#i’m still hoping that his big return will be in dream’s video

[golohours]

misery posting hours i think george not celebrating his anniversary shows how much everything fucked him up a little like i had low hopes in the first place but :( he loves an anniversary he’s so sentimental…… thinking that streaming makes him too nervous or something actually makes me want to die.

[sos717]

i guess you don’t answer anymore but i’m hoping you at least read this because it’s genuine and i feel like i have nowhere else to post this. i just want someone to hear me. ignore this if it’s too long. i want to thank you for your posts. they are the only writings that have truly resonated with me ever since i discovered the law, neville, states, being, whatever we call this thing. but i’ll be honest i’m giving up today. i discovered the ‘law of attraction’ in 2019 when i was 18 years old. it is now getting to the last quarter of 2024 and i am 23 where i’ve evolved in understanding to where i found ‘nondualism’. i went from law of attraction -> law of assumption & neville goddard -> robotic affirming -> mindset fixing & joe dispensa -> states & edward art -> nondualism. however… i have never manifested a single thing in my life. i used to be filled with anxiety when i said this. fearing these words would cause it to keep going on but i don’t even want to fear anymore. it’s just the truth. your posts taught me that i don’t have to fear my words anymore anyways. i’ve had a dream for a long time. i don’t believe i will ever reach this dream anymore. along with that dream i also just really wanted good for my family and i. you know the basics like financial freedom, happiness, mended relationships. but throughout everything i’ve learned i could never make it work and i’m just done. i guess i will return to living a normal life and just hoping i make it. i hope i find happiness or just.. anything. i’m just letting go of it all because i feel like things shouldn’t be this hard. even going to caleb’s channel and watching his recent ‘your manifestation isn’t taking long, you are’ video…. i’m just… exhausted. i just dont know how to do this and i don’t think i can take life anymore anyways. but yeah i just wanted to say thank you. even though i could never find success, you taught me who I Am. and i’ll forever be grateful for your wisdom even though you’re a bit younger than me. i hope you find continued success and live a happy life. sincerely

THIS IS JUST THE FIRST PART TO THE HUGE POST, PLEASE TAKE YOUR TIME

After what felt like months away from tumblr I really dove into self-inquiry fully, and of course still am, and I promised you guys a mega post so here’s the initial information so far. There is more to come.

IM SORRY IF THERE ARE ERRORS IN GRAMMAR OR SMTH I WROTE THIS AT MANY DIFFERENT MOMENTS THROUGHOUT THE DAY!! FEEL FREE TO ASK QUESTIONS, ETC BUT PLS DONT ASK BY RESPONDING TO THIS POST, ITLL CAUSE SO MUCH SPAM ON THE FEED AND MY ASKS PAGE

Hello! Yes I have started looking back into my inbox (THERE ALLOT OF ASKS 😭😭🫶) but I absolutely plan on answering as many as possible, and because your post resonated with how I used to feel, I want to answer yours first.

So to begin with, It makes me so happy to know that what I’ve written has some kind of affect (that being positive). I can’t remember if I told you guys how old I was but I must have cus you seem to know 😭😭, yes I’m 19 we’re very close in age, this moment in life is when allot of us who figure out this stuff lean into it more because we realize how much of a leg up we have if we just “apply” the teachings this early on.

So first what I want to say to you is, no, your not giving up on a dream and neither are you going to live a normal life, I’ll make sure of that, this beautiful world that we step into gives us so much insight on what we inherently are. But I need to remind you and everyone else, this is not some big secret that has to be practiced, it’s a look at what we are and always will be. You have purpose and you deserve to be happy and enjoy a life that’s easy and fulfilling. I apologize in advance because this is going to be a pretty long post!! 🫶🫶

Let’s get rid of the labels and titles we’ve given these understandings as if they are for someone to learn and master. No one masters manifestation, no one will ever master manifestation and I truly don’t care for how many “success stories” they have, it doesn’t hold proving value of what they are (notice how I didn’t say who), we are not who’s, but that’s for later in the post.

The reason I’ve stepped away from the concept of manifesting is because it is inherently lack and separation based. No matter the teaching, they all seem to glorify the idea of getting and achieving which puts great pressure on success stories and all that rubbish. (Not me turning British) 😝😝, okay sorry, so yeah this also goes for nondualism, I don’t associate a title with what I learn, it’s not NonDualism it’s actually just self discovery in disguise of a teaching. But for this exact reason I don’t think to myself “I need to learn NonDualism better”, nononooooo I made this mistake wayyy to much due to the sole fact that I came in with the expectation that this would now teach me the secrets of manifesting. This is kind of the set up to more desire and lack, which is actually the opposite of the self-realization “journey”.

So, when you say you have never manifested anything in your life, I say this with incredible pleasure, that this is impossible, I know I know, before you start thinking to yourself that youve heard this before but I don’t think people go that in depth as to what that even means. So, your life and your problems, are not actually problems.

Self-realization is not the journey for the person to become consciousness, but to understand that you ARE consciousness to begin with. You does no reference a someone, but “ “.

This is going to be, quite a post so PLEASE hang in there. And I just want to add in, this is still not a seperate being trying to understand that it’s connected to conciousness, no, you as conciousness, infinite knowing, are so involved with the content that you appear as, you’ve tricked yourself into thinking that you are just 1 thing of the content. Let me use my first example.

We have given ourselves the greatest interpretation and key to knowing ourself, and that’s dreaming.

Every night, we sleep, HOORRAAYYYY, now let’s get into the details because this is where the magic happens and it clicks.

Take the moment before a dream appears, recognize that when the eyes are closed there’s this presence. Not the darkness, the presence. Something, but not a thing.

Stay here and forget the rest of the world exists for a moment. Now there is only this presence, it’s knowing, it’s being right? Now there’s no actual material but regardless, it is, something. This isn’t something out of this world it’s literally, you. From this, knowing or no-thingness, comes expressions, absolutely infinite potential, this is registered as a dream, but, before the dream in any way can be experienced, there always has to be some type of interpreter/lens, this comes in the form a person or better yet, senses. Of course, there’s nothing to the senses or the person but whatever it’s formulated from, which was that presence/knowing. The activity of this infinite potential that is the knowing, (you asleep) appears, only with the help of a pov/sight.

Nonetheless, it plays out, it plays stories of absolutely anything, for no reason at all, and as it does, we get lost to it, it starts to become real, and without even realizing it, it’s no longer a dream but something we’re experiencing, now you are the character in the dream and you naturally play out the dialogue and storyline and explore the fields, magic towers, and laugh and dance and make friends, and then you wake up.

When you wake up, you recognize “oh, nothing was actually happening”, now of course, when your the person in the dream it is very real, but even then, is it? Knowing what you know, there wasn’t actually a place with dialogue, no character of its own experience or life, no actual forests or fields and magic, no one actually laughing and dancing or friends, but simply the appearance of that. The illusion.

And it’s not that it’s only a formulation of you when you realize it is, but it always is, the dream doesn’t only become an illusion or “fake” when you wake up, it’s naturally just fake, REGARDLESS of how it seems to be. And regardless we sleep every night knowing that we’ll forget it’s a dream.

So I think you can see where I’m headed with this, I’m going to use the example Rupert Spira uses but twist it a bit.

You go to sleep in Australia and dream yourself in the streets of Paris, and you take on the identity of John, you don’t actually become John and experience the streets of Paris.

Now, John drinks coffee and he feels the sunlight warm his skin, sees the greenery, feels the wind, all of it. But despite the way it all seems the sunlight, the sensations that John has, is not actually real, and neither is John. John isn’t actually feeling anything, he doesn’t exist and there is no Paris being traveled. And it’s not John that realizes/awakens to the understanding that he’s fake and this is all a dream, it’s you, asleep in Australia that realizes it as you modulate/formulate as the streets of Paris, the coffee, and the greenery, and John, understand?

The activity of that presence, if you recall when we talked about closing your eyes, formulated as something that seemed so real, and that doesn’t give any reality to the dream itself, because there is no separating the knowing from the content known. Without the “space” for it to appear or form from, how on earth would there be the content? A bigger step forward is to realize that there isn’t even an actual dream occurring but it’s all the self knowing presence of, well, knowing. I want to add something very important before moving on.

Knowing does not happen for the purpose of pleasure, we naturally deconstruct false ideas like this as we go, but something you MUST understand about the nature of existence is, none of this is appearing for the purpose of ant experience, there isn’t actually an experience. No one is enjoying nor hating the illusion, it is simply an appearance.

In the same way that the aware/presence before the dream appears from it simply is, in this way, we are. It’s like saying the TV screen plays a movie and experiences it, or does it for the purpose of experience, no that’s silly, knowing has no inherent motive, it is, you (infinite knowing) don’t “happen” for a purpose, never mind happen at all, you are, and in this do you take form of something, your self aware nature of course knows the content of your own being, but that doesn’t mean the illusion can enjoy itself, or that you enjoy or experience the illusion, it’s just a plain appearance, and that’s it.

For example, when you close your eyes on this next demonstration, truly try to grasp the essence of what I’m trying to explain.

Bring from the nothingness/knowing when you close your eyes, a blue vase, know it in every aspect you can, incorporate every sense you can (even taste if your a little freaky 🫦🫦😭) and make it as present as possible. After you open your eyes I have a question for you. (I’m serious, do the damn practice it’ll help you) please take as much time you need to truly get in there (not too long I can’t wait all day)

okay hey, your back, now answer me this, from what did this immersive appearance take reality from? You and I know that there’s no actual vase despite its presence, no matter the vibrant or dull colors, no matter the feel, rough or glossy, its taste 🫦😭, its feel, etc. So what was the substance that formulated this? If you guessed knowing, your soooooo correct, if you didn’t it’s okay you get brownie points 🫶. But yes, now I need you to understand this verrrry clearly, the vase was not real!!!! Yet it appeared that way! This is AN ILLUSION SURPIRISISIEIEIEIEIEIEISISBWHH- yes. No matter how much you want to convince yourself and go back to the vase and its appearance and its feel or colors or any aspect of it, it wasn’t ACTUALLY happening and that means it didn’t take place for anyone or anywhere!!! All there was present was knowing, from knowing forms vase and every seemingly alternate way that it is known, feeling is a form of knowing, literally every sense is just a form of knowing. Every sense that was “used” to understand the vase was all just aspects and appearances of knowing, the color, the sounds, the taste, the feels, they didn’t formulate anywhere else, but nonetheless appeared as immersive and real because YOU BECAME FOCUSED ON THE CONTENT OF THE APPEARANCE RATHER THAN RECOGNIZE THAT IT WAS JUST APPEARANCE. And even though the content of the appearance you formed as became the focus, it still didn’t change the objective fact that there wasn’t someone actually there and experiencing it in any way.

The knowing in/on which appearances formulate is not something different than the appearance, there is nothing to the illusion but its reality, and its reality is knowing. In this way, the illusion couldn’t even be described as something real or taking place, as if it could exist apart from the source of it.

Knowing this is also knowing there is no such thing as the knowing OF, we never know of things or of experiences as if they are something seperate and exist seperatley from knowing itself, that’s literally impossible. Moving forward

You are not the person/character, and it’s not that you are a limited being and you have to wake up to the idea that you are infinite knowing, you have to realize that you were never something seperate, and that this is simply the modulation of your being, and it’s not a someone it’s more of a something.

Let’s starts stabilizing this.

To all of the experiences across centuries, theres one constant amongst the billions of people who’ve lived and are now and that is, I Am. We might not know for certain about anything else ever in this entire universe, and we might not even know who or what we are but for a fact we can say, yes, I am.

There’s no true word that can describe the infinite essence of being, so we use knowing or conciousness or god, all completely the same.

So, to every experience, without an ounce of doubt, there can be the claim, I am. This is knowing, and only from knowing comes the statement, because we must know we are in order to claim that we are. I think something that can capture this is a newborn, imagine yourself to be newly born, mere seconds I mean, eyes closed. You have no understand of anything, no thoughts, no memories, no identity, your pure experience is simply being/knowing, and I don’t mean the action of knowing, that’s not a real thing. Knowing is inherent, you don’t force it.

Going back to experiences. Any experience that is recognized, any seeing, and hearing, tasting touching, and of course feeling, is assumed to be the experience of the body and this is therefore falsely established as “me”, in doing so, we forget our true nature of freedom and limit our understanding and abilities to the limitations of the body.

I’m now going to help you realize the body is an interpreter, and not of a world that’s happening somewhere in time and space, but that the world is the interpretation/modulation/illusion/dream/appearance of our shared infinite being, AFTER being recognized through the interpretations, (sensations and perceptions). This also means that it’s in no way an actual measurement to what you fully are.

What experience is there to seeing? Better yet let me narrow it down, there is nothing to seeing as if there is someone doing the seeing. Seeing simply is. There’s no one to do it, just what is. There is sight, how is there an acknowledgment of the sight/seeing? There must be something to it that gives the understanding “oh I’m seeing this”. (Hint, it’s the same thing that let you know, that “I Am”). Knowing, yes, not knowing as an action, that’s not real, people don’t know, knowing is the essence of what we are (we are not people). But just wait for that. So all there is to sight is knowing, and I don’t think I have to do this but you can say the same about absolutely every other sense, because every single “experience” absolutely requires knowing. Without knowing, “experience” never is, I think we can all acknowledge that.

There is no such thing as the experience of being a human, Why are we deciding that this is what’s it’s like to be humans, we know humans we acknowledge humans but there is no such thing as being a human, in the same way that there’s no true way that there is something to being a fox or a bird or a rock, it’s only with labels are these ideas decided.

The only thing you’ll be able to muster up is memories, emotions, etc, but that doesn’t make it the inherent experience of being a human. Our first and only experience of what we are is knowing, and then knowing that we are, that’s it. In the same way that a babies first experience is not “I am a baby” or “I am a human”, rather it’s just knowing. If being human was our nature, that’s all we’d recognize, and from the very beginning. Our experience does not actually change from being/knowing, we simply forget that there is the knowing, and decide to focus on the body to be “me” or “human”.

You don’t need senses to know you are. Knowing is something unimaginable. Go ahead and try to find it by closing your eyes or even with them open. Can you grab or touch the knowing. Can you recognize its dimensions or what its appearance is? How old or young is it?

Do me a favor and find the edge where knowing starts and stops.

Let me know when you find it because you never will.

Even when you try, it’s only conciousness itself that searches for its own parameters.

By recognizing that your truly not the body, or this person you as knowing have pretended to become, the made up problems of the person disappear, well actually, you realize that there is no person that has problems, only an idea. Only the idea that I am someone and something is happening to me, I am something seperate and need saving. There isn’t actually a seperate self, the seperate self is the activity that you as knowing are, when you become involved with the content and forget your true nature. And what’s truly the main takeaway from this is that, even when it seems like you’ve lost it and now you have to restart and understand it all over again, you as knowing haven’t gone anywhere, your the one pretending to be something lost, and not on purpose, but because you involve yourself too heavily in the appearances without recognizing where they originate from.

From what we know so far, I hope in some way you’re able to recognize that there is no one doing manifestations and having success stories. You ARE the manifestation and it will NEVER be any other way, whether we recognize it or not, that’s the beauty. So no matter if we go on about this appearance of life and say we don’t get it and move on, you as conciousness will continue to play the roles, because there is no off switch to this.

I’m hope this has been able to start untying the blinds over your “eyes” and you’re starting to somewhat understand the truth of what you/we are. This is only the beginning and it’s only going to get more incredible and beautiful from here. But for now I’m shleeepy hehehe, I’ll talk to you soon, never ever give up on your dreams!!!! 🫶❤️❤️

[dykecubes]

I was a hardcore dream fan up until the point the initial grooming accusations (the stuff in from the “The Truth” video).

I think a lot of people call Dream fans a cult kind of like,,,,, either insultingly or hyperbolically. Like they aren’t really thinking that the group is cult-like, and are saying it just because of the extreme devotion to dream through controversies. As a former fan tho, my experience genuinely does feel somewhat cult-like to me (I don’t want to downplay real cults, but I don’t have another word).

Cults often target people who are lonely and vulnerable and offer them community in return for not questioning things. I joined the dream fan community a couple months into the pandemic. I was very lonely. I had depression that I had just started getting treatment for (literally one session and I was still unmedicated) at my college, before getting ripped away from my hope things were going to get better. I wasn’t out to my parents, so living at home again meant getting constantly misgendered.

in short, I wasn’t feeling great. And Dream- you have to understand how much of his fan community (at least on tumblr) is into the idea that he loves his fans, and he loves his friends. And getting to watch those friendships felt like living vicariously. And having someone tell me they loved me, even if I knew I was just another fan helped. For a long time during the pandemic, the dream team were the literal highlight of my day. They were often the reason I got out of bed. I knew even then that that wasn’t healthy, but I was having trouble figuring out how else to get through things.

even after going back to college after the first vaccine had come out, Dream (watching and re-watching videos, interacting with the community) remained a pillar of my mental health. Less so, but if I needed to calm down, I watched a dream video. A lot of my free time was spent in fan spaces. I really, really put him on a pedestal.

I cannot describe to you how anxious I was when the grooming allegations came out. I genuinely started feeling nauseous all the time. I was checking my phone obsessively. I’m not going back to look at these, but I remember that dream had some initial responses (long Reddit post and whatnot). There wasn’t enough there to really make anything clear/disproven and the girls looked like they had a lot of evidence, so I was still anxious and sick and feeling like I was waiting in limbo to find out what was really going on. Trying to prep myself to accept that things might not be what I hoped, as much as I didn’t want to believe it.

when I logged on, the vibe in my tumblr circle was… very different. A lot of people (except for a few that ended up leaving with me) were acting like everything was disproven and it was all good and we could go back to normal times, with a few posts about how disgusting it was that someone would fake something like that. My first response was, honestly, confusion. I thought that I must have been being stupid and missed something or not understood something. So I politely sent an ask to a big name in the community that I trusted to be smart and explain things well, saying that I wasn’t sure we had enough evidence to really dismiss the accusations and asking why she thought that everything was disproven. She gave me exactly the same information that I already knew, while calling me stupid and saying that if I didn’t believe dream that I should just get the fuck out.

I felt suddenly, unpleasantly woken up. I wasn’t being stupid or missing evidence that would fully exonerate dream (maybe there was evidence like that in “the truth”. I never watched it, couldn’t). They just wanted to believe Dream wasn’t guilty, so they did, and twisted things until that made sense. Because they wanted to feel excited and loved again, instead of the crushing anxiety and dread I was in. And I thought about my own reactions, and I knew that I had been so fucking anxious over someone I didn’t even know because secretly I also wanted Dream to be exonerated. I wanted to bury my head in the sand and pretend that it simply wasn’t true because of what being a dream fan gave to me: bits of happiness and community.

And I was really scared of myself. Because I wanted to not believe those girls, not because I thought I had evidence otherwise, but because it would make me feel better. And I knew that was really, really shitty, and that that was something I had to stop in its tracks. And that I NEEDED to not be as obsessive or put anyone on a pedestal as much again. Because I would do the same thing- wanting to make excuses to keep my own happiness. And that’s not ok.

I stopped following almost everyone overnight and stopped watching anything Dream-related cold turkey (<—I realize this probably sounds stupid but I genuinely watched so much dream stuff it was an actual change in my life). I’m still in the mcyt space, mostly hermitcraft, but I make sure that I never put anyone on a pedestal like that again, and I have a way healthier internet to real life ratio.

Coming out of that space genuinely felt like something I was grieving. The intensity of my emotions, both in it and coming out, wasn’t healthy, and I’m really glad I left. if I wasn’t faced with a situation where someone was potentially materially being hurt, I don’t know if it could have happened, I was so embroiled. For obvious reasons tho, that crossed a line and luckily on the other side I had people that were kind to me when I was still kinda reeling.

anyway, tldr, my hot take with this situation is that more dream fans wake up and realize he’s a piece of shit, and get grace and kindness while doing so. Sorry for how long this is- hopefully I get my point across that I genuinely believe that at least some dream fan spaces are intensely unhealthy, more than some people outside of them might consciously think

anon if I’m being honest with you this whole situation has me thinking a lot about this post from a while ago and at the moment, yes, it is frustrating seeing his fans deny the evidence right in front of them but I really can’t help but hold a level of sympathy for them

I was never really a hardcore dream stan but I was very adjacent to that community back when I still had Twitter and TikTok and spent a lot of time defending dream and his community whenever criticisms of him came up, I very much disliked the idea of calling dream stans a cult because I spent probably about 5 years or so of my life in stan communities on Twitter and I’m very much of the opinion that they get a bad rap, but it was around the time of his grooming allegations that I stopped defending him as well and came to understand what people meant when they called his community a cult

while I still don’t fully like using that word to describe his community because I know people who are survivors of cults and don’t want to downplay their severity, I will also say it’s alarming how easy it is to apply the BITE method to dream’s fanbase, especially information and thought control

that being said, even if it technically is not a cult it’s still a very intense community and it’s still difficult to get out of (speaking specifically on the way former dream stans are often bullied for leaving) and obviously the connection you’d have to such an intense community like that is going to be a serious emotional one so I understand why a lot of them might still be holding on

so I agree, I hope if fans of dream choose to leave his community they’re treated with grace and kindness

thank you for sharing, anon, I hope you’re doing well <3

[nicklesbam]

“YES!!” I shouted, standing from my chair immediately. I got accepted into Godolkin University. It’s been a dream of mine for a while now

“What?” My older sister came rushing in. I smiled wide at her while she looked confused

“I GOT ACCEPTED!!” She started smiling and hugged me

“I’m so proud of you!” We both celebrated together for a while

Soon it came the day for me to pack the last of my things. I was excited, nervous, maybe even a little seldom for leaving home but it was finally time. I said my goodbyes to my sister and started my way to Godolkin university

I got into the school for my teleportation powers, a video went viral a few days ago of me stopping a robber while at the bank. I try to stay off social media but I still know about things that are trending

I stepped out of my cab and was standing in front of my dream school. I couldn’t help but smile and looked at my map. I hate maps of schools though, they don’t really help me

Suddenly someone bumped into me and I dropped the map

“Oh I’m so sorry” I apologized quickly. I looked up at the person and it was polarity’s son

“I think I’m the one that’s supposed to be apologizing” he had a small smile and I chuckled

“Yeah I guess so. Hey do you happen to know where the dorms are? I’m a little lost” he bends down to pick up my map and hand it to me

“Yeah I can show you” he out stretches his hand to me

“I’m Andre” I accept the handshake with a smile

“I’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you” on the way to the dorms he asks me questions about myself and I return the favor

“So you have any siblings?” He asks another question but I don’t mind

“Yes, I have an older sister. She was honestly my rock throughout everything. She was so happy when I told her I got into this school” Andre nodded listening to me instead of dozing off during my little rambles

“That’s nice, kind of makes me wish I had a sibling” I laughed and he looked at me quizzically

“Trust me it has its ups and downs. We fought a lot as little kids, she would pull my hair and I would teleport her to the zoo” he laughed a little surprised

“You could teleport? And you took her to the zoo?” He questioned in a little disbelief. I laughed at the memory

“It was the only thing I could think of, she hated the lizards!” We laughed even harder and I couldn’t help but think of how much I’m going to miss her

“But no matter how hard we fought she would always be there for me” I smiled warmly. We talk a little more and we finally show up at the dorms

“Thank you for helping me find the dorms and for some nice conversation. I hope I get to see you around” I smile at him. He seems like a nice person, very open to new people

“Well me and a few friends are going out tonight, wanna come with?” I thought about it for a second. He is my first friend here but I’ll need more than one friend at a university this big. I made a decision

“Sure” he tells me when and where to meet them and I go to find my room number. Number 403 popped up soon enough and I walk in to see my dorm with one bed. I looked at it confused and worried that there might have been a mix up

I set my things down and look around. There’s nothing that suspects another person has been in here, just one bed and empty shelves. I leave my things in a corner of the room and go to find an office but before I do, I bump into a girl in the hallway

She has short blonde hair and bright brown almost hazel eyes

“Oh I’m so sorry” I apologized immediately. What is it with the me and bumping into people lately. She smiles at me

“No, no it’s totally ok. Hey you’re the girl moving into room 403 right?” Her voice is sweet and excited. I nodded

“My name is y/n, hey do you know why I only have one bed?” She looked confused as well and walked to my doorway to see

“Maybe they just didn’t have a roommate for you, happens sometimes because ya know it’s a famous school and all that” and shrugged her shoulders, “maybe you should go down to the office to see” I nodded

“Can you uh do me a favor and point me in the direction of the office please? I’m not good with maps” she smiled and laughed a little

“Yeah of course” she gave me directions that I followed to a T and suddenly I’m in front of a large building. I walk down a large hallway and look at everything I’m passing by and I can’t help but be amazed at everything I’m seeing

I finally see someone and walk up to them a little nervously. They have headphones in at the moment but once I walk up to them they take the headphones out

“Hi uhm is this where I talk to someone about my dorm because I only have one bed and I don’t know if it’s because I don’t have a roommate or-“ I was cut off from my rambling

“This is professor brinks office for criminology, not a place for you to ask about your dorm room” they blatantly spoke. I felt so embarrassed and my face started to turn a little pink

“Oh I’m so sorry, I’m new here and got the wrong directions and I’m sorry again. I hope you have a good day” I was about to walk away when h to eh shouted a name

“Jordan, my name is Jordan” I turned back and gave a small smile

“My name is y/n, I would say it’s nice to meet you but I’m just embarrassed right now” they smiled and I couldn’t help but think their smile is beautiful

“Don’t be, it happens a lot of the time with freshman” they continue, “and I wouldn’t worry about the dorm situation, they sometimes give people their own room. Cherish it you might get a roommate next year” I laugh a little

“Thank you and again, I’m sorry for wasting your time” they just smile and I turn to walk back to my dorm

any feedback would be good, this is just a snippet of the story so far

[dewdrops-whammy-bar]

Tenth Drink Free- Chapter 2

Chapter 2/10- Star Taglist: @skele-bunny @rain-loves-scallops @dewphomet

{1}

Second chapter let’s fucking goooooo In this one I’m gonna delve more into Dew’s mind, his backstory, and his (frankly awful) mental health. Oh and he’s going to jork his peanits in the shower. Warning for mentions of/allusions to self-harm and self-destructive behavior.

“You seem excited.” Rain remarks, draping himself over the back of the couch with a smug grin. Dew looks up from his cereal to glare at him.

“What gave you that impression?” He asks.

“You’re up before 10, you don’t have anything on your calendar for today, and you’ve got the closing shift tonight. There must be something going on that you’re excited for.” Rain counts off on his fingers. “Ooooh, have you got a date?”

(Read the rest below or on AO3)

“Why do you care?” Dew grumbles. “Looking for gossip? Wondering if I’m still single?”

“Oh, I know you’re still single. I’m just checking in on you. As a friend.” Rain bats his stupidly long eyelashes at Dew. “What’s so important that it got you out of bed at the ungodly hour of 9:24 in the morning?”

Dew knew the reason, he’d spent most of his afternoon and evening the previous day agonizing over Big Sexy like a schoolkid with a crush. He’d analyzed every word of their short conversation and picked apart every glance, trying to glean whatever subtext he could from it. THEN he’d had a particularly exciting dream that woke him up at 6. After about 45 minutes of vigorously jerking it, he’d given it a rest after his third orgasm. At that point he was too awake to go back to sleep so he’d just busied himself with various little tasks until he got hungry enough to venture out.

“Fucked my sleep schedule.” He shrugs.

“At least you fucked something.” Rain remarks, turning back around and plopping himself back on the couch. “I’m getting ready for class.”

“Well good for you. Enjoy your boring-ass lecture, I’ll be here writing music and playing video games.” Dew sniffs.

“Enjoy that, I guess. Hope you like that coffee shop.” Rain snips back.

The words stung a bit, even though they’re nothing Dew hadn’t heard- or thought -before. He’d escaped his small town by bus on his eighteenth birthday with his guitar and just enough money to get by for a few months. By the grace of some god, Rain was looking for a roommate in the area he ended up in.

He’d managed to get a job at Cloudy Skies by borderline begging Cumulus to hire him at his interview. It wasn’t entirely manipulation, he’d had a long day and had been rejected from five jobs in the past week. It was nearing the end of the month and his portion of rent was due soon and he was afraid he’d be forced to sell his beloved guitar. He couldn’t help breaking down when Cumulus asked about his lack of past employment. He still felt guilty for it, even though it was six years ago.

He doesn’t realize how deafening his silence was until Rain’s head pops up from behind the back of the couch again.

“I’m sorry.” The other man says softly. “I didn’t mean-“

“You’re fine.” Dew reassures him. “It’s… well, you know. A bit sore.”

“That’s fair. Sorry for bringing it up.” Rain sighs sheepishly. Dew just nods and returns his attention to his cereal.

He’d like to go to college, get a degree in music or music education, but he’s broke. His job pays enough to cover rent and groceries and medication but that doesn’t leave much left over to pay for any classes. Student loans aren’t much of an option for him either, he doesn’t have much credit and being in debt stresses him out severely. He’s scared he’ll be stuck working customer service his entire life, a starving artist overlooked by everyone.

The texture of soggy cereal in his mouth almost makes him gag. He gets up from the table and puts his bowl in the sink, heading back to his room.

The rest of the morning passes normally once Dew cheers himself up again. He even manages to snag the pedal he was after (granted, for a little more than what he’d limited himself to spend, but whatever). He then celebrates by parking himself on the living room couch with a family sized bag of Takis and a controller and dedicates the next few hours to Resident Evil.

Eventually Dew gets bored and wanders back to his room to get dressed for work. He finds himself actually caring about his outfit for once. He settles on celestial-patterned skinny jeans and a black and red button-up shirt. He’s even compelled to slap on some eyeliner.

He realizes halfway through the eyeliner application process that he might be doing this in case he sees Aether again. He groans, drops his makeup pencil on the desk, and leans back to stare at the ceiling. He was too old to be having a crush. He had more important things to worry about. He wasn’t in high school anymore, putting on his best “pastor’s daughter” act and fluttering his eyelashes at the football team captain. That guy turned out to be an asshole anyway.

“Come on.” Dew grumbles. “You are a grown ass man.” He knows the drill- be infatuated by someone for a few weeks, create an idea of what they’re like in his head, finally push down his self-loathing enough to talk to them, and be disappointed by how they actually are. It’s happened too many times to count. It’d only turned out positively once- with Rain. They’d fucked a few times but decided to stay as friends, much to Dew’s relief.

He picks up the pencil again and finishes his makeup. He almost doesn’t want to see Aether again. He’d just be disappointed and go home and sulk in bed and give Rain another reason to tease him.

But he has bills to pay and a six-stringed child to care for. So he hauls his ass to Cloudy Skies, clocks in, and parks himself behind the register. He just has to get through a 5-hour shift. He can do five hours, that’s like three runthroughs of his favorite playlist.

“Hi D-dew!” Aeon chirps with a wave. Dew gives them a nod and a brief smile as he passes them in the kitchen. Aeon’s the most recent hire, a bright-eyed (well, in only one eye, the other was blind) 20-year-old computer science student working part-time. Dew doesn’t like change so he wasn’t a fan of Aeon to begin with, but they’ve grown on him. They’re like him- a weird kid trying to carve out a safe place in a scary world. He’d taken them under his wing as soon as he’d gotten used to having another person in the shop. He’d almost torn Swiss a new asshole the only time he dared to mock their stutter.

Dew glances around to make sure Cirrus wasn’t around and pops in one of his shitty wireless earbuds. Some music would make his shift a tiny bit more bearable. The opening notes of Toxicity filter through the tinny speaker of the earbud and he sighs with relief.

The afternoon crowd of students begin to flood into the shop and he’s quickly busy making drinks and heating up pastries. Sunny joins him behind the counter to help, thankfully.

He’s so busy with work that he doesn’t notice Aether has entered until he’s staring at that glorious chest with- dear lord, his shirt is unbuttoned an absolutely slutty amount.

”Hey, what can I get fOr you?” Dew’s voice cracks and he inwardly cringes.

”Hi, can I have a, um-“ Aether looks down at his hand. Dew sees smudged purple ink creeping over the side of his palm. “Cold brew with hazelnut syrup? Large, please.”

The same thing as last time- Dew’s own recommendation. His heart flutters. Stop it.

He grabs a large cold cup and jots down the order- and Aether’s name- before punching it into the register. “Yep. Anything else?”

”That’s it, thank you.” Aether smiles and Dew notices his crooked teeth. Fucking adorable. Jesus, stop it. You’re on the clock. 

“That’s $5.06.” Dew manages to get out. He takes the cash Aether hands over, along with the punch card. The hole punch today is a star. The heart-shaped hole from last time taunts him.

”I’ll have that right out for you.” He tells Aether as he hands the card over and slides the cup into the queue waiting to be filled. He allows his eyes to linger for a second on Aether’s absolutely perfect ass as he leaves before he turns to serve the next customer.

Between taking orders and making drinks, Dew sneaks glances over at where Aether’s decided to sit. He’s pulled out a laptop covered in stickers and seems to be studying. He’s wearing glasses, much to Dew’s delight (followed by annoyance) and his brows are slightly furrowed. Goddamnit. Out of all the people to have a puppy crush on it had to be a customer. Fucking amazing, thank you brain.

When Dew ventures into the back to take his break, he’s cut off by a very smug-looking Swiss leaning against the counter.

”So.” The man starts. “Sunny told me you have a crush.”

”Well, she’d be wrong. I don’t have crushes.” Dew ducks under his arm and makes a beeline for the back door. How did she know already? What the actual fuck?

”If you say so.” Swiss shrugs. Dew slams the back door before he can continue.

He eyes the brick wall, wondering if it’s worth it to punch. He’s gotta get his annoyance out somehow before he snaps at someone. He settles for kicking it instead. It only relieves his tension a little bit.

Dew digs his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and sparks one up. The acrid smell calms him despite burning his nostrils. He hates the taste and smell of cigarettes but at least it’s something he can rely on to calm him. Vaping just doesn’t bring the same satisfaction- he’s tried. He knows he’s gotta quit but he’d just turn to other bad habits to replace it. He’s convinced himself it’s a form of harm reduction.

Dew grinds his teeth together. He’s thinking about his emotions again. He can’t afford to sink into self-pity again. He needs to pull himself together before he starts crying. He hasn’t cried in years and he’s not about to start now. Especially not at work.

His cig is only half-finished but he stubs it out anyway and heads back inside. A glass of water and a mint rinse the taste out of his mouth and he takes his place at the big industrial sink in the kitchen for dish duty. He’s glad he doesn’t have to interact with customers for the rest of his shift. As much as he’d like to ogle Aether, it’s probably best if he takes his mind off him.

He scrubs pans and mugs and plates and utensils and baking tools until his forearms burn and turns up his music. He estimates his playlist has cycled through about two and a half times by the time Sunny taps him out at the sink.

“Stop spreading gossip about me.” He tells her, a bit harsher than he intended it to be. “Swiss is gonna be on my case for months, you know how he is.”

“Maybe you should get off your ass and ask him out. It’s the big guy, button up shirt, nice piercings, right?” Sunny grins at him and flutters her eyelashes. “He’s hot. Might have to make a move if you don’t.”

Dew sighs. “I don’t have a crush. Yeah, he’s hot, but I’ve got no desire to date him,” He hisses under his breath. The little lovesick voice in his head wails at the thought of Aether going out with someone else.

“Sounds like someone who’s got a crush…” She whispers back and winks at him. “Cir wants you to clear the pastry counter, by the way. Enjoy the view.”

Dew doesn’t dignify that last remark with an answer, only takes his earbuds out and walks over to Cirrus at the other end of the kitchen. She looks up from jotting notes on her clipboard and rubs her eyes.

“Hey Dew. Could you do me a favor and empty out the glass display?” She asks while stifling a yawn. “Sorry. Long day.”

“Understandable. I’ll get right on that.” Dew gives her a two-finger salute, which she returns. His spirits lifted somewhat at the prospect of first dibs on the leftover treats, he trots back out behind the counter.

Aeon sits at the stool behind the register, sneakily tapping away at their phone. Dew bumps them with his shoulder as he passes.

“Careful. Cirrus’ll give you an earful if she sees you on your phone,” he mutters. “I swear, she acts like an overbearing mother sometimes.”

“I know. I w-would have put it away if I’d-d heard her footst-steps.” Aeon shoots him a conspiratorial grin. Dew blinks.

“You’ve memorized her footsteps?” He asks, somewhat amazed. “In three weeks of being here?”

Aeon shrugs. “I’m good at-t patterns.” They turn back down to their phone and resume tapping. Dew sneaks a peek at their screen and sees they’re filling out a Sudoku puzzle with frightening speed. He shrugs and lets them be.

The pastry display is picked clean, only a few crescent rolls and a lone muffin remain. Dew picks them out with tongs and places them on a plate. On habit he glances over to the corner where Aether sat- and still sits, to his surprise. He seems to be taking a break from studying, instead leaning back in his chair and reading a book.

Dew opens the warmer on the countertop and slides the muffin inside. He adds one of the crescent rolls after some consideration and shuts the machine. The few minutes it takes to warm up the pastries are spent wiping down counters and collecting tools to be washed.

He returns from the kitchen and slides the baked goods from the warmer onto a plate. He hesitates, takes a deep breath, and walks out into the seating area.

Aether looks up as he approaches, pushing his glasses up to his forehead with a tired smile.

“We’re closing in around twenty minutes.” Dew lowers his voice a bit, glancing at the few other people in the shop. “Thought you might want some leftover snacks. Don’t tell anyone.” He smiles and sets the plate next to Aether’s laptop.

“Oh, awesome. I was just wondering what I was gonna have for dinner.” The man smiles with those adorable crooked teeth. “Thanks for the heads up. And the food.”

“‘Course.” Dew smiles back, stomach doing flips. He sneaks a peek at Aether’s book- it’s a well-worn paperback with… two shirtless men on the cover. Well, that answered the question on whether he liked men or not. Dew actually had a chance.

He walks away to notify the other stragglers and wipe down tables. Aether only leaves five minutes before closing, waving at Dew as he did. Goddamnit he’s cute.

Dew has another cigarette on his way home to try to clear his head. He knows Rain hates the smell of smoke but he’ll shower as soon as he gets home.

The front door squeals as Dew enters the apartment, making him wince. He kicks his boots off, drops his bag, and makes his way to his room. Rain’s door is closed so he’s either gaming or jerking off. Dew fights the urge to just collapse on his bed. He knows he’ll never get up that way, and he’d rather not have aching ribs tomorrow from over-binding.

So he grabs his sleeping shirt and fresh underwear and drags himself to the bathroom. He’s out of makeup remover so he just rubs his eyes with a damp cotton pad until his eyeliner is gone. It leaves the skin raw and he winces.

The hot shower water soothes him. He closes his eyes as he massages shampoo into his hair and allows his mind to drift. It immediately goes to Big Sexy. He’s too tired to resist it- fantasizing would probably get the silly crush out of his system faster anyway.

He imagines Aether’s hands in his hair, combing through it gently as they kiss. How warm his lips would be, the scratch of his beard scruff against his neck, his large hands holding Dew’s waist, squeezing his chest, pushing his thighs open-

“Haaaaah…” Dew leans against the shower wall and tips his head back to avoid the spray. His hands explore his body- not as big as Aether’s, but he can pretend. His hand finally dips between his legs to find himself already slick and ready.

He pushes his middle and ring fingers into his cunt with a gasp. “Aether…” He pumps them in and out, imagining the bigger man’s fingers instead. The fingers of his other hand pet over his clit as he imagines Aether’s tongue in their place. Dark blue eyes look up at him through long brown eyelashes, fingers curling right up into that perfect spot, a low chuckle as Dew whines.

He imagines Aether pulling back and he whines again. “Noooooo…” Fantasy-Aether just grins, uses those big hands to flip him onto his stomach, and eases his cock into him. Dew adds two more fingers, moaning at the stretch. “Aeth- oh my god-“

Fantasy-Aether fucks him hard and deep, groaning unspeakably sexy things in Dew’s ear. Dew cums hard, thighs shaking as he clenches and flutters around his fingers. He sinks to his knees and braces his hand on the side of the bathtub as he rides out his orgasm.

“Fuck…” Dew mumbles as he washes off his hands in the now- lukewarm water. He’s embarrassed now- he just jerked off to a customer. He hasn’t technically done anything wrong, he’s free to crank it to whatever his dick desires, but he’s pretty sure he won’t be able to look Aether in the eyes for a good week. Incredibly awkward.

He gets out of the shower, dries off, and changes into pajamas. ‘Pajamas’ is pushing it though, it’s one of those T-shirts with three wolves superimposed over a full moon and forest that’s four sizes too big and boxers.

Dew returns to his room, hair still wrapped up in a towel, and collapses into bed. He’s tired from having emotions all the time. It makes him have to think about his life and if he does that too much he starts to spiral. A therapist would probably tell him to start thinking about his emotions and to stop smoking, but he doesn’t have a therapist. He’s fine as is, as long as he takes his meds. He pays too much for them anyway, he’s not gonna shell out another hundred a week for someone with a degree to tell him to breathe.

There he goes, spiraling again. Dew punches his pillow in frustration. As he rolls onto his back his eyes fall on the notebook on the floor next to his guitar.

He hasn’t journaled in years. The idea makes him want to laugh but… if he can get his thoughts out of his head and onto paper maybe they’ll leave him the fuck alone.

Dew drags himself out of bed and settles on the floor with the notebook. He chews on the cap of the pen tucked into the wire spine and hesitantly touches the tip of the pen to the page.

The next thing he knows he’s filled three pages, front and back. His handwriting is messier than usual- almost illegible- and he can barely remember what he wrote. Probably for the best.

Tearing the pages out of the notebook, Dew crumples them up and reels his arm back to toss them into his garbage can. He hesitates.

Instead, he opens one of his dresser drawers and shoves the wadded paper way into the back. It finds a home among his holey socks and empty deodorant sticks (he really should throw those out). He shoves the drawer closed a little harder than he really needs to. It feels good.

He takes his hair out of the towel and tosses it across the room. He’s too tired to put it into its usual braid, he doesn’t care if it’s frizzy tomorrow. Finally, Dew crawls under the covers with his hair still damp and goes to sleep.

Drop a kudos and comment on AO3!

[dedeinthewild]

In honor of the Indy car reveal at Prema I’d like to request Callum or Robert, the reader is related to someone at the team and they were dating either Callum or Rob, broke up after the driver left the team and now the returning driver really wants his girlfriend back ❤️

robert shwartzman x reader, comebacks

"Oh, I think I know exactly who you are"

summary: dreams may take you far, but some things are meant to find their way back.

When she had chosen to follow her godmother for a short trial period at Prema, she never would have expected to experience everything that big red family had in store for her—almost as if they had been waiting just for her. The woman who used to pick her up from school every afternoon and take her for a slice of pizza at the village bakery had introduced her to that whirlwind of drivers, mechanics, and engineers, stealing a piece of her heart that she would always leave behind the wheel of a single-seater.

In the end, when those months of travel, coffee breaks on the leather couches of the headquarters, and little peeks at the projects for the upcoming seasons came to an end, she had chosen to return to her studies—pausing the noisiest sport in the world, as if pressing pause on a song she wasn’t quite ready to forget. But something still clung to her, tied to her little finger—or, well, stuck to her side.

Robert was a special person, with a smile always plastered on his face and the nostalgic stories of someone who had spent his childhood chasing his dream, almost like one of the old men in Grisignano who had seen it all. The way he exaggerated his Russian accent when people asked him to or when he wanted to tease her, and how he was always the first to volunteer for Angelina’s silly video ideas, bonding just a little more deeply than others with those around him. And Robert—or Bob, as she called him—had been special even for that girl who had managed to take home a piece of the sweet heart of a driver who, if he wasn’t looking at four wheels, saw only the unconditional love he had for people.

-So, guess who’s back?- the girl smiled into the camera Sasha had helped her mount on the dashboard of the car she had borrowed to pick up Prema’s big return to IndyCar from the airport.

-It’s been a while now, so I don’t know why they want me to drive to Malpensa- she buckled her seatbelt, turned on the engine, and chatted as if someone were sitting beside her.

-But hey, Guillaume said I’m the best driver in a team that works in formulas, so that’s the highest form of flattery-

-“Where have you been?” Wait, I don’t know if these are for the comeback or for me- she mumbled awkwardly, listening to the pre-recorded questions Angelina had sent her, unsure if they were directed at her or the mystery guest she was on her way to pick up at the airport. -I’ll answer them anyway.-

The highway was clear at lunchtime, and since it wasn’t a holiday season, traffic was flowing smoothly. Between answering questions, listening to a podcast, and playing a few trending songs, she slowly made her way toward Milan.

-That’s where you should exit the highway to get to Monza- she said, grinning widely. -I’ll never get used to that.-

-“Do you have any clues on who could be back?” The recorded voice asked, making her scrunch her nose slightly as she rolled down the window and took the exit that would get her to the airport faster, avoiding the city’s trickier roads.

-At first, when René told me they had signed another old one with Cal, I really, really hoped it was Ralf, ‘cause I had seen him like two weeks prior, and he was talking with some guys from the team, but it was highly improbable.- She sighed, thinking about all the theories that had popped into her mind, the ones she had spent ages reflecting on, trying to fit together her gut feelings with the contracts of the driver market.

-The only one I think isn’t coming back is Bob,- she said, her gaze shifting to the airport steward handing her a ticket to enter the loading and unloading area where she would meet the mystery driver. -Or he would have told me.- She turned back to the camera with a playful expression.

It was surprisingly warm for late September, and Milan carried the lingering traces of being wrapped in smog, with a blinding sun overhead and no clouds in sight—except for the planes soaring through the sky, vanishing toward destinations she could only guess.

Bob—the same Bob who would have kissed that smile, cupping her cheeks with his thumbs and looking at her with the same gaze that had never changed since the first time they met.

-So, I think I have fifteen minutes until they kick me out,- she said, glancing around while letting the car roll forward on its own, one hand gripping the wheel and the other fiddling with the automatic gear shift, humming absentmindedly.

-I think that’s him,- she said, grabbing the small camera and focusing on a guy standing behind a gray suitcase, scanning his surroundings just as much as she was. He wore sunglasses, a baseball cap, and a bandana that covered most of his face.

-He could be anyone.-

She pulled up by the sidewalk, apologizing to a taxi driver who was making space for her, then rolled down the window, leaning out to speak to the mysterious arrival.

-I’m supposed to kidnap you and take you to Prema’s, so hop in,- she grinned teasingly, the camera capturing the inside of the car as he stepped closer and slid into the passenger seat after tossing his suitcase in the trunk.

It felt like one of those American videos where people recorded themselves driving for Uber, or those influencers who posted clips of themselves eating fast food and talking about the latest music releases.

-Before you sit down, take that red box on the backseat,- she instructed kindly, shifting into gear and pulling out of the parking area, wondering what the airport staff had thought about the way the guy was dressed.

-Alright, mystery driver, let’s do this,- the driver responded, placing the large box on his lap, his voice altered by a modulator that distorted both his tone and cadence.

-Buckle up, mystery passenger, I don’t go slow,- she laughed, leaving the airport and merging onto the main road, pulling her hair up with a clip to fight the heat.

The driver chuckled, settling into his seat, making her realize he was taller than she had expected—immediately ruling out both the New Zealander and the Chinese driver she had guessed.

-So, welcome to “Guess Who’s Back?” with ____ and- she gestured toward the guy sitting beside her, trying to trick him into saying his name. But he didn’t fall for it.

-I tried,- she shrugged, laughing.

-Who wrote these?- the driver asked, flipping through the cards inside the box as she drove down the highway, humming along to a song and glancing at the road ahead.

-Are they weird?-

-Weird is an understatement, driver,- he replied, fiddling with the cards, revealing a black ring on his middle finger and arms that—if she had only looked a second longer—she surely would have recognized.

She turned off the radio as they sped toward Grisignano, where a welcome buffet for the driver awaited, along with Angelina’s supervision of the video they had filmed. The sun made them smile, the sound of the engine humming in the background. And as they answered media-related questions, they realized how well they knew each other—how they understood each other’s moves before they were even made.

-What’s your go-to comfort food?- the driver asked, adjusting his bandana to keep his identity hidden.

-Easy. A huge dish of lasagna. Like, the kind so rich it hums when you lift your fork,- she answered, tilting her head back against the seat and looking at him as they waited for the traffic light to turn green.

-Only God knows how much I missed that old lady’s lasagna in Modena. I think it’s the best in the whole world,- the driver turned to face her, smiling despite most of his face being covered.

-You love them too?-

-Huge blue dish, a ton of sauce, and a few pieces of bread for the scarpetta.-

Huge brown eyes, a ton of charisma and warmth, and a few unspoken thoughts that echoed in the room where he had told her he was leaving Prema.

-What’s a completely useless skill you’re weirdly proud of?- she asked this time, accelerating on the asphalt and overtaking a car that seemed completely unaware of having others behind it, fixed on the speed limit.

-That was good,- the driver said, thinking about his answer. -Cooking a perfectly good egg, in every way you could think of.-

At first, she didn’t connect the dots. Focused on the car responding to her touch, taking her exactly where she wanted to go, as if it knew that sitting in the passenger seat was a person who had once meant so much to her that the years apart felt like just a few days. And maybe it was because of the way he laughed at her answers, getting tangled in explanations and anecdotes with the same storyline she remembered—ones even the most dedicated fans would recognize instantly. Or maybe it was because her heart did a little jump every time he shuffled the cards, just like on those nights when she had taught him every traditional Italian game, just waiting for Angelo to challenge him so he could show off what he had learned.

-How do I love my eggs?- she asked, looking at him as if that simple question could expose him, and she could finally surrender to the fact that the person in front of her was the guy she had been waiting for, for four years.

-You aren’t going to trick me,- he replied.

She scoffed, amused, starting to hum the melody of an ABBA song, which he attempted to whistle along to, creating an atmosphere in the car that felt like an old friendship. An atmosphere that reminded her of Bob, that blond Russian who went around joking and making every room his own, always showing what a wonderful person he was and how dedicated he remained without ever losing his roots or the values that made him who he was. And it reminded her of herself, too—of the memories of her Prema days, which she had locked away in a drawer, only for the team, as a gift, to pull them out and serve them to her in the form of a car and a silly, already-seen format that would bring back a piece of who she was.

-Do you have any idea who I am?- he asked as they pulled up in front of the Prema headquarters, after a whirlwind of questions, singing, and dancing for the camera.

-Oh, I think I know exactly who you are,- she whispered, turning off the engine.

They got out and walked in silence toward the room set up for the social media announcement—not an awkward or unpleasant silence, just a quiet one—until the warm embrace of the team appeared beyond the red door they had just stepped through.

-Package delivered,- the girl said with a smile, crossing her hands and playing with her thumbs to hide the slight tremor in her fingers.

Everyone was waiting—mechanics, engineers—all ready to welcome back one of the drivers they had watched grow and, in a way, had helped raise, through fun dinners and dance lessons. And under everyone's eyes, with cameras pointed at him but without letting them make the moment feel staged, the driver took off his cap, then his bandana, and finally his sunglasses.

Revealing big brown eyes, that unmistakable smile, and a few stray hairs she would have definitely plucked off his face years ago, sitting on his lap, armed with a razor.

-I'm back,- he said, as if relieved to finally let go of the secrecy. Mystery driver, mystery guy. But deep down, they had always known that sitting in the other seat was a part of themselves they had only put aside long enough to figure out what life had in store for them.

And in the group of people looking at Robert, among hugs and pats on the back, Angelina was only watching the girl, as if she had given her a gift. She looked emotional, her hands fidgeting and her eyes glossy with emotion, fixed completely on him.

"I need to know if this dream is really mine, and no matter what happens, I'll be back for you," he had told her, just before the team posted a farewell video they had filmed a few days earlier. And that was when she realized that, for a while, there would be no more tomato-stained napkins to wash or beach songs playing at eight in the morning on Sundays when he returned from a race and started dancing. Those words had echoed in her mind for all those years because she knew that Bob had always cared about her dreams, too, giving them a value that few could even begin to understand. And in the end, he had truly come back.

They had learned to know each other again—or rather, to remember what had always made them them, returning to the roots of their bond. Robert had taken back his dream, knowing it was his and his alone, and then he had taken back his car with that red livery. And there was only one more thing he wanted to take back.

Every moment with her. The ones they had lived, the ones they had missed, the ones he had promised her. Without losing that playful light in his eyes or the innate sweetness that defined them.

-Now that the dream is there, let's move on to the bigger one,- he said, head resting against the seat of the car, months later in America, at the presentation of his IndyCar.

-I don’t need to search for something anymore, _____. Because the only thing missing now—the one thing I know is a part of me—- he didn’t say mine, because he knew she belonged to no one but herself - is you. And I swear, I’ll spend every second I can proving that you belong next to every one of my dreams.

And she smiled. And then she laughed. Covering her face with her hands, filling the car with a happiness that washed away all the tension.

-You’re lucky I still remember how to put up with you,- she told him, making those years feel like just a minute. A minute they would make up for in a second. With a simple question. With a simple goal. To dream together.

I loooooved this! Well, it has been cooking for a while as I didn't think the video format was appropriate for the ask, but then I decided it was readable lol...Thank you to whoever requested it, and I hoped I did your idea justice <3

[elliewithcellie]

Long Cool Woman - Chapter 4

chapter summary: It's date night, and you get a little carried away. The brothers are less than thrilled.

wc: 4.6k

cw: ANGST, brothers are mad lol, SMUT ADJACENT (18+), heavy makeout, some *touching*, Sam's def jealous, reader still oblivious, reader cries, Dean plays good big brother again, mention of scars

a/n: yes it's theo james as the James fan cast sue me. Find the rest of the story here

Across from the table sat James, looking as perfect as you had met him that morning. You couldn’t believe you had ended the night here. Never in your recent wildest dreams did you picture yourself on a date, much less to be picked among fifty actual models. It was hard to believe a man as dreamy as him would want a girl like you, but the chemistry made up for it in your mind.

“So,” James began, “how does a girl like you get caught up in something like this?”

“Girl like me? What do you mean?”

“I mean, those other pageant girls are all the same. They’re all self-absorbed and can’t think of anything else they’d do with their time other than look pretty. But you, you’re different. You’re not like them, are you?”

You blushed and reached for your water. “Oh, I don’t know…” You struggled to find the right response. “I guess you could say it’s the family business. I’m just the girl of the family so…”

James leaned in. “Oh, wow. I knew it. It’s really only a job for you. That’s fascinating. Have you ever wanted to do anything else? If you could quit this life today, what would you do?”

He had no idea what a loaded question that was. What you would give to have your old life back. The life where monsters didn’t exist, and you could pursue a college education, or a trade, something normal that other people get to experience. “Maybe when this is all over, I’d go to school to learn psychology or something. The science of the mind has always been so intriguing to me. I don’t know. It’s hard not to look at my life and feel behind. But I guess you have to roll with the punches, you know?”

“I know exactly what you mean.” James reached for your hand. The hold was warm, firm. “Growing up, I felt like I had no say in what my future held. My dad was a mechanic. Told me I was going to be, too. He was harsh, to say the least, about my interest in creativity. If I as much as held a camera, it was enough to set him off. He’d tell me that if I was going to be the head of a household, I had to do something honorable. Making movies was a waste of time to him. My mom supported me in secret. She’s who gave me my first video camera. She’s who let me play pretend with my friends before my dad returned from work. But she left when I was young.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said, the confession startling you.

“Yeah, well. It was hard for a while with just my dad. Fights would break out, and all that, until finally I told him that I couldn’t follow his path for me anymore. So, then I left. I went to school to study videography. I loved it. I still do, but I’m scared I made a mistake. What if my dad was right all along? And what if I have to return home with the knowledge that I failed?”

“But you haven’t failed,” you said, hoping to comfort him. “Look at what you’re doing now. You’re directing a program that’ll be broadcast nationwide! Like, that’s not something you should look past, you know? To me, you’ve succeeded.”

James’ shoulders settled back into a natural state as a small smile formed on his face. “Thank you. I really needed to hear that. You are truly something else.”

His fingers played with yours in his grasp, and you did everything you could to focus on anything else. But it was hypnotic the way his touch set you ablaze with the simple graze of his thumb. Like falling under a spell, you fought to keep the conversation going.

“But enough about me,” James continued. “Please, tell me everything.”

So, you did. You practically shared your entire upbringing. Almost all of it was the truth, only lying to shoehorn in anything you knew from watching Toddlers and Tiaras. James soaked up every word, attentive to every phrase, and his eyes swallowed yours whole. It was like he was thirsty for more, no matter what you gave him. No one had ever given you this much attention before. You were worried any more would set you over the edge.

You had long since finished your dinner, the conversation never settling once. The first interruption of the night came from your phone buzzing in your pocket.

“Sorry,” you said as you pulled out your phone. The time read 9:32 pm, and an unread message from Dean waited for your response.

“tick tock” was all it said. You rolled your eyes.

“Is everything ok?” James asked.

You sighed. “Yeah, it’s just my, uh, my brother. He wants me to head back.”

James scrunched his eyebrows before releasing a small laugh. “Is he the boss?” he asked. You noted the sarcasm that coated the question.

“Yeah, actually. I don’t mean to cut this short.”

“Oh, no, not at all. I can take you back.” James paid for the meal, and the two of you set back on the road toward the hotel.

The radio hummed along with the steady drone of the engine, but the tension building between the two of you was much louder. His hand rested on your thigh as he drove, something your high school self would have panicked over. You were close to panicking now. Every bump in the road served as an excuse for his hand to drift, either deeper into your muscle, or higher and higher. You fought your rising temperature, but you were hot. The reminder of the rubber in your back pocket didn’t ease your nerves. It only strengthened them.

James pulled into a parking space in the back of the hotel, a secluded area away from the road.

“Do you have to go?” James asked, his eyes tracing over each of your features. You checked the time. 9:54.

“We’re cutting it close,” you said. Your voice was not your own. It was breathy, softer than usual. The hold he had on you was intoxicating. His eyes stayed on yours, and his chest heaved up and down. Your heart fluttered in your chest. “I had a really great time,” you said.

“Wait,” he said. ��Just one more thing before you go.”

He reached across the center console and pulled you into a kiss. Your heart pounded against your chest, threatening to explode on impact. Your shock settled into desire, longing, and something deep within you that you’d never had access to until now.

You kissed back like it was second nature, a skill you never lost. You found your arms wrapped around the back of his neck, fighting to be closer. James’ hands got lost in your hair and grabbed a fistful. You moaned into his mouth. He raised his eyebrows and smirked against you, his hand venturing to your waist.

“This stupid car,” James groaned, sitting back in his seat. “Come here.”

You were nothing if not a good listener. Fighting how flustered you felt, you crossed over the console into the driver’s seat and straddled him. You had never been this close to a guy before, but now was not the time to think. You pulled him back toward you for a kiss, his tongue quick to join the action. You followed suit, a moan escaping your lips as his hands found purchase on your hips. His hands were rough, kneading into your flesh as he rolled you against him. Your breath hitched against his mouth.

“You’re amazing,” he said between kisses. “God, it’s like you were made for me.”

Your mind was numb, the praise sending you over the edge. His hands roamed to the front of your jeans and undid the button.

“Woah, wait,” you said out of breath.

James groaned. “Don’t tease me, baby.”

You melted at the name. You rested your head on his. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Then your phone buzzed. And again. And again.

“Shit. Shit!” You lurched over to your phone to see two missed calls from Dean. You shuffled through to the passenger side and opened the door.

“I’m so sorry. I have to go. I’m late. I didn’t mean to lead you on. I’m not that type of girl. But I have to go.”

“It’s ok,” James said with a small smile. “Go.”

“Thank you for tonight. It was amazing.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You smiled and closed the door. You ran to the lobby and called Dean back. “I’m so sorry. I’m fine. I’m here. I’m running up now, ok?”

“Ok,” was all you heard on the other line. You were in deep shit.

The elevator took its sweet time transferring you to the second floor as if to taunt you of your failings. You checked the time. 10:20. Almost 30 minutes of making out with a stranger? This was not good.

The elevator chimed. You bolted out of the doors and ran straight to your room. You scanned your room key and opened the door. Both brothers were on their feet when you entered, their attention already on you.

“I said ten,” Dean said, his voice unnervingly level.

“I know. I—”

“No, I don’t think you do.” Dean stepped closer to you. “Because when I say ten, I don’t mean twenty minutes after. I don’t mean it as a suggestion. I mean ten on the dot. I even gave you a warning text, just in case! That was an hour ago!”

“I’m sorry,” you said sincerely. “We really did head back when you texted. I swear. We parked at 9:54.”

“There’s still a thirty-minute block of time not being accounted for, isn’t there?” Dean crossed his arms over his chest.

The color drained from your face as flashbacks of the night attacked your memories. “I’m sorry,” you said again. “We lost track of time.”

“I’m sure you did,” Sam said, his words pointed.

You jumped at his words, not used to his biting tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, your voice low, almost daring him to continue.

Sam shook his head. “We were worried sick, and you’re out there getting handsy with the first guy you meet.”

“Sam,” Dean warned.

“Woah, what?” You took a step back. “The time thing I get. I’m on your clock. And I want to make it up to you. But what I do on my time is my business.”

“Whatever,” Sam said. “I just hope it was worth it.”

Your jaw dropped at his final words, the audacity to be disgusted with you without knowing the truth. It was your business. Who gave him the right to assume? You fought the urge to call him jealous. Your own brash assumption would only make you a hypocrite.

Sam grabbed his laptop and duffle bag from the side of the bed. “Dean, give me the keys.”

“Where are you going?” Dean asked.

“Out. I’ll be back in the morning.”

Dean tossed him the keys. Sam headed for the door, but you stood in his way. You reached your boiling point.

“For the record,” you said, each word burning on your tongue, “things did get heated, but I shut it down. It was too much, and I wasn’t ready. So, maybe next time come with proof before you call someone a whore.” You fished the condom out of your back pocket and shoved it against Sam’s chest. “Here. I hope you have more use for this than I did.”

Sam’s heart pounded where your hand rested. The two of you stared each other down. Even then you weren’t afraid of him. As tall, strong, and powerful as he was, his anger was nothing more than an emotion, never a physical sign of danger. You were thankful for that. You felt your breathing slow with the pace of his heart. His eyes softened at your touch, almost remorseful.

Sam took the condom from your hand. He shoved it in his pocket and moved around you to open the door. He left without another word.

“What the fuck was that?” Dean said.

“Dean, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to fight. I really do want to make it up to you guys. You guys are taking the time to teach me, and I’m on your clock. I just don’t get why he gets to stay out when I have a curfew. I’m not sixteen.”

“You’re still not getting it,” Dean said, exasperated. “This isn’t a maturity thing. This isn’t you clocking in at the deli. We work with life-and-death stakes here. On his deathbed, Bobby made us promise him your safety. He begged us to keep you safe. And he was everything to us. If we can’t do that one thing for him…”

You sat and listened, a heightened realization of your value setting in. “I’m sorry.”

“So, of course, we freaked out,” Dean continued. “We’re here to protect you. And we care about you, ok? So, don’t get that twisted. What Sam said was unwarranted. He’s dealing with his own demons at the moment. But he’ll apologize in the morning. I’m sure of it. But it’s just like I said. We can’t lose you, ok?”

You sighed and headed for your duffle bag. “Well, please let me know what I can do to make this right. It won’t happen again. I mean it.”

“I know it won’t,” said Dean. “Let’s just sleep this off before—”

Before he could finish his thought, Castiel apparated in the center of the room.

“Cas? What are you doing here? Are you hurt?” Dean jumped from the bed and took Castiel’s trench coat off, assessing for injuries.

“I’m fine, Dean,” Castiel said monotone. “I checked the bunker, but you all were not there. I have some news for you. Oh, hello, Y/N. Where is Sam?”

“Hi, Castiel. He had to clear his head apparently,” you mumbled, still feeling burned.

“What’s the news?” Dean asked. “Does it have to do with this hunt? Because we’re at a standstill right now.”

“There is definitely something going on here,” said Castiel, “but the town is too quiet.”

“So, it wouldn’t be a ghost, right?” Dean asked. “Sam and I were waiting for something to happen, but nothing. Ghosts don’t pause. Living things do.”

“If it’s not a ghost then, what do you need from me?” you asked.

Dean turned to you. “It’s all the more reason to stick to what you did today. You’ll really need to pay attention to your surroundings. Use what we and Bobby taught you to see if there’s anything fishy going on.”

A memory from the morning flashed in your mind. “You know what? I did see something weird. There was a window open in the lobby. And on the windowsill was like a pile of dirt. Maybe sawdust, or something.”

Dean and Castiel shared a knowing look before returning to you. “Show us,” Dean ordered.

You led the way to the lobby, Dean and Castiel trailing close behind. But when you walked up to the window, it had been closed and was completely clean.

“It was here, I swear,” you said confused. “They must have cleaned it.”

“Describe to us again what it looked like,” Castiel said.

“It was yellow and powdery, like pollen almost. But I’ve never seen pollen just clumped like that, certainly not inside.”

“Judging by your description, that sounds like sulfur.”

“Shit,” Dean said. “We’re dealing with a demon.”

The air got sucked from your lungs. A ghost you were ready to handle. That’s what you trained for. All you had to do was salt and burn some bones. Ghosts were predictable, more or less. It was something that you were confident you could hunt. This was a whole new level. Your mind flashed to your family and the black eyes that took them. You thought of the demon that almost killed you, how unprepared you were even with your years of studying. You couldn’t breathe. The blood drained from your face and fear took its place.

“You with us?” Dean stirred you from your impending panic.

You nodded, not able to find words convincing enough.

“Let’s head back to the room. It’s getting late, and we got our work cut out for us, tomorrow.”

Castiel vanished, and Dean called Sam to fill him in, leaving you to return to your room alone. Your heart was caught in your throat, your lungs restricted. You were unable to shake the dread clawing at your skin, the scars on your arms a permanent reminder of the damage a demon could wreak.

When Dean returned, you had already climbed into Sam’s bed. His pillow left traces of him, the scent decompressing your stress like a hug as you settled deeper into the mattress. You caught yourself. His words still stung, and his exit hurt worse. You tossed his pillow to the side in exchange for yours and huffed back in bed. Dean had said Sam took it too far. But why? What had him fuming to the point of leaving for an entire night? Guilt resurfaced as you were reminded of your evening. You were going to make it up to him, both of them, whatever it took.

“What’s wrong?” Dean said from the other bed. “You’re moving a lot.”

“Sorry. I’m fine. I’ll be quiet.”

Silence filled the darkness. You were careful to lie still hoping to let Dean sleep, but to no avail.

“You’re worried,” Dean said as he turned on the lamp between you.

You released a shaky breath. “I guess so, yeah.”

“About?”

You bit your lip. “Well, I’m thinking about Sam being so upset with me that he couldn’t be here.”

“I told you not to worry about that.”

“But you were mad too. You gave me a rule, and I broke it. And now, it’s not ghosts we’re after but full-on demons. There’s an emotional stake now. Ghosts didn’t kill my family or give me these.”

You held out your arms where your scars stained your skin. Dean’s eyes filled with remorse as he examined your scars.

“I couldn’t follow a simple curfew, Dean!” You continued, tears welling up in your eyes. “How am I supposed to be trusted to save the lives of these women when it’s demons? Dean, I’m so scared.”

You cried into your hands, unable to contain your emotions any longer. Dean sat on the edge of your bed and nudged your shin. “Hey, look at me,” he said.

You begrudgingly obeyed, your eyes puffy as your vision adjusted through your tears.

“People make mistakes. Everyone. You, me, Sam, everyone. It’s not a sign of your character. It’s a sign you’re human. You think being late removes every good thing you’ve done in the past year? No, dude. You’re fine. It doesn’t mean you don’t learn from it. And it doesn’t mean I have to like it, so I called you out. Just like you called Sam out for his mistake. You learn and move on. It has no bearing on tomorrow. I know I could do better at this, but you don’t hold grudges with family.”

You looked up at him in surprise. Family. He saw you as family.

“As for the demon, I know you’re scared. You’re not alone there. We don’t talk about it, but our origins are more alike than you may think.”

“Really?” you asked, scooting closer to him, your legs crossed.

“Yeah.” Dean sighed. “So, I get you. I do. But we’ve got you, ok? Both of us do. And besides, you’ve had Bobby teaching you almost since you got there, right? You’re more capable than I think you realize. But you’re safe with us, ok?”

You nodded, settling your tense shoulders back into place.

“I hate to say this,” Dean began, “well, then maybe I shouldn’t.” He moved to get up.

You grabbed his shoulder. “No, wait. Tell me.”

He sat back and sighed. “In all honesty, when we found out you existed, I hated you. I was so insanely jealous of what you had.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice soft.

“You had Bobby. I mean, well, first off, you had a normal childhood. But I wouldn’t wish this life on anyone. But you had Bobby to take care of you every day. He kept you a secret from us for years. But once the cat was out of the bag, you were all he talked about. He would tell us how funny you were, your favorite shows, any small thing that had happened that he thought was remotely interesting. He was proud of you. You were like a daughter to him, and I think I resented you for that. Because he was like a father to me.”

His admission rattled you. You began to realize you didn’t know the entire history of the Winchesters. And if he was jealous of your situation, he and Sam must have endured some horrible circumstances.

“So, when we had to get you,” Dean continued, “I was furious. I wanted nothing to do with you, which is why we fought way back when. But when you threatened to leave, I realized we couldn’t lose you. You’re all we have left of him. By joining us, we got to find out that everything Bobby said about you is true. It made you really hard to hate.”

You chuckled, your cheeks rouging slightly.

“I don’t know where all this is coming from,” Dean said, suddenly bashful over his ramblings. “I guess my point is that you’re pretty cool, in an annoying little sister kind of way. I know we had a rocky start, but I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re not welcome by me, ok?”

You moved to sit next to him on the bed. “Can I hug you?”

“I’ll allow it,” Dean said. He pulled you into his side.

You wrapped your arms around him and rested your head on his shoulder. “For the record,” you said, “you were all I heard about, too. So, I think that makes us even.”

He hummed in response and patted your shoulder. “Ok, enough of this chick-flick shit. I’m headed to bed.”

A full laugh bubbled out of you, your first full laugh of the day. Dean smiled back as he turned the light off, and you drifted off to sleep in minutes.

You woke up the next morning not to an alarm, but to the door unlocking. You sprung up from bed, your heart thudding against your ribcage.

“It’s me. You’re fine. You’re safe. It’s Sam.”

Your eyes adjusted in the dark room as you watched Sam close the distance between you. He rested a hand on your shoulder as you tried to relax your breathing.

“Sorry,” you said through shaking breaths.

“You’re ok. Just breathe.” Sam rubbed small circles into your back with his thumb. “Same dream?”

You nodded, shuddering against him. It never got easier. You had hoped that time would heal your wounds, but something struck you as unfinished. An unwanted message to your subconscious, it was almost like you were missing something.

“What time is it? It feels early.”

Dean interrupted your question with a soft snore.

“It’s close to seven,” Sam said. He sat on the bed next to you and paused. He looked as if he was contemplating his words carefully before he spoke, almost nervous. “Would you be ok, when you’re ready, if we talked over coffee this morning? I don’t want to wake Dean up, and honestly, it’s not his business.”

You looked over at Dean. Not a single thought rattled around his head as he slept on his stomach with his mouth agape. You returned your attention to Sam. “Uh, sure. Coffee sounds nice.”

The two of you found a table in the back of the breakfast bar. Your coffee warmed your hands and the tip of your nose in the otherwise frigid lobby. Your body betrayed you, a shiver coursing under your skin from the contrasting temperatures.

“You’re cold,” Sam said.

“Ehh.” You shrugged.

“I should have told you to grab a sweater or something.”

“I’ll be ok.”

Sam removed his flannel and rested it on your shoulders. You bit your lip, trying to deter a blush from forming. “Thank you,” you said.

He nodded, a small smile residing on his features before faltering again. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you about last night. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I got so bent out of shape over your safety that I was, disheartened, to say the least, to find out you were here the whole time. Your time is your business, just like you said. And I respect that. I have to respect it if I want to respect you.” He lowered his voice. “I—I don’t think you’re a whore, by the way. It all just, you know, caught me off guard. So, I’m really sorry I hurt you. It wasn’t fair of me to say any of it. I care about you and never want to make you feel that way.”

Your thoughts wandered to the night before. “It did hurt, but because it felt so unlike you more than anything. I didn’t know where it was coming from, you know? But what hurt the most was when you left. It was mostly guilt. I couldn’t believe you were leaving over it all, and I couldn’t shake it. I was so upset to have hurt you so bad, but I couldn’t figure out why. I ended up breaking down to Dean I felt so bad. But he explained everything.”

“He did?” Sam asked, his eyes wide. “What did he say?”

“He said I’m all you guys have left of Bobby, and if you lost me, you’d completely lose him.”

Sam released a breath and sipped his coffee.

“And I guess you guys are the same to me in some ways,” you continued. “I’ve been ungrateful.”

“You haven’t.”

“I have though. Over the past year, I’ve lived a self-centered view of my situation. Being tossed from stranger to stranger and ordered to stay inside the rest of my life. That’s how I saw it. I felt trapped, stunted even. So, maybe yesterday I made some impulsive choices. But in my mind yesterday, it was eight years in the making. It was my first night to so much as to get a taste of a typical adult life. It was the first time a man asked me out. I had to take advantage of that because what if it never happens again?”

Sam’s eyebrows scrunched together at your words but let you continue.

“But,” you breathed out, “it was a selfish endeavor, and I know it. Last night, Dean reminded me that I wasn’t being tossed around by strangers but by people who had so much love for each other that they willingly let me be a part of their circle. I’m sorry for taking advantage of your time. Because now I know it wasn’t just time; it was safety and the relationships we’ve formed over the last year, and I will not take that for granted anymore.”

Sam gave you a small smile. “That was…really well said. You’re family to us. And it’s just that we care a lot, ok? So, are we good, now?”

You smiled back. “Yes, we’re good. I promise to make it up to you.”

“You already are.”

The comfort exuding from Sam began to flood your senses. You’d spend all your time with him if he’d let you, completely content to remain in his space.

“We should probably be getting back,” Sam said, shuffling out of his seat. “We have a big day ahead of us.”

chapter 5

[brendinoj]

There is still this big misconception about Hashirama and whether he failed or is a “failed Naruto”. I’m gonna keep this brief because it can be an extensive topic if you want it to be.

So basically the main points are he didn’t break the cycle of hatred and save Madara from the darkness while Naruto on other hand was able to save Sasuke.

I disagree with the statement that he’s a failed Naruto on account of three things.

1, he’s not Naruto, he’s Hashirama. 2, Hashirama was faced with different circumstances, including the person he had to save, Madara Uchiha and how different he is from Sasuke Uchiha. And 3 , this is my own narrative perspective from the story and it’s that it was never Hashirama’a purpose to break the cycle of hatred and save Madara from a narrative standpoint.

Point 1 and 2 can pretty much go together and what I mean by that is that Hashirama isn’t Naruto and he wasn’t faced with the same circumstances or obstacles as Naruto. Hashirama and Madara came from a period were adults and children were in constant state of warring and this would cause both of these two to develop personalities that would be drastically different from Naruto and Sasuke and to take it on an even deeper level, Hashirama and Madara would be different as well. Just because they grew up during the same period doesn’t mean they lived the same lives and were affected by things the same way. Madara became so jaded by the world he grew up in and saw no hope in the dream that he and Hashirama had created together that it would be impossible to convince him to return the light.

Madara even attest to this himself when he’s dying after the ten tails extraction and tells Hashirama that he has always been an optimist after Hashirama tells them that they don’t have to accomplish their dreams in their life time and they can leave it to future generations to accomplish. Remember this point because it’s important to the overall argument. But Madara was right, Hashirama has always been an optimist even proving my point further that Hashirama was not shaped the same way Madara was due to their upbringing in their war torn era.

For point 3, I truly believe Hashirama was never meant to break the cycle of hatred. I believe his role was to build the foundation for characters to build off of, he shaped the village in a way that would become the focal point to Naruto and many others before him like Hiruzen, Jiraiya, Minato, and Kakashi to shaping their ideals and passing them on to the next generation. Hashirama, like I said before literally says something that attest to this thought. When he told Madara what I said before. That their dreams don’t need to accomplished in their life time, that they can pass them down to the next generation. Hashirama didn’t only pass dont the will of the fire but his hopes and dreams of peace which will shape every character who came after him in some way, whether it be directly or indirectly through someone else.

He purpose was to nurture the future generations as much as he could and leave the rest to the future generations to accomplish.

I go into much further detail in my video and I hope you all give it a watch and tell me what you think as it’s broken down much better in that format!

Is Hashirama a failed Naruto? | A Response to @SagesRain

[whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst]

Manifesto for Season 2 of Oh No! Here Comes Trouble: Five possible future events via headcanons

And by manifesto I mean I’m manifesting it asap

1.) Guangyan the feral housecat. I read his character as the kind of fussy housecat that slaps its human/fellow animals on a regular basis but refuses to step on wet grass or eat generic cat food.

Post season 1, I also headcanon that housecat energy as developing into a slightly more feral version. We’ve discussed Chuying and Guangyan would likely be more protective of Yiyong and I’m wondering what that would look like in the show.

Honestly, the mental picture that came up was those viral videos people take where there’s a bear outside their house, trying to go through the bins, only to be chased off by the family’s sassy calico who genuinely believes a cat is as much of a baddie as a bear, if not more. That is the Guangyan I imagine post-evil baker guy. On his own, he’s still timid and polite, but we have seen he’s gone from yelling insults at Yiyong to trying to protect his feelings and soothe him, so I’m curious whether he’d become physically protective too—often it’s the quietest ones who are the most ferocious when loved ones are threatened. And whatever the nature of their bond, there was no question for me in that last episode that Guangyan has come to love Yiyong. Plus, there is nothing as territorial and petty as a housecat, which fits Guangyan beautifully.

2.) Chuying as a detective. OnePer but promoted. We already see the change she’s undergone in terms of empathy, and I think this process would keep evolving. Think about Chuying when we first meet her; there is a visibly injured guy trying to make a statement—something big and important—and she is daydreaming about being more important in her role as a cop.

Now fast forward to the end of the first season. Chuying has gotten her excitement, her promotion, the danger and duty to help, and it isn't the dream she figured. Because she has finally learned to empathize and care for people who she’s meant to be protecting, and because she can’t protect one of the people she’s come to care about—Yiyong. I see her becoming more responsible, more focused on the job and not the praise. Because it’s like Sneaky McBaker points out—she probably did get a commendation for taking him down and doing her best to help a victim. But that is worth absolutely nothing anymore.

3.) Yiyong the passionate calligrapher. Because honestly? He’s had his injury and coma visions, and he knows he is helping people. It’s the opposite of what everyone always told him he’ll end up doing, it’s something that brings in zero cash so far (I just know Guangyan and Chuying are out there adding to a private account to help Yiyong’s mom and help him get back on his feet or just not work until he wants to).

I think Yiyong, who started off so reluctant, will be more driven to get back into the ghostie business before his friends want him to. It’s not just a return to normal after MORE lost years, it’s a purpose. He’s missed so many moments, and despite his mom’s comforting words that the years don’t count, he can pick up where he left off, I think he’ll be feeling behind, maybe worried his detective and student friends are spending too much time helping him and not enough time on their own lives.

4.) I hope we will get more backstory on minor characters. Ye Baosheng is one of the best characters in this story, and we know so little about her. I want her to have more scenes, I want her to feel involved in her son’s life. Like Melissa McCall for her son Scott in Teen Wolf, except for the whole thing where Scott's character gets increasingly sidelined. I appreciate so much that Chuying and Guangyan have clearly become an extra daughter and a son in law. I hope she starts her own salon. I think she’ll be very much the same person as she was after the first coma, not because she’s fine but because she needs Yiyong to think she’s fine. The show does an amazing job of showing without telling that this is a mother trying to be as strong and normal as she can for her baby.

5.) Guangyan and Yiyong. Listen, I know they aren’t canon, I know it’s a bromance, SO FAR. Here are my thoughts on this: too many shows try to speedrun the enemies to lovers plot at the cost of story, character development, and basic common sense. ONHCT has shown it’s willing to play the long game on things before. To me, it could easily be a natural progression. Here’s how I see it playing out: after Yiyong wakes up, he’s trying to get back into cases, but he starts drawing his comic again, too. One of his high school friends “accidentally” mentions to him that Guangyan is the only real fan of that comic, and reminisces about “back when we used to come visit and your weird nerd friend would be curled up next to your bed talking to you.” I want Yiyong to be simultaneously smug and scared shitless, and Guangyan considering maybe living at the morgue forever.

(After they kiss at the bus stop for the first time, Chuying, who wasn't spying, texts the family and friends group chat to let everyone know Granny Zeng Jiang has won the betting pool for when/where it would happen).

[succubusphan]

The Knight of Wands

Summary: Phil had always had dreams that he couldn't quite comprehend and a certain intuition about what was truly important for his future.

Rating: G

Tags/warnings: No warnings that I can think of. Psychic Phil, fluff, yearning.

Author's Note: This fic was written for @ttlmt for the Phandom Fic Exchange! Hi Bee! I hope I did your prompt justice, it was very very fun to write and even though it isn't really that long I put a lot of care into it. Enjoy!

There is a video linked at the bottom of the post or on the final notes in ao3 you may light. I found it hilarious and very helpful for the story.

Thank you @effingmeteors for being my life saviour and beta as usual.

Word Count: 3.7 k

Read on Ao3

1995

“Where is your bear, Phil? Where is your bear?” Asked Phil’s mum in the video, baby Phil not knowing the answer yet.

Phil kicked his feet as they dangled from his chair. He really liked watching his baby videos even though he was now 8 years old. He sipped on his hot chocolate and added even more marshmallows, suddenly staring intently into the cup and wrapping his hands around it, enjoying the warm feeling.

He grabbed his dream journal and wrote down “Warm” at the bottom of the list. He didn’t really know what it meant exactly, but he knew that the items on the list were related somehow. He had decided to write it in his dream journal because he could sometimes see them in a dream. Well, not actually see them, but - he didn’t know. It was like a feeling, like he knew this person, but he also knew that he didn’t know the person.

He read the list over, trying to piece the puzzle together. 

Bear

Malteesers

Coffee

Will  Wheel

Warm

His grandma had said that he would know in time, but he wanted to know now! Now! Now!

Letting out a sigh, he fished one of the marshmallows from his mug and ate it happily.

“Phil! Don’t eat too much sugar or you won’t be able to sleep tonight!” his mum called from the doorway to the kitchen.

“I need it to think!” he whined.

“Dinner is almost ready!” 

“I will finish it, Mummy! Promise!”

She just shook her head and went back to making dinner.

Phil popped the last scone loaded with clotted cream and jam into his mouth and smiled. Still trying to chew around the big piece, he hopped from the chair and went to switch the video cassette for the ThunderCats one. He made sure to put the tape with his baby videos safely back in his personal collection before hitting play.

As soon as the song came on, he started running around the dining room, swinging an imaginary sword around, yelling “Thunder! Thunder! ThunderCats Ooooh!”

He ran another lap around the room until he was met face to face with the mirror and paused. After staring at himself for a moment, he decided that to truly become a ThunderCat, he needed something, but what could it be? Phil paid attention to his face and if he focused, he could almost see a glimpse of cat whiskers coming out of his cheeks in the reflection. He gasped, happy to have figured that out and made a quick run up the stairs to his bedroom and returned with a black marker. 

It took him almost until the end of the song, but he managed to finally look like a cat. One day he would add a sword to the costume, but for now, he felt at peace.

“Are you done, Child?” his mum asked. “Oh! Who’s this?”

“I’m a cat!” said Phil, showing her his claws.

“Oh my!” she said, opening one of the drawers in the china cabinet and pulling the camera out. “What a handsome and brave cat you are!” She snapped a picture.

“Could I get a sword for my birthday?” Phil pleaded.

“We’ll see, love.” She always said that when the answer was no.

Phil pouted but rushed to his chair and drank more hot chocolate. He looked at the opposite side of the table and saw someone sitting there, or the idea of someone. He smiled. “Mum?”

“Yes, Phil?”

“Will I ever have a best friend?”

“Of course! Everyone has a best friend,” she assured him.

“I can’t wait!” Phil said, and added cat whiskers to the list.

---

1998

Phil opened his birthday present and smiled when he saw the Final Fantasy VII game he’d asked for. He was going to enjoy it so much!

He had dreamed about this game for long, even longer than it had been out to the public. It was as if the game was calling to him. For some reason, it felt important to have an item from his list; and he had added "FF" to his list months ago.

He waited until all his school friends had gone home and started the game. After losing three times in a row he decided to watch Buffy instead, but his eyes kept escaping back to the game case on the floor.

His dreams that night were plagued with dark brooding men dressed in black, but Phil wasn’t scared; he knew they were friendly.

---

2005

Long gone were Phil’s magic dreams. He still loved his grandmother, obviously, but repeating things she had told him always got him in trouble, or mocked by his friends, so he had eventually stopped trying to connect with that side of himself.

It was as if he had lost a part of himself, a part of him he didn’t know he loved so much until it was gone. He knew it was the right choice for him, his so-called gift hadn’t done him any favours. 

Nowadays, Phil felt nothing but sadness when he opened his old dream journal and saw the list of things that had no way of being related to each other. The last additions had been only drawings: a few sticks in an orange background and a weird circle with mixed colours. Nothing made sense.

None of his friends were a good fit, and, if he was honest, he didn’t even know if this person existed or not.

He was leaving for Uni soon and his mum had asked him to clean his room out and throw away anything that he wasn’t using. So Phil stood by the bin he’d placed in the middle of the room, contemplating his life and trying to decide what part of his childhood he wanted to discard forever. 

He looked at the journal in his hand. It was stupid, but he couldn’t just throw it away. Instead he walked over to his bookcase and removed 4 random books, setting the journal flat against the backboard and putting the other books back in their place to conceal it.

Nodding to himself, he continued rummaging through his very messy room. He groaned as he stuck his hand under his bed and touched something sticky; it was all the uneaten candy he’d accidentally dropped, melted by the passage of who knows how many months. He would need to get his shit together or his future roommates would kick him out for being a pig - if the ants didn’t eat him before that.

Then he came across his tiny lion plushie and smiled before putting it in his bag. Lion was definitely coming with him.

---

2006

Phil was back in his room, in the comfort of his family home and somewhat inspired by this new website called YouTube. His friends said he had a bit of a problem with social media because he was constantly on the internet, but everything was just so fun. The idea of uploading a video of his own had been floating around and around in his head for a while, but when he opened a new box of cereal and was met with the prized prize of a black and white little camera, he took it as the ultimate sign that he should do it. 

His first Videoblog was a bit all over the place, but that was just who he was. If he wanted to make new friends, what a better way to go about it than to show who he really was, right?

Once the video was recorded, it took him a full day to edit and upload it but it was worth it. He got some comments and video replies immediately! He even got his first subscriber!

Posting that video had definitely been a good idea, no matter what his mates said.

---

2009

Phil’s YouTube channel was quite a passion project for him and he tried his best to continue posting regularly even if he never lost focus on his studies. Uni was obviously more important, but since he would be majoring in video post-production and visual effects, he could pass it as a learning experience.

In February he received a package from his grandmother with a cryptic message. Among the usual ‘take care, be careful and avoid being run over on the 10th of this month,’ she also added her tarot cards with a note that read ‘Use them well.’

He didn’t exactly know what that meant, but in the spirit of being his true self on camera, he decided to talk about the psychic side of his family in a video, passing it as a funny thing more than something that had been a bit of an obsession all his life.

To downplay the importance of tarot reading in the video, he called it “Robot Death Machine,” referencing the electric heater he’d had to rely on because the heating was broken again, instead of anything related to divination.

To begin, he shuffled the cards a bit and laid his hands on the full deck, trying to really focus on transmitting his energy into it. He looked up at the camera and said “Edit that out.” He would pull three cards: one for the past, one for the present and one for the future, with the little booklet with the meaning of each card firmly at his side. He truly needed it, because despite his grandma’s protests, he had never learned that by heart.

He looked into the camera as if he had just begun touching the deck. “My grandma is a psychic and apparently she could have passed the gift on to me, right? Who knows! So let’s look into my future. I’m going to do the following month, so I’m hoping this month will be good.”

“Before this month: it’s the Nine of Cups reversed!” He pulled the card and showed it before reading the meaning. “I was vain, complaisant, over-sentimental, and careless - and I neglected my partner,” he said, wincing at the implication. He didn’t think he had neglected his cheater ex boyfriend, if anything it had been the other way around.

He pulled another card and looked at it. “Currently, the Three of... Swords. Currently I’m entering into a dangerous three-way relationship where heartache is inevitable for one participant - or all.” Wow, he hoped that was not the case; he had enough drama in his life as it was. “Minor surgery is possible. That doesn’t sound good!”

He moved along and pulled the last card, a bit disappointed with the results of the reading so far. “The future: ‘the Knight of Wands. Some guy is going to have a big impact, an energetic warrior, he has a hasty personality and he’s very quick to love or hate.”

“Hmm. Interesting,” Phil said, chewing the inside of his cheek. “I’m glad it wasn’t, like, death! And, okay, I’m gonna go eat some crisps,” he laughed at himself. “That’s the first thing that came to my head. No! I’m gonna go change the world in ways you would not believe!” 

He waved and stopped the recording.

He sat back against his bed, thinking for a moment. Could it be? He would have to watch out for any new person coming into his life for the next month or so. It could definitely be something, but given that the first 2 cards made no sense, he didn’t have high hopes.

He grabbed his phone and called his grandmother just to be sure.

“Hi!” he said as soon as she picked up.

“Hello, Darling. Did you use my cards?” she asked, not wasting a single second, probably because she already knew he had.

“Yes. I have a question about what came up. The first two cards I pulled made no sense but the third one - I don’t know.”

“What cards did you pull?”

“Uh,” Phil hesitated, looking down at the floor. It was the Nine of Cups, reversed. Then I got the Three of Swords.”

“You were in a relationship, were you not?” 

“I was...” Phil said. “But they cheated.”

“Well, there’s the neglect and the love triangle.”

“Oh,” Phil said. “And the Knight of Wands?”

“Was that the last one?” she asked and Phil could swear he heard the smile in her voice.

“Yeah. I don’t think I know any energetic warriors.”

“Perhaps not yet, but you need to pay attention. The Knight of Wands is a very charismatic person, adventurous, competitive, a fiery lad; the salamanders in his coat mean he's resistant to flames.” 

“What does that mean? Is he a firefighter?” Phil laughed, not missing that the 'he' came from her first. 

“You are taking the cards literally, Philip,” she said, not appreciating the joke. “And I do warn you, the Knight of Wands… He may not be one to settle down, not at first.” 

Phil frowned. “Who is this guy?” 

“You were calling him, weren't you? For a long while now?” 

Phil couldn’t breathe. He blinked repeatedly and coughed. “This month?” he croaked. 

“Not necessarily, but it could be. You need to look at the signs.” She waited patiently for him to process what she had just unloaded onto him. 

“Is this a friend or…” 

“That’s for you to decide. You will have to be patient with him, with both of you.” 

Phil groaned. “Thank you, Grandma.” 

“Of course!” she said. “You need to trust yourself. Even if you don’t want to share your gift with anyone, don’t try to smother it. It will hurt you.” 

“I - Alright. I won’t,” Phil said. “See you soon?” 

She laughed. “See you on New Year’s Eve,” she said and hung up.

Phil stared at the cards and began to put them back into the box one by one, just as he had picked them. He closed the box and instead of returning them to his desk, he put them in his backpack. Better to have them close.

--

By April, and with no news from this ‘Energetic Warrior,’ Phil had decided to move on and focus on the people that were actually making an impact in his life in the present.

It was exciting to interact with the people that watched his videos, especially as he started to be able to differentiate between them. A guy kept replying to his tweets and commenting under his videos with a random username and he looked cute, or at least that’s what Phil could tell from his profile picture. 

Phil tried to be friendly and treat everyone the same, giving them the same time and attention, but Dan (danisnotonfire) just kept trying to get Phil’s attention, always being one of the first to reply to his tweets, commenting on his YouTube videos, and even pointing out all the things they had in common, such as their love for Muse and the movie “Children of Men.” 

It seemed that Dan was determined to be his #1 fan at all costs. When Dan tweeted Phil saying he had a crush on him, Phil finally caved and decided to snoop around. After scrolling on Dan’s twitter profile for about an hour, Phil was set on getting to know him. He sounded like a fun guy and his observation about everything they had in common was fairly accurate.

He decided to follow Dan back and drop him a direct message. 

“Hey :) ” Phil typed, considering his next words carefully. “How are you doing?”

“omg! hi phil!

i can’t believe you followed me back! O__0 ” Dan said.

Phil bit his lip and typed a reply. “Haha why not?”

“i don’t know XD

you are so cool and i’ve been watching your videos for a logn time :] ”

“I think you’re cool too! ^.^ 

What’s your favourite Muse song?”

“ugh, don’t make me choose X__X”

“Come on! Mine is Newborn, or Exogenesis and Muscle Museum 

Those are my top 3”

“i hate you :/

i guess if I had to pick one it would be Citizen Erased”

“That’s a good one” Phil wondered if it would be too forward to ask Dan, but if he got too into his head nothing good would come of it. He had never been one to hesitate a lot about things. What could go wrong after all? 

“Hey, do you want to chat on skype?” He hit enter and waited for Dan’s reply eagerly.

“yeah! add me &lt;;3 

i’m danisnotonfire there too”

“That’s a cool username

How did you choose it?”

“it was a random string of words I came up with a few years ago lol”

“Hahaha valid :) 

See you on skype”

---

September 2009

After days and eternal nights of non-stop chatting, Phil decided to invite Dan to his parents’ house. They had gotten to know each other enough for Phil to be sure that Dan was not a serial killer - probably. 

Not that it mattered, because Dan had yet to accept his invitation.

And even though they had often been flirty during their calls, Phil wasn’t sure if they would have the same chemistry in person. If their meeting went well, it would be the first time Phil had successfully transitioned from an online friendship to a real life one.

Somehow, this felt so different than anyone else he had met before, more important. Dan was special, and just being able to talk to him made him incredibly happy.

In October, after weeks of pestering Dan, he finally accepted his invitation. Apparently, Dan had been saving ever since Phil had invited him and wanted to surprise him which made Phil blush and smile like a crazy person.

When October 19 finally came, Dan took the train to Manchester, where Phil was already anxiously waiting for him. Seeing Dan in the crowd, walking towards him and the hug Dan pulled him into was something that felt so familiar yet groundbreaking, and Phil had no way of explaining it.

Just as the sun started to set, they got on the big wheel when as their cart made it to the top, Dan kissed him, the remnants of the last sun rays setting the mood, and enveloping Phil in a warm feeling. He felt like his stomach was flipping over and he knew then that he couldn’t deny having feelings for Dan.

After frolicking around town, they headed home and filmed a video for Phil’s channel, which they were both super excited about. At one point, Phil saw Dan going through his stuff and stopped the recording to check what was catching Dan’s attention.

He had started pulling books out of the bookcase that hadn’t been touched in years.

“What’s that?” Dan asked with a curious smile, making the cat whiskers on his face curl upwards.

“What?” Phil asked.

“There’s something in the back. Is it your porn stash?” Dan smirked.

Phil snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s where I keep it!”

Dan grabbed a purple sparkly notebook with childlike scribbling on the front. “Dream Journal”

“Oh,” Phil said, feeling a tug in his stomach. “I hadn’t thought about that in a while.”

“Can I read it?” Dan asked.

“I guess? I don’t think there’s a lot in there,” Phil said, pulling at the hem of his shirt when chills ran down through him.

Dan sat back down on Phil’s bed, his back against the wall, legs pulled to his chest and bottom lip burrowed between his lips. “Oh, this is interesting. You dreamt about meeting shadow people a lot.”

“Yeah,” Phil said, swallowing thick. He kneeled on the bed and shuffled closer to Dan to read from above.

“What’s this list?” Dan asked, tapping on the last page Phil had ever filled.

“Just things that used to... catch my attention.”

“Bear. Did you know my family used to call me Bear when I was a kid? My grandma still does.”

“I - no, you hadn’t told me,” Phil said.

“Malteesers? Obviously! They are the fucking best. Coffee? You have a real problem with that if you started having coffee at this age.” Dan laughed.

“I didn’t!” Phil laughed along as everything started to slot into place. “Starbucks,” he mumbled under his breath. “Wheel. That’s where…” he trailed off.

“Will? Oh, Wheel!” Dan laughed. “You had a little problem with spelling, I see.”

Phil scoffed. “Shut up!”

“Hmm?” Dan asked, but his eyes were trained on the list. He was barely paying Phil any mind. “Worm?” Dan raised his eyebrows, finally looking up at Phil.

“Warm! That’s an A. I was a kid, don’t judge. I was having hot chocolate with marshmallows when I wrote that,” Phil said, waiting for Dan to say anything that would confirm his suspicion.

“What does that have to do with warm?” Dan asked. 

Phil shrugged. “I - I don’t know. I liked the feeling of warm things against my skin.” 

“Cat whiskers. Well, we have those on already.”

“Do you know what these could be?” Phil asked, pointing to the drawings he didn’t even understand.

“They look like Muse albums, sort of? Wait, when did you do these?” Dan asked, his brow burrowed into a frown.

Phil’s mouth fell open. He got up and brought Dan the Tonberry plushie he had purchased as a gift for him weeks ago, Christmas surprise be damn. “Final Fantasy,” Phil said.

Dan finally set the journal down on the bed and opened his gift. “This is my favourite character!” Dan looked incredibly happy.

“Yeah,” Phil said. He shuffled the things on his desk and found the tarot card set his grandma had sent him. It didn’t take him long to find the card he had been looking for. He grabbed the journal and slid the Knight of Wands card inside, closing it and returning it to its hiding place.

“I don’t understand what the list was about,” Dan said, still clutching his gift. “Those are just things you liked?”

“Something like that,” Phil said.

Dan raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t keep secrets from me, Phil Lester.”

Phil shrugged. “It’s the recipe for the perfect best friend, I guess.”

“Get out,” Dan said with a laugh and threw the Tonberry at him.

Phil knelt on the bed and pressed their lips together, smiling into the kiss as Dan pulled him closer, smudging their cat whiskers. He had finally found the person from his dreams, his best friend, his Knight of Wands.

Final Author's notes: I referenced this video for the tarot card and I would advise anyone with a few minutes to spare to watch it and marvel at how fucking accurate this card is to describe Dan. I found it hilarious. Maybe Phil is truly a psychic. VIDEO.

[wsdalt]

“I mean… it’s not a state that is activated by the full moon otherwise he would’ve been in wolf form the whole time, so it’s something similar, but different i think”

that’s what i’ve been thinking of! all the signs point to werewolf!ricardo except that he didn’t transform at any point even during full moon, so i was really curious about that. and y e s! it makes so much more sense that maybe “that” scene didn’t activate the experiment completely, but dying did omg

also completely on brand for ricardo (the guy who suddenly got ripped and didn’t wonder about it) to have a whole weird tattoo down his back and don’t think twice about it lmao

i’ll send another ask then with my account!

and yes, canon isn’t canon until it happens, so have fun! pfft i dream about him showing up again in the blood spinoff, i just reeeally hope he’s still under felps’ control and not just a mindless beast people have to face

oh i’m glad to hear someone helped you out with that and transcribed it without the bad part!! and no worries, i’ll keep that in mind!

“Unfortunately “full moon” is a bit of a trigger for everyone now since the killers seemed to be connected to full moon rituals and such. and “enclosed spaces” is a trigger for Ricardo specifically due to the whole “regaining memories of being caged” thing. So he can often already be pretty panicky when transforming”

ooouch my heart :’D poor ricardo, transforming must be a whole situation after all of that they went through. they must fear what he can do while transformed but i imagine locking him up will make everything worse so that’s a whole new problem, i love it so much! great headcanon

“but yes I’m not sure I’ll just… see how I feel next time I have a finished fic? maybe take a break to instead focus on translating my fics to Portuguese? we’ll see…”

that seems like a good plan! and it’s really fun to practice a language by translating big texts, i can attest to that lmao

i think 98% of all my english knowledge came from reading fics and seeing videos/series

“but yes i get that I’m very slow to comment because i just don’t have much time… i have a list in my head, but I’m thinking I might make a spreadsheet too pfft just so i don’t miss anything (I also need to get better at commenting in Portuguese on Portuguese fics… I’m a bit nervous to at the moment oops”

yes i get it :’D the thing i prioritize the most is to kudo, subscribe and bookmark - it’s the things i always do immediately. but most times i like leaving long comments so sometimes i’ll return to a fic after a few months and say my words pffft

“(also do you need an account to comment on spirit fics? because i do have one but i don’t often like commenting as a non-guest unless i know the person… depends on my mood a bit though)”

i really don’t know, i’ve just started to read on spirit and didn’t create an account yet because of not knowing that. i prefer commenting anonymously on fics too so i was a bit scared to make it :[]

KKKKKKKKKKKKSK i loved this picture, it’s truly accurate

- sdol anon

okay hi!! sorry I had a headache and couldn’t read + write well

I’m glad it makes sense \o/ both the “not quite a werewolf” + activation and the tattoo thing. (In my “everyone lives” au he is definitely showing that to Lila after all this to see if she has any idea what it means pfft)

yes same I hope if he does show up again he’s still under Felps’ control rather than something for the oneshot pcs to deal with. since he’s a pc maybe…? but it depends on what felps and cellbit want to do I suppose

exactly! Locking him up will be very awful for him, but they need to make sure he doesn’t freak out and hurt people. just need to try to find the balance…

and yes I’m reading a bunch of Portuguese fic without google translate and it’s going okay \o/ but translating my words into Portuguese is helping even more i suppose since it forces me to think more about sentence structure than just understanding just enough words to understand the sentence

makes sense! long comments are harder on phone (which is what I mostly read on) and then if I need to log in to leave the comment it makes it take longer too… but that’s why I’m thinking of making a spreadsheet so then I remember \o/ I always kudos but I haven’t really tried bookmarking yet

but yes I’ll look more into commenting on spirit (+ Portuguese fics on ao3, but I know I can do that anonymously). maybe will just start with a bunch of heart emojis and such \o/!!

[pilotslogs]

Never forget the gift of the secret of the golden mic.

With great knowledge comes great suffering.

Is there anyone out there? I remember this indie film where a student goes to the school talent show and tells the auditorium he wrote a song, then proceeded to play Mother by Pink Floyd. The parents take him to a therapist and the therapist asks why he told everyone he wrote that song. He didn’t write the song! That’s all I remember, aside from maybe the same character putting jizz on the bookshelf of a library. I don’t remember the name of the film. Is anyone out there, does anyone remember?

There has to be a word for this specific feeling not in English. It’s the queer feeling of getting back to work after a two week vacation (in Costa Rica). I don’t know. It’s peculiar. I’m taking my life too seriously introspectively, but outwardly am a soft fun music puppy. With a mustache now. Sorting the mustache. The worst months of the year are over!

There was another Michael in the sauna last night, had some 15-20 years on me. He witnessed and invited me to his pentecost church at the lighthouse, across the street from Equippers where I played keys for a while at the ‘performing arts center’, a funny location for church. I just found out from Sarah Handy that pirates of penzance is being performed there, which I’d love to see. But I’m on a budget and frankly listening to it is just the same. I’d pay to see some Shakespeare though. There are subtles in the live setting that don’t come across in video.

So before Costa Rica the theme of the month was the feeling of being at a Crossroads. Since when are people not at a crossroads inside crossroads? I’m a rusty writer, my skin is drying and I feel the weight of age. It’s my Bday in 25 days or so Tumblr told me and I’m itching to skip town for it. Either Camp Channel Islands or Big Sur. Both will be cold at night but I’ll be okay. The upside of Big Sur is then I can head to see Goodtwin that weekend in the Bay. All the best friends of my life. Also I haven’t been to Big Sur in forever, and I have a feeling spots will be bookable because it’ll still be cold. So we came to the decision. Plus I’m recording Goodtwin the weekend before at some airbnb in Oakland.

These questions… the dumb ones like artist name. The forgetting of the secret of the golden mic. Integrate it into your daily, or slowly watching your body mind and soul slip away.

We are not going to talk about taxes, but let’s say I couldn’t file last year because it was so evil and difficult to get a W2 from the DailyMail. Even though they’ll give me a return which is what I can use for this year’s taxes as a contractor where I have no idea how I’m going to be able to pay any of it. I need to pay the DMV for crap too. I am on the CROSSROADS deciding whether or not to become a sovereign citizen, or to play it straight and commit to continue paying into a system that serves satan, not the people anymore. When you know for sure your tax dollars are put towards killing children on the other side of the world, it’s difficult to reconcile. But the money also hopefully is the reason I live in a beautiful place with beautiful people. There’s nothing quite like taxes. Many books can be written and have been on the subject.

But this is the year of prep, of hope, and it isn’t a year of loss! I am unprepared and preparing for the graduate school dream! Upon getting back from Costa Rica, I spent a lot of time researching stuff like “can I go to grad school in Europe as a Sovereign citizen?”. It seems too complicated. At the end of the day never forget the secret of the golden mic, and cultivate that angel every single day. That’s the only important truth of the matter.

Yesterday I asked this worker girl Claudia at Trader Joes if she wanted to walk the beach with me. She’s a beautiful blonde but has something of a void inside her. I think I can wake her up. She said she’d think about it and get back to me next time we see each other. It wasn’t out of the blue I’ve seen her before a month ago and was talking about this piano I needed to find a new home for, and also about recruiting her for a new choir I’m trying to start. It didn’t feel like rejection. Bonnie made me a hinge last weekend after a world music practice with Bonnie and Rebekah. It was high vibes and great to see my nieces again. The photos on my hinge are not representative of me, and the photos I’m getting from my friends for help I look like an absolute psycho. So maybe I should just embrace psycho social tendencies and leverage it for good? Witnessing about the Lord and the importance of music and arts and the lies of the government. But even just one of those is not my destiny. Among many smiles and jokes the one that really stuck out was my quote:

“To eat mindlessly is to sprint away from one’s destiny.”

Where am I heading? The zyn is wearing down and I’m going to shamelessly pop another. It’s maybe my final vice. That and two more days until thick sack life. When a man has a thick sack, you can hear it in his voice. I swear to God. I saw the movie Anon last night which started great and was a cool concept but went downhill at the halfway point.

Where are your memories?

There’s a boat. You’re late but it’s the train’s fault. The system. That jump from the dock where the boat was taking off was just the thing you needed on your trip. You made it, and it didn’t matter how the ride went at this point. Zoning out on the comparisons between the tiny ocean and your huge tub back home, you had thoughts of being a boat wife one day. The sway the swagger the unrelenting unpredictable rise and fall of the body put you in a stillness unattainable in yoga. How can movement cause stillness in my soul?

The brutality of fishing seemed rude at best. Everyone was handed a pole. I hope I don’t catch anything. I tried to take all the dramamine but Paul took the rest, worried that I’d overdose in front of his dad. I was angry and tried to explain it was like the modest mouse song, and it was my dream to be on a boat on a boat load of dramamine. Dream Shattered. I was hung over but also a little high from not enough weed that morning, not enough to feel kind or one with nature putting hooks into innocent creatures for sport.

We were asked to raise our poles. The biggest catch of the day was 8 inches. Not big enough to eat. I could sense the offshore oil rigs of death that I loudly blamed for the bad catch of the day. But it was mine, I won the biggest catch on the boat. There’s a photo somewhere in the void of me frowning with my tiny little fish.

We’ve come a long way since that day. The coastal life, the relationship with an ocean We don’t care about the small stuff. A man’s destiny is locked inside his mind. What is the answer? Do I go back to TJs to get some cheap lunch? But what if I see that girl again Claudia? She will probably need more than one day’s time, and I feel like it would be too soon to go in again. But oh who cares when you need more than a salad in a day. But also maybe I don’t, maybe I go right before closing and get salads on salads. I’m just going to eat salad and rice and meat all week. It’s not much, but it’s worth it.

So whoever on this quest for a life partner, they have to come to Berlin with me so I can go to grad school. That was the decision, this is the old dream run anew. I have a whole year to prep, and it’s so nice having an out in sight now.

Aside I called chad yesterday spontaneously telling him we should all rent a house together and he said him and Taylor were actually about to get a 2 bed in Grover Beach and I in short begged him to join, he said maybe if there was a garage and he’d ask Taylor. Even though us three had a great hike around Orcutt hill last weekend, I have a feeling she’ll say no. She has no reason to add an extra to her dream of living with just Chad. I wish Chad’s priorities were different, but he can live his own life and all I can do it pray at this point. I know in my heart it won’t happen but hey, given this track record of lost love, this heart has been wrong more times than right.

Back to Berlin, it’s a 3 years master and these are my goals for the year in order to hedge my bets on getting accepted. It seems competitive and noncompetitive at the same time. As nice as it would be to apply to multiple programs, there just aren’t any other programs that I could see myself doing. Even the ones on the states seem bleak compared to Berlin. And it looks like if I get in good with Sabina, I could get a PHD there. I’d like to write about the musicology of freestyle rapping and I think Sabina would be great at that.

Does this mean weekly Freestyler’s Anonymous meetings? Spanish club? Drum circle? I have too many ideas and am trapped inside this vessel called mind. It could be worse, but Lord knows my potential and how much better the world gets when Michael’s singing.

No more broken errors! I stand by these tangible goals as follows:

Sound Map of Cali Coast

Publish a book on music and love on amazon

Publish a solo piano album

Publish an anti folk album like Conor oburst style

Get website back on with robust posts.

Busk weekly and schedule private students outside of work, (giving up Tuesdays like was presented to me last month) Then I can make more money for arguably less work. And see family more because it would be the Orcutt squad.

Weekly Livestream for creative music nights

Disco night for dancing and hanging out with friends stuck at home.

But really. Everyday in Ableton is what needs to happen

I’m about to go teach and there’s a salad calling my name. But I need to make it last so I’m going to zyn it again and not eat until the absolute final moment. Sauna again today after work. Cancel all bills now.

[thetoxicgamer]

Reclaiming the narrative: Rekkles’ thoughts on the past and hopes for the future

After wearing the black and orange uniform for nearly six years, renowned bot laner Martin "Rekkles" Larsson decided to join another team. On November 18, 2020, Fnatic released an emotional video to inform fans of this development. The most promising roster Europe had ever produced was where he would later join G2 Esports. But that dream shattered in 2021 as G2 lost the LEC finals twice in a row after years of dominion in the region. Fans largely attributed their fall from grace to the team’s lack of cohesion both in and out of the game, which led G2 to hold extensive tryouts for several roles at the end of the year, including for bot lane. Less than 12 months on the team, Rekkles left G2 with an uncertain future ahead of him. After joining the French ERL and conquering the LFL title in 2022, Rekkles returned to the EMEA region’s highest league with Fnatic. But the team failed to adapt quickly enough to the new LEC format, and during the first split of the year, they exited the competition after only three weeks. In an emotional video on his YouTube channel on Feb. 28, Rekkles opened up about the problems he and Fnatic faced during the LEC’s first Winter Split, and he later told Dot Esports that doing so made “a world of difference” for him. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-3Px-qQJ5bE “In the past I was always the quiet guy, just letting things be as they are and letting narratives become whatever they wanted to become,” Rekkles told Dot. “I just never interfered with anything and I really feel like I learned from my time in G2, especially that talking can be good at times. I put that to the test at the end of last year when I opened up about my contract situation in G2 and how all of that ended up.” He said opening up to his community to “just let it all out” and let people see him cry or laugh helped him move on from those negative experiences. “I’m keeping everything to myself and sometimes I see these narratives which are just… It feels like I might as well just say my piece and then if people like it or not like it, that’s up to them.” After his heartfelt video, Rekkles said he felt he could leave behind the Winter Split and focus on the spring, and he had a “much better time” because of it and the new team environment. The bot laner said this Fnatic roster feels more like a team compared to the Winter Split one, where they were “desynchronized,” both in how the team wanted to play and in the players’ day-to-day behavior outside the game. This Spring Split, however, making sure “everyone feels included, cared for, and heard” became a focal point for Fnatic—and Rekkles feels it made a big difference from the start of the split to the end. Although the veteran player admitted Fnatic has some in-game issues, he believes the experience has been positive otherwise. For this season, Rekkles hopes to solve “whatever need to figure out on the Rift” while keeping the feeling of camaraderie the team have built up in less than a month. Despite the various in-game issues, Fnatic’s latest results in the LEC show the team evolved and grew in a very short time between the Winter and Spring Split. But according to Rekkles, a major factor in Fnatic’s poor results is because of the stage. “We had a good few weeks of winning basically every scrim, and then suddenly losing on stage,” the bot laner said. “You can definitely see that on stage we’re not exactly the same team as we are in scrims. Well, I guess people can’t really see that, but people can see our official games from home when we’ve been playing from the office and the ones on stage. And to me, there’s still too much difference between the two. “To me, League of Legends has kind of become a game where whoever engages first usually wins cause it’s quite easy to one-shot someone,” Rekkles said, adding how he believes he and his team can hesitate when going after plays on stage. He underlined that he does not believe this to be an individual issue, but the whole team is more cautious to make the first move when on stage, and that brief moment of hesitation would sometimes cost them the right timing to make a play. The Swedish ADC continued by saying his hopes for this Fnatic roster are to become a team who can play with more confidence on stage, something he believes will help them reach the next level. Rekkles said it was a “shame” Fnatic failed to go further into the competition, since the journey they went on brought out “a lot of good things” from each member of the team and even helped reveal a new side of Rekkles himself. After more than 10 years of being a pro player, he changed from being someone who focused just on League and didn’t say much or help anyone outside of the game, to the complete opposite. “ I was just playing my game, and nowadays maybe it’s everything but that. I can see how I’ve changed in, well, terms I’m helping my team,” he said. But Rekkles’ goal resides beyond being a good teammate, and beyond winning again. “The grand goal for me is to do this for as long as possible,” Rekkles said. “Contribute as much as I can from year to year, because that’s gonna be different, and from roster to roster. And I just have to do whatever I can to help.” According to the veteran player, it’s just a matter of time before he and his teammates maximize their potential on the Rift. “I have the level to be in the LEC,” Rekkles said, pointing to Worlds 2018 and 2019 to describe his true potential when he’s operating at 100 percent. “I just wanna keep going for as long as I can, try to do as good as I can, and if I ever feel like I don’t live up anymore to the standards you need to meet to be at this level, then I will call it,” he said. “But I still think I am more than good enough to be in the LEC.” Rekkles and Fnatic will return to the Rift in June when the LEC Summer Split kicks off. Read the full article

[babybeel]

— say you’ll stay (never be severed) when they have a nightmare you die ; title creds

lucifer knows it was just a dream. he knows it wasn’t real, assures himself it wasn’t and yet he allows his heart - still thundering in his chest - to guide his sharp strides and pound on your door. the sight of you, worry for him clear though sleepy and bleary eyed, is enough for lucifer’s knees to melt and he falls forward to embrace you, relieved sigh shuddering through the air next to your ear. it feels natural when your arms circle his torso, tight hold allowing him to sink further and push back the tears that welled in his eyes. for once, lucifer’s head isn’t in charge and he relishes in your touch as his heartbeat begins to slow until it thumps a steady rhythm of i love you, i love you. unknowingly, the words fall from his lips too, escaping from deep within. and it’s the certainty in your voice as you return the confession that finally convinces lucifer he had experienced nothing more than a bad dream.

mammon doesn’t wait, can’t wait. he scrambles to your room, familiar route suddenly lasting an eternity. his feet slap panickedly against the floor as he barges in with such urgency that the door swings open with a bang. the slam is loud enough to scare you awake, half jumping out of your skin. but you don’t have a moment spare to take in what’s happening before mammon wraps himself around you, head tucked into the crook of your neck as he gasps and chants, “you’re ok, you’re ok.” you bring your own arms up to envelope him, knowing not of his nightmare but of just how bravely he protects his family, from the fall to now. it’d be foolish to think he’s the second eldest for nothing. but right now, mammon trembles under your touch, one hand rubbing across his broad shoulders and the other finding its place in the foam of his hair. “i’m ok,” you whisper in return as the first tears hit your collarbone and seep into your skin, “and you are too. i’ve got you, mammon.”

leviathan tries briefly to comfort himself, turning to the games he always found solace in, an escape from his own mind. but the scenes are violent and gory and his thumbs slip nervously on the controllers until he throws the console away from him. big red letters mocking him as they blink “you died.” levi can’t help it when he runs to your room, pictures of his nightmare still clear in his mind, unyielding. it sparks a fear in him that runs deeper than his worries of being a burden. and when you tug the demon gently into your hold, giving him the touch he so desperately needed, a whimper escapes him. it seems that is enough for levi to unravel, tears flooding down his cheeks as details of his night flow from his lips. you try your best to catch them all, more than used to levi’s ramblings, but he’s babbling incomprehensibly and you can’t keep up. and though stuck on the story of his video game, you still manage to calm levi with a simply reply of “let’s do it together.”

satan tries so hard, so desperately to distract himself. he first takes to deviltube, hoping the mindless videos would soothe his nerves but the voices in his head ring louder than the ones on screen. when that fails, he picks up his trusty book but it isn’t long before he becomes stuck on the same sentence, thoughts raging and wild. it’s only when the words begin to mix and blend that satan realises there are tears dripping down his cheeks. he swipes at them harshly, but them and the nonsensical fear to sleep again in case the nightmare returns has him padding down the hallways, knocking almost meekly at your door. the muted beats serve for confusion as you open the door, but it takes a split second for you to notice satan’s redrimmed eyes and the way he stands, awkward, unsure, small. refusing to meet your gaze. in an instant, you pull him into you, not needing an explanation but simply willing the demon to return to his usual self. and with your comfort and love, satan already has.

asmodeus is a mess. tears mar his skin, his eyes are bloodshot and his fingers tug tightly at his hair. his sobs have since turned into ugly, shapeless shrieks that have you venturing into his room, concern fuelling each action. you’ve never once seen him so unkempt. the grip he has only loosens when your hand covers his own, partly out of shock and partly out of comfort. asmo allows you to gently pull at him as if he is something delicate and dainty until eventually, he finds himself turned towards you. asmo can only count down the seconds for you to open your arms and invite him closer, and he all but jumps into your hold, pressed tight against you, skin against skin. your warmth sears at him, enough to dispel the horrid dreams and fearful tears. because asmo knows best that your touch is like none other, and with you, all his fears and worries glimmer away.

it’s no secret that beelzebub is plagued by nightmares. his brothers take turns in soothing him in the midst of the night, guilt weighing heavy on their chests. but tonight is different, tonight is bad. and when belphie comes banging on your door and tugs you down the hall, you follow wordlessly, heart in your throat. beel is surrounded by his older brothers when you arrive, harsh sobs shuddering through his frame. it is only when belphie returns with you that he begins to calm, his family finally full. you’re quick to slot yourself against his side when he reaches an arm out, hand finding his own. the feeling of your deep breaths banishes away the remnants of his nightmare and he tries his best to mirror them, to mirror you. still, when the tears dry and his lip no longer quivers, beel refuses to fall asleep again, too afraid of what may happen to his family when his back is turned. a squeeze of his hand directs his attention to you, and his eyes begin to prick once more as you whisper, “you can rest, beel. we’re all ok.”

belphegor is paralysed as his sin works against him. the lifeless image of you sends him thrashing, trapped in his many blankets with desperate, fearful whimpers escaping his throat. when he wakes in the attic, his heart sinks, and for a moment he isn’t sure if the images tormenting his mind are from the nightmare or a distant memory. but when you grip belphie’s shoulders and pull him close, he is soothed ever so slightly. still, tears spring at his eyes and you’re suddenly reminded that he is the youngest of the brothers, palm tracing up and down his spine. apologies spill from his lips, words mixing together between stammers and stumbles but you only hold belphie tighter with a dismissive shake of your head. you wonder gently if belphie’s sorry whispers are for bothering you or something bigger, but the thought remains at the back of your mind as he trembles beneath you. “it’s alright, belphie,” you coo softly, “i’m right here with you.”

[ash5monster01]

Somebody’s Baby

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader, plus size

Warnings: fluff, body image issues

Summary: You had gone so long not being noticed because of your size. You had started to give up hope on having someone notice you. And just when you least expect it the guy you want to the most does.

Masterlist

Your whole life all you wanted was someone to notice you. To see you and go ‘wow, she’s so beautiful’. But beauty can be hidden behind peoples image of perfect. It can be missed when your waist isn’t super tiny, your stomach isn’t flat, or your thighs aren’t small. If you don’t fit this image of perfect then all that beauty can be missed. And that’s exactly how you felt. Your stomach wasn’t flat, your waist didn’t give you an hourglass figure, and your thighs were big. The opposite of what turned heads and you had gotten used to not being noticed. Especially by the one guy you wanted to notice you the most.

You had been working at Family Video since you were sixteen. Steve and Robin had just recently started and it was torture. You had loved Steve since middle school and you always scolded yourself for that pipe dream. He’d never even glance at a girl like you and it was proven time and time again when you saw the girls he dated. Especially Nancy who was taller, skinnier, and gorgeous. The perfect girl. You could probably fit three of her in a pair of your clothes and you despised it. You despised yourself for letting the crush on Steve last so long because it was degrading letting a guy like that determine your worth.

“If the movie is too scary give me a call” Steve’s sultry voice filled the video store and you glanced over from putting movie returns back on the shelf to spot the girl he had flirted with. Tall, blonde, skinny. Of course. Sighing you turned away and continued to lessen the load of movies in your hand.

“Hey Y/N when do you want to take a break?” Robin popped up behind you. She liked pre-planning especially on busy days.

“I’ll take it whenever” you muttered not wanting to put up much of a fight. No one would notice if you did.

“Are you okay?” Robin asked when she spotted the sad look on your face. You chuckled to yourself as she asked. You had been sad every day since graduation but of course she just noticed despite every time you worked together you were always sad.

“I’m always okay” was your response and Robin began to feel bad she hadn’t really gotten to know you. Just her and Steve had been friends so long it was easier to talk to him during a shift.

“You and Steve are closing so I figured I could cover your break now before I left” nodding you handed her the stack of movies and moved to clock out for lunch. Of course it flew by and you were back to the dreaded video store long before you planned. Once you got back Robin left and now you were alone to listen to Steve flirt with every good looking customer and never even glance at you.

You had gotten used to doing most of the work when working with Steve. And that was mainly because he was on a mission to prove he could still get a date now that he wasn’t King of Hawkins. What was even funnier was he could get a date out of you but he’d never even fathom the idea. The store was never busy enough for his flirting to bother you but tonight customers after customers flooded in and he was still talking up the same red head in the romance section. Calling out for him he didn’t hear you. Big surprise. Finally after a few more times you yelled which startled some customers.

“HARRINGTON, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE” Steve jumped and turned from the red head to spot you frustrated behind the counter with a long line of customers. He gave a sheepish look to the girl and rushed over to you.

“I’m sorry” he spoke as he moved to the other register and for the first time ever he looked into your eyes. He felt guilty for leaving you hanging and he never would’ve intentionally. As your eyes locked on his for longer than three seconds he felt his stomach jump. There it was, the beauty.

“Let’s just finish this up” nodding you broke eye contact with him and you both turned to cash the customers out. Finally the line shorted and no one was left in the store after the mini rush.

“Y/N I’m really sorry” you hadn’t expected his hand to grasp your wrist and stop you from counting money in the register. Looking up you saw him staring at you with a different look in his eyes that you’ve ever seen before. You gasped slightly and he noticed. He noticed everything about you now. God you were so beautiful and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed before.

“It’s okay, just a little more movies and a little less red heads next time” you joked and Steve realized you were funny. You weren’t quiet he had just gone so long ignoring you. Even all of high school he couldn’t believe he had never really looked at you before.

“I promise” he squeezed your wrist and he saw you glance down at his hand, your heart rate quickening. He started remembering the few things about you he had barely noticed before. “Any fun plans for tonight?”

“W-what?” you stuttered out as he let go of your hand and he smiled as he realized he made you nervous. You liked him, and he had been trying to get these stupid customers to pay attention when you liked him this whole time.

“It’s Friday, you have nothing planned once we’re out of here?” he asked and you chuckled and shook your head.

“I’ll probably just go home and rewatch Fast Times” you spoke, you never had Friday night plans. Nobody noticed you.

“You like Fast Times?” he asked and you chuckled.

“Of course, it’s funny, has young romance, and Judge Reinhold is so adorable” you told him and he laughed at your response.

“I love Fast Times too, Phoebe Cates is gorgeous” he noticed the solemn look adorn your face at his response. He wasn’t sure what he had said wrong. But again Phoebe Cates was the image of perfect and you didn’t even look close to that.

“I’m gonna start getting ready to close up” you changed the conversation not wanting to get disappointed anymore.

“Do you want to watch it together?” your ears perked up as you started to walk away from him.

“What?” you had watched him try and make plans with so many girls so different from you today. This couldn’t be happening.

“Fast Times, my parents are never home and I don’t have any plans either. You could come over and we can watch it together” suddenly Steve was nervous as he asked this which shocked him because he hadn’t been nervous around any of the other girls all day.

“This isn’t a joke right?” Steve gave a confused look as you asked this too. He had no idea what that meant.

“No, I’d like the get to know you better. I think you’re beautiful” your heart pounded against your ribs as he spoke. Your ears could’ve exploded. There was no way you heard that right. Tears welled in your eyes and Steve got worried he said something wrong again.

“You think I’m beautiful?” you asked trying to hide how much those words affected you.

“Yeah, why else would I be asking you to come over. Some time spent with a pretty girl wouldn’t dent my night too bad” he flirted and you quickly collected yourself and ushered the tears away.

“It sounds fun. I’m in” you smiled and Steve grinned as if he won the lottery. He had been denied by so many women all day but as you said yes he figured he just became the luckiest guy in the world. And he was when you actually kissed him back during the baseball dugout scene to Somebody’s Baby by Jackson Browne.

[lostaroace]

Regular Customer | Steve Harrington x Reader (ch.7)

Series Masterlist.

Chapter Six – Chapter Eight.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader|plus-sized!reader|nerd!reader

Word count: 3297

Regular Customer | Chapter Seven.

The Hawkins High School basketball team had been banned from all school activities not just until the summer, but for the whole of next year. Unfortunately, even when Eddie was expelled, Principal Higgins closed the Hellfire Club forever. Eddie was avoided, as usual, and the gossipers were more interested in Jim Hopper being alive after eight months and Jason Carver being a mastermind than in Eddie; they just assumed he was a poor victim.

It was nice going back to routine, although it was also terrifying. Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Robin, and Max helped them resume their school life sharing space with anxiety, nightmares, hyper-vigilance… the whole PTSD package.

The last months of the school year were uncomfortable, but not bad. The Byers and Eleven moved into Hawkins again, with Hopper, who got his job as chief of police back. Y/N tutored Eddie on his worst subject so he could finally graduate. Max told them that she followed Y/N's advice of singing to herself when Vecna really got her, and it worked to the point she still had a functional arm and no other breaks on her body; she was in a wheelchair until her casted bones healed and Lucas was attentive enough to drive her everywhere. Nancy got accepted into her dream university and Robin started to hang out more with Vickie, from band. The Hellfire Club was relocated to Y/N's house, for Upside Down-aware people only; Eddie was their Dungeon Master and both Eleven and Max decided to play some campaigns with them. Steve went back to work at Family Video and Y/N was a regular customer once again.

Everything seemed calm.

On a hot summery Thursday afternoon, Y/N parked her car in front of Family Video.

"There she comes," Robin pointed out with a wink.

Instead of hiding behind the counter, Steve Harrington opened the door for his favorite regular customer. "Welcome to Family Video, what could we do for you today?"

"Ew, Steve, that's creepy," Y/N laughed, handing him the tape she wanted to return. "Did you finally talk to Keith about the fans?"

"We're so unlucky, Y/N. Save us," Robin complained.

"Go do something over there," Steve ordered his best friend with a pointed look.

Before Vecna, Steve had avoided Y/N and Robin had found any excuse to let them alone. After Vecna, Steve's best moment of the day was when Y/N visited the store, and Robin decided it was much fun to just remain there and watch. The girl flipped him the bird and disappeared. Y/N looked at Steve with lovingly fun eyes; he was blushing shyly while running a hand through his hair. The last time they talked about his love life was in March. It was last June now, and he hadn't dated anyone for that time.

"So, um… are you renting something for tonight?"

"Not really. My parents leave tomorrow morning on a business trip and they want to do some big family dinner tonight. I might be back tomorrow and rent something."

"Well, um… If you're free tomorrow we could, um…" He chuckled anxiously. "We could go to the theater. There's a new movie I think you might like."

She pressed her lips together to avoid a smile, "Sure. Who's coming?"

"Us. Just. Just us. If you want. I mean… as a date."

"I genuinely cannot believe you dated so much with this performance."

"It's different when I mean it, okay? What if you say no? What if it's too late? What if you don't like me anymore? I'm under too much pressure here, Y/N."

"Fine. Fine. I still think you could do it better."

"She's right, dingus!"

"Don't overhear, Buckley! Fine. Yeah. Y/N, I like you. A lot. I really do like you and I think we could spend more time together and date and see what happens. If you want. If you don't, it’s fine. Cool."

"Are you honest, Steve?"

"Never been more honest in my life. Swear to God and hope to die. What do you say?"

For the last few months, Steve and Y/N had spent more time together. He had cooked for her, as he promised, and they had spent more time with Robin and Eddie, too. The four of them enjoying their stupid life. Steve had panicked about Y/N leaving for college only to find out that no matter what university wanted her, she wasn't planning on leaving Indiana; she got into community college with Robin, that way they were both next to him and Eddie.

He wanted a better job. Eddie had gotten a good job as a mechanic and he still had his band, and Steve thought that was much more appealing than a video store. In the end, the long months in which they got to know each other better, helped Y/N's heart to completely threw itself into Steve's arms, and for Steve, he seemed to like her too. It seemed real, not some attraction based on shared trauma.

"Tomorrow then. What time?"

"I work until six. I could pick you up at–"

"Don't be ridiculous, Steve. Our houses are on the other side, it would be a waste of time to drive up and down. I'll wait for you there, you can drive me back home."

"Sounds good to me." He blushed.

"See you tomorrow, then."

"See you tomorrow."

"Good."

"Good."

"Good! Now get back to work."

"Robin!!"

*

She woke up too early that Friday. The anxiety was eating her alive. She had a date with Steve fucking Harrington! It was not a pity date; it was a true date. He hadn't dated anyone waiting for his mind to understand what his heart was pleading for, and he found his resolution. Her heart was beating faster in her chest. She was in such a good mood she was dancing and singing to her favorite songs while choosing what to wear for the evening. It was still too early, but there was nothing else she could do.

She was a nervous wreck for the day, that was her occupation. By the time she had to get ready, she was questioning her wardrobe choices for the twentieth time. She was a pants and Converse girl. Even in the summer, she felt more comfortable with shorts that weren't too short; it was all the thighs' fault. If their rubbing didn't bother her and didn't provoke rashes on the skin, she would love to wear fewer clothes in the hot weather. Eddie was kind enough to mention to her the observation he had made in the first weeks after Vecna, and that was the fact that Steve Harrington seemed charmed by her thighs. By her whole body, really. The moment he thought he was free of scrutiny, he ogled her from head to toe.

This was a date and she wanted to look pretty for her date, different than usual. Thanks to having dresses and skirts for special occasions, she had a variety to choose from. However, she was still undecided. The black one with polls? The white one without sleeves? How about the flowery one that had buttons?

Y/N finally opted for a sundress, white with a patron of tiny cherries, puffy short sleeves, and long to the knees. As for the shoes, let's be honest, she liked comfort better than fashion, and the red Converse Aunt Catherine sent her from New York fitted perfectly with the dress.

Two minutes outside her house and she was hating it. She couldn't go back and change, though.

She arrived at the theater fifteen minutes before the agreed time, and she was thankful for that because then she had time to calm down, and refresh herself for the walk. Her body was sticky with sweat and Hawkins' humid hot weather.

She waited.

Her skin dried and she felt fresher. It was time, but Steve wasn't there yet.

She waited.

The movie had started and she asked to use the phone. Nobody answered at the video store. Nobody answered at his place. What if something bad happened to him?

She waited anxiously.

The movie had finished and she was still waiting, alone. She felt her heart breaking. She didn't think that Steve had dumped her. At least not intentionally. She was terrified something bad had happened to him, and she didn't know what to do or where to go.

A guttural sound vibrated from the alley. Her skin broke into goosebumps. Opening her purse, she touched the knife she kept inside, ready to use it if needed. She followed the noise just to find a demogorgon pulling Max from the other side of the alley as Lucas screamed. Y/N ran towards them, knife in hand. The demogorgon disappeared into a small gate on the theater's back door that was getting smaller and smaller. She got it right in time to stop Lucas from diving in.

"Max!! Max!! It got her!! It got her!!"

"I'll go for her. Go find El. Go find everyone."

"No. No, I'll go with you."

"Then we're all dead. Lucas, go. Go!"

She went through the gate and it closed right behind her. Lucas' voice was muffled for a second before disappearing completely.

There she was, back again to the Upside Down. The demogorgon turned to her, leaving Max, wounded, on the floor. Y/N didn't hesitate in making the first move.

*

The end of his shift was near, and he'd been looking at the clock for the past hour. He was nervous. Steve couldn't remember the last time he was nervous about a date. When he dated Nancy he was confident because he was popular and he knew she liked him. Now he couldn't trust in social constructs established in high school, Y/N wasn't naïve, and most certainly wasn't blindly impressed by him. She might like him, love him even, but she was also weary of him due to the conversation she overheard before Vecna.

He had taken special care in choosing his clothes. He knew he was going to sweat like an animal at the store; therefore, he kept the date clothes in his car with the idea of changing just before going.

Steve was ready to go. He was ready to leave when the phone rang.

"Family Video, how can we help you?"

"Steve," Nancy sounded anguished.

"Hey, Nance, what happened?"

"It's Jonathan. I can't find him. I– Steve, I think I found a gate. Me and Jonathan were at his old house, in the woods, and– He's gone, Steve, I cannot find him."

"Okay, calm down. Are you sure it's a gate?"

"Yeah! Yes, I think so. It looks like the one I found when we were looking for Barb."

"I thought we'd ended those monsters by killing Vecna."

"I don't know. Steve, I don't know. I need help looking for him. Please, go to my house."

"I… Yeah. Fine. I have to make a call. You must call Hopper, right now."

Steve hung up before Nancy could answer and called Y/N's house without a response. The end of his shift must've given him time enough to change calmly of clothes and wait for Y/N at the theater at least thirty minutes before the agreed time; that's the only reason why he went straight to the Wheeler's house instead of waiting to meet with his date so he could take her with him. He still had time.

At the Wheelers' basement, Dustin was using his walkie to call Lucas with his classic "Code red. Do you copy? Code red."

"So, where's Hopper?"

"Steve!" Nancy threw herself into his arms. She was terrified and too tired to keep strong; she needed just a few seconds of weakness. "He said he was going to inspect the area. I couldn't find Jonathan. If something happens to him I– I don't–"

"Hey… Hey, we don't know that yet. Breath."

"Steve, he'd never been in the Upside Down. He–"

"If I survived I think my brother could too. He knows more stuff about the monsters that lived there than I did when I was there."

"Will's right. If Jonathan knows how to lure the demogorgon he must know how to avoid it."

"Where's Eleven?"

"She'd gone shopping with Joyce. We won't be able to reach her yet."

Steve glanced at his watch. He still had time. "I need to go somewhere. I'll–" Before he could finish, Nancy grabbed him by the arm.

"We need to go find Jonathan. I have my guns. I need backup."

"Nance… Hopper's on it. Come on!"

"But it's Jonathan!!"

"I don't think is safe to go anywhere until El gets here. We don't know what's happening. We knew the Upside Down monsters had a hive mind, we thought the Mind Flayer was controlling everything there and we didn't suspect someone was controlling the Mind Flayer. Vecna was the one who controlled everything and he's dead." Mike stated.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's true, but what if the life he created went rogue once he died instead of just dying." Dustin proposed. "I mean, we know how unreliable controlled life could be. He was super powerful, cool, he created life and controlled it but what if that life liked living too much?"

"I think Dustin's right. I still can feel it. It was weak before, but now–"

"Now, what Will? Now what!"

"I don't think they have hive minds anymore."

"Wow. Okay. That explains why they still exist and all, but why the fuck can they come and go now? Who opened a new gate? How?" Steve burst in. "I mean, they're not super powerful with mind shit, are they? They're just hunters, predators. How can they break the bridge every time they want to eat? It makes no sense."

"I hate to admit it, but Steve's right," Mike sighed. "We know that El opened the Mothergate, and we know that its range of powerful magnetism was big enough that it got Will's and Steve's houses in its radius. It didn't get as far as my house. And for Dart, as far as we know, the Mothergate was in its biggest state. After Vecna all the gates closed. At least, the ones at Hawkins did."

"The power," Nancy whispered. "Maybe it's the power. We know Vecna was the most powerful of all and only the combination of Eleven hurting his mind and us hurting his body took him out. If the monsters went rogue, then they might've followed the power residues to open small gates, and we know Vecna's power reached the whole town."

"It could be. In theory," Dustin noted.

"Then, in theory, there could be monsters everywhere in town," Mike pointed out, alarmed.

"We're fucked"

Steve took a look at his watch. Y/N was probably at the theater by now, waiting for him. He excused himself and went to use Wheeler's phone. He found the theater's phone number on the yellow pages but it took him three tries to get somebody to answer; he gave specific instructions to the guy and made him write what he had to say once he found her. He didn't like the idea, he still wanted to pick her up himself and make sure she was alright, but the kids and Nancy kept interrupting him, stopping him, talking to him. He felt imprisoned.

An hour went by without news from Y/N. Eleven and Joyce arrived at the Wheelers' house and Nancy explained what happened. With his new freedom, Steve got out of the house and right into his car.

"Steve! Where are you going!"

"I need to pick up Y/N. Call Eddie, Dustin, ask him if she's with him."

"Steve!" Nancy yelled as he drove away.

Eleven had confirmed their theory and Will's feeling; the demomonsters had gone rogue and had followed the remains of Vecna's power to hunt into their world. Steve had to find Y/N. He wouldn't be at ease until she was in sight. The idea of something bad happening to her… He knew her. He truly knew her now, and if there was any inch of danger, she would fucking jump into it to protect anyone. Robin wasn't like that, for example, she would grab the closest phone and call him or any of the others. Dustin would, too, unless someone he knew was in danger. Why didn't his car go faster? Fuck!

He stopped his car carelessly on Y/N's driveway. The house was silent, dark, and empty. What if she went to Eddie after the employee told her Steve wasn't going? Steve headed to the Munsons' new place so fast that his whole body was in tension; his hands grabbed the steering wheel as if his life depended on it, and he was stepping on the acceleration pedal with his whole will.

"Please. Please. Please."

Eddie and Wayne had received a good amount of money as compensation from the government, and they used it to move into a nice old house that was close to where Max used to live when Mrs. Mayfield was still with Mr. Hardgrove. In fact, their compensation helped them recuperate the house and Mrs. Mayfield was able to find just one job that fulfilled their economic needs. Max's medical bills were covered by the government. No questions asked.

Just as Steve was ready to make a turn and stop his car dangerously on Eddie's driveway, the metalhead's new car was getting out. They almost crashed. Both went out of their cars.

"It's Y/N with you?"

"No, dude. Dustin just called me and told me what happened. I'm going to look for her."

They both yelled. They still had one leg inside the car, their bodies resting on the open door. Both of them are ready to keep driving.

"She's not at home. I might have an idea where she's. Shit. You drive to Robin's, I'll call you there when I find her to go to the Wheelers."

"Okay! If Rob's not there I'll go to the Wheelers."

"Take care, man."

"You too, dude."

Steve did a very dangerous u-turn and drove like a fugitive heading to the theater. He should've gone there first. He should– Shit! Why did he expect that employee to do what he was told? His friends were making him trust strangers, and he shouldn't. He shouldn't believe people were warmhearted.

The boy was beating himself, nonstop, depreciating himself as his car came to a halt. Getting out of the car there was no sign of Y/N on the main street. That's when he heard it. "Y/N!!!" Lucas' voice screamed from the alley. Steve knew that alley well enough, he got beaten up by Jonathan Byers right there. Ironic.

Lucas Sinclair was shouting at a wall while hitting it with his bare hands. Steve ran towards him, stopping him.

"What the fuck happened, Sinclair?"

*

The room was quiet. Too quiet.

"Here we stand. Worlds apart. Hearts broken in two, two, two–" a well-known voice half-singing through the walkie Eleven held.

"How long are you going to keep singing?" Another voice complained.

"It worked for Will, it should work for us. Why, Max, do you only know Kate Bush songs? No Journey? They're good."

Steve let out a shaky breath of relief. At least they were fine. Nancy was still anxious, and he couldn't blame her; if he was feeling like this about a woman he had only known since March, she must've been going insane.

They were about to taste their second theory of the day when the Wheelers' basement door got opened. Hopper entered dragging a covered in Upside Down mucus Jonathan Byers.

A bubbling growl vibrated in the walkie.

Silence.

To be continued…

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