#i'm not going to post about that here but feel free to ask about upcoming fanfic projects while i'm working on it

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

I've been absolutely loving your fic 'The Hedgehog's Dilemma' and am very much looking forward to the last chapter! Just wondering, do you have any plans to write more fic for the Ted Lasso fandom after finishing this one

Thank you, I'm glad you're enjoying it! I do have plans to write more TL fanfic after I finish THD, though it might be a bit of a wait — I know from experience that I can only write one WIP at a time, and the next one in line is an instalment of my original fiction project (3 chapters, to give you an idea of the timeline). However, the next writing project in line after that is a fic with the working title In which Ted is so bad at dealing with Jamie's dad that he gets trapped in a time loop about it, which is exactly what it sounds like. (The actual title is probably going to be Wrong Answers Only, though that may change).

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Show me where it hurts (part 1)

Miguel O'Hara x spiderwoman!reader

(AO3 Mirror), Part 2, Main Masterlist

summary: Miguel's acting weird, and you make it your mission to find out exactly what's going on.

warnings: no warnings for this chap, pg-13, swearing and canon level violence. smut next chapter xoxo

a/n: this is a combination of 2 asks and this post I saw on here a while ago: flirty/ snarky fem reader, Miguel during a ""rut"" (I don't know if it counts as a rut really, but its to do with his animal instincts/DNA) and Lyla playing matchmaker.  I had so much fun writing this, enjoy :D

(i wrote this pre seeing spiderverse 2, so i think characterisation is a little off, esp for Lyla, apologies! I'll fix it in my upcoming fics)

edit: I use the term "bichita" which I have been informed can be read not as I intended in Spanish. I'm not a native speaker so I want to apologise in advance. I'm doing more research for my future fics and leaving this up as a testament to my stupidity. Spanish speakers, feel free to correct me / clown my ass in the comments. My bad guys :(

wc: 3.6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You think Miguel is avoiding you. 

One of your closest friends, giving you the runaround for months, it seems. Calling the two of you close friends is a little extreme, sure. You've only known O'Hara for two years, and been in love with him for slightly less than that, thank you very much. And yes, he refuses to call you by anything but your last name. And the last time you saw him he wouldn't so much as look at you, but that was besides the point. 

"..the point," You tell Lyla, in between exasperated bites of cereal, "... is that aren't elite forces of spiderpeople supposed to, you know, have some spiderpeople kick ass once in a while? And where exactly is our fearless leader? I haven't seen O'Hara's scary ass in weeks, and I'm starting to miss it."

She gives you a look, one that says this isn't what I'm programmed for , but you pointedly ignore it. 

"His ass, by the way." You clarify. "I very specifically miss his ass. Remind me to get his routine. I know girls that would kill for…"

"How the fuck did you get in here?" A voice croaks. You turn behind you and see Miguel, not in his suit, but wrapped up in a blanket like he's just woken up. And he looks rough, like a train ran him over on the way here: puffy eyes, splotchy skin, tension kneaded into his brow. 

"Wow." Your spoon drops into the milk. "You look like shit.." 

He furrows his brow even deeper, if that was possible. " Mierda. You shouldn't be here." 

"This isn't quite the welcome party I was expecting, man. I'm the only one to actually turn up to one of your meetings, and this is what I get?" 

"I thought I told Lyla to cancel," He mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"Cancel? Since when do you miss a chance to talk about rules and protocol?" 

"I don't have time for this-" 

"-and I'm not leaving without a proper explanation. Is everything okay?" 

"It's actually way worse now you're here." He deadpans. 

"Haha ." You turn to Lyla. "You drop everything to travel halfway across the multiverse and this asshole won't even say thanks." 

"Thanks, but this asshole needs you to leave. Now." 

This is the most he's spoken to you in forever, and you hate that you like it. You just want his attention, however it comes. If that means dragging this out so maybe he acknowledges you, touches you, looks at you - then so be it. Squinting, you get closer to him. You scan his face for anything to latch onto. You put a hand on his shoulder, still searching. 

"You sure you're alright? You know you can tell me if-" 

"Si, si." He grits his teeth, looking away. "M'just fine. I'll explain…. later."

"...because I'm your right hand man?" You grin, poking at his brow. "Stop frowning so much Miguel, you're gonna ruin that pretty face of yours."

He flushes, nervous, and swats you away. "-what? N-No. You're not my right hand man and I like my face just the way it is. Now, leave. "

Making your way to the door, you tap your nose teasingly. "You know where to find me!" 

When the door closes with a click, you make your way down the corridor, and stop in your tracks when you hear it. It's muffled, but with the strain of your supersenses you can make out Miguel's voice just beyond the wall. 

"I just…. don't want her to see me like this… Lyla, it's not happening… I can't tell her…." Tell her what, exactly? 

Resolutely, you make up your mind. Miguel O'Hara's got a secret. And before you leave for home, you're gonna do everything in your God given power to wear him down and find out. 

~~~

Despite his insistence otherwise, you liked to think of yourself as O'Hara's right hand man - and most of the other spiderpeople thought so too. You were one of the very first he recruited, after crash landing onto your earth like a spiderman-shaped meteor; the two of you were inseparable. Miguel was stubborn and headstrong and thought he was right all the time. Infuriatingly, he was, but that didn't stop you from telling him to get his head out of his own ass when his ego grew too big. 

He was different around you, you think. Softer, sometimes. Harsher, other times. He told you what you needed to hear whether you wanted to or not; the result of mutual respect and agonising persistence. Slowly, you had chipped away his hard exterior; the one he built because he thought he needed to push people away. In that regard, you were similar, but this need manifested in you like a weed - an awful, awful compulsion to joke and laugh at your own expense, to keep others at an arm's length. You had spent your whole life picking and pruning away at yourself, looking for perfection. Even after all this, multiverse-hopping and fighting alongside people who were the closest things you had to friends , it wasn't enough. There was still something missing. 

Ironically, Miguel had told you something similar the one of the last times you had spoken. You had fucked up a mission, well and truly. In the aftermath, all you can remember is coming back to base, limping on Jessica's arm. 

"She's hurt!" She cries out. Lyla materialises and leads you both to the med bay, inspecting any visible wounds. There's a deep laceration, sticky with blood, at the base of your stomach. You shift onto the bed and hiss with pain. 

Miguel is quick to follow, face twisted with confusion, pain, sadness. Even in your haze, you feel the tension radiating off of him as he drags over a cart of supplies. 

"What happened?" He strains. 

"I don't even… it happened so fast. We got ambushed, and all of a sudden I'm on the ground. I wasn't thinking straight and… " She sobs. "...she jumped in front of me. God, she saved my life-" 

"-wasn't your fault, Jess." You croak, trying to sit up. "And I'm fine. Just need to walk it off…"

"Sit, bichita," His nickname makes you frown, despite yourself, and you settle back down. "Lyla, what's the damage?"

Your vision goes spotty, and Lyla's voice barely registers. All you can feel is searing pain in your side, but Miguel is warm, oh so warm. You clutch his arms, and force him to look you in the eye. 

"M'ready, Miguel." He nods weakly, but you don't think he understands. "I mean it . I can lead, j-just need another chance and I won't let you down… Jess, tell him that I can-" 

"It's okay. I believe you. You just need to relax for me, hmm?" He clutches at your hand, tight, and it's like you're the only two people in the world. "You did good. I promise."

Faintly, you nod. You feel a pinch at your arm, and Jessica's there, with an empty vial of something in her hands. The pain washes over you, and you fight to keep your eyes open. In those last few moments of light, you swear you feel a shaky kiss pressed to your temple. 

"Sleep, mi bichito amoroso. Sleep."

When you come to, you're still in the medbay, moonlight streaming through. Well, artificial moonlight. Time worked a little differently here, something Miguel explained to you a while ago - God knows what about dilation and quantum interference. It makes you smile now, remembering his frustration as he tried to explain to no avail. You were the only spiderman this side of the multiverse without a degree in quantum tech, you had said with a lopsided smile. 

You move to sit, and pain shoots up your side. Groaning, you push through it, determined to get out of this bed and find the others. As if on cue, Miguel walks in, almost leaping towards you. 

"You should… mierda ! You should be resting in bed."

You pout as you stumble into his chest. He hooks an arm around you and leads you back. You clamber in, sighing. "M'fine, O'Hara."

"Your guts were halfway out of your body less than 24 hours ago. So stay put, or you might give me another heart attack."

You scoff, incredulous. "You were worried?" 

He shrugs. " 'Course I was."

"Why? You know I'm practically indestructible." You give him a shit eating grin, and poke the frown appearing at his brow. He doesn't bat you away like he usually does. 

"Famous last words, bichita." He sighs. You can't speak a lick of Spanish, but you know he only calls you that word when you've frustrated him to his limit. So you take it as a win, for now. 

He drops into the chair next to you. "How are you feeling?" 

"Just peachy, dollface." You wink, and he doesn't so much as groan. 

"I'm being serious. You went through something pretty traumatic…"

"You want me to tell you it hurts, so, so bad, daddy? " You pout and flutter your eyelashes mockingly. Miguel shifts in his seat, unable to make eye contact. 

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, O'Hara? I feel fine. And in a couple of days, I'll feel even better, and I'll be up and about. I can finish what we started and-" 

"-no, absolutely not." He frowns. "A couple of days? I'm sending you home-" 

"You can't do that! On whose fucking authority?"

"On the authority of you almost fucking died ! Keeping you safe is our priority right now-" 

"God, is this my punishment? This is a low blow, O'Hara. You know how hard I've worked for this: months of surveillance and intel a-and I did everything by the book, just like you told me to." You croak. "I fucked up . I know that, and I feel terrible. Give me a chance to make things right; that's all I'm asking. I can do it, I know it. "

He looks at you for a moment, something heavy in his expression. His face contorted, he strips you down to the bone with just his gaze. His voice is so quiet, you almost miss it. 

"....you're still trying to prove yourself, aren't you?"

Honestly, it catches you off guard. You don't even know what the fuck that means, let alone why he said it.

"I don't… I d-don't…?" 

"They all love you. Respect you. More than me I think, sometimes." He chuckles at that. "You're good at what you do. The best . What else are you trying to prove? What else do you need ?" 

Your throat goes dry. You couldn't speak if you wanted to. 

"I'm not punishing you. You made a mistake, but you don't need to be crucified for it. I just want to keep you safe. I can't… we can't lose you."

"Miguel-"

"-this isn't a discussion. And I'm not trying to argue, although I know how much you like to argue." He inches closer, cupping your face gently. You try to move away, blinking back tears. But his hands are steady and he strokes your jaw with so much tenderness you think you hear your heart break. He's pretty, so pretty. You don't deserve him, you think. "There'll be time to fight, bichita. Rest. That's your mission right now."

"C-can't sleep." You breathe. "It hurts." 

Miguel pauses, head tilted like he's thinking. He taps your shoulder. "Scoot over."

You do as he says, and he slips into the bed with you. It's a tight fit, but he manages, placing you on his chest with an arm gently around your shoulders. You bury your face in his hoodie, sniffling and hoping he doesn't notice you choking back sobs. Absentmindedly, he settles into a rhythm, gentle breathing and playing with your hair, soothing you softly. He pretends he can't hear the tears. 

"M'gonna stay here until you're asleep. For as long as you need."

You nod, unable to speak for fear of breaking down. 

~~~

The days after felt like a blur. You woke up to Miguel gone, and an ache in your heart. Jess visits as much as she can, and Ben calls you a couple times, to see if you're okay. Peter B brings Mayday, and she clambers all over your bed, bringing some life into the room. Miguel doesn't visit per se - you hear whispers of him, Lyla visiting in his stead for comprehensive status updates. Once, you wake up in the night to see him on the adjacent chair, head lolling in deep sleep. He looks peaceful, calm - one of the first times you haven't seen his brow furrowed with worry. Of course, he's gone by the morning. 

The very last time you saw him, he opened the portal home. It was weird, after everything, but if Miguel felt the same you wouldn't know. Talking at a thousand miles a minute, he alternates between assuring you they'll be fine without you and situation reports from spider people all across the multiverse. Things you'd missed whilst bedbound, asking for advice before you left. He trusted your judgement and the thought warmed your heart, almost making you forget that he completely brushed past the previous nights before. 

You still remember the last thing he had said to you, which would've been weeks ago, now. 

"...and if you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me directly. Not Jess, not Ben, and certainly not Peter B. Call me, and I'll answer, I promise. You need help, you need advice, you just need someone to talk to, then-"

"-I call you. I get it, O'Hara. Will do." He opens the portal, watching as you walk towards it. He can't take his eyes off of you, even though you can't see him. At the last moment you turn, and run towards him. You almost knock him over with a hug. Burying his head in the crook of your shoulder, he hugs you back, ever careful of your injury. Separating, your smile almost knocks him over again. Weakly, he smiles back as you head through the portal, back home. 

You're left with that feeling, of his arms around your body - warm, so warm - as you putter about by the switchboard. After careful deliberation (you were really, really bored ) you'd taken to manage the Multi Modal Multiversal Switchboard - as aptly named by Miguel. Everyone else called it the Big Red Phone of course, but he had insisted on calling it by its proper name . Every. Time. 

The thought makes you chuckle as you call up Peter B. His icon flashes on the screen in front of you. With a click, he picks up the call, his face materialising holographically in front you. A little hand reaches up and tugs at his ear. 

"Ow… ouch … Dad's on the phone, honey."

"Aww! How's my favourite Parker doing?" 

"Not bad, actually! MJ just made us probably the best burger this side of New York-"

"-sorry, Peter? Me and May are trying to have a conversation." You hear her giggle in the background. Her gap toothed grin pops into frame and she babbles excitedly. "...yeah, exactly May. That's literally what I said."

"Okay, okay, that's enough." He puts the toddler down and watches her scurry away. "You're feeling better, I see."

"Yeah, back in action. Thought I'd check in."

"All good here." He squints, trying to take in your surroundings. "You're at HQ?" 

You hum.

"Could've sworn Lyla cancelled…"

"Yeah, didn't get the memo. But I think something's wrong with O'Hara."

He gives you a weird look. "Uhhh, what makes you think that?" 

"He won't even look at me. Was it something I said? Something I did?" Your eyes narrow. "...what do you know, Peter?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" He scoffs, a little too quickly, clutching his chest like you've offended him. He's stared down some of the scariest villains around, but the look you give him is truly chilling. "Just… uhhh. You didn't hear this from me." 

"Naturally…"

"We tracked 'em down, the guys that ambushed you and Jessica."

"The Sinister Six? From Earth-215?"

"Yeah, but by the time we got there, it was just Kraven and some of his goons. Miguel got there first, and…." He gulps. "He was pissed. Trashed the whole place looking for the rest of 'em. Beat Kraven half to death and we had to pull him off."

"Shit."

"Yeah, it was pretty rough. Never seen him like that before. And just generally? He'd been weirdly quiet, a little grumpy, more aggressive on missions. I don't know what's gotten into him."

"Hmmm. Thanks, Pete."

"No problem, sweetheart. And if the big guy asks… "

"...this didn't come from you, I know." Weakly, you smile. "Say hi to my favourite Parkers, for me." 

" 'Course I will. We should celebrate, if you're back officially. Mine and MJ's is always open."

"Good to know. I'll see you around."

He waves goodbye, and the hologram clicks off. Sighing, you try to piece together what you've just heard. 

Miguel: acting weird. Well, you knew that already. Aggressive was new. And Lyla? She had canceled, but not for you, for some reason. An honest mistake, perhaps. But Lyla doesn't make mistakes… 

You stew for a couple of hours, puttering about the switchboard, twiddling your thumbs. Something's wrong, and for some reason you're afraid to see him. To have him look straight through you, again, when you ask to do the same. Show me where it hurts. Tell me how to make it better.  

On the way there, you chew your lip in anticipation. In the corridor, you're outside the door to his place, hand hovering above the door. To knock, to call. In the harsh fluorescent light, you hesitate. 

"Lyla?" Nervously, you sink down onto the floor. It's hard to explain, but you don't expect her to actually come; to materialise in front of you. 

"How can I assist you?" She says with a ding. 

"Uhh… hi. Just wanted to talk." You pause, clicking your tongue. "Can you be honest with me?" 

"I can only be honest with you. It is not in my programming to lie, unless specified by my owner."

"Sure. Cool. It's about him, actually. Is Miguel okay?" 

She tilts her head, as if processing your request. "Okay is a subjective term. Is Mr O'Hara alive? Yes. Is Mr O'Hara physically well? Yes. By those terms, he is okay ."

Too vague for your own liking. "I guess I meant more… his emotional state. To the best of your knowledge… in your opinion , Lyla: is Miguel okay?" 

"...I believe Mr O'Hara is experiencing some emotional turmoil."

You frown. "Oh. Do you know why?" 

"Mr O'Hara has instructed me not to disclose that information with you."

"Fair enough. But you don't have to tell me… I could just ask questions?" 

She nods. "There is nothing in my programming that prevents me from answering some questions within certain parameters." 

"Did I do something? Not just today but… last time I was here. Did I say something to hurt or upset him? Is that why he's acting weird?"

"No." She says blankly. "And yes. I suppose it is… complicated." She gestures around that word. 

"I'm a little confused, Lyla."

She sits next to you, on the cool tile. Not that she could feel it, but it feels more intimate - like two friends talking. The extent of Lyla's consciousness, you weren't sure of. Was she alive? To you, she might as well be. Could she think, feel, emote? Maybe, maybe not. You weren't smart enough to understand the nuances of her programming. But you were human enough to see it in her - something glittering beyond the surface. 

It could be projection, but you swear her voice is softer. "He has a name for you. When he speaks about you, and to you. I have it logged in my memory database. Do you know what that is?" You shake your head. 

Lyla opens up her palm and projects videos and images - little Miguel's popping up in her palm, tinny and gruff voices ringing through the hallway. They say your name, shout your name, whisper it. Some say other things in Spanish. Curse words had always been your assumption, and he had given you no reason to think otherwise. Now, having it played back to you, you hear a tenderness in his voice you would've missed. Words and phrases that come up again and again…

"Bichita." She repeats. "Bichito del amor. Mi bichito amoroso. "

You shake your head, still confounded. "...I don't speak Spanish, Lyla." 

"Little bug. Sweetheart. Lovebug. My little lovebug." She clears her throat. "I believe they are terms of endearment."

Steadfast, she directs you towards her palm. Another small Miguel appears, and you think it's him from this morning. 

"I thought I told you not to let anyone in, Lyla?" 

"I did not let her in. She let herself in using the code you previously gave her, Mr O'Hara."

"Yeah, for emergencies. Fuck. Mi bichita, too smart for her own good."

"...If you are in distress, I believe she would understand, Mr O'Hara."

"I just think it's too much. I don't want her to see me like this." 

"According to Alchemax files, previous subjects showing this kind of aggression benefitted from-"

"Lyla, it's not happening, no chance. I can't tell her."

The figure blinks out of her palm. "Mr O'Hara has forbid me from telling you about certain things."

"...but not from showing me." Your eyes meet hers. You give her a watery smile. "Thank you." 

With a hint of a smile, she nods and is gone from the corridor. You are left alone, with nothing but your thoughts of little lovebugs rattling around in your brain.

_

_

_

[burning-academia-if]

Burning Academia: Chapter 2 Release

Play Here | Intro Post

Burning Academia is a 17+ paranormal dark academia IF about family, magic, school politics, and the ghosts which haunt you.

Total Word Count (w/code): 89.2k

Words Added (w/code): 47.9k

Chapter 2 Features:

Have a weird encounter at work

Enjoy an almost normal day for once, or another bad one

No really, if you have a bad day this time it's on you

3 endings, each with their own lasting consequences

3 achievements, if that's your kind of thing

Content Warnings:

Severe: Discussions and depictions of death, gaslighting, emotionally unstable parent

Moderate: Scopophobia (eyes/staring), references to alcoholism, references to unhealthy coping mechanisms

Mild: possession

Chapter 1 Change log:

Added piercing and facial hair options during the customization screen

a handful of variable fixes

gonna be honest, I edited this chapter a few months ago and I don't remember what else I fixed, but I remembering fixing them

Upcoming in Chapter 3:

Consequences for your actions...or not

Go to your magic elective and listen to the voice in your head roast your professor

Pop quiz, because said professor hates you

Hit up the town, go to the freshman party, or break into one of the school buildings. You can even do two of those things, if you're lucky

Notes:

Chapter 1 saves might not work, but if you have any saves from the end of the prologue, those should work so you don't have to start completely from the beginning if you don't want! I'd recommend keeping a save for a chapter prior from now on, ie keeping a chapter 1 save for chapter 3, since there's always a possibility I will need to fix or adjust things in chapter 2.

Also I just wanted to give a vague update schedule. So 3 things: Zoe's backstory is going to be released in July! This is the only thing with a set time frame for release. Next, I want to focus on updating/fixing the UI before anything else, just because it's kinda been bothering me. This will be the next "game update" for BA. After the UI release will come Chapter 3. I'm hoping chapter 3 doesn't take 5 months this time, but that's up to life which has had a sniper riffle on me for the whole of 2024, so we'll see.

Lastly, as always, if I broke something feel free to send an ask or submit it through the google doc here!

[mindfulstudyquest]

❥﹒♡﹒☕﹒ 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗮 𝗯𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗼𝘂𝘁; this is my personal way of coping with burnout, it may not work for you, but feel free to share in the comments the things that make you feel better when you feel this way ( blogger's note at the end of the post ).

𝟭. recognize the signs ( 🏳️ )

the moment of denial is over. i know, burnouts always come at the worst times when you have upcoming exams and a thousand things to do, but ignoring it won't get you anywhere, on the contrary, it will only prolong the worst, so recognizing and accepting the signs of burnout is the first step to getting out of it. if you don't end it, it'll end you, right? some common symptoms of burnout are exhaustion, excessive irritability, hormonal imbalances, change in appetite (too much or too little), sleep irregularities, increase in nervous tics.

𝟮. take time off ( 🫧 )

allow yourself to rest and recharge by taking a break from work or other stressors. depending on the severity of the burnout you may need an afternoon, or perhaps a couple of days to recover, it's not important, the important thing is that you reserve some deep rest that can really recharge you to start studying/working again. put off all non-essential tasks, put your phone on do not disturb mode and allow your brain to rest. if you have slept little in the previous days, taking a nap will not be bad.

𝟯. set boundaries + practice self care ( 🌱 )

establish clear boundaries between work and personal life to prevent burnout from reoccurring. prioritize activities that promote physical and mental well-being, such as exercise, meditation, and hobbies. i personally love taking care of my body doing beauty treatments that make me feel better about myself. i also deep clean my room and change my bedsheets, if it's true that the mess in our room is a reflection of the mess in our mind i can't see why it can't go both ways: removing the mess from my room is like cleaning my head from the stress in it.

𝟰. rearrange priorities ( 🐝 )

delegate everything you can delegate, you can't do everything alone and it's normal to seek support from colleagues and family. reorganize yourself so you have a plan to follow as soon as you recharge your batteries. ask yourself what led to burnout, was it the workload? in that case breaking it into smaller tasks could make it less onerous. maybe it was it's difficulty? maybe asking for help or using some time for additional research might work. in short, prepare a realistic scheme to follow to tackle the task.

𝟱. seek support ( ❣️ )

talk to friends, family, or a therapist about your feelings and experiences to gain perspective and emotional support.

𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 hi everyone, it's no secret that i've posted very little in the last week, but unfortunately i experienced a bad burnout that incapacitated me for a few days. family circumstances, academic stress and the arrival of spring have added up to take away the strength to do anything from me, but i'm here to recover and here is a simple guide that i always follow when i find myself in these situations. on the one hand i'm happy tho, it's my first burnout since i started university, eight months ago now, i remember that when i was in high school they were much more frequent and long, i feel i've become much more stable.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

It's only up from here now on, kid

Since this one won in the poll that I put out, here it is ✌🏼

Thank you so much @alotofpockets for the help with this post!

Let me know what you all think & I hope you like it.

Ps. It's almost 2 am and I'm tired so I apologise if the last bit of this doesn't make much sense at all... 🫠

“It’s going to be fine, remember?” Beth tries her best to reassure you as she takes a gentle hold of your hand on her own, “Just breathe, you’re okay” she adds.

“I’m scared” You admit, barely louder than a whisper.

Viv glances at you and smiles at you sympathetically from the seat opposite, “It’s normal to feel like you do, kleintje” she tells you.

“We’re going to be right here for you the whole time” Beth promises you as she moves her free arm to wrap it around your shoulder and tug you in a little bit closer, “We’re not leaving you” she states in reassurance.

It was unfortunate for you that the day of your planned surgery came around quicker than you initially would’ve liked and you couldn’t avoid it any longer now.

The way that your uninjured knee bounced up and down anxiously and your hands that were ridiculously clammy was a clear indication of actually how worried and scared you were about this.

Both Beth and Viv could tell straight away that you were beginning to freak out the moment that you had stepped into the waiting room; You’d always hated hospitals, there was just something about them that made you always try and avoid them when it was possible.

However, this surgery wasn’t something that you could just brush under the carpet, because it was important and it was needed if you wanted to continue with your career.

Initially you thought the hardest thing that you would have to face would be dealing with the aftermath of it all, listening to the media drone on about how this injury would rule you out the rest of the current season and any international breaks for the next 9 months, like you didn’t already need enough of a reminder about your dream of the olympics being over.

It was like a virtual kick in the teeth.

You hated the fact you were sidelined from the games and despite how much you had the support of Beth, Viv, Laura, Leah and hell even the rest of the girls, it still hurt to deal with it all.

Even Kyra’s mischievous ways couldn’t put a smile on your face most days, nor the adorable puppy cuddles from Myle, Beth & Vivs’ new pup that you’d completely fallen in love with.

“Is it too late to just turn around and go back home?” You can’t help but wonder, glancing around the hospital waiting room apprehensively.

Beth lets out a small laugh, “We can’t do that kiddo, we’re already here now” she replies to your question.

Pouting quietly, you fumble with your hands which has become a trait that you’d do when you're nervous, “I… I don’t want to be here. I’m scared” you confess.

“I know kiddo, but you have nothing to be worried about” The blonde tells you in reassurement, doing her best to ease your worries about your feelings of the upcoming surgery, “The surgeons are good, they know what they're doing here” she reminds you.

“They have done it enough times” Viv chips in quietly, earning a small chuckle from Beth.

“I hate hospitals” You complain a few seconds later.

“I know that you do, kiddo” Beth smiles at you sympathetically, all but wishing that she could take your pain and suffering away.

It had hurt Beth and Viv so much to see you go down on the pitch in the way that you did, they’d not openly had a conversation about it but it was definitely understood that they shared mutual feelings about the whole situation.

None of it was fair for you, you were on the path to succeed and just like that, this cruel injury has wiped that all away in just a blink of an eye.

Life really was cruel sometimes.

“Can you… Can you run me through it again, please? Just so I remember what’s going to happen” You mumble quietly, but still loud enough for the two women to hear you ask the question, “Please” You whisper, sounding unusually vulnerable compared to usual.

“Okay” Beth exhales a sigh, she’d already run over the whole procedure of what would happen at least twice, or maybe even three times previously, but if it eased your own worries than she’d do what she could to help you out, “You want me to run you through the procedure, or the whole of it in general?” she wonders.

“All of it” You whisper, fumbling with the strings of yours– Laura’s hoodie that you had somehow stolen from her but you liked the way that it buried you and made you feel small enough to try and escape the world.

The blonde nods in understanding before she starts to explain it once more, “So in the next hour or so from now, your names’ going to be called and you’ll be taken to the room that you’ll be in before your operation” she pauses for a minute to let you catch up to speed, “You’ll have a hospital gown to change into that they’ll give you when you go into the room along with a pair of them snazzy socks, huh? So you just be able to pull the look off” she jokes with you, trying to keep the conversation light and jokey to avoid you getting any further worried.

“Nobody can pull a look like that off, well other than Leah I suppose” You mumble as you giggle slightly at the comment.

“Well she can pull anything off” Viv chuckles, shaking her head amusedly as she tries to bury her own feelings down to not have you feel any more scared than you need to be.

“Even a bin bag” Beth jokes with you both, “Alright, so your surgery isn’t until 4 o’clock, remember? So you’re going to have to wait a bit, but we’ll be right in the room with you to keep you company, up until the minute you go down” she adds.

You follow along and nod, somehow Beth running through everything again does a little something to settle your bubbling nerves, “What happens after that?” you ask.

“Before you go down to the operating room, there will be an anaesthetist that will come and see you beforehand to discuss the options of anaesthetic before you go down” The blonde tells you, pausing for you to quickly catch up on the last bit of information, “Remember how we spoke about the anaesthetist inserting a cannula into your vein as well? They’ll do that, so they’ll be able to administer any medicine that’s needed during the operation” she tells you.

“Will the cannula hurt?” You start to panic once more, you were vaguely familiar with the fact that a cannula was a sharp needle that would be painful and you absolutely hated needles.

“It will be just like a sharp string, but it’ll be over soon enough” Viv is quick to tell you when she notes the panic in your eyes, they both definitely knew how much you hated anything medically, and they’d definitely experienced their fair share of dealing with your panic attacks when you’ve needed any type of injections in the past, “They’ll give you the anaesthetic that’ll put you to sleep” she adds.

“Will it be a n… needle?” You absolutely hate needles, you’re terrified of them and every single doctor's experience in the past had always been disastrous ever since you were little.

“You won’t feel it initially, kleintje” Viv tells you as she places a gentle hand on your uninjured knee to stop it bouncing anxiously, “You’ll have a cannula in your hand. When you're down in the operating room, the anaesthetist will ask you to count backwards from 10 while they administer it and before you even get to finish, you’ll be completely out of it so they can begin the operation” she explains to you.

You slump your shoulders as you feel slightly more at ease, “Oh, okay then. That… That doesn’t sound too bad then” You mumble, swallowing the lump that forms in your throat, “So the doctors will know what they’re doing?”

“They do, they have done it enough times” Beth says as she lightly chuckles.

“And when I wake up from surgery then Leah and Laura will be here as well, right?” You ask hopeful, after all they’d both told you that they would be and you hoped that they wouldn’t break their promise.

“Yes, they have both promised that they will be here” Beth replies in agreement.

Smiling slightly, you nod in agreement with the blonde, “They can’t break the promise then, can they?” You quietly ask, fumbling with the strings again.

“No they can't, otherwise they’ll face a very unhappy girl after surgery” The blonde jokes, ruffling your hair, which earns a small grumble of protest from you.

“Feel less nervous now?” Viv questions, hopeful that you did feel at ease a little bit.

“A little bit, but I really hate hospitals” You huff in annoyance, shaking your head, “And I really hate stupid knees’ as well” You mumble quietly.

Beth can’t help but snort amusedly, “Don’t we all, kiddo… Don’t we all, hey?” she jokes, still trying to keep the conversation light still.

“Okay, we’re going to take you down now, Y/N” The surgeon tells you once they’ve finished spieling all of the medical jargon, which you didn’t really listen to too much.

When they placed the cannula, you can’t deny that it didn’t hurt. There were a few tears in your eyes, but you consider yourself to be mostly brave in comparison to not freaking out about it.

“O… Okay” You swallow the nervous lump in your throat that had formed, the nerves settling in once again.

Beth takes a gentle hold of your own when she can sense your worries, “Don’t be scared, kiddo. You’re in great hands” she reassures you, or at least tries to do that.

“We’ll be right here waiting for you when you come back” Viv chips in, trying to contain her own fears and worries in favour of yours.

You glance between them wearily, “Y… You promise?” You question in fear, although you know that of course they’ll be sat waiting in the room for you and they wouldn’t let you go through this on your own.

“We promise” Beth replies in agreement.

“We promise, kleintje” Viv adds in.

“Love you both” You tell them, it’s barely louder than a whisper but both women are able to hear it and smile at you fondly.

“We love you too, kleintje” Viv tells you, placing a light kiss on the top of your head.

Beth smiles and swaps places with Viv to be closer to you, “We love you so much, our wonder kid” she tells you, kissing the top of your head again, “We’ll be right here when you come back. We’re not going anywhere” she adds.

The very single second that you left the hospital room with the surgeons, it was like Viv completely fell apart trying to hold it together any longer now you weren’t there, constantly pacing the floor in the hospital room up and down as Beth watched her girlfriend, worriedly.

“Viv, you’re pacing the floor so much. You might put a dent in it” Beth jokes lightly, furrowing her eyebrows as she watches in concern as her girlfriend get worked up

“I know, I can’t help it” Viv admits as she still continues to pace the floor, not pausing to take a breath or speak to her girlfriend, 

“I think you might be more nervous than Y/N was before she went down” Beth jokes, trying to keep the mood in the room light.

“I am nervous for Y/N” Viv admits quietly, just loud enough for her girlfriend to be able to hear what she said.

Beths’ facial expression softens in realisation at just how worried Viv actually was about you and your impending surgery, “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks.

“BecauseI was trying to be strong for Y/N, she was scared enough without seeing me to fall to pieces” Viv explains to the blonde, shaking her head and still continuing to pace the floor, “You’re not worried for her?” she asks.

“Of course, I am nervous for her but I’m trying to be brave for her and put my feelings aside” Beth replies to the Dutch womans’ question, “I know it’s hard to keep it all in though. You know that she’s going to be okay though” she tells her.

Viv exhales a sigh and shakes her head, “I’m trying, but it’s so hard and she’s still so young. None of this is fair, Beth” she mumbles.

“I know, leifje” Beth mumbles in agreement before she exhales a sigh herself.

“This is her first major surgery. You saw how scared she looked before, I just can’t help but be worried right now” Viv states, still pacing the floor continuously.

Beth frowns and moves to step in front of her girlfriend to stop any further pacing, “Viv, leifje. I know you’re worried for her but you know that the surgeons here are good and you know that she’s in safe hands” she does her best to reassure her girlfriends’ own fears.

Viv halts from her continuous pacing and exhales a loud sigh, “I know, and I know that too as well but I still can’t be less worried about her until I see her” she confesses.

“That might still be a while yet though, so how about we just sit down?” The blonde suggests, gesturing to the empty chairs in the room, “This pacing isn’t healthy either” she notes.

“What if something goes wrong?” Viv questions in concern.

“Viv, Y/N/N is going to be fine” Beth still tries to reassure her girlfriend, gently pulling her towards the empty chairs, “She’s going to be so brave” she tells her.

“But what if–” Vivs’ question is cut off.

“Viv, leifje” Beth interjects with a soft smile, “Listen, I know you’re worried but there’s nothing that we can do to control this right now. Y/N is in safe hands with the medical professionals, remember?” she reminds her girlfriend.

“You’re right, I know you are but what if–” Viv starts to speak again.

“Vivianne, all that we can do right now is sit down and wait” Beth cuts in, holding her girlfriends’ hand in her own, “I’m just as worried about her as you are, but all of this pacing the floor isn’t going to help ease your worries nor mine, so please just come and sit down” she tells her girlfriend gently.

“Okay” The Dutch woman nods in agreement and moves to sit down beside her girlfriend.

Beth smiles at the woman and joins her to sit down, “Thank you. Y/N/N is going to be okay, she’s our strong girl” she states, trying to remain positive for the both of them.

“We’re here!” Laura announces, rushing into the hospital room as fast as she could without injuring herself again.

“We made it here, finally. Traffic was a nightmare on the way here” Leah follows the younger girl in, shaking her head, disgruntled by the typical London traffic that made her get stuck in the middle of rush-hour traffic.

“You both made it here, that’s the main thing” Beth breathes a sigh of relief that she’d been holding in for a while, glad that both of them had made it to the hospital before you came back from surgery.

“The room was a little hard to find. Hospitals always confuse me still” Laura mumbles, moving to sit down in an empty seat in your hospital room.

“Baby England still down in surgery?” Leah questions, settling into the seat Laura.

“Yes” Viv exhales a sigh.

“They took her down around 4 pm, so hopefully it won’t be much longer now” Beth hopes as she takes a quick glance at the time on her phone, apprehensive to mention anything about complications in case that would make Viv panic all over again.

“Gotcha” Leah nods in understanding, glancing between the couple, “How’re you both holding up?” she checks in with them.

Beth can’t help but chuckle slightly, “Well I think Viv’s been a lot more nervous about this than I was led to believe, so it seems like I’m just trying to hold it together for the two of us at this point now” she jokes with the blonde, mock-teasing her girlfriends’ need to worry so much.

“Hey, Y/N is like our own kid. You’re just as worried about her as I am!” Viv insists firmly, shaking her head at her blonde girlfriend.

“I am worried, leifje” Beth responds in agreement, taking a gentle hold of her girlfriends’ hand in her own.

Leah chuckles slightly and shakes her head, “The rest of the girls all send their love, they’d be here as well but they didn’t want to crowd her too much. Steph had to pull Kyra back from her trying to get in my car to join us” she adds in, amusedly.

“We can invite them around when Y/N/N is up for visitors” Viv suggests, trying to chat now to distract any more nervous thoughts about you. Beth was right, you were in safe hands and there was nothing that she could do to change what happens in the operating room.

Beth smiles and nods in agreement, “I’m sure she’d like that” she states.

It felt like several more hours had passed before you finally made an appearance in the room, fast asleep still from the general anaesthetic that you’d been given.

“Here she is” Leah cheers quietly as she spots you still asleep  as they wheel your bed back into the hospital room.

“Surgery went well?” Viv checks in with the surgeon.

“Surgery went very well” The surgeons beams a wide smile in agreement with the woman.

Given the general post-op run down from the surgeons, they left the room and the ACL crew were now just waiting for you to wake up and come back around from the anaesthetic, which wasn’t too long afterwards thankfully.

“Ah, look whos’ finally woken up” Beth jokes when she sees your eyes prise open, “Hello sleepy head” she adds.

You groan as you come around from the slumper you were previously in, feeling slightly disoriented about things, “Ugh. Where am I?” You mumble, not completely aware of your surroundings yet.

“You’re in hospital, Y/N” Beth chuckles slightly and shakes her head, “Did you bang your head down there, huh? We’re all here for you, just like we said” she motions around the room the 4 familiar faces.

“Mhm, oh yeah. Had knee surgery-- Le, you're here, you came!” You mumble in realisation as you squint your eyes and look round the room, spotting Leah and Laura along with Beth and Viv, who had been strangely quiet still since you’d woken up.

"Ahem, I'm here too, you know?" Laura chips in, amusingly.

"Laur! You're here too!" You exclaim in realisation, excited to see the older girl, "Can I go home now?" You ask, eager to get out of the hospital as you thought you had already been here long enough.

“Whoa easy there, let’s just take it slow, huh? There’s no rush” Beth replies, laughing amusedly as she watches you try and climb out of the hospital bed, still very much under the anaesthetic so you couldn’t feel how much pain you were really in.

You can’t help but pout in disappointment, “My own beds’ more comfier than this one though” you note.

Leah can't help but chuckle amusedly, "Glad to see that you've not lost your sense of humour, baby England" she teases you lightly.

"Le!" You exclaim in glee, so high still from the anaesthetic that you forgot she was here again and you are just so happy to see her again, "You're here!" You add in joy.

"I am. I promised you that I would be here, didn't I?" The blonde defender laughs in amusement at your own expense, "It's nice to see that you're in the land of the living now, eh?" she still continues to tease you.

The second that you lie your eyes on Viv, it only takes a few seconds before the floodgate of tears is opened as you stare at her in shock, before you giggle slightly.

"Seriously, Vivi? You told me to not be worried yet here you are, balling your eyes out" You can't help but laugh hysterically, mostly from the anaesthetic making you feel so loopy, "This whole time you've been so worried yourself!" You add in.

Beth chuckles and shakes her head amusedly, "Oh kiddo, she's been beside herself with worry" she tells you as she gently squeezes you on the shoulder, "Remember now, it's only up from here now on, kid" she tells you.

"It's only up from here now on" You parrot the blonde in agreement, happy enough to be closer to leaving that dreaded hospital.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[thetraingotsetonfireonmidnight]

Can I please request headcanons with adrien/cat noir dating a fem reader that is shy and introverted :) ty!!!

Indeed you can !

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔑𝔬𝔦𝔯 / 𝔄𝔡𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫 𝔄𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔢 𝔵 𝔖𝔥𝔶 ℑ𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔣𝔢𝔪!𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

Adrien is probably both the best and the worst person you could possibly date as an introvert.

On one hand, he's super sweet and understanding!

Need someone to order for you? He's gotcha!

Need someone to cling to while at an uncomfortable party? He's by your side the whole time.

Don't want to talk to someone but you're too shy to end the conversation? That's ok, he'll do it for you! He'll walk up and make some excuse about how you have to go.

If someone is asking to hang out with you, and you don't want to go–but you don't want to straight up tell them that– he's given you full permission to blame it on him!

"Aw sorry, I have to attend my boyfriend's next photoshoot! You know how busy we can get."

And he's constantly hyping you up.

Whenever talking to others, he always brings you up atleast once.

If you're nervous about something, like an upcoming test or event, he's always there to remind you that you can get through it. He 100% believes in you.

He'll remind you of all your strengths, and that your weaknesses don't define you.

"Sometimes I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

If you're nervous about making the first move, he's already 20 steps ahead of you. He'll always be the first one to reach for your hand or plant kisses on your cheek.

And when he's Chat Noir? He's basically your free ticket to paradise: being able to go outside without interacting with anyone.

He takes you up high on rooftops where no one can see you

You two don't have to say a single word. You can just bask in the silence asyiu watch the sunset.

Don't feel like talking because your social battery is out? That's ok! He can talk and you can listen. You don't have to say a single thing.

But with all the positives out of the way, there is one tiny problem-

He's famous.

While you try to keep your relationship with him a secret, inevitably, everyone finds out.

Now that it's been made public that you're Adrien's girlfriend, you're constantly surrounded by reporters.

Everyone you talk to is interested in your relationship

Plus angry fangirls posting not so nice things about you.

Adrien tries his best to calm his fan base down, but there's only so much he can do.

To not fuel the fire, he tries not to be too affectionate in public (which is very hard for him because he wants to give you all of his love 100% of the time).

And as Chat, he tries to treat you as if you're a stranger. Last thing either of you needed was for someone to think there was some sort of weird love triangle going on

Except that's exactly what happens because someone caught him giving you a rose during his break while on patrol.

Once again, he has to calm the fan base down, as everyone is convinced you're a blonde magnet.

The other downside is that Adrien can be clingy.

So when you're not feeling like being around people- and that includes him, he's stuck missing you. He respects your space, but he very much texts you while you're away. Give this man a stern talking to about space.

Oh, and if you want something from him...you have to...ugh, communicate that to him 🤢

He can be very uh...socially unaware...yeah let's say that.

So if you want to kiss, cuddle, hold hands, whatever, and waiting until he eventually gives you one isn't working, you can't just give him hints.

Doesn't matter how obvious they are.

"My hand is feeling a little cold."

"Oh I'm sorry, I think I have some gloves you can borrow!"

"I'm feeling lonely over here. If only my loving boyfriend hugged me."

"Am I the boyfriend you're referencing or is there another guy I don't know about?"

Now as Chat, he's a bit more aware.

But that doesn't mean he won't tease you

He likes seeing your fumble to explain to him that you want a kiss from him.

"You know what I want!"

"I'm afraid I don't, ma chérie. Enlighten me."

He's a little shit and he knows it.

But he's also yours and you love him for it.

[shortstrawberry]

I know, I know. It was Bela's b'day yesterday and I didn't post anything. However, I'm finally free now!

So here's a small sneak peak from my upcoming long oneshot. Bela has her heart back and she is trying to woo the dumbass oblivious MC.

Things have been quite... same ever since the whole debacle with Headmistress and the whole "get Bela's heart back" passed. Not that you were expecting anything earth shattering different to happen. Bela Dimitrescu is still the same draconian workaholic Student Council President who somehow manages to be a straight A grade student. You are still her Vice President, buried under the tons and tons of paperwork that gets passed along your way.

However, since past four months, from the day Bela received her heart back and fainted whispering "You have pretty eyes", certain events have happened that you cannot explain.

Exhibit A: Student Council President fussing after your sick self

"Acchhoooo!"

You loudly sneeze against the tissue paper, trying in vain to contain the droplets inside it. You are normally a shameless cretin who wouldn't hide your sneezing with tissue when alone, sick and dying in your room. But that's the thing. You are very much not alone.

A gorgeous blonde head popped out of your small kitchenette, looking at you with a reprimanding glare.

You shyly hide yourself underneath the blanket, knowing what your president is about to ask you.

"Did you use the nasal spray I brought you?"

You did not answer, still remaining hidden underneath your weighted blanket. You heard a soft beautiful sigh accompanied by approaching footsteps, and you just couldn't help but wonder how can a girl make sighing sound pretty.

The bedsheets were ripped off from you, and you found your answer to your question as you met the intense gaze of one Bela Dimitrescu.

Of course, if anyone can make breathing beautiful, it is this gorgeous blonde. You swear the song "Gorgeous" by Taylor Swift was written for her.

"cor meum, how will you become better if you don't take care of yourself?"

You gave your council president a petulant look, your mouth pouting against your will. You know you are being childish right now against someone who is only trying to take care of you. The said someone has taken out time from their packed schedule to cook some stew for you. But you are sick with fever and cold and you have a feeling the council president will give you a pass this one time.

"That spray stings my nose! I don't wanna use it!"

Bela's eyes immediately softened at your pouty voice, her eyebrows drawing close in focused attention. She tilted her head just slightly to the right, her pale pink lips rising in a amused and affectionate (?) smile.

"cor meum, you haven't taken your inhaler, have you? It will clear up your nose, and you will be able to breathe freely."

Of course you know all of that, but you choose to ignore it. Bela is being uncharacteristically lenient right now, even if she has been soft these days ever since she got her heart back. But today's Bela is still the softest you have ever witnessed.

For starters, she dragged you home from Council work and declared you are on leave until you get better. Then she made you take medicines and sleep while she worked besides you on her laptop. When you woke up, you had lunch waiting for you.

And now it is dinner time and Bela is still here. Not that you want her to go away. Your sleepy sick mind even wanted her to stay forever. Something your usual self won't even dream of.

Taking advantage of the boldness or rather foolishness your fever is giving you, you go ahead and ask what has forever been nagging you. Since the day certain someone got her heart back and started to look at you with strange, different emotion.

"You keep calling me that. What does it mean? What language is it even? Latin?"

The beautiful blonde looked at you carefully, before answering you back in a even more amused voice.

"Yes, and it means 'stupid heart'. Because you have a silly, moronic heart that makes you do careless things like walking back to your home when its raining a storm."

You pout, defending yourself immediately. Even if you remember that incident fondly.

"I had only one umbrella and you were staying back to work! What if you had to go back under rain? So I left the umbrella for you!"

Bela in answer looked away, a hint of pink creeping up her cheeks. She hurriedly draped the blanket on top of you, before settling down besides you and flicking your forehead.

It was a soft flick, clearly a affectionate gesture. Something Bela has been doing a lot lately. You stay up too late working? Sending you away to sleep and flick against forehead. You forget to eat breakfast? A croissant and flick against your forehead. You forget to text her that you have reached home? She will come to your home and flick your forehead.

Strangely enough, you have come to crave these flicks to your forehead. It shows that the once heartless girl...now cares for you.

Well, she had cared for you even when without a heart, as a similiar scene played from your memories. The scowling Student Council President demanding you have her homemade soup.

Now the only difference is that Bela is looking at you with the purest look of concern and offering to apply nasal spray on you herself.

"Here, give me the spray. I will do it myself because someone has become a helpless child."

You only grin cheekily, but let Bela do what she wants. You have troubled the poor blonde enough. And you have a feeling the dinner Bela is making will start burning soon if you keep her any longer.

With two whiffs of spray you were out like a light, sleep coming to you in minutes, You mumble a soft yes when Bela tucks you in, telling you that she would wake you up in time of dinner.

Unbeknownst to your peaceful sleeping self, the eldest Dimitrescu sister stayed besides you for few long minutes, gazing at you with the softest expression.

A soft, feathery kiss was laid on your forehead. Right where she flicks you all the time.

"It means my heart. You are my cor meum."

Cor meum means "my heart" in Latin according to Google Translate.

[zzoguri]

[TEASER] finger trapped (ripped to its seams) ➵ ji changmin

ji changmin x reader

with an unexpected reunion, you and changmin relive the memories of cheongju—and confront what could’ve been between you two.

inspired by ➵ "seasons" by wave to earth, the last five years

general genre/warnings ➵ friends to almost lovers, angst, fluff, the last five years story-telling method aka present will be told going backwards while past will be told moving forward (i hope that makes sense), missed chances, unexpected reunion, keeping secrets & lying, hurt/comfort, jealousy remains but love triumphs, tiger parents, journalist reader (u kno i had to do it), reader is a nerd and changmin is a student-athlete, kms jokes from jongseob (all /lh), finger traps aren’t efficient after all

word count ➵ est. 10-15k [now available! read here]

playlist ➵ end of beginning by djo // high school in jakarta by niki // i know it won't work by gracie abrams // no big deal (i love you) by dodie // keeping tabs by niki // no one knows by stephen sanchez & laufey // so what now by renee rapp // i wish i hated you by ariana grande // the 1 by taylor swift // seasons by wave to earth

a/n ➵ shhhhhhh.... i know that i'm still writing this but a lil motivation and accountability goes a long way SOOO !!! this is just a lil teaser for the upcoming jichang fic for the deoboyznet event <33 thank you again to my lovely @hcuyk for beta reading !!! (i've only written 1/4 please understand.) but i'm dedicating this to my lovely @sungbeam whose love for changmin is one i'll forever feel even to my ribs and @wavesmp3 who forever remains an inspiration in the way i write </3 plus, i've posted these snippets anyway so :P if ure interested in this fic, feel free to ask to be part of the taglist for this! and dont forget to always leave feedback <3

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlists

it’s a late night on a tuesday, about to be a midnight wednesday, and you’re in a convenience store as you scout for your dinner. all hauled up in the newsroom, the idea of ordering food during a time where restaurants would still be open slipped your mind. now, you’re left to scan through the same options you’ve eaten for the past years since you started living in seoul.

the convenience clerks are familiar with you, both kim jongseob and kim jiwoo. with your constant late-night meals at the store, you’d talk to whichever one had a shift. jongseob is saving up to upgrade his setup at home to record more music. with all the stories he shares about his time in underground rap battles along with the short verses he’s performed for you, you’re positive that he’ll get signed to a label soon. as for jiwoo, this is one of the many jobs she has in order to save enough money for fashion school. you’ve seen her sketches and outfits she’s put together and you’re hoping that she’ll get accepted.

a sigh leaves you. you didn’t have a problem with eating the food here but you were craving for something new in your life in seoul. the perpetual cycle of eating takeout food and unconsciously skipping meals for work needed to be disrupted just for a moment. but you weren’t seeking michelin-star food—all you wanted was home cooked, something from home.

the spice of tteokbokki, the burn of freshly fried hotteok, and the sweetness of homemade peach iced tea—mr. kim’s convenience store had it all.

your tastebuds long for cheongju.

“planning to beat your record of spending 23 minutes on deciding what to get?”

you roll your eyes before looking to your right, seeing jongseob stocking up the drinks in the fridge. “i hate you.”

“what? i’m just saying, you’re taking a lot longer to decide today.” he chuckles before placing the last bottle of sweetened probiotic milk in the fridge. “none of the options look good to you?”

“sort of,” you hum before you scan through the aisle of packaged meals. “i think i’m craving for something different.”

“i get it. the food here can get boring, which is why i’m planning to order pizza if you want to split the costs.”

your eyebrows shoot up at jongseob’s suggestion. “really? you’d share pizza with me?”

“yeah, as long as you pay for your share.” he shoots you a smile before grabbing on a trolley carrying empty boxes. “unless… you want to pay for the whole thing.”

you bite back a smile as you shake your head. you should’ve known the guy would ask you to buy him food, but you knew that he needed the money and you at least had a stable income to keep you comfortable. “fine,” jongseob’s smile grows as you fish out your wallet from your pocket and pull out a couple of bills. “just order enough for us two.” 

“of course,” he says as soon as you hand him some money. “i’ll make sure to order the most expensive thing on the menu.”

you scoff at his joke. “just make sure to treat me to something.”

the bell by the door chimes. “sorry, can’t hear you over that! need to attend to a customer!” jongseob quickly runs away from you while dragging the trolley. that little shit just knew how to press your buttons, but you love the kid, anyway.

still, you stand in the middle of the mart and your heart longs for home.

then, you shut your eyes, and you’re transported back in front of the familiar aisle filled with bags of potato chips and sweet corn. the noisy fan along with the soft sounds of mr. kim’s korean drama fills your ears. a mix of yellow and orange hues paint every corner of the mart, including you—and you’re not alone.

your best friend stands on your right, wearing the unbuttoned school uniform polo over a tank top along with jogging pants. he’s lost in thought as he scans through the options of snacks you two can have for today’s afternoon. he starts to giggle to himself, probably from a silly thought he’ll share with you in the next second or a memory involving you, and the dips in his cheeks appear—your heart thumps in your ears.

and just like how quickly you were transported back to cheongju, your surroundings transformed into the cool-lit convenience store found in seoul. all you have left is the image of him bathed in the sunlight.

but he fades away like the ink on old receipts, never gone, because the glowing image of him warps into a different version who stands next to you in the cold mart. he’s grown a few inches taller and his hair doesn’t get in the way of his line of sight. while he wears a green sweater, you notice that he’s gained some muscles. his eyes scan through the aisle behind you filled with different brands of instant ramen.

but he bites the inside of his cheek, and his dimples appear.

it’s a tornado that brews within you, enough to uproot trees and displace buildings, all because of an unexpected reunion with changmin. why did the universe decide to bring two ex-best friends on a random tuesday night? what brings him to the convenience store at the same time you’re there? and why did it have to happen a day before the interview?

you weren’t going to commit the same mistake; keep your eyes off of him and make your way out of the store. it didn’t matter if you had an empty, growling stomach, or gave free money to jongseob. you need to leave without the distant, familiar face noticing.

your feet act fast, and you're almost certain that might’ve caught his attention, but it didn’t matter as you see jongseob standing behind the cashier with his phone out. “i just ordered the pizza. it should arrive in about… 20 to 30 minutes.”

“yeah, about that…”

“don’t tell me you’re taking your money back.”

at the sight of jongseob’s pout, you roll your eyes. “no, keep it. i just—i need to go.”

“what? why?”

you peek behind you. it seems like he didn’t recognize you, after all. “i’ve got… work!”

“but don’t you only have your interview with the bo—”

“hey!” your fingers snap at him. “you cannot—i mean, you just… just take the goddamn money.”

“but we’re supposed to share the pizza. you haven’t eaten.”

an exasperated sigh leaves you. “jongseob, just treat me next time. i can eat at home.”

and you’re ready to leave the convenience store, bid farewell to jongseob and a delicious pizza made for two, and never greet or say goodbye to the living fragment of what you last know of cheongju—

“y/n?”

and the plan failed.

when you meet his gaze, you’re able to take in the different version of him. he’s grown so much—it’s such a pain that you weren’t there to witness it. his eyes are a pool of emotions; you can’t identify them.

all it takes is one breath from you. “changmin.”

a beat passes.

“i’m just gonna… go through the storage,” jongseob points his thumb at the back of the mart, “and maybe kill myself afterwards. i don’t know.” before you can protest, he’s already gone. (and he still has your money. that fucker.)

taglist ➵@winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @mosviqu @vernyangel @stealanity @deobi0412 @blue-rainydays @maessseongs

[7-wonders]

Hopes, Dreams, and Everything In Between (Morpheus x Reader)

Summary: Just when Morpheus finally escapes capture at the hands of the Burgess lineage and begins to make his way back to his realm, his weak connection to his power disappears completely. Left stranded in a world with no knowledge of what has transpired for over a century, no powers, and no clothes, Dream of the Endless must let down his guard and place his trust in a human whose path he was quite literally dropped in the middle of.

Word count: 10.7k

A/N: So! Here we are, with what is arguably the longest oneshot I've ever written. @glitchmeharder had left a comment on a post I made, pointing out that they wanted more fics of Morpheus getting stuck in the Waking World and needing to live with Reader for a little bit.

My mind took this sentence and RAN with it. Like, I apologize in advance for how long this is. I'm pretty pleased with it though, especially for my first Morpheus fic. I hope you're pleased with it too.

(Also, the POV jumps back and forth between Morpheus and Reader, but it alternates every other section and is pretty clear which POV is which)

(Also-also I've been staring at this fic for so long now I don't even know if it makes sense anymore)

Let me know your thoughts! Likes are appreciated, comments, asks, and reblogs make my world go round! My inbox is always open for you guys :)

*This fic uses she/her pronouns and includes the use of Y/n*

Freedom.

After being held captive for 106 long, painful years, Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares, is on the precipice of securing his freedom. The younger Burgess’s lover had erased a small part of the runes encircling his glass cage with the wheel of the old man’s wheelchair, sending little more than a sorrowful glance back towards the prisoner. So this was how he would attempt to secure his safety, by breaking the circle of runes surrounding him. Barely a scuff, really, but it’s enough.

It’s enough for Morpheus to feel the faintest bit of his power return to him.

It’s enough that it’s all too easy for him to influence one of the security guards, waxing poetically about his upcoming beach vacation, to close his eyes for just a moment.

It’s enough for a dream to form, one of sun and sea and sand. Sand that Morpheus is able to gather a handful of, right in front of the horrified guard’s dreaming eyes.

The guard, lost in his dream nightmare, shoots at what he thinks is Morpheus. In the Waking World, he’s shooting at the orb that he’s meant to be diligently watching. A bullet hits, and a crack forms. Another, and another, and another, even as the other guard screams at her colleague to stop.

The glass explodes, and Morpheus fills his lungs with his first huff of fresh air in over a century. He can’t get lost in the joy that threatens to burst like a dam at finally seeing and feeling freedom. Not when he has a job to do, not when he has a kingdom to return home to.

He steps past the broken runes, now useless at keeping him trapped, and towards the two that are commanding him to stop where he is. He does as they ask, standing still in front of them. When the female orders him to open his closed fist, he is nice enough to listen to that command as well, lifting it to his mouth and blowing the sand in their faces.

A portal forms above him, and all Morpheus can think of is home. The Dreaming. He can feel it calling to him, a kingdom beckoning its ruler back. His power lifts him, and Morpheus welcomes the sensation of traveling through realms.

Then, just as quickly as he had his power, he loses it again.

Like a spelunker who’s just had their trusty rope give out on them, Dream finds himself free-falling with no way of stopping or controlling where he’s going. He tries desperately to clutch onto the tendrils of power that have abandoned him, but they refuse to obey.

He lands harshly on cold pavement, weak and disoriented with no idea of where he is. There’s a flash of blinding lights, the sound of rubber squealing, and then…

Darkness.

•••

It’s late at night, late enough that the few traffic lights that you pass are continuously blinking red and yellow. You hadn’t intended to be out so late, but catching up with friends at a restaurant had led to all of you losing track of time, talking and laughing and reminiscing until a manager politely informed your table that the restaurant had closed ten minutes prior.

Large tips had been left as apologies and your group hustled out of the door, leaving one another with hugs and goodbyes and promises to do this again, sooner than the months it had taken to get together in the first place. You got into your car, locking the doors immediately after, and you were happy.

Still, as you watched those you know and cherish depart with their significant others, you can’t help the pang of melancholy that taints an otherwise-wonderful evening. You’re at the age now where everybody that you know is in relationships, getting engaged and married and settling down and coupling up. You, however…are not. And you’re happy with being single, truly; the best company you can have is yourself. But knowing that you’re going to return home to your quiet apartment, where you’ll go to sleep in your empty bed and wake up to eat breakfast alone before repeating the monotonous cycle that is working a full time job and being an adult in general is making you just a little bitter.

You dwell on this as you drive the deserted roads home, even though you shouldn’t be. Shaking your head at your tendency to mope, you decide to do something about it and turn your radio up with the hopes that something good is playing on the random playlist that had begun when your phone automatically connected to the car’s sound system. Hell, maybe even something bad. Anything to get you out of this thought pattern that is quickly attempting to derail your mood.

“Now here I go again, I see the crystal vision

I keep my visions to myself

But it's only me who wants to wrap around your dreams, and

Have you any dreams you'd like to sell, dreams of loneliness?”

Ironic, considering you were just lamenting your own loneliness, but you’ll forgive Stevie Nicks for almost anything, so you let it slide. Tapping your thumbs on the steering wheel, you hum along to the song and stare out at the empty, rainy landscape ahead.

Empty, until it’s suddenly not.

You don’t look away from the road, you know that you don’t. But in the literal blink of an eye, a white figure appears right in front of your car. Slamming on the brakes with a scream, you watch as the figure collapses ahead of you. You don’t hit whatever it is, thankfully, and after lurching to a harsh stop, you peer through the windshield at what your headlights illuminate.

It’s a person, or at least you think it is. They’re pale, paler than any person you’ve seen before. They’re also stark naked, which, for a number of reasons, can’t be comfortable. Should you get out and help?

You bite your lip as you consider this, stories of human trafficking ploys and hitchhiking serial killers appearing at the forefront of your mind. It’s dangerous, and probably stupid, but something in you knows that this isn’t a scheme to kidnap you. Your eyes were on the road the entire time, and this being was literally dropped down right in front of your car. Grabbing your phone, throwing your hazards on, and unhooking the pepper spray from your keys, you cautiously open your car door and walk to the front of your car.

“Are you okay?” you ask, looking down at the man. 

He’s laying on his side, his face tucked into the crook of his arm. A mop of unruly, jet-black hair covers any other facial features that might have made him distinguishable to you. 

He doesn’t answer, and you swallow harshly. Oh God, is he dead? You thought you didn’t hit him, and your car doesn’t have any damage, but maybe you did.

Crouching down next to him, you take note of just how skinny he is when you lay a hand on his wrist to check his pulse (which is thankfully thrumming steadily beneath his near-translucent skin). No, not skinny. The man in front of you looks emaciated. What happened to him?, you wonder as you move your hand to his bony shoulder and begin to shake him.

“Hey, can you hear me?” 

This time, a muffled groan answers you. Okay, that’s better than before. At least he’s semi-conscious. Still, he doesn’t look well at all, and you should probably get him to a hospital to be checked out. When you voice this thought, you finally elicit a reaction from him. Long, ice-cold fingers grip your wrist weakly, and you stare at him in shock as he mumbles something unintelligible.

“What?” You lean down next to his covered face, trying to hear what he’s saying.

“No…” he mutters. “Please…no…hospital.”

He’s delirious, that much is obvious. Still, you find yourself mulling over his request. He really does need some sort of medical attention, but he managed to muster up enough strength to specifically tell you that he didn’t want to go to a hospital. As you think about it, you also start to come around to the “no hospital” idea. 

After all, what are you going to do? Show up at the hospital and dump a naked, starving man on their doorstep while claiming that you have no idea how he got like this? At best, the authorities would probably be called and you’d be questioned for kidnapping. No, it’s probably for the best to keep away from the hospital.

Logically, you know that you’re so stupid for even considering the idea that you’ve had. But really, what is this man going to be able to do to you? Even if he weren’t in and out of consciousness, he’s so frail that you could easily take him down were he to try and attack you. Against your better judgment, you decide what you’re going to do.

“I’ll be right back,” you assure the man, who you’re not even sure can hear you, before you stand up. “I think I have a blanket in the trunk of my car.”

A quick search through your mess of a trunk does reveal a blanket, hauled around at the insistence of your mother who preached needing an “emergency kit” in your car at all times. Now, you silently thank her as you grab it and hurry back to the man, though you definitely will not mention to her what the emergency kit was finally used for.

You haul him to a sitting position, his head falling back limply as you fix the blanket over his shoulders. “Do you think you can stand? I’ll get you to the car, I just need to get you on your feet.”

He makes a slight movement that looks like a nod, so you move his arm around your shoulder and wait until you feel his light grasp on your shirt before slowly bringing both of you to stand. Once you’re sure that you’re not going to drop him, you struggle with him towards your car. He’s lighter than most adult men, but considering he’s dead weight, it’s still tough to walk with him. You fumble with the handle of the car door, nearly throwing it open so that you only have to let go of him for a brief moment.

You cringe when he falls backwards onto the seats, landing harshly across them. It doesn’t seem to hurt him at all, the only sign that he even felt anything is a groan in the back of his throat. Whispering out a “sorry,” you cover his body with the blanket and make sure all of him is in the car before closing the door and getting into the driver’s seat.

Sighing heavily, you think about your life choices as you glance into the rearview mirror to look at the unconscious man in the back of your car. You’re really going to do this, aren’t you? Taking home a naked man that passed out on the road in front of your car so that you can hopefully wake him up and get him well enough to be on his way without killing you?

Yes, you are.

•••

The first thought that crosses Dream’s mind when consciousness finally returns to him is that his limbs ache. They really, truly ache. It’s not often that an Endless has lingering pains, but it does happen. He stretches his legs out in front of him, feeling his muscles twinge as he attempts to loosen them.

The next thought that crosses Dream’s mind is that he shouldn’t be able to stretch any of his limbs, considering he’s meant to be curled up in a glass ball.

His eyes snap open when he realizes this, and he’s bewildered to find that he’s not staring at guards looking at him disdainfully from the table they’re always perched at, nor is he looking at the wrought-iron bars separating the large, underground room from the staircase upstairs. No, instead, he’s looking up at what looks to be a ceiling fan, spinning lazily around and around.

The events of what happened before he ended up here (wherever “here” is) begin to come back to him in fragments. First the runes being erased, then securing the sand from the guard’s dream. The orb shattering, sand being blown, and beginning to make his way home. That’s where his memory becomes muddled.

There were lights, and a voice. He thinks he remembers the vague sensation of being moved, but he’s not too sure. Whatever happened, he ended up here…on a couch, under a number of blankets. Certainly not in the same basement that he had been in for over a century, with its familiar cold seeping through the very glass he found himself trapped in. No, this room is warm and inviting. Comforting, almost.

Wherever he is, it’s not in the Dreaming. More alarmingly still is that he can’t sense the Dreaming at all. After that small glimpse of his power that got him out of the Burgess basement, his power has completely abandoned him. A not-unusual feeling, considering he spent the last 106 years without it, but being “free” and powerless is not something that he’s used to.

He has had a lot of time to think about what his lack of power feels like. After a few decades, the best he could liken it to is missing a sense or losing a limb. It’s something functional, something that he should have, but that he doesn’t. Cruelly, he was granted a taste of what he should have for a mere second before fate or karma or the universe itself decided to play yet another cruel joke on him.

Dream slowly takes in his surroundings, his thoughts sluggish and confused. There’s a table next to the couch he’s laid on, a glass of water placed on it. A black screen sits on a stand across the room, and he stares at his reflection in it for a moment before the sound of humming draws his attention away.

A figure – the person humming, he assumes – comes through a doorway, eyes immediately meeting his own. Curiously, she smiles at him when she notices this. Dream’s muscles tense, on guard in the presence of an unknown being so soon after escaping Burgess. Has he escaped one prison, only to land in another?

“You’re awake!” she exclaims, as though she’s happy to see this. “How are you feeling?”

He ignores the human’s question. “This is not the Dreaming.”

“No, this is my apartment.”

“I must go.” Dream attempts to stand up, but finds that he struggles to just barely sit up. “I need to return to my realm.”

“You’re not going anywhere, look at you! You’re too weak to even move.”

She begins to approach him, but the glower he sends her way is enough to stop her in her tracks. It does not matter that she was stating the obvious when she said what she did, referencing his physicality. He will not be told what he can and cannot do, where he is allowed to exist. Not anymore. “Do not come any closer, mortal.”

“Okay, I won’t.” 

She puts her hands up in the air, presumably to show him that she means no harm. The move reminds him of what one might do in the presence of a frightened animal. In her mind, he is a frightened animal. 

“Have you drank any of that water? I don’t know where you were before I found you, but you look like you haven’t had anything to eat or drink in a while.”

He looks at her warily, but slowly takes the glass that is apparently designated for him. After over a century, he’s more than a little parched. Though he will not show any gratitude before it is earned, he is thankful that at least one of his needs is being met.

The woman waits patiently for him to make the next move, choosing to sit on a large chair near the couch and tap at a rectangle she holds in her hands. Morpheus appreciates not being watched as he greedily drains the water that he’s been offered. Only after he places the now-empty glass back on the table does she look up at him and wait for him to make the first move.

“How did I end up here?” Morpheus asks slowly.

“When I found you, you basically appeared in the middle of the road from out of nowhere. You were passed out, and you only really came around so that you could tell me not to take you to a hospital.” She nervously plays with her hands, which rest in her lap. “I wasn’t about to leave you out there, so I brought you here.”

“Why?”

It comes out harsher than he intended, but considering the only interaction he’s had for so long with other beings involved threats and pleas for immortality, riches, and power, he isn’t expecting much. In fact, Morpheus is preparing himself to listen to her list of demands before acting. Though he’s powerless right now and unable to manipulate her dreams the way that he did the guards at Fawney Rig, he still has millenia of experience to draw on when it comes to escaping a captor.

Contrary to his belief, she looks at him in surprise. “Why?” When he nods, she shrugs. “I guess…because if I were naked and unconscious in the middle of the road on a rainy night, I’d want somebody to help me to relative safety.”

Ah. It’s at this point that Dream realizes that he is, in fact, very much still naked. Though he’s hardly shy about his form, he is aware that most humans have a more puritanical point of view when it comes to the covering of bodies.

“Are you hungry? You look like you’ve been starved, so I’m guessing it’s been a while since you’ve had something to eat.” The woman stands and takes the glass off of the table, musing to herself as she walks to another room. “We’ll probably have to start you on something light so that you can get used to eating again. Maybe toast?”

She doesn’t stop rambling even as she returns and hands Morpheus another glass of water. Though, even if she were to stop long enough to take a breath, Morpheus doesn’t know what he would say. He’s so bewildered at this entire situation that the Prince of Stories himself is at a loss for words.

He’s been left completely powerless in the Waking World, and he would have to fend for himself were it not for this random human whose path he’s been literally dropped in the middle of. A human who, apparently, has no devious intentions towards him, though he finds it hard to believe that all humans aren’t evil and heartless like Roderick Burgess and those complicit in his captivity. He finds it especially hard to believe that the first human he comes across after the Burgess affair would be the exact opposite of those he’s been around for so long.

Destiny himself must surely be breaking his stoic demeanor to laugh at his younger brother’s misfortunes.

“Seriously, when was the last time you ate something?” After a moment of silence, Morpheus realizes she’s asking him a question.

His attention is brought back to the woman, who’s reclaimed her seat in the chair across the room. Lifting his chin, and with what he hopes is a voice befitting the ruler he once was, he says, “One hundred and six years ago.”

She laughs at what she assumes is a joke, until she realizes that the expression on his face doesn’t change. He can see this mortal begin to make the connections in her mind. His mention of his beloved realm, the fact that he called her “mortal” to begin with, the century plus of imprisonment. The Waking World is so quick to dismiss magic and the supernatural as “fairy tales;” if it is beyond their comprehension, then it therefore doesn’t exist.

Yet, even with what they believe to be sound logic, humans just know when they encounter something that they can’t quite explain. Morpheus has always seen it in the way that people back up when he or his siblings or any of the many other preternatural beings that wander this plane walk past. The fear in their eyes as something primal activates within them, something telling them that they are no longer the apex predator.

Even with his lack of powers, he still carries his innate abilities that are woven into his very being. He can hear the woman’s heart beat faster, see her pupils dilate in apprehension. She knows, even if she does not want to admit it.

Quietly, she asks, “Who are you? What are you?”

“I am Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares.”

A long minute passes as she takes in the information he’s given her. She does not run away from him in fright (which has happened to him a couple of times), nor does she call for someone who will attempt to capture Morpheus and use his powers to their own advantage. Instead, she thinks over what she’s heard and nods.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares,” she smiles after saying all of his titles, apparently finding it amusing to be in the presence of a king, “I’m Y/n.”

Morpheus is not used to thanking others, especially mortals. However, this woman’s helpfulness seems to warrant that he learns how to do so, so he nods. “I thank you for offering me aid in my time of need, Y/n.”

“I’m going to get you some food.” He hardly opens his mouth to make a rebuttal before she’s pointing at him accusingly. “Don’t argue with me, you need food. Then after that, we’ll get you some clothes. Sound good?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer before she’s back through the door, presumably towards the kitchen. Though Morpheus is still wary of relying on anybody, let alone a human, he doesn’t exactly have a choice. Not when he’s this weak, and certainly not when he’s powerless. No, he has no choice but to place his trust in this strong-willed woman who was crazy enough to rescue a stranger in the rain.

Fates help him.

•••

So, the random, naked stranger you saved out of the middle of the road turns out to rule the collective unconscious of all of humanity. And he now lives on your couch for the time being (with clothes, thankfully; you had procured a shirt and a pair of sweatpants for him when he had finally agreed to let you help him), because he’s apparently lost the powers that connect him to said collective unconscious. No big deal.

You didn’t want to believe Morpheus at first. After all, just the mere idea of some being who is eons old and is, in his words, “the anthropomorphic personification of the concept of dreams” sounds insane. But the same sense that told you that it was safe to take him home tells you that he’s telling the truth. And as you get to know him more, you find that that sense was right.

From the way that he talks to the memories of empires long gone and the recollections of those great figures of history that he’s met and inspired, all of which he shares with you as the days go by and it becomes obvious that he can’t just ignore you and hope that you go away, you find it very easy to believe him. He hasn’t given you a reason to not believe him, and until he does, you’ll continue to trust what he tells you.

It’s at least a week before your new roommate is strong enough to move easily around your apartment, though he still looks half-starved. On his second day of staying at your apartment, you had offered to help him to the shower. After all, if you had been deprived of showering for 106 years, it would be one of the first things that you wanted to do. After thinking it over for a long couple of minutes, Morpheus had begrudgingly agreed. The moment he attempted to stand, he had been unable to support himself and had fallen to his knees. This left him no choice but to take your outstretched hand.

It was very obvious that the proud king felt humiliated at needing to use you to support most of his weight as you maneuvered him through your apartment and to the bathroom. You couldn’t exactly blame him, because you’re sure that it is humiliating, especially when you’re a being that’s normally more powerful than a literal god who has to rely on a mere human for help walking a few feet.

According to Morpheus, if he had his powers, he would have recovered at a much faster rate. Since he doesn’t, though, and he’s effectively human for the time being, he has to recover as a human would. When you come home from running a couple of errands one day to find him sitting up on the couch without needing to lean on anything for support, reading a book from your collection, you’re extremely glad to see that his “human” recovery is progressing nicely.

As time passes, though, you’ve found an odd companionship with him. He’s slowly become less wary of you, and you of he, which has allowed you both to trust the other and actually, dare you say it, form a tenuous friendship.

It seems like he’d been expecting you to basically tiptoe around him and ignore him throughout the duration of his stay with you. Considering you don’t want to wake up to a corpse on your couch because you abandoned him in his time of need, and because you’re a person with a conscience, you’ve done the exact opposite, much to his chagrin and bewilderment.

You’re in the kitchen chopping vegetables for a soup, still working on building Morpheus up towards being able to eat actual meals, when he actually comes to you seeking companionship. He hovers at the edge of the kitchen, watching silently as you go through the familiar motions. Finally, he moves just a couple of steps closer, like a feral cat being enticed by food from a human who’s determined not to look at them. It’s not that far off from reality, you realize.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

Though it’s pretty damn obvious what you’re doing, you decide not to be sarcastic with him. “Making soup.”

He nods, leaning against the counter to watch. You feel a bit like you’re on a cooking show with the way that he’s viewing your actions so intently.

“What’s so interesting?” you ask after another moment of unwillingly being on Iron Chef.

“I suppose I’ve never really watched someone cook before.”

The knife pauses in midair, and you turn to look at him. “I’m sorry, what? You’ve been alive for as long as beings have had consciousness, but you’ve never watched someone cook?”

“It’s not often that I have to eat. If I choose to enjoy food, the palace staff typically prepares it for me.”

Oh yeah. It’s easy to forget that Morpheus literally has a castle when he’s standing in your kitchen with bedhead. You would make a joke about him being spoiled, but you suppose that if you were in his position, you also never would have taken the time to actually step inside a kitchen.

“Do you want to learn?”

“How to cook?” You nod. “Are you sure that you want to teach me?”

“I’m literally just going to have you cutting vegetables,” you say with a laugh. “It’s a pretty easy task, even for you, your highness.”

His lips just barely move upwards, and you stare at him, stunned. Did he just smile at you? You didn’t even know that he knew how to do that. You’re about to try and convince yourself that it was just a trick of the light when he says, “Being that I am a king, it’s ‘your majesty,’ not ‘your highness.’”

He did smile! And he made a joke! It’s such a small accomplishment, yet you can’t help but to feel immensely proud of yourself. Hiding your own pleased grin, you step back from the cutting board. “Okay your majesty, come over here so I can teach you to cut vegetables.”

Morpheus definitely isn’t going to be on any cooking shows of his own anytime soon. Actually, you don’t know that you’d even trust him to be in the kitchen by himself anytime soon. He nearly cuts off a finger a couple of times, and he struggles to figure out how to hold whatever he’s cutting so that it can actually be cut. The vegetables he’s been in charge of cutting are uneven, but you can see how proud he is of having completed this task himself. You’re proud of him too; though you can tease him for having never done something like cooking before, it must be hard to learn a new skill after so long.

After this, Morpheus becomes less of an unwilling house guest who’s only putting up with you because he physically can’t leave and more of a friend. It became inevitable that you would have to spend time together, since he’s living on your couch until he can figure out how to get back to the Dreaming, but it’s become actually enjoyable to be in his presence, and vice versa. Though he can still be cold, distant, and haughty, that’s to be expected. Your relationship has changed, and he’s changed.

It takes a couple of weeks, but Morpheus finally starts to feel well enough to re-enter the land of the living. At least, he’s well enough to insist that he can start researching how to regain his powers or go home. Naturally, you join him. Morpheus has long-since given up on asking you why you help him, finally realizing that this is just how you are. If he wanted to be left alone, he should have landed in front of the car of someone who didn’t care about his well-being.

You’re sitting in your local public library with him, one of your now-regular visits as you search through book after book to try and find answers. The both of you are tucked in a corner near a set of windows, enjoying the way that the sun warms your skin. Books from a variety of subjects are scattered all around you; religion and history, mythology and occult. Anything that could potentially give you an idea of how to help an Endless regain the powers that they were created with. Needless to say, there’s not a lot of material written on this topic.

Yet another book with no answers is tossed to the side in frustration, and you begin to just fire off random ideas off the top of your head. Most of them involve seeking the help of any magic contacts that Morpheus has here in the Waking World, which is made difficult by the fact that Morpheus has no way of contacting these beings. Both because of his lack of powers, as well as the fact that he’s not the most open person for one to make a contact with.

(“You? Not friendly? I’m shocked, truly,” you had said with obvious sarcasm coloring your tone. Morpheus simply sighed, turning the page of the book he’s reading harsher than needed.

“Yes, have your laughs at my expense.”)

It’s more than a little discouraging to have absolutely no answers, and you’re starting to get desperate. You tap your fingers against a book you’ve already looked through, hoping that maybe you’ll learn something through osmosis.

“You could…”

You pause, trying to think of a good idea. Your mind is racing as you turn from logical plans that could actually work to the illogical. After all, if you can’t find something that works, you’re at least going to have some fun. 

“Throw me off a bridge, maybe? That’d surely get your sister to show up.”

Morpheus only looks at you. “That is not funny, Y/n.”

“I didn’t say it was!”

“I know your sense of humor well enough by now to know that you find this suggestion of yours at least slightly amusing.”

Your lips twitch, because he’s right. The mental image of Morpheus chucking you off a bridge and then eagerly waiting for his sister, literal Death, to appear while you’re screaming and falling to your end does make you want to laugh. 

“Well, it’s the only idea I’ve got,” you say with a shrug.

“A terrible idea, truly.”

You roll your eyes jokingly and mutter, “Jerk.”

When you first met Morpheus, he would have taken your words and actions quite seriously and been offended at the perceived insults. Now, he simply rolls his eyes right back at you and smirks. Just one of the many things that have changed between you.

It’s here, on the floor of the library, that things majorly change between you. It’s here that Morpheus kisses you for the first time.

You had taken a solo walk around a few of the shelves under the guise of seeing if you had missed any research, but really you needed to get away from the corner of no answers before you started shredding books out of anger. It helped enough that you were able to return to the research with fresh eyes, and it seems like it’s paying off.

In a book about pagan rituals, you find the first promising information that you’ve seen in the last three library trips. You lay your hand on Morpheus’s shoulder to get his attention. “Wait, listen to this! This book talks about summoning the Fates.” 

You point down to the passage. 

“‘It is fitting to begin December with an offering to the Three Fates, the weavers of destiny. Put out three small cups of red wine, fruit and bread, along with three knives. This is a way of honoring the powers that will bring more provisions during the coming year. Have ready three candles, red, black and white.’ It’s not December, but I would think this could potentially be done year-round? We give them an offering, they recognize who it’s coming from, and they give us some answers. What do you think?”

When you look up at Morpheus, you find him already looking at you with his beautiful blue eyes. He’s told you that, when he has his powers, his eyes resemble two stars. With the way that they always twinkle when they catch the light just right, you’d argue that they already do. You smile at him, unable to stop the awkward giggle that escapes you as he continues to look at you with something you can’t quite name.

“What?”

His eyes look from your eyes to your lips and back again. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize what he’s about to do, a mere moment before he leans in and presses his lips to yours.

Morpheus is a really good kisser, which is to be expected since he’s been alive for longer than you can fathom. He kisses you softly and sweetly, and the butterflies that flutter in your stomach make you feel a bit like a teenager receiving her first kiss from a beau. You sigh against his lips, bringing a hand to his cheek while he places one of his on the back of your neck.

Then, it actually hits you what you’re doing. Though you don’t want to (like, you really don’t want to), you need to put a stop to this. What if the only reason he’s doing this is because he feels some sense of gratitude towards you for saving him in the first place? You can’t take advantage of him like that, even if he is a very attractive man that is currently kissing you.

“Wait.” You put a hand on his chest to put some space between you, though you still rest your forehead against his. “I don’t want you to kiss me just because I’m letting you crash on my couch.”

“Do you think that I am incapable of making my own decisions?”

“No, of course not! I just–I worry that you feel like you owe me, or something. You don’t.”

You can feel Morpheus smile under your touch. “It is chivalrous of you to refuse me because you believe that you are taking advantage of me. However, I can assure you that you need not worry.”

“Are you sure? What about, like, power dynamics?”

“Y/n, I’m eons old. If anything, I have all of the power here based solely on that.” Oh, yeah. Before you can actually beat yourself up over the stupidity of that statement, he continues. “I can promise you that I have my wits about me, and there is nothing clouding my decision-making. I care for you, and I would very much like to continue kissing you.”

“Okay,” you whisper, unable to believe that this is actually happening.

He laughs lightly. “Now, may I kiss you again?”

You nod. “Yeah, you can definitely kiss me again.”

Morpheus is more than happy to reclaim your lips with his.

It would almost be embarrassing, how quickly you’ve fallen in love with Morpheus, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s fallen just as fast. You’ve lived blissfully in your own little corner of heaven with him for almost four months now. Though getting him home is still important to both of you, it’s also become less of a priority as you’ve fallen more in love with each other.

(He’s also very happy to be sleeping in bed with you instead of on the couch.)

Laying in bed with him one night, you’re transfixed with mapping out every inch of his skin that you can touch with your fingers and watching goosebumps form in their wake. You don’t think you’ll ever get over just how unreal Morpheus seems to be. You understand, of course, that this is due to the fact that he’s an Endless, that he is physically more than a human, and thus a human form can not truly contain all of him. But to be up close and personal to such a phenomenon really drives home just how ethereal he really is. You can easily see why he’s been mistaken as a god so many times throughout history.

“What’s it like?” you whisper to him, unwilling to fully break the tranquility you’re experiencing.

In the dim light, Morpheus looks at you. “What is what like, beloved?”

Your heart jumps at the pet name, so sweet and unexpected. Fighting to keep your wits about you, you ask, “Your kingdom. The Dreaming.”

“I don't even know where to begin when I tell you that it is the most wondrous place you will ever lay eyes upon.” He closes his eyes briefly and sighs wistfully. “It has been over a century since I have been home, and yet I can still see it as if I were merely there yesterday.”

“If it’s hard to talk about, you don’t have to.” You should have realized that asking him about the home he currently has no way of getting back to would make him upset.

“It does not make me sad to talk about it. Rather, I love the Dreaming so much that it overwhelms me sometimes. I am the Dreaming, you see. It is a part of me.”

“So it’s perfect, then.” You don’t mean to say that out loud, but the way that Morpheus looks away bashfully makes you glad that you did.

“That is what some believe, yes. It’s a vast plane, considering all the universe’s dreamers use it when they close their eyes at night. The area around the palace, my direct kingdom, is stunning. Imagine the most beautiful landscape you can. That beauty would pale in comparison to Fiddler’s Green, with its orchards and valleys and rivers and mountains.”

“Really?”

“Mm. My personal favorite is a small clearing ringed by trees that make it seem as though you’re completely blocked off from the rest of existence. There’s a waterfall there, too, and I believe you’d quite enjoy the mermaids.”

All of it sounds wonderful, but that last word has your mind sparking with excitement. “Mermaids? Like…actual mermaids?”

“Of course. Mermaids are creatures of dreams. And nightmares. They are subjects in my realm.”

“That’s amazing.” You pause for a moment. “Would I be able to meet them?”

“You will be able to do anything you wish when I finally get to bring you to my realm. Though, it may be difficult to get you out of the library once you’re there.”

“I should have assumed you’d have a library.”

“Yes, and it is my sanctuary in the Dreaming. The library holds every book that has ever been written, every book that will be written, and even books that have merely been ideas in the minds of authors. It is overseen by Lucienne, without whom I fear the library would fall into permanent disrepair.”

“That sounds wonderful.” You yawn, your eyes too heavy to keep open for much longer. Morpheus notices this and pulls you closer to him. “Tell me more about it. Then maybe I’ll get lucky and be able to catch a glimpse of it while I sleep.”

It’s merely wishful thinking, considering dreams since the night that Roderick Burgess trapped Morpheus in his basement have been nothing more than fragments of scenarios. But his voice is so deep and calming, and you can tell that it makes him happy to talk of his home. Maybe tonight will be the night that the Dreaming decides to welcome its king back home. And even if it doesn’t, you’ll enjoy falling asleep in your lover’s arms.

•••

When Morpheus first woke up after his captivity, alone and confused and without his powers, he thought that he would never be able to feel anything except anger. Anger at his situation, anger towards those that had captured them. And for a few days, anger was all that he felt. But slowly and surely, Y/n had managed to chip away at the anger that had threatened to harden around his heart. Though he was not looking for love, nor did he expect to ever deserve love again after everything he had done to ruin every relationship he had been in, he had found it with her. The anger became replaced with an incandescent happiness, happiness that threatened to swallow Morpheus whole if he allowed it.

And he was certainly tempted.

It’s been approximately four months since the night he was freed, but it certainly hadn’t felt that way. Where he had spent the past 106 years counting day after agonizing day, four months with his beloved seemed to pass in the blink of an eye; an impressive feat for an Endless. Morpheus has, dare he say it, enjoyed getting to be a human, learning more about humanity and all that he had missed. Though he still lamented the loss of something so integral to his very being as his powers, his realm, he was able to recognize the gift that he had been given in spending the last four months with Y/n.

He’s sitting with her on the couch where it seems as though everything began, reading yet another book in the hopes that he might find a way to regain his powers, while she watches a movie on the television about some sort of battle in space (yet another aspect of humanity that she enjoyed teaching him, modern technology and everything along with it). She had meant to show him this movie, claiming that it was one of her favorites and that she believed every being needed to see this. Of course, it took a total of five minutes before he found himself hopelessly lost among the plot and had turned to the book next to him.

She had pouted for a moment, more to try and make him feel bad than from actually being upset. He had simply smirked in her direction, kissing her forehead before laying his arm around her and drawing her closer to him. Yet another thing that he loves about her, among many things, is that he can just exist in companionable silence with her. It’s rare, at least in his experience, when one finds another where this is possible.

Her head falls against his shoulder, and he smiles down at her when he sees she’s fallen asleep. In moments like these, he wishes more than anything that he was connected to the Dreaming once more. What he wouldn’t give to be able slip into her mind and give her the sweetest dreams that she deserves. As he closes his eyes and leans his head against hers, he imagines that he can feel that link to his realm.

After a moment, Morpheus opens his eyes and jarringly realizes that he can feel it. Her dreams, and the Dreaming itself. After 106 long years, the Dreaming returns to him as naturally as if he had simply blinked. His power suddenly twining through his veins again, something which he had taken for granted nearly his entire existence, has tears pricking at his eyes. Oh, how he has missed this.

Morpheus can return home now to reclaim his mantle and rule the Dreaming once more. He should be thrilled about this. He is thrilled about it. Thrilled, until he looks at the sleeping woman leaning against him and realizes that a decision must be made, and soon.

His power has returned, yet it’s still incredibly weak. Weak from not using them so long, and weak due to his not having his tools–his sand, his helm, and his ruby. Thus, he cannot be at his full strength until he recovers them. Will his power disappear yet again if he waits too long? If he wakes her to relay the good news, to take a moment to say goodbye, will the Dreaming escape from him? If his power does leave again, will he ever have another chance such as this?

It’s something that he cannot risk. And yet, he finds himself unsure, even though he knows what he has to do. This woman, this mortal, has managed to ensnare his heart so completely that Morpheus considers potentially forsaking his kingdom just for the chance to properly part with her in the way that he wants to, in the way that she deserves.

Morpheus takes great care not to wake her up when he moves her off of him to lay down on the couch. His fingers trace the slope of her nose, down to her lips and across her cheeks, mapping out her face. If this is to be the last time he sees her, he wants to remember everything about her. Knowing that he will have to depart without telling her where he is going or knowing if they will be together again grieves him. He has not felt pain of this kind since he helplessly watched Jessamy be murdered in front of him.

He lingers when he kisses his beloved’s forehead, not sure when, or if, he will have the pleasure of seeing her again. If she’ll forgive him for what he has to do, how he has to leave her. He whispers this in her ear, a simple, “I love you. Forgive me.”

Then, he closes his eyes and feels that tug that has always connected him to the Dreaming. He envisions the sandy dunes outside of the Gates of Horn and Ivory, the way they melt into the rolling hills of Fiddler’s Green in the distance. He sees his castle and his library, Lucienne and Mervyn, Cain and Abel, the seas of dreams and nightmares. He places himself there, and when he opens his eyes to see Lucienne leaning over him, when he feels the sands of his realm against his back, he knows…

He’s home.

•••

Waking up on your couch that day with no sign of Morpheus anywhere had confirmed your worst fears. Just as suddenly as he had appeared in your life, he was now gone without a trace. And as the hours eventually turned into days without him, you had to come to terms with the fact that he was really, truly gone.

Life without Morpheus, after having had him as yours for a few glorious months, just felt dull. Literally, it felt as though your senses were dulled now. Colors weren’t as bright, songs weren’t as beautiful, things didn’t taste as good, flowers didn’t smell right, and things that were once soft now felt harsh against your skin. He was gone, and you were alone. Things were as they were before that fateful night when he landed in front of your car.

It’s not even that he left you. Rather, it’s how he left you. Never would you have expected him to just completely abandon you, with no note left behind or anything to explain where he had gone. You assumed he had gotten his powers back, which was wonderful, truly. After all, that was the end game, wasn’t it? But for him to just…leave, after everything you had been through and shared with each other, hurt worse than you could have imagined.

You became intimately familiar with the five stages of grief in those first few days after his departure, cycling through each stage until you would come back around to the beginning and do it all over again. It felt pathetic that you were this heartbroken, but how could you not be? Morpheus had held your heart in his very hands, only to discard it as if the gift you gave him, of your love, meant nothing. You couldn’t even mope for as long as you wanted to, because you just reminded yourself of fucking Bella Swan in New Moon, and god forbid you share any similarities with her.

Eventually, you settled on feeling angry. Angry at him, angry at the circumstances, angry at yourself, angry at the world. You’re so mad, but then you feel like you have no right to be mad, because he got what he wanted! He has his powers and his realm back, which was the only reason he was with you for as long as he was. You both knew that, and still…

You really wish that you could hate Morpheus.

He hadn’t even come to visit you in your dreams, which had really sealed the deal for how little you meant to him. If he had gotten his powers back and returned to his realm, surely he would have spoken to you while you were asleep to at least let you know that he was alright? But no, you didn’t even receive that from him. And so you were left without closure, which made getting over him really difficult.

Still, you try your best to get over him, even though you really don’t want to do so. Two months after Morpheus vanished without a trace, you’re finally returning the last library book from your research sessions with him. You felt silly, holding onto it for as long as you did, but it proved that he had been here, and that what you had experienced was real. It was a tangible link to him; it was your only tangible link to him. Unfortunately, the library has only let you renew the book so many times before needing it back, and today is that day.

You stand in front of the book deposit box in the library, holding onto the book and feeling the cover that you’ve mapped out time after time as you attempt to work up the courage to let go. Let go of both the book itself, as well as the hope that Morpheus will come back to you. It’s obvious that it’s not going to happen, and you’re doing nothing but hurting yourself by continuing to hold out hope that it will. You need to live your life again, even if it means letting go of the best thing to ever happen to you.

Somebody clears their voice behind you to draw you out of your inner monologue, and you realize that a line has started to form. Smiling sheepishly at the grandma waiting for her turn, you whisper “sorry” to her before taking a breath and finally dropping the book inside. The flap of the box closes with a finality that signifies that you aren’t getting that book back. Stepping away from the deposit box to allow the line to progress, you take a deep breath as the finality of the situation hits you.

That’s it. All that you’re left with from your four months with Morpheus now is memories. You were hoping that this would feel more freeing, that you’d feel a weight lifted off of your shoulders and go waltzing out of the library like the main character in a coming-of-age movie as the end credits played to signify that you were turning a corner in your life. Instead, you just feel a pit in the bottom of your stomach, a sickness that this is really it. Now, you have to figure out what to do next.

Even as you turn to leave, you can’t help but think of Morpheus. You glance into the corner of the library that you spent many days with him in, the corner of the library where he kissed you, and you just want to cry. You miss him. You really, truly miss him, and it seems like it’s going to take more than returning a library book to get over that.

You wish you had pictures that you could burn, like every other normal relationship.

As you exit the library, you find yourself making eye contact with the fucking crow sitting in the tree across the street that seems to follow you around now. You’re probably just paranoid, because you don’t even really like birds, but it feels like you see that giant black bird everywhere you go. At first, for a hopeful second, you had allowed yourself to believe that maybe it was a sign from Morpheus. But when you had quietly said hello to it and it just did crow things, you realized that you were being stupid. Of course a random bird isn’t going to be a messenger from the lover that had left you.

Because this is already a terrible day, it gets worse when you harshly knock against someone when you’re walking in the parking lot to find your car. You stumble backwards, nearly falling from the force of it. The only reason that you don’t fall is because the person who you’ve just inadvertently assaulted grabs onto your forearm to steady you.

“Shoot, I’m sorry,” you mumble, squinting against the sun.

“I believe I’m the one that should be apologizing.”

That voice. You know that voice. Could it really be, or have you just finally lost your mind and are imagining what you want to happen?

But then your vision clears, and you look at him, and no. It’s real. He stands in front of you two months after you last saw him, looking down at you like you’re the one that left him suddenly.

Your mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. There are so many things that you want to say to him. After all, how many times have you imagined this exact scenario and all of the things that you would say to him in said scenario? Now you’re here, with his hand around your arm, and all you can think to say is, “Morpheus?”

He looks better than he did even at his healthiest when staying with you, which goes to show just how drained he was without his powers. His lips are lifted just slightly, his version of a smile, and he looks good. His coat fits him perfectly, as though it were made just for him (it probably was). He’s dressed in all black, of course, from the coat down to the black boots he wears. You finally meet his eyes, and you gasp when, for a split second, you see the stars that make up his eyes before you blink and they’re back to the blue you’ve known.

“Hello, beloved,” Morpheus says. The deep timbre of his voice sends shivers down your spine, a side effect of not hearing it every day like you used to.

You want to be mad at him. You are mad at him. He left you with no warning and disappeared from your life without a trace. He had left you so suddenly, in fact, that sometimes in the middle of the night when you were out of tears and hadn’t yet cried yourself to sleep, you wondered if you had simply imagined everything about him. Yet, seeing him again, all you want to do is fall into his arms and tell him how much you missed him. 

When you lunge forward, it’s not to hug him, which is what you always expected you would do if you were to be reunited with him. Instead, you say, “I can’t believe you fucking left me!” and shove at his chest in anger, which, if the look on his face is anything to go off of, he hadn’t been expecting either. 

The shove hardly moves him, but it fills you with satisfaction to be able to physically assert just how upset you are, so you shove and hit his chest again and again. Morpheus, to his credit, just stands there and takes it, hopefully because he knows he deserves it.

Even the patience of an Endless, however, is not endless. Morpheus grabs your wrists with one of his large hands and stops the physical manifestation of your rage in its tracks. You fight him for a moment longer, but eventually the hot tears building in your eyes spill over, and you look up to face him defiantly. If he’s going to make you cry, he’s going to have to see it.

“You couldn’t have left, I don’t know, a note or something? Just to let me know that you were going to disappear without a trace?”

Morpheus looks pained at this, and a sick part of you whispers ‘good, he deserves to feel bad.’ “When I realized that I could feel the Dreaming after you fell asleep that night, I was not sure if that would be my one and only chance to reclaim my throne. I had to make a choice, however difficult it was, to return to my realm through your dreams.”

“But you didn’t think to let me know that you were okay after you made it back?”

“You remember my tools? My helm, my sand, my ruby?” He waits for you to nod. “I had to retrieve those before I could return to you.”

“Don’t forget about the whole ‘dream vortex’ thing after that! Ugh, that was a mess.” You look up when another voice chimes in, only to find yourself looking at the crow that you had been mentally cursing minutes ago.

“Did–did that crow just talk?”

“Raven, and yes.” Said raven flutters down to land on Morpheus’s shoulder, who glances at his corvid companion like he’s a nuisance.

“This is Matthew, my emissary,” Morpheus introduces.

“Uh, it’s nice to meet you, Matthew.” You feel a bit stupid saying hello to a raven, but it’d be rude not to. “I’m Y/n.”

“I know!” Matthew says cheerfully.

“You may return to the Dreaming, Matthew. I no longer require your assistance.” You stifle a laugh at how obviously Morpheus wants his raven, who is apparently enjoying being a third wheel, to hit the road.

“Right, right, you don’t have to say another word. I’m off!” Matthew flies from Morpheus’s shoulder and presumably back to the Dreaming, though you’re not quite sure how the logistics of traveling between dimensions work.

Left alone now, Morpheus stares at you, and you he, for a long moment. He seems to be waiting for you to make the first move, to see if you’re going to react with anger again. Finally, you rip your hands from his grasp and throw your arms around him. “Fuck, I missed you.”

Though slowly, Morpheus returns your hug, pulling you to him and pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his chin on your head. “I missed you as well. I have ached for you and your presence since the moment I had to leave. Believe me, if I could have taken you with me, I would have.”

You close your eyes, savoring the feeling of actually having Morpheus here and being in his arms. It’s all you’ve dreamed of, for lack of a better term, since he left, and it feels just as good as you imagined it would. You could stay like this forever, and you almost do…until a car honks at you and you remember that you’re standing in the middle of the parking lot.

Sheepishly, you wave at the car and mouth “sorry!” as you grab Morpheus’s hand and pull him towards the actual parked cars. The driver that you’ve now royally pissed off glares at you the entire time that they slowly drive past you, making you giggle nervously. When you look over and see the bewildered look on Morpheus’s face (you would love to know how he would have reacted had you been flipped off), your laughter increases.

Your laughter is cut off when Morpheus leans down and kisses you. Whether that be because he’s trying to get you to shut up or because he actually wanted to kiss you, you’re not sure. Either way, you enjoy finally getting to kiss Morpheus once more.

When you pull away, you look him in his piercing eyes and say, “I’m still mad at you, y’know.”

“You have the right to be so. However, if you are amenable to spending more time with me as I attempt to win back your affections, I would like to show you my kingdom.”

“You wanna take me to the Dreaming?” Morpheus nods, smirking at the way you try to act nonchalant and not excited. “...Can I meet the mermaids?”

This makes him chuckle, a rarity for him. “Yes, you can meet the mermaids.”

The excitement at this prospect wins out, and you grin. “Okay then. Woo me, your majesty.”

•••

Morpheus had feared the worst when he had decided that the Dreaming was rebuilt well enough to receive its (hopefully) future Queen. He worried that Y/n would have taken another lover, or that she would not love him at all anymore. A frequent criticism by his siblings is that he gives too much of himself to romantic relationships, and that very well may be true. But Morpheus knew for certain that, were Y/n to turn him down when he finally reappeared in her life (and he would not even blame her for doing so; not with the way that he left and remained away for so long), it would crush him in a way that no other rejection ever had.

He thinks it would hurt even worse than the Nada affair.

When he finally coaxed his beloved to smile in response to something that he said–a sight which he will never take for granted again–those fears were assuaged. When she agreed to accompany him to the Dreaming, Morpheus allowed himself to hope.

Hope. A word so simple, yet a word that carried so much within it that it could defeat Lucifer themself.

Hope blossoms within Morpheus as he holds out his arm for Y/n to grasp onto so that they can travel safely to the Dreaming, and it turns into a flame when she instead grabs onto the lapels of his jacket and allows him to wrap his arm around her waist.

[magz]

whole thread from post calling for "any POC interested in Japanese translation". so understand full context.

DM @/lhkuroda on twitter if interested, for real.

Twitter thread:

(Link: thread 1) (Link: thread 2) (Link: quote retweet) (Link: 2023 Upcoming Japanese Fiction Releases article)

@/lhkuroda on twitter (April 10, 2023):

"Cannot believe how much Japanese fiction is coming out in English this year. Almost unreal.

this list also reveals that more than 90% of Japanese literature translators are still white men. we desperately need more translators who are not that. please.

i'm literally begging.

Japanese in particular seems to be worse than almost any other translated language i can think of. ask yourself why that is.

i count 32 books of translated japanese fiction coming out this year. out of those books, 8 are translated by women [of any racial background]. 6 are translated by people of color [of any gender].

if you are a person of color and you are even remotely interested in becoming a japanese literary translator (all caps): Please D.M. me. I will Help you. This is an S.O.S. (end of all caps)

and if you are a white man and you feel that translating japanese literature is your calling i am begging you to do anything else."

two years ago Kenji Liu and I got funding from @/poetswritersinc to run a free, online workshop for people of color interested in learning about japanese literary translation. more than 30 people attended.

would anyone like to fund me to run another one? idk it feels urgent.

i can share tips for getting started, basic industry info around pitching, plus some 101's of translating literary fiction in general

every year more and more white men become japanese literary translators, and more and more women and people of color are discouraged and bullied and manipulated out of projects they deserve to work on bc these assholes are powerhungry and there are a lot of them.

a very prominent white male translator of japanese bullied me into quitting a project this year because he insisted there was something wrong with every single sentence of my story, and refused to let me publish until i accepted every one of his edits. i almost quit translating.

then i remembered that he can go fuck himself. so anyway if you are anyone that's not a white man and want advice about starting out in translating japanese literature i'm more than happy to help or offer advice."

@/kalauapuwailani on twitter:

"same offer stands here!"

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

02/01/2024 Daily Recap

TLDR; Thank you for the help!; HoistTheAdsReceipts; HoistThePetitionCampaign; UK News; Basingstroke Comic Con; Cast & Crew Sightings; Samba's birthday; Watch Partys; In Person Meetups; Articles; #OhBloysHeMad; Videos; Misc; Love Notes; DailyDarby/Tonight's Taika

Hey everyone! Thank you for all the kind folks that gave me feedback on the Renewal Repo! I'm still getting stuff back filled but please feel free to check it out now, it's got the current events I'm aware of and I'm keeping it up to date with everything daily that comes across my feeds. There's also a contact form for anything I'm missing or you'd like to add!

OFMD Renewal Repository

== Hoist The Ads Receipts ==

So technically this was yesterday, sorry I put it in my todo folder and then completely forgot to add it! So for those of you asking about receipts for the Hoist the Ads Charity donations. There are more images on those links but I'm running out of image allotment for this post so please visit the tumblr or other socials to read the rest. Instagram Link / Tumblr / Twitter

==Hoist The Petition Campaign!==

The @SaveOFMDCrew is hosting a #HoistThePetition campaign to try and boost Signatures on the Petition. You have a chance to win some OFMD stickers. If you don't have twitter you are welcome to message me and I'll message LC on your behalf or find alternative contacts for you! For those with twitter: LCWebsXOXO

== UK News ==

As always, thanks @lamentus1 for all the information on the UK front! Basingstroke Comic Con is happening on May 10-12 2024 at the Hampshire Court Hotel in Basingstoke, UK

BasingStrokeComic Con Facebook Ticket Links Some cool news on the twitter front, @lamentus1 tweeted the SunTV Magazine editor Steven Corbett and he responded!

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

It's Samba's birthday!!!! He sent us a lovely photo on IG

Looks like he's feeling the love! He's trending! (and so are oranges haha- thank you @lucyrosebutler for catching the trends!) He's been out here liking everyone's comments so he's definitely seeing everyone's well wishes! Thanks for making him feel loved everyone!

Kristian Nairn gave some more updates! Looks like they're sorted for Wee John Monday! More info tomorrow!

==Reminders for Upcoming Events==

=#OurFlagMeansDeadloch=

Last day of #OurFlagMeansDeadloch tomorrow!

Watch Party Hashtags:

#OurFlagMeansDeadloch

#SaveOFMD

#AdoptOurCrew

=#StewAsACrew=

February 4th is National Soup Day! Share soup pics, jokes, recipes, etc while rewatching Season 1 of OFMD! 

Watch Party Hashtags:

#StewAsACrew

#AdoptOurCrew

#SaveOFMD

== In Person Meet-Ups!==

Are you near Burbank, CA? Tues, Feb 13 there will be a walking processional to celebrate #OFMD! Thank you @aimeekitty for sharing this!

== Articles ==

The big article that's got everyone's attention today was this pile of nonsense from the Vulture about "The Truth Behind Max's Cancellation Spree". If you don't want to give them the satisfaction of having clicks, you can go under the cut on this post to see screenshots of the article.

The Truth Behind Max's Cancellation Spree

This has once again triggered our fun and exciting hashtag: #OhBloysHeMad and a new one #Don'tStreamOnMax.

There are some tips from the #SaveOFMD Crew though about Hashtags and cross-posting

Also something to note....

==Videos==

New episode of Movies with Marty! Our Flag Means Death (2023) S2 Eps 3 & 4 Reaction | FIRST TIME WATCHING

==Ad Campaigns Up and Running!==

Our Street Level Ads are live in New York!

== Love Notes ==

I am very tired tonight lovelies. I had a lot to say but it's been a very long day, so I'm going to call it quits a bit earlier tonight. I think this picture sums up my feelings pretty well. <3 you all, see you tomorrow.

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Tonight's Darby picture is courtesy of @jacemerlyn on twitter. Thank you for this gem! Taika's picture courtesy of his instagram.

[chaoticace2005]

Thinking about episode 4 and what's to come with episodes 7/8, the Angel-Charlie-Sibling part of my brain really wants Angel to be the one who comforts Charlie. To both to really nail in his character growth as well as bring things full-circle.

In episode 4 (and before that), Charlie is the one to try to reach out to Angel. She's the one who thinks he has the capacity to do better if he tries. And we see with the faces he makes in episode 5 that it means a lot to him. In episode 4 the whole mess with Valentino happens but she's still the one who asks Husk to make sure he's safe. She's the one who apologizes.

Now we have post-episode 6. All hope seems loss. Similar to Angel in episode 4 she's just too tired. Everything is wrong and she's been using a mask for so long. Now the only thing she can do is cut herself off from everyone. If anyone is going to understand what she's going through it's the spider-boy.

Also, Vaggie seems to be gone. Or at the very least, she's not talking to her. In episode 4, we see Angel hand off an emotional Charlie for Vaggie to deal with and put to bed. But if there is no Vaggie right now that can't even be a fallback. Even in episode 6 when Niffty cries he doesn't know what to do and hands her off to Husk. Emotional shit is hard for him to deal with, which makes sense given the fact he's used to acting for so much of his life. Having to be genuine with your feelings is something he probably isn't used to.

Now, with Charlie we've seen that she needs for this to work. Episode 5 really nails in how much, and throughout the entire show we've seen how much hope she has that it will work. She needs to save her people ("more than anything"), now she's back from heaven. The system seems like a lie. And it seems like she just invited death to their doorstep. She still doesn't know an angel was killed in the last extermination, so I'm sure she blames the upcoming extermination as her fault. She talked to Adam. Adam said NO (with a guitar solo) and followed it by saying "killing is pretty fun actually, we'll be back soon :)" She went to have a meeting about saving her people and left it feeling like she doomed them.

The hotel was probably the only thing she was holding on to, and we see in the beginning of episode 5 just how much. The extermination deadline has her freaked out. And beyond the upcoming extermination being part of the plot, it hasn't been something she personally has talked too much about. If she feels like a "failure" in episode 7, this can also be something touched upon.

Everything seems to have gone wrong from her end, and for Angel to just come in and be like "no, actually, my life is so much better. I'm not living with Valentino. I have friends. I'm being myself for once." would just be so cool. Like, yeah, he's not in heaven, but he's not necessarily in hell anymore either. Plus the change from episode 1 where he's like "I'm here for a free room, crack is expensive," would really bring this all around.

I just need more sibling Angel/Charlie. With Molly being a cameo in heaven, I need Brother Angel to happen. He lost one sister, but he has this one. And Charlie has been acting as support for everyone for so long, she deserves the chance to have someone support her too (well, someone outside of Vaggie because that probably wouldn't be too well received right now, so Charlie really lost the only person who she relies on.) And Angel has been the one getting support, so for him to go around and offer it instead would really be a cool way to connect this all back. She believed in him, now he's there to believe in her.

[adnauseum11]

SITREP (John Price x Reader)

Dinner continues after you get a hold of your emotions.

3.6 k words

CW: mention of deceased parents.

Hopefully I slalomed through this dinner without adding too many personal details so the reader remains as much of a blank slate as possible while retaining some interesting backstory.

This work is part of the SNAFU series - most of which has been posted here and the Masterlist is pinned to my page. Due to threats from apps like lore.fm and Ai data scraping, I'm feeling less and less secure posting my work to Tumblr. I'm toying with the idea of taking it all down, although that feels a bit like closing the barn doors after the horses got out.

This will be the last chapter I post in its entirety here on Tumblr for the time being. Partial chapter updates only going forward. If you want to continue, please consider asking for an invitation from Ao3 to make an account. It's free, and then you can read anything, even the locked fics, like mine. It's worth the little bit of a wait.

link to the chapter over on Ao3

feedback welcome, let me know if you primarily read here on Tumblr or over on Ao3. I asked earlier and the responses seemed to favour Ao3. Not the case? Let me know!

sorry for folks on the taglist - let me know if this upcoming change works for you or if you'd rather not be tagged if it's not the full chapter. I'm trying some stuff out, love to have your thoughts.

You take a few long moments in front of a large gilded mirror to breathe deeply, shaking off the lingering pall of grief, occupying your hands by checking your hair and make-up. John had been out of the country when your parents had been killed, unreachable for long months while you struggled to keep your ship afloat amongst the ensuing chaos. The situation had left you de-stabilized for longer than you cared to admit, John more familiar with the aftermath – the constant fighting with David and wild emotional dysregulation that he had weathered with equanimity. You can’t help but wonder what your parents would think about you dating the man you’d been fast friends with for all these years. Would your mother think it inevitable or inconceivable that you would see John in a new light after everything you had been through? You’re touching up your lipstick when Michelle’s face appears over your shoulder in the reflection. 

“Are you ok? I’m sorry if Kate upset you. She’s prone to prying and forgets herself sometimes.”

“It’s fine, the emotion takes me by surprise every now and then. Needed a minute to get my head on straight, as John would say.”

You answer as you square your shoulders, turning to face the other woman. Michelle nods sympathetically, twisting her fingers together in front of herself.

“I’m sorry for your loss. John is pretty concerned; I think he would have come in after you himself if I hadn’t offered to come check on you.”

You give the other woman a reassuring smile, gently rolling your eyes at the unsurprising news of John’s overprotective streak. She carries on before you can make a weak joke about his hovering.

“You guys are pretty serious, hm? He didn’t call you his girlfriend when he took Kate to task about being too intrusive, he said you were his partner.”

A warmth blooms from the pit of your stomach, and you have to fight to keep your smile from growing into an inappropriately triumphant grin. John was listening after all bouncing around in your mind. Michelle follows you out of the bathroom, chatting easily.

“It’s nice to see him with someone that loosens him up. I can’t remember the last time we did something like this. There was a time where I didn’t think he would ever relax. I swear his shoulders were habitually around his ears most of the time I saw him. I’m rooting for you two.”

“Thank you, we’ve had our challenges so far but have come out the other side stronger I think.”

You squeeze John’s shoulder again as you step around his seat, his hand coming up to rest on your side protectively before you sit, his attention zeroing in on you.

“It’s alright, I was just caught off guard. Everything is fine.”

You reassure him, squeezing his wrist before his hand slips away again. Kate is contrite.

“I apologize, it was tactless to ask such a personal question.”

With a smile and a wave of your hand you try to place her at ease, not wanting dinner to grind to an uncomfortable halt.

“No, no, you couldn’t have known. Quite alright. I’m usually better behaved, I blame the red wine on an empty stomach for making me emotional.”

John huffs, having seen you far worse for wear but satisfied all is well if you still have a sense of humour. Kate’s face also relaxes into one of relief, and they both sag back into their chairs slightly. 

“Are you a cigar aficionado as well, Kate? John’s been wanting to come here since it opened.”

“Only when we’re playing poker. The ‘lil missus doesn’t like the smoke.”

Michelle takes a half-hearted swat at her wife who smiles in return, shrugging slightly as if the truth would come out regardless.

“No more smoking inside if everything works out, sorry John.”

Michelle adds with a small smile in John’s direction. He nods, as if he was expecting the news.

“Fair enough. I’m not smoking as much as I used to these days. Although I am interested to pop downstairs and see what their selection is like. I was gifted a beautiful lighter for Christmas, would be a shame to not use it a little more.”

The look John sends your way makes your skin prickle again. Not just with the desire that’s been simmering between you two all night but backed with the warmth of genuine deep-seated affection. It makes you want to crawl on to his lap and mess up his perfect tie despite all the onlookers. He reads the look on your face and the corner of his mouth quirks up. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he reaches into his inner jacket pocket, finally breaking eye contact to hand over the vintage lighter to Kate’s curious reach.

Your eyes follow it as she turns it over, examining the silver rectangle. It has a unique arm mechanism for lighting, effectively stamping out the flame when shut. It’s all hand wrought, the screws on the bottom for refilling the chambers individually made. There’s a delicate filigree up the corners, leaving the worn space in the middle empty for the engraving you had commissioned with John’s initials. John had been thrilled with your small gift, it had immediately joined his wallet and watch as an essential item he carried around every day.

“It’s a 1928 Kickstarter from Colibri. No idea where she found one in such good shape, it works like a dream.”

Kate tries the lighting arm and it swings upwards easily, a flame springing forth almost instantly. She snaps it shut again with a satisfying click and offers it to Michelle to inspect. You take a sip of your wine to avoid John’s intent gaze on the side of your face, certain that if you look over, you’ll give in to the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch him. You can practically feel him willing you to turn and he only relents when Michelle hands the lighter back, a knowing smile hovering at the corners of her mouth.    

“Looks like she’s got a homerun here. That’s a lovely piece, John.”

“I had to look for a while to find one in good working order.”

You supply, pleased these women who seem to know John so well are impressed with your gift.

“You know who else would appreciate that? Simon.”

Kate gestures to the lighter in John’s hand, raising her eyebrow at him in an expression you don’t understand. Michelle turns to face her wife immediately, concerned.

“Kate, no. No work stuff.”

“What? John will want to know.”

Kate’s tone is innocent, but her wife’s posture tells another story.

“Know what?”

John is cautious, returning the lighter to his inner pocket slowly, his eyes tracking from Michelle to Kate.

“He’s asked for the paperwork to be discharged; he’s going to retire. Making noise about moving back to this neck of the woods.”

John hums and his hand settles on your forearm, making you glance over at him in surprise. You’re fairly certain he’s unaware he’s reached out and grabbed you, his focus solely on Kate’s face. Kate notices the knee-jerk reaction though, and you watch her face rapidly go through a series of complicated emotions you couldn’t name even if pressed.  

“You’re right, I do want to know.”

John’s tone of voice has a measured calmness to it that belies the grip his hand has on your forearm.

“Well, this is all very cryptic. Who is Simon?”

You don’t dislodge his hand, raising an eyebrow at him when he slowly turns away from Kate to explain.

“Simon was my Lieutenant. He’s had a… rough go lately. Not surprised he’s wanting out but did he say what he plans to do?”

John answers your question broadly before directing another question back towards Kate. Michelle sighs, and you get the impression that this hi-jacking of the conversation happens more often than she condones.  

“No, not to me. Nor anyone else as far as I know. I was hoping maybe you could check in on him.”

“Hm. Yeah, could do – “

John is interrupted by dinner arriving. Everything is laid out still steaming and fragrant, fresh from the kitchen. Michelle shakes her head at the platter that is set before Kate, disbelief written across her face. John’s plate isn’t much better, the thick slab of meat before him making your eyebrows raise.

“Is this a military thing?”

You ask Michelle in a stage whisper, John letting go of your arm to attend to his enormous meal. He’s got a baked potato and lightly roasted green beans to get through as well, never mind the huge cut of meat. Kate’s lobster tail and steak take up most of the plate before her, with a potato of her own nestled beside a garden salad.

“No, it’s an excellent food thing.”

John answers, his eyes crinkling in good humour. Kate makes a sound of agreement before adding with a smile.

“And it’s a John’s paying kind of thing.”

“Kate!”

Michelle’s back to scolding her wife but John just smiles, not offended in the least.

“She’s earned it, Michelle. Don’t worry.”

“Lord help us, don’t encourage her John. I haven’t decided yet how I feel about you two not working together anymore.”

Kate smirks at that and clinks her glass against John’s, and in a flash the depth of their friendship becomes clear. You refocus on your own food, wondering again at this part of John’s life you’ve heretofore been excluded from. You soothe your slightly wounded ego by reminding yourself that John’s trying at least to bridge the formidable gap between his work life and what you consider to be his ‘real’ life. His enjoyment of the company across the table is evident to you though, giving you pause. Michelle picks up on your thoughtful turn and catches your eye as you cut into the tender side of the filet mignon in front of you.

“They’re always having side conversations, it’s insanely annoying. It was worth putting up with it to know someone out there had her back when they were working. Now, it’s just taking the piss, as you say over here.”

She narrows her eyes at John who has the good grace to look slightly chastised. Kate ignores her wife, digging into the lobster with gusto.  

“John doesn’t talk to me about his work much. It’s all classified, apparently. I just found out that you two existed the other day.”

You try to gently joke with her, brushing off the fact that you know next to nothing about John’s work other than the broadest strokes. Michelle sends you a kind look and nods in understanding while Kate stares down John over her buttered lobster.

“Field work is difficult - Kate you know that. It’s safer for everyone if there’s nothing to leverage. As recently proved.”

You barely understand the context of John’s words, leverage striking you as an odd phrase when talking about relationships. You gather he’s talking about the break-in and subsequent shit show only just recently put behind you. Kate understands his meaning straight away though and shrugs, arching a brow across the table at John who’s paused in eating his meal.

“God love ya John, you always pick the hardest possible path forward. I get where you’re coming from, just not sure on the execution in reality.”

“Could you two speak English, please?”

Michelle interjects, her eyes on your face as you quietly puzzle over the layered conversation going on. If you knew her better you would say the look on her face was sympathetic. Kate explains herself for your benefit, her eyes flicking between you and John.

“I worked with John for years and if it makes you feel any better, he didn’t tell me that you existed until recently either. He seemed to be under the impression that keeping the spheres of his life from overlapping was the safest way to operate. The idea being that it would keep you from becoming a target. I’d say forewarned is forearmed, myself. But I understand his logic. His work was dangerous.”

John’s face is suddenly serious, his hands still, waiting for your reaction. You’re trying to piece together what little you know of his work and the events of the last few months. The idea that he’d been living what amounts to a dual life is jarring for some reason. You like to think you know John well, and this night is reminding you there’s a lot you are unaware of. Kate’s revelation that she didn’t know him as well as she thought either is cold consolation.

“So, keeping everyone separate in their own little box was about safety?”

“It’s always about your safety.”

John answers and you get the impression there’s more to be said but he’s holding his tongue. You decide to leverage it out of him later. What possible danger could there be in meeting these women now that wasn’t there when he was working? You exchange a long, silent look with him that must convey your skepticism because he only physically relaxes when you eat another bite of dinner, seemingly letting it go for the moment. Kate watches the tense exchange between you with rapt interest as she polishes off the rest of her lobster and salad.

“I don’t know about anyone else, but my dinner is simply delicious.”

Michelle breaks the silence, reaching across her wife’s arm to snag her gin and tonic and take a delicate sip. You smile in appreciation at her attempt to break the newest layer of tension, Kate’s chagrined face only making your grin wider. You exchange an amused look with Michelle as she hands the gin and tonic back to her annoyed wife.

“The food is really delectable. I’m getting full but it tastes so good! I’m going to risk popping my dress.”

Michelle laughs and Kate smiles over a bite of steak.

“I know John can put away a lot of food, but these portions are massive you guys. I’m impressed.”

You continue, a hint of awe entering your tone as you watch Kate’s methodical approach to her plate.

“I suspect they don’t half-ass things around here.”

Kate supplies, looking pointedly at the rich appointments around the big dining room. From the chandeliers to the floor length window dressings, the restaurant screams sumptuousness. John is just as regimented about his food as Kate, most of his steak gone and half of the side dishes remaining. He huffs in acknowledgment of Kate’s words, amused.

“They haven’t half-assed their prices so I would hope not.”

You smile into your last bite of filet mignon, relaxing into the gentle banter again. You take a moment while finishing what you can of your dinner to observe the way the group easily pivots from topic to topic, and the familiarity of it is striking to you. John is himself with them, there is no pretence in his conduct and you puzzle over his insistence on keeping you separated from people he gets along with so well. If what he says is to be believed, John spent his career being concerned about your safety such that he went to extreme lengths to keep you protected from its dangers. That’s not the behavior of a man who has only recently decided he wanted more from your friendship. His admission about the dress you're wearing turning him on years before he asked you out rattles around in your brain like a marble you can’t stop rolling around. His hand on your forearm draws you back to the present, and you look at him, his vibrant blue eyes taking in your dazed expression.

“Do you want more wine? I’m having coffee. Kate’s having another gin and Michelle is going to have a decaf.”

He asks, filling you in quickly once he clocks that you were lost in thought.

“Yes, that would be lovely. Please.”

The return of your manners earns you a warm smile and John turns to the waiter to relay your order. The dishes are cleared and you spend the next three quarters of an hour forcing yourself to stay present in the moment and not withdraw to puzzle over all you’ve learned. You find yourself naturally drawn to Michelle, her dry wit cutting and more than a match for her formidable and straightforward wife. Kate and John seem to be able to have a conversation within a conversation, and you quickly learn what Michelle means about it being annoying. It especially grates on your nerves as it’s typically you and John with a litany of inside jokes scattered through any conversation. Having the shoe on the other foot is less fun than you imagined. John excuses himself to the bathroom, which you know is code for paying the bill and you steel yourself to spend the next few moments alone with his friends.

“You’ve had a lot of change over the last few months, what with starting to date John and then moving in so quickly after the break in. How are you finding living with him?”

Kate’s got the question out as soon as John’s big frame leaves the general vicinity of the table.

“It’s like anything, a bit of an adjustment but it’s been good. He’s far neater than me, maybe you should ask him what living with me is like instead.”

You laugh before you continue, mentally acknowledging your vastly different decorating styles. John’s a minimalist where you love fun and funky tchotchkes. Your flat had been crammed to the rafters with knick-knacks. Moving in with John had necessitated parting ways with a lot of your less sentimental pieces. The lowkey dispute about the Christmas decorations had hardly been a solitary event.

“So far it's been lovely, he lets me have my way most of the time and pairs the most delicious wines with dinner. I have no complaints or salacious details, sorry ladies.”

You keep your most recent fight to yourself, unwilling to expose John or yourself to the scrutiny of these women, even if they mean well. In the end, you had gotten what you wanted there too, which was to be heard and considered in matters that concerned you. Which by all accounts, seems to have landed for John.

“He plays it pretty close to the vest too, as previously established. Was hoping you would be a bit more forthcoming.”

Kate smiles, not unkindly, but her rampant curiosity might as well be a neon sign flashing over her face. Her wife elbows her arm with all the subtlety of a gunshot and the dirty blonde schools her face back into something more restrained. You offer a smile and swirl the dregs of your wine, unsure what the other woman was hoping to learn.

“He snores when he’s been drinking?”

Kate gives a startled laugh and shakes her head quickly.

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

“I suspect the John you know and the John I know are the same, we just see him in different scenarios.”

“True enough to a point. He doesn’t let me have my way as often, I'm going to guess.”

You can feel heat creeping over your cheeks at the suggestive tone and she carries on before you can speak.

“I’m more interested in you, than how he behaves when he’s with you, to clarify what I meant. You went to university?”

You nod dumbly, the wine doing nothing to help your mind focus. Kate rolls along with more questions, to her wife’s open annoyance.

“Kate, leave her alone. Seriously.”

“Where do you work? Have you been there long?”

“Uh, I quit, before Christmas. After the break-in John and I talked and I’m going to find something else. I wasn’t happy there. So, technically working nowhere right now.”

“Were you using your degree?”

“No, it was customer service essentially with some data entry. Soul sucking. Awful.”

“What would you prefer to do?”

“I’m not sure. I think being a docent would be fun but those positions can be quite hard to get.”

Michelle’s distracted from trying to back Kate off this line of questioning by this tidbit of information, and her attention swings to you.

“Oh! Like at the Tower of London? They were phenomenal! That would be a fun job.”

“Yes, exactly. Having new faces to chat to every day and all that history around would be – “

“What does John think?”

Kate interrupts, the curiosity on her face in full force. The wine answers before you can corral your thoughts into something more even-tempered.

“I haven't mentioned it yet, besides, why would he care? He won’t be the one working there.”

Michelle tilts her head backs and laughs, John’s quizzical face popping into view at the end of the table eventually subduing her mirth.

“Hate to interrupt but everyone ready?”

You exchange a smile with Michelle and nod at John, standing and linking you hand with his outstretched one. He leads you back through the restaurant to collect your coats from the coat check. Afterwards you stand on the chilly sidewalk to exchange hugs and goodbyes, a whispered good luck sent in to Michelle’s ear that she acknowledges with an extra squeeze before letting you go. Kate bundles her wife into a waiting cab with a final wave out the window, and John convinces you to go peruse the cigars downstairs before heading home yourselves. If things work out for the two women, he reasons Kate will need a celebratory cigar to herald in their newest adventure. You can’t say no to his sentimental reasoning and find yourself an hour later, back in the same place on the sidewalk, John’s newest purchases tucked into your clutch to protect against the damp while you wait for the valet.   

Taglist: @beebeechaos @cadotoast @syoddeye @writeforfandoms

@itr-00 @chloepluto1306 @batw3nch @magsmagic @h0n3y-l3m0n05

@chickennn-soupp @fruitymoonbeams-blog @redwites @glitterypirateduck

@tf141gloryhole @bespectacledhuman

[unrequitedloveletter]

i'm here to send requestsss!

what about nikolai lantsov x sister!reader (or just sibling if you want to keep it gn) and how she had gone with nik every time he met up with the crows and she knows them all by now and she keeps in touch with kaz through letters and then one trip, she finally goes out to visit by herself and it's just hinted that y/n and kaz like each other

if you don't like it or feel it, feel free to ignore<3

Match Made by The Saints- K.B x fem! Reader

This was a blast to write, so thank you so much for sending it in! I am sorry it took me almost two weeks to write it out, I've just been stressing a lot over prom and upcoming grad stuff in combination with school related stress, as well as editing fics to get them ready for posting, but I hope you like this despite how much time it's taken

Fic type- this is fluff!

Warnings- mentions of alcohol, this is also mostly unedited and kaz is probably a bit ooc.

You'd naturally accompanied your brother every time he went to Ketterdam.

At first, it had been to act as the tether between royalty and the crows while Nikolai was acting as Sturmhond. Over time, it became an excuse to leave the palaces and see something outside of the village in Os Alta. From there, it became a matter of the fact that Ketterdam was a city that you quite liked and therefore, Nikolais trips provided you an excuse.

You knew the crows by name, and you loved each and every one of them.

There was Inej, her impeccable talent with her knives and her skills in the way of going unnoticed. She was excellent company, the wise type, unafraid to threaten your life in the same time she spoke one of her suli proverbs.

There was Nina and her abilities as a Grisha after her survival post jurda parem usage coupled with the fact that she was excellent company to keep, just as Inej was. There was the fact that she was skilled in combat, and the fact that, since making it out of the throes of parem withdrawal, she always seemed glad to throw a punch.

Her Fjerdan, Matthias, was the type to brood and stir in his silences, but most of those silences were comfortable. He was also good for a half decent cup of tea and, unlike other muscled types you'd known, did not have an affinity for the recital of eighty-page long sonnets.

There was Jesper, the sharpshooter, who was good for a glass of brandy and a bit of banter. He was the loyal type, the kind type, the type that you didn't expect to see much in a place like the Barrel. The love he held for Wylan, his boyfriend, was clear as water just in the way Jesper looked at him when he thought Wylan wasn't looking.

Wylan was the demo man, seemingly shy and a little aloof but very kind once you got to know him past it. He could create just about any bomb if he put his mind to it and he wasn't afraid to acknowledge his smarts in the area of destruction.

And then there was Kaz. The Bastard of the Barrel, Dirtyhands, a demon created in the alleyways and drowned in the harbor. He was the second person you'd met during your first visit to Ketterdam, but had been your favorite person to see in all of the visits since.

Over time, you and Kaz began sending letters to occupy the time between your visits. You'd get a letter every two weeks, write a response, and send it out the following day.

You talked about anything and everything with him, from things as simple as the weather to things as complex as heist plans and the week-old gossip in the city. Somewhere along that line, a bit of an unspoken romance developed.

It wasn't that you were romantically involved, no. You just liked each other, and as Jesper joined the two of you in the Slat, you drinking a bit of brandy and Kaz having opted for coffee and vodka, the fact that you liked each other was almost as obvious as the sky was blue.

"Enjoying the weather?" Jesper asked. "You could've come at a better time if you were hoping to miss out on the spring rain. In summer, it gets hot and humid."

"Ketterdam is different from Ravka, then," you said with a smile. "I find Ketterdams weather preferable, usually. Ravkan summers get hot and dry, and rain in springtime is rare until the last week of May. It's beautiful here, though."

"Beautiful, criminally underrated," Jesper hummed, daring a glance at Kaz. He was watching you intently, his expression unreadable everywhere but in his gaze. His expression wouldn't've been readable to anyone else, but Jesper had long learned to look for signs of emotion in Kaz where nobody else would've thought to, a skill Inej had taught him in her returns from her voyages.

Kaz Brekker was looking at you like you were the one thing throughout the entirety of the Slat that had actually mattered. Jesper was entirely sure that he could've grabbed the Van Eck DeKappel painting and returned it to his and Wylans home without Kaz noticing or caring all that much in the end.

"It's full of gorgeous and handsome criminals, if you go to the right gambling dens and gang headquarters. How long are you in?"

"Til the end of August," you hummed. "Needed to escape the palaces for a bit. All of it was beginning to feel too mundane."

Jesper suspected that you had missed a certain guy with a thousand different nicknames, all of which had nearly the same connotations, too. He didn't say as much, only looked to Kaz.

"She's in on our heist jobs for the next bit?"

"A few," Kaz nodded. "We'll be going back to Ravka alongside her at the end of August. The royals need our assistance with a jewelry heist."

Jesper observed your gaze. You were looking at Kaz like he was the most important person in the room, just as he was looking at you. He wouldn't've tried, but had he wanted to, he was sure he could steal the Lantsov emerald from your person without you giving a damn.

"Who else is in?"

"The rest of the crows," Kaz responded. "You'll have to tell Wylan, though. I'm not popping to yours for dinner, and I won't see him for three days."

"You have alternate dinner plans?" Jesper asked, glancing between you and Kaz for a few moments. "Yeah. That's fine. Have fun."

Jesper did not know what to think of the pairing you two could've made, he just knew that he did not miss it; the pining, the yearning, the 'we like each other but we're both oblivious.'

He was glad the two of you may have had each other, though. It seemed a match made by the saints--or a match that would be made when you both stopped being fools, anyway.

[peachyloveswriting]

Ok, so I saw a post about how Plants can connect via touch, thus opening an emotional and mental bridge, however I decided to up the anti and spread upon the idea in an upcoming fic. So I'm going to explain it here for you real quick. To preface this I'm going to say that someone also gave me an Idea for how plants used to court other plants and I'm running full speed ahead with this idea.

(the courting process is basically when a plant decides to form a bond with another plant or species, therefore creating an emotionally charged connection. Emotions can be passed freely amongst them, sharing thoughts, etc...)

My idea is that there're two types of healing plants, the first one is like Vash: can heal other plants without second thoughts and has no issues doing so, they're the least likely to court. Type 1 forms the most bonds and that makes them least likely to bond deeply with any specific partner, as per usual they just heal others and that's about it.

Type 1 is the strongest between the two, the healing powers are limitless. Oftentimes these can be referred to as necromancers as some Type 1's have brought others back from the dead. They're notorious for this and are sometimes even sought after for nefarious purposes.

Type 2 is more like Knives, (In the show we never see if he can heal other plants so I got an idea) it's harder for type 2 to form a bond with another simply because they have to deeply want that connection, if the want isn't there then the bond cant be made. This is why Type 2 doesn't just go about healing every single plant they run across.

For type 2 the courting process is much different, if there's not a deep rooted need to form that bond then it's not happening. In most cases courting processes from Type 2 happen during dire situations or seeing another that they love deeply upset. Type 2 has two special abilities, the first one being able to calm the nerves of anyone they choose to connect with, albeit human or not. The sensation of calmness is damn near instantaneous, but it's stronger when physically touching. The second ability is a significant raise in vitality for the one they bond with, it boosts healing time and even removes scars.

There's so much more I have in mind with this idea so if you have any questions feel free to ask! I'd also love to hear what you guys think so hit me back with an ask or something.

[the-kitty-trio]

Kitty Trio Masterpost!

Who are we?

We are a group of friends who decided one afternoon to create a blog about our ocs! We are not the same person, there is three people running this blog

@battywirdo @animaliacomics @samicarabarbaru2137 <- People running blog! Feel free to check them out

Let's introduce ourselves individually! Let's start with...

Heya! I go by Was, Maxie or Eddie, but you can call me Sox’s dad.

Age: 18 (birthday is march 21!)

Pronouns: They/them (nonbinary)

What I like: Tadc, indie animation and cartoons in general, video games (especially indie), drawing, oc making/rambling

Sexuality: Bi 

About me: I’m just your average furry and multifandom artist from Sweden with autism and t1d. My current hyperfixation is tadc and two of my tadc ocs, Sox (the one prominent in the blog) and Foofi. When I’m not doing tadc stuff I’m currently developing my upcoming story with my original characters.

Wonderful! Now it's the turn of...

Hey y'all, I'm Batty.

I'm a 19 years old french cartoonist who loves TADC and other cartoons, and I also think monsters and guts are neat. I go by they/them pronouns. I'm the owner of Aslan, the big drag queen of the crew. Very proud of my OC, and I hope you will like him! Anyway, that's all. Horror art is very cool btw.

Great! And now last but not least, there is...

Hi! I'm pery!

I'm old, I go by She/her and I'm Bi!

I like to draw silly things, listen to music and do some acting from time to time. TADC is my hyperfixation and uhh caine is the best character.

Im working on my own au but that's not what im here for.

A bit about myself:

I'm just a simple polish girl (/ref) and I won't admit that im a furry. I'm a big fan of cartoons and kitties so…I combined the two to make nuzzle! She is the smol grumpy kitty. If i make some spelling mistakes i'm sorry i'm just bit stupid LOL

Our Ocs!

- Sox

- Aslan

- Nuzzle

- Foofi

Now, one last thing but still very important

Boundaries + Q/A

ZOO/PEDO/MAP/PROSHIPPERS, DON'T INTERACT

Does this blog contains ships?

Yes it does. There's canonxcanon but also OCxcanon so if you don't like the ships which are going to be depicted or OCxcanon, just don't interact. Don't like it, don't watch it.

Can I make fanarts or fanfics?

Of course! Feel free to show us!

If there's comics, can I make dubs?

Sure! As long as you credit us, it's all good!

Can I ask questions to canon characters?

Feel free to do so. Just, this blog is focused on our TADC OCs so asks focused on them will be prioritized, but canon characters have their importance too!

Can I draw NSFW? Or ask NSFW questions?

Please don't. At the very least, suggestive asks are okay, but nothing more. We're not here for that.

Important: this post will be updated from time to time! So don't forget to check on it sometimes.