astarion had expected the question; after all, he was the one who brought up changing her. That didn’t mean he’d actually prepared a good response, though.

“Don’t be upset,” he began, “but no, not really.”

His eyes immediately locked onto her face, searching for signs of her withdrawing into herself. It had become a reflex for him to do so whenever he said something risky. He figured if she wouldn’t talk, he could explain the moment he noticed her beginning to retreat.

Ban didn’t, thankfully. Instead she crossed her arms over her chest - not the best reaction, but neither was it the worst.

They obviously had the same answer about her being turned, she thought, but there was still the rather interesting question of why he felt that way.

“Because I would have aged, and why would the Ascendant want to be with some old crone, huh?” She tried to keep it light, smirking.

Astarion shook his head. “Because I don’t want to lose you to something as pedestrian as time.” That much was true. The idea of losing her was already inconceivable to him, but especially to something as avoidable as age? Something he could easily remedy with a bite?

He offered her a hand, which she took; he pressed hers against his chest. “I want you here, with me, forever. And turning you was essential to that, as… as unsavory as it is to think that I may have pressured you into it.” The other hand wrapped around the small of her back, pulling her closer.

“You did give me a choice,” Ban reminded him, as a gesture of conciliation and comfort; he dipped his head in acknowledgment of this grace.

“There was, of course, a degree of selfishness there, too.” He didn’t elaborate; they both knew that possessiveness had taken him over, made him keep her inside the Palace for months. That possessiveness had been born of fear and hurt and anger, but had damaged them nevertheless.

“I don’t really want to talk about it, Astarion,” she replied quickly. She wasn’t hiding; but she wanted tonight not to be about the darkest parts of their past. “We’ve said everything that needs to be said on the matter.”

He bit his lip. “I merely wanted you to know I haven’t forgotten.” That he kept what he’d done in mind; that he was trying, even if things seemed well enough now. His eyes tried to convey what he’d been denied the chance to say; they were round and pleading, asking for her understanding.

Ban’s eyes softened as she saw the earnestness in his. “I know. But I don’t really want nor need you to remind me just how much of an arse you were. Trust me, I remember plenty.”

Embarrassed, Astarion laughed, conceding the point. He took the moment to retreat to safer waters; it had begun feeling a little too charged for a casual conversation with his wife.

“Fine, darling. Whatever you wish, even if it’s deluding yourself into thinking I’m not that person anymore.”

“Oh, I know you’re still just as horrible as you were back then,” she teased back, “To others, at least.”

He made an affronted noise and opened his mouth to retort, but Ban shushed him, brooking no argument.

“Don’t you remember this afternoon?” She smirked.

Fingers snapping, he stalked through the ballroom.

“Where’s the food? Did we not schedule it to arrive by highsun?”

The head caterer approached him, swallowing past a lump in her throat.

“My lord, it’s just been delayed a few hours. We didn’t have the time to prepare, with such short notice and-”

“Short notice?” He glared down at her, daring her to interrupt. “You’re saying it’s my wife’s fault? We paid exorbitant amounts of coin with the expectation of exceptional service, and that includes being on time - regardless of when we put the order in.”

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed her. “Now run along and get the hors d'oeuvres in, lest I change my mind about hiring you lot.”

“To be completely fair, darling,” Astarion said, “I was doing it to defend your honor.”

The mirth was still there, the slight tease in his voice that protested but I did it for you! - obviously not his only reason, but he’d run it into the ground if he could get away with it.

“Sure you were,” Ban responded, amused. “I have to admit it’s rather adorable of you, though.”

Astarion scoffed, but did not object.

Instead he stilled, allowing the quiet to stretch between them. They gazed at one another, savoring the feel of the other’s presence as they reveled in their mutual affection.

Astarion eventually broke the silence.

“I may have something for you tonight. An idea.” He was nervous, part of him already reconsidering bringing it up. “You needn’t say yes.”

Ban tilted her head at him, curious. “If it’s another gift from Halsin, Astarion-”

“No!” He said, a tad too quickly, a little offended she thought he’d accept more advice from the druid on sex. On any damn topic, really.

“Well- I mean- it kind of is? Not a gift from Halsin, but it’s within the general vicinity of that topic.” Astarion cleared his throat. “To be clear, I mean sex.”

“Spill it,” she said, her eyes crinkling as she tried to hold back a laugh. It was only lately that Astarion had felt comfortable enough to be visibly flustered around her again, instead of being, well, angry, and she cherished each instance of it.

Astarion drew himself up, squaring his shoulders, trying his best to regain his composure and seem unconcerned. He shifted gears, deciding to play the rake again. If nothing else, it would at least make her laugh.

“I was just thinking. You’ve been so wonderful to me, so willing to try out delightful new experiences.”

He smirked; eyes dropping into that half-lidded gaze that had stolen the hearts of countless people, but most importantly - had stolen hers. Astarion was still nervous, but he mastered himself and proceeded with his plan.

“It got me thinking about this idea - ceaselessly - and what better time to bring it up than our - I suppose our anniversary? Every wicked turn deserves another, after all. So - when we make love tonight, when it’s just you and me… would you be willing to let me lead?” he purred. There was a hint of mischief in his gaze, but there was also trepidation - they both knew exactly what had happened in the past, and how those previous instances of Astarion taking charge within the bedroom could have affected Ban.

He wasn’t doing this as repayment for trying out new things with him, especially as he knew she was likely to decline. Instead, he offered it as a way for him to demonstrate progress: a subtle plea for her to surrender herself to him and trust him, the way he had done for her.

All that, and a little bit of fun, of course.

Ban couldn’t help her body’s reflexive response, stiffening. The request wasn’t something she’d expected to hear in her near future, perhaps even at all, ever again, and she immediately felt the instinct to hide - for a moment, she allowed it to rule her, lifting her hand from his chest. Astarion, ever vigilant when it came to her, noticed immediately.

“Love, no,” he urged, his demeanor quickly shifting to one of concern. He was already regretting running his stupid mouth without thinking through all of her possible responses. “We do not have to. Don’t ever have to, if that is what you want.”

He felt her hand pulling further away. “Don’t. Don’t do that.”

He felt himself becoming more anxious, unsure how to defuse the situation before she could withdraw even more. Frantic, he spoke the only word that could.

“Please.”

Relax. Ban forced her hand to stop, allowing Astarion to gently press it back down against his heart; she felt it hammering beneath her palm. She wanted to comfort him; she also wanted to give him an answer that was genuine.

She mulled over his request. He kept his eyes on her; the picture of patience, although he wished to be anything but.

“I can try,” she ventured. She wasn’t completely sure she could handle it, but she couldn’t deny that there was an appeal in having Astarion dominate her again.

It had been good, once upon a time, back in the Shadow-Cursed lands. She remembered when they’d still been exploring each other’s bodies, what the other wanted and enjoyed, without sex itself. Astarion had intuited that she did, in fact, like having him in control. For someone like him, who’d had none of that for so long, it had been an exhilarating discovery.

And then, of course, Ban thought, the rite had come along.

Astarion recoiled at her response, mistaking her calmness for reluctant acquiescence.

“If you’re doing it for my sake, there’s no point. I’m not - of all people, love, I won’t do that to you. I merely asked because I know you did like it, before it all turned to shit.”

No. Don’t think I want to force you. Please.

The idea that she might be going along just for his sake made him physically ill.

Ban bit the inside of her cheek, dropping her hand. She leaned into him, resting her head on his chest to close the small gap that remained between them; a gesture of comfort and reassurance. His response was automatic, the arm around her tightening. He kissed the top of her head.

She gathered her courage. It still took effort, to fight back against the unnecessary voice in her head that screamed run, hide - but it got easier by the day; he made it easier.

With his soft words, with his candor. With a forbearance she had never before known to exist in him. With his love.

“Can you tell me, Astarion, exactly why you ask this of me?” Ban mumbled into his embroidered jacket.

A soft chuckle broke free of him, as fear was replaced with elation and relief. Yes, she’s working with me!

“You allow me to show you how much I trust you, when we… when you take charge of me,” he said, the bravado and seductive act discarded for now. “I had hoped you would afford me a similar level of trust.”

There was a small hint of hurt in his words; he made no effort to conceal it.

“However, you do not have to. You never have to. It was just a suggestion; you can forget I ever said anything.”

Ban considered it. It would be helpful, an opportunity for her to display her renewed faith in him. She closed her eyes, exhaling; his hands moved to her back, tracing comforting circles between her shoulder blades. Astarion rocked her gently, as though they were dancing to some tune only they could hear.

Sheltered in his arms, the answer felt easier to arrive at. “I think we can try,” she repeated, “I can use the same word we used to, if it gets to be too much.”

Astarion smiled, relief and gratitude suffusing him. “Thank you, Ban. Truly.”

He hesitated. “There is… another thing, if you’ll indulge me once more.” Another pause, longer this time. “Rhapsody.”

“What about it?” She’d known that he’d often spent time gazing at it after she’d left him. She’d never bothered to ask why, she’d assumed it had to do with the rite, and hadn’t wanted to pry.

“Would you mind if we brought it to bed with us?” The words came out in a rush, almost stammered.

She raised an eyebrow. “What? Why?”

Visions flashed through her mind - of Rhapsody, protruding from his heart, his blood staining his shirt, all over her hands, as she carried his barely-conscious body out of Vel’s manor. Her breathing picked up and she felt cold all over. Why isn’t leading enough for now? she wondered.

“The dagger played a role in numerous moments of my life - moments that altered the course of my fate. None of them have ever been good.”

“Then why bring it into our bedroom?” She crossed her arms, bringing her breathing under control with effort. “Look. I had to watch that thing almost end you. That’s not something I’m itching to relive.”

“For precisely that reason. It is a weapon steeped in painful memories, memories I’d very much like to write over. I want… to see it in your hands whilst I’m inside you, to keep that image in mind instead of… everything else. And what better time to do it than on this night, an anniversary of sorts?”

Ban sighed, exhaling through her nose. “Is that why you used to go stare at it? To remember?”

Astarion’s eyes flicked to her, uncertain. “Indeed. I have made effort to make peace with my past, and Rhapsody feels like the one piece of it that remains unchanged. We’ve rebuilt this palace; almost nothing tangible remains of that time of my life, other than that blade.”

“And so you think this would… finally remake it?”

“Redefine it,” Astarion corrected. “Making new, out of the old.”

Ban considered it. Rebirth, in a sense, just as tonight was also a rebirth of sorts, recontextualizing his ascension and her turning from something she regretted into something they could celebrate. It wasn’t a horribly unpleasant concept, in any case, and she figured if it was too much, they could stop.

“One condition - the blade is not touching you. I don’t want to draw blood. And once you have the image you want, we stop using it.”

He nodded. “That’s perfectly fine by me. Thank you, for considering this, and for allowing me to take the reins once more.” He paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face.

“I do think taking the lead would also help me, darling,” he added. He vacillated between revealing an even deeper truth and leaving it at what he’d just said.

He decided to err on the side of openness. “It would help me determine whether my own faith in myself is warranted.” If he’d truly improved and become someone worthy of her.

Ban sighed, but didn't look up from where she’d buried her face in his chest. She found it easier to speak this way at times, not meeting those crimson eyes and that too-handsome face.

“I have faith in you. Not completely - but enough for this,” she said softly, “I know, however, that saying it is one thing, and doing it is another. I’m not afraid - not really. It’s just that old, instinctive-”

She waved her hand, trying to signify that it was a frivolous thing; something she could easily cast aside. A small mistruth, one she was willing to offer to further smooth over the wrinkles of their relationship.

He wouldn’t allow that. “Your old fears - ones that I caused. I am aware, much as you like to pretend I’m not.”

Ban tried again. “Well, they’re not-”

“An issue?” Astarion shook his head. “They are, Ban. I watch for them, attempt to catch them before they sink their claws in, fight them off with whatever honesty my wretched heart allows me to express.”

“I don’t begrudge you this, nor for having these fears in the first place, but don’t discount them. Not when I work as hard as I do to dispel them.” He felt a little piqued, a little insulted she thought he didn't notice, that she didn’t see how hard he worked to spot them, assuage them.

“Just- just let me have tonight, in spite of them. Let me win against them for once.”

Astarion gazed down at her. She looked so small, wrapped around him like this, and it made him wish for nothing more than to hold her forever.

Ban was pensive. Astarion had never been one to be so open about their struggles; that had been a recent development. This sudden burst of frankness threw her off-balance, but in a good way. His candor yet again made it easier for her to dismiss the very fears they were both fighting.

“I mean, I already did say yes, Astarion,” she teased, but immediately backtracked when she saw he wasn’t in the right mood for banter.

“But I’ll repeat it. I do trust you enough, and I definitely love you enough, to try.”

Astarion tried to remain stoic, stewing in his own melancholy. Elation won out, however. He broke into a rather giddy, unguarded grin, squeezing her tightly in a hug.

“I-” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat, then slipped back into the seductive act, although it came off more playful than anything else.

“I’ll make sure tonight will be one you won’t forget.”

They danced in the middle of the crowd. They made a striking, if slightly mismatched pair - her dress was simple, his suit ornate. Where he was pale and silver-haired, she was golden and dark. He was long and lithe, she was small and muscular. And yet, they were so obviously in love, so in tune with one another as they glided across the dance floor, that their differences only heightened their allure for all who observed.

While Astarion had previously encouraged her to pick more lavish outfits, he had been leaving her clothing choices to her since they’d reconciled. He now realized he should have done so long ago. The dress clung to her perfect body and it made his cock stir pleasantly. He tried to tamp down the wave of arousal, knowing they would have all night. He spun her around elegantly, catching her at the end of the turn.

“Are you enjoying yourself, love?”

Parties had not been something she had enjoyed in the past; she was often relegated to being a piece of décor, hanging on his arm when needed and dismissed when not. Ushering guests around, then standing by the door to bid them farewell at the end.

Ban cast a sweeping glance across the ballroom, taking it all in. Not much had changed; it was still the same sort of vapid, soulless event these types of parties had always been. But tonight was better because of Astarion - he hadn’t left her side tonight, and had kept her involved in every conversation. A far cry from how they used to operate.

“I could take it or leave it, I suppose,” Ban answered playfully, as he pulled her tight against him. The music swelled and he leaned in; she smirked, expecting some snarky response.

The playfulness dissolved as the heat of his lips pressed against her own. He pressed her flush against his body; his hips ground against her muscled thigh.

She had to bite back a moan; his hands on her back were insistent, his hips impatient, as if he couldn’t wait to ravage her; whether that was true or manufactured didn’t matter to her right now.

“I needed a little taste,” he whispered as their lips parted. His eyes gleamed with need, an almost predatory look in them. Ban hadn’t seen that look in so long, and a small sense of trepidation crept over her at the sight of it. However, a much larger part of her felt anticipation. Heat began pooling between her legs.

Astarion’s hips were mid-grind when he noticed the arousal in her gaze. Between that and the way she pressed even closer to him, he was confident his tactics weren't unwelcome. But there was still a niggling what if in his mind, the habit honed to near paranoia by his constant need to be vigilant with regards to her emotions. He wanted to be sure; to check in anyway.

“Was that alright, love?”

He wanted to begin laying down the playful, teasing banter, to set the mood, but… not without Ban’s express approval.

She responded with a small nod. The gaze that met his was sultry. Coy - not attempting to wrest control from him, but full of lust. His excitement escalated and he felt himself hardening. He shifted his legs to readjust the fabric of his trousers and slid a hand down to her ass, giving it a squeeze. She raised her eyebrows in amusement and he grinned, delighted in the response he’d received.

“It was acceptable, my lord,” Ban said demurely, the old sobriquet slipping from her lips with ease. Long unused, she felt confident enough to use it tonight and trusted him not to take it too far. She was aiming for unconcerned, but entirely missed the mark, coming across as more eager than anything. She silently cursed herself when Astarion smirked knowingly.

That eagerness went straight to Astarion’s cock, and he let out a breathy groan.

“Then I’m sure you’ll positively love what I have in store for you later,” he murmured. He gave her another quick kiss, another quick squeeze on her ass that she tried and failed to slap away, then Ban disengaged, chuckling.

Minx, he thought, shaking his head. It was mind-boggling how easily she could bring him to his knees.

“You’ll have to wait, Astarion,” she whispered as the dance ended and she pulled away, taking two steps back. “Go mingle, now. I’ll check on the catering.”

With that, she disappeared into the crowd, leaving him alone, but happier than he’d been in a while. And with a decidedly rock-hard cock.

He watched his wife fade from view, then went to talk to his guests, more confident and more present than they’d ever seen him before, in this first tumultuous year as the Ascendant.

[inkbutterflyuniverse]

Sooooo I watched the new Descendants movie.

I have a LOT of things to say about it.

I won't talk about the fact that everyone goes to the same school because it's already been talked by many and many people. Yes it's dumb, we can all say that and agree on this point.

The first thing I need and want to say is the songs. I listened to the songs of the first three movies, and there really wasn't THAT MUCH auto-tune.

All the songs in the new movie are very autotuney, you can hear how much post-production there is.

This, and the fact that EVERY SONG has part where they talk/sing. I don't know if there's a word for it. It's like they were like "young people love rap and pop, so we will do a mix of this!" but it's not rap, and it's not really pop.

And that's the thing I'm the most mad about. I love the songs that Disney Channel offers us, and I think it's the first time where no song really hit me.

Now, let's talk about the plot. I wasn't expecting that ending. The fact that they succeed wasn't something I predicted. Because in everything that involves Time Travel, we're always told that changing the past would change the future and that it could have some repercussions that won't be good.

I was really expecting them to be the one who would provoc the prank as they were meddling. I thought that Ulyana would have the book thanks to them making a mistake or something like that.

I also really thought that we would see that ball before they go back. Because what if it wasn't Ulyana but someone else who pranked Bridget? Then they would have done everything for nothing.

The end confirms that changing the past will have repercussions but I don't really want another movie with Ulyana coming back as an adult or something else. 🙄 Or just, I don't want another movie PERIOD.

Also, I want to talk about the beginning.

So you're telling me that Mal, Ben, Evie and Jay left and they let Uma in charge of the kingdom? Like wtf bro.

Why would they let UMA of all the people in charge? I thought that Uma would just be the principal, not in charge of everything...

Ben's parents are still alive, they can retake their throne for a moment, while continuing Ben's policies for the time he's away.

(Even though, the king and queen shouldn't left their kingdom like that, without a heir, because you know... Frozen? Tangled the serie? An accident can happen really fast)

Oh and, Uma said Auradon was created 30 years ago, so it's been nine/eight years since Descendants? (Mal said 20 years ago at the beginning of the first movie) And it's just now that they decide to leave? 🙄

About the plot of the movie, I didn't find it really entertaining, I won't say it was a bad moment watching this, but I won't say that it was a good moment either... It was okay, at best.

The characters were not that good and except Red, and maybe the young Ella for her talk to Chloe, I can't say that I like them.

You're telling me that Cinderella's OWN DAUGHTER doesn't know what her mom past was?? She doesn't know she was abused and treated like a servant by her stepmother and her stepsisters??

No wonder that Chad was like that if they were raised as royals and never learned about anything else. She doesn't know how to wipe the floor. She touched a vase and it broke?

What did their mom taught them?? I was very happy to have Brandy and Paolo back at first, but if it's to portray them as royals and that's all, then what's the point??

Ella was Bridget's best friend, she said "let's go together to the ball" but when she was there, she left her for the prince?? 🙄 And then, Bridget got back to her kingdom and never saw Ella again?

That's not what I call a best friend. Evie is Mal's best friend because she acknowledged what Mal went through, and she told her that it was okay if she wanted to stay on the Isle, that it didn't mean they wouldn't stay friends. They had a beautiful duet in Descendants 2 about their friendship. And through the movies, they showed that they were there for each other.

When Evie needed comfort after Chad? Mal was there, telling her she was smart.

When Mal got her first date? Evie was there.

When Mal ran away to the Isle, Evie felt bad for not noticing what was happening to her best friend, and got back there, even though we know that she hates this place.

When Mal got cursed by Audrey, Evie was there, telling her she was still beautiful, and she accompanied her to the Isle.

When Doug was asleep and Evie was doubting about their love? Mal (and Uma) were there, telling her to try it. Mal knew that it would work because she knew that they both loved each other.

In every occasion, the three original movies showed us what it was like being a best friend. And in the fourth one, it didn't work. Nor with Bridget and Ella, nor with Red and Chloe. (Even if it's arguable that it's the beginning of Red and Chloe's relationship so who knows in the future?)

But the point was that Ella wasn't a good friend to Bridget if she just let her deal with Ulyana's prank. And if she said that it was just a prank, without considering the effect it might have on Bridget.

But it doesn't mean I hated everything. I liked the hommage to Carlos/Cameron. The picture of him, Uma talking about what he would have wanted... You know it's not just acting, and that China was really emotional because Cameron was a good friend of hers.

I liked Red's character, how she doesn't want to be like her mom, how she does what she wants, and she doesn't care. She stays herself through the movie and I like that.

I wish I could say that I like Chloe but unfortunately it's too soon. I need to see her growing, and understanding what the young Ella told her. She needs to learn that not everything is easy for everyone in life.

(oh and can someone explain me WHY she'll be the next queen if she has an older brother? As if Chad wouldn't be interested to be the next ruler. And as if his parents wouldn't let him have the throne because of what he did in the Descendants movies. He was still a teenager, he can always grow up. Especially after what Audrey did to him, it change a man)

I realized that it's already a big post, so I will stop here I think. There's so many things I could say, but I think I talked about the main points.

Overall, it was not a bad film per se, but not a good one either. I wished the songs were better and fited the actors' voices better.

(Like, Dara Renee has a great voice, her villain song could have been a big ballad with some big high notes that we know she can sing.

Also, Rita Ora has a great voice, I'm not her fan, but she CAN sing, and her song was meh. Too much talking. At least Brandy got "So this is love" to show her beautiful voice a bit.)

[bonnie-aphrodite]

Trolls HTTYD AU

I don't really post anything but I had an awesome idea and I'm obsessed with it.

So it's set in the HTTYD universe BUT Peppy decides to lead around a third of Berk's population on a journey to find an island with no dragons. This happens a few years before Hiccups birth and most Vikings thought them cowards so they are forgotten by the people of Berk. Peppy is a fearsome and strong Viking but wants a peaceful place to raise Poppy and Viva, the events of the journey mirror the trollstice escape to a certain degree.

Branch

A Whispering Death named Thorns

Branch is the first in the village to befriend a dragon despite fearing them the most

He helps Branch dig out his bunker

Thorns is kept secret until Poppy and her dragon need to be rescued

Thorns likes to coil around Branch to sleep

Branch is used to diving out of the way of Thorns randomly barreling through the tunnels in the bunker

Poppy

A Scuttleclaw she names Flutterclaw

Goes off to befriend a dragon immediately after hearing about the Dragon riders on Berk and stumbles across her

Flutterclaw is just as upbeat as Poppy, she's almost never tired

She's named Flutterclaw because we know Poppy isn't the best at naming things on the spot (Tiny Diamond)

They invent dragon-back acrobatics for fun

John Dory

A Snafflefang, it's Rhonda :)

When JD abandoned his brothers he sailed to Neverglaide Mountain and met her by accident

Rhonda had never met a Viking before and just treated the poor guy like a scared hatchling

JD is freaking out but eventually they come to an understanding

They've wandered together ever since

The first character to befriend a dragon

SpBruce

A Scauldron! (Not sure of the name yet)

When he left Bruce went to a neighbouring tribe and established an inn for travelers after meeting Brandy

It was very successful until the Scauldron decided to stake claim

The two had an ongoing rivalry so I famous that everyone on the island was privy to it

When a traveler from Berk came to spread word about dragon riding, Bruce thought he'd give it a shot

It took a while to earn the dragon's trust but it worked eventually

The duo protect the island from wild dragons and Bruce's kids

Clay

A Raincutter named Thundertone

When a storm rips through Peppy's fleet, two of the six ships get seperated from the others

These boats hold Viva and Clay, who work together to lead their people on as Peppy would have wanted

They find an island with minimal dragons but their new Chieftess is very fearful of being attacked, so the Vikings of Gulf Island stay hidden

After the brothers reunite, Clay is out brooding in a rainstorm and he meets a Raincutter with an oddly deep roar

He likes how serious the dragon sounds and they bond whole playing in the rain and digging up food for Thundertone

Floyd

A Windgnasher he names Snaowguard

On the night Brozone (the most formidable dragon slaying family on Berk) broke up, Floyd said goodbye to branch but rushed to a boat the moment he was out of sight

He chased after his brothers' boats, seeing JD's not too far off

In his haste, Floyd accidentally skirted into Outcast waters and was captured

They kept him for his dragon killing knowledge thanks to outcasts Velvet and Veneer

Floyd had grown compassionate towards dragons, he never really liked killing them

After 20ish years his brothers rescued him

The previous week Floyd had spent neighbouring with a Windgnasher who he looked out for and bonded with

Floyd made sure she was saved too and Snaowguard repaid his kindness by protecting him and the two became a pair

Viva

A Deadly Nadder named Brightspark

Her fear of dragons rivalled Branch's, especially after the attacks she had to protect her people from after being seperated from her father and baby sister

This means that she is one of the last Vikings to open up to befriending a dragon

Clay, Thundertone, Flutterclaw and Poppy all help her overcome her fear and it comes in handy when she rescues a Deadly Nadder from a dragon trap (possibly her own?)

They're both scarred by their experiences but find an odd sense of comfort in eachother

Peppy

A Terrible Terror he names Matchsticks

After Poppy brings the idea of dragon riding back to Poptrell Island, Peppy of course wants one

Poppy shows him a bunch of fearsome and tough dragons

But Chief Peppy distracted by the Terrible Terror fighting off a Nadder from his pile of fish

He becomes absolutely enamored with the brave little guy and adopts him immediately

Peppy spoils Matchstick so much that even Poppy has to tell him to chill out a little

I have so much lore written for this AU you don't even know

[dulltoned]

I know I mostly just ask random thoughts about brozone and how unbelievably angsty they are but

What about any headcannons about brozone? Individually or as brozone as a whole?

-🦦

(Also happy holidays!!)

Oh, that's a fun question. I genuinely haven't put too much conscious thought into it but I have a few that I can share off the top of my head.

There's at least one headcanon involving Branch in there for all of them but I might follow up with more headcanon posts somewhere down the line. (Excuse the funny little doodles, I wanted to see if I could make decent headers and I did... okay.)

-> He doesn't like being alone. He didn't spend the twenty-some years after BroZone broke up just on his own in the Neverglades but instead hopping around from place to place looking for new experiences and new people to meet. He'd always go back to the Neverglade Trail, though. Just in case someone needed him.

-> It was still really lonely but he never thought too much about his brothers or the Troll Tree. He's an expert at denial and avoidance.

-> He's pushy with Branch because he wants to try and help Branch be more open and direct with him but he doesn't really know how to sit down and have a serious conversation about it.

-> He's not stupid. He can be unobservant and a bit full of himself but he has a good head on his shoulders.

-> He and Branch bond over survivalist tips.

-> He was worried he was going to be a bad father. He still had a lot of stuff he was working on when he and Brandy had their first kid and he was old enough that he really didn't remember his dad. He certainly didn't want to emulate John Dory. He knew they'd be okay the second he saw his son in Brandy's arms for the first time.

-> Brandy helped him get over the toxic mindset BroZone gave him and while he can still struggle sometimes he's never been happier.

-> Amazing cook. His food is amazing. Cooking, baking, it's all divine.

-> He cooks for Branch a lot when he visits. At first it's because he couldn't get the image of his baby brother out of his head but then it was because Branch had confessed that no one really cooked for him before and he just couldn't have that.

-> Clay chose the admin building as his room back when he was still desperate to be anything other than the fun boy. He regrets it.

-> He and Viva have bonded a lot about their family traumas, especially over how much they missed their siblings. He never wanted to stay away as long as he had but after they found refuge in the Golf Course he never got the courage to leave Viva behind to go find his brothers.

-> Clay's hair just naturally changed color with age. It wasn't stress-induced or anything, it just happened. Like how some blonds change to brunette when they get older.

-> He really likes crossword puzzles and sudoku. It has nothing to do with his desire to distance himself from his fun persona. He's just a nerd.

-> He really enjoys Branch's input. Branch is an incredibly handy, if not a bit paranoid, realist who isn't afraid to share his opinions. It's really helpful when it comes to safety measures or even trying to avoid complicated emotions.

-> Floyd may be alive but he doesn't recover fast. The effects of the diamond vacuum (exhaustion, weakness in the limbs, a chill in his bones, dizziness, etc.) linger with him for years afterward and he finds it incredibly frustrating.

-> Floyd is such a smug little shit. He will give you shit and tease you to hell and back and then give you the most innocent smile immediately after.

-> He moves into Pop Village after he's rescued. It reminds him a lot of the Troll Tree when he was a kid and it's bittersweet.

-> He finds out about Branch's puzzle tradition and the two of them start doing daily puzzles together.

-> Floyd's pod is in the clearing where Branch's bunker is.

Surprisingly I don't really know what to put for Branch here but I think I'll reblog this later with additions for Branch and Poppy.

I hope you enjoy the holidays, thanks for the fun question.