#the server is dead too in case you’re wondering

[smallearthboundfindings]

I’ll need to make some corrections to some misinforming “facts” I got wrong or incomplete on here but other than that, I’ll be declaring this blog dead (as if it wasn’t already lol) due to my faded interest in the series. Thanks for playing along folks! Follow my main if you care for my personal ramblings and most importantly, play Psychonauts !!

[jordanmoreau]

I have you / Dean Winchester

→ dean winchester x reader, 1,4k words / fem reader

; in which certain feelings are made known, tongue tied and flushed cheeks♡

You watch absentmindedly from across the diner as Dean leans casually against the counter, a grin plastered across his face as he chats to the female server.

His T-shirt rides up ever so slightly as he leans forward and you cough awkwardly, shifting in your seat to face away fro him, pulling the sleeves of your sweater over your hands as if to climb further inside it. Sam, who’s sitting opposite you with his nose buried in his notes, peers up to gives you a knowing look.

“He’s just being Dean,” he says calmly, nodding his head in his brothers direction. You freeze for a second, feeling caught. Sam doesn’t take his eyes off you for a prolonged second, wondering if he should reassure you some more but decides against it. He can tell you feel uncomfortable and so he moves his gaze from you.

It’s not that you don’t appreciate Sam’s attempt at comforting you. He had noticed your affections for Dean a while ago, watching the way you’d lean into him for comfort on every case or how you’d laugh at every stupid corny joke. You swallow, shaking your head slightly. It didn’t do you any good to keep pining after him.

It’s then that Dean returns to the table, a tiny piece of paper gripped in his hand. Your stomach does a painful flip when you notice it. The servers number? You look away again, focusing on the parking lot outside. Dean however takes notice of this, sliding into the seat next to Sam. Sam didn’t bother looking up at his brother and simply slid over a handful of pages, to which Dean rolled his eyes.

Dean instead turned his attention to you, mirroring you as he tries to figure out what you’re so intently looking at.

“What’re we looking at?” he says, startling you. He’s leant across the table, propped up by his elbows as he looks toward the parking lot and then back at you. He gives you a closed lipped smile when you don’t say anything.

“Y/N?” he murmurs softly. He’s close enough that you can smell his cologne. It overwhelms you a little and you sit back in your chair. His eyebrows knit together in confusion and he too sits back.

“Just thinking,” you reassure quietly, giving him your best “I'm okay” expression. It feels like a grimace. He searches your face for a moment and then nods, apparently accepting your words at face value.

—

The next evening, you find yourselves holed up in a motel, two rooms between three of you. You try not to look too alarmed at this at the front desk, the bags slung over your shoulders suddenly feeling like dead weights.

“Sam, can I bunk with you,” you ask instantly as you’re leaving the reception kiosk, hoping he can detect the pleading in your voice. Dean frowns at you, scratching his cheek with the back of his hand. Sam begins to agree when his brother interjects, stepping closer to you.

“What about me?” he pouts. Your heart pangs and you try to appear nonchalant, shrugging. He frowns again and Sam, who’s trailing behind you both, chucks the second set of keys at him. "Here,".

Dean catches it with his spare hand and mutters something you don't quite catch. Sam hums in agreement.

You decide to walk in front of the pair, needing to get in bed as soon as possible. Your whole body felt heavy and your feet dragged as you made your way down the hallway.

Dean follows you closely. It’s then that you recognize the right door number and plop your bags down on the door mat finally, groaning as your shoulder twinges.

“You okay?” Dean asks, his hand coming up to rest on your arm gently. You flinch for a second, not realising he was that close behind.

“Y-yeah,” you mumble, trying to ignore the way your arm felt hot under his touch. He rounds you now, standing opposite you at the doorway. He’s looking at you with an unreadable expression, lips pursed.

“Are you?” you ask him awkwardly. His stoic exterior breaks at that and he blinks at you, almost like he’s offended at the question.

“Am I okay?” he scoffs. He doesn’t answer you, unlocking the door instead. With ease, Dean pushes it open and gestures inside. You now blink back at him, not moving. "Ladies first," he deadpans.

“I’m sharing with Sam,” you say lamely. Dean ignores you, hiking your bags over his shoulder and entering the room. You glance back over your shoulder and see Sam entering the room on the far left. He turns back to close the door and shoots you an apologetic look. Traitor, you think.

You sigh, admitting defeat and walking inside the room, closing the door behind you. It’s nothing special, dank and small. Two beds are pushed against the far wall, sad beige comforters draped over cream white sheets. Dean is sat on the furthest one from you, jacket now discarded and hanging over the bathroom door. He's wearing a greyish blue shirt underneath, the short sleeves hugging his biceps tightly. It's your favorite on him. You shift from one foot to another, not knowing where to place your hands.

He’s placed your bags at the foot of your bed. You stand in the entrance for a moment too long and Dean notices. He always does.

“Are you going to sit down or am I gonna have to put you to bed myself?” he asks. You flush slightly, cheeks pink and move hurriedly towards your stuff, muttering a quick sorry as you do. Dean huffs loudly.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” he asks exasperatedly. His upper body is turned toward you. You don’t miss the note of worry in his tone and you feel guilty.

Usually you’d play along with playful banter or his flirty comments and he wasn’t used to your solemn expressions and your sad eyes. It made his heart twist in a way he wasn't used to. It was painful and he didn't like it.

“I’m just…”you struggle for the right words to say, feeling tongue tied. Admitting your feelings for him was just out of the question. God you wished Sam had roomed with you like you’d asked.

Dean waits patiently and when you don’t finish your sentence, he pushes himself off the bed. You’re perched on the end of the bed now and he crouches so that he’s almost eye level with you.

“Is it something I said, or did?” he questions you. Again, you feel guilty. You shake your head quickly, lips pressed together in a tight line. He makes a “hm” sound that sounds pained and you break.

“I’m just not feeling my best,” you lie, trying your best to meet his gaze as he listens. “It’s not you,”

Dean doesn’t respond for a moment and you think perhaps he’s bought what you’ve said. However he scoffs again. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

His tone is somewhat harsher than you think he means but his face is soft, lips slightly parted as he silently pleads with you. You fidget, not sure how to answer him. “You know I care about you,” he whispers. He’s closer then you had realized. So close that you swear he must hear your heartbeat quicken.

“Did you call that girl?” you ask weakly, taking a sharp intake of breath as you spoke. Dean stares at you blankly for a moment.

“Girl?” he says, bewildered. You nod slowly.

“The girl from the diner,” you say, eyes trained at the tv stand just past Dean’s head in your line of sight. You fidget again.

“Why would I call her? I have you,” he says. You can’t help but laugh at that, it sounding shrill and foreign given the mood. It echos against the silence of the room. It seemed just like Dean to lighten the mood by giving you some line, something to cheer you up. But when you finally look back at him his face is serious. There’s no sign of amusement.

“She gave you her number though, right?” your voice is barely audible. He hears you though and a small smile pulls at the corner of his lips. He half rolls his eyes, clearly bemused.

“And that means I have to call her?” You look at him. So he wasn’t interested in her after all. Maybe Sam was right, he was just being Dean.

He cups your cheeks lightly with his callused hands all of a sudden and you feel like all the air leaves you. “I have you,” he repeats. You feel dizzy.

“Don’t I?” he asks softly. He searches your face as if worried you don’t agree. You notice the way his shoulders have tensed.

“Yes,” you breath. His shoulders relax and he flashes you the most Dean smile imaginable.

[chronically-ghosted]

PROMPTS AND CHALLENGES

part 3 of @/perotovar's bloody kisses series

cinnamon girl boy (18+) shane has been in denial about himself for a while. newly single and with the help of one of his favorite singers, he opens his eyes to a new venture he could possibly take: the cop he sees on a semi-regular basis, detective tim rockford. Or; the one where Shane gets bratty

dieter brainrot server challenge: forced proximity and the prompt "You're going to get us arrested" "Oh, I've always liked the idea of you in handcuffs."

stay sexy and don't get murdered (18+) Trapped behind a secret wall to hide from a murderer, the close proximity forces you and Dieter to confront feelings you rather bury underneath your case to prove your favorite neighbor didn’t commit suicide.  (This is the Only Murders in the Building smut fic in the chaotic stylings of Dieter Bravo.)

Space Sisters Secret Valentine

i wonder if you stopped his world like you did mine (Frankie Morales, teen) Watching the woman he loves be with someone else is killing him, but for your sake, he manages. But when Benny's birthday loosens him up, he can't help but bear his soul over a phone call. Too bad you don't pick up and he's forced to leave the evidence in a voicemail.

@pedrostories Secret Santa '23

have yourself a moreno little christmas (Marcus Moreno, T) when the Morenos' happy Christmas is in jeopardy, you think quick and invite them on a trip to an old family tradition. If he’s grateful, would it be safe to tell him how you feel? But why do you think he might already know? What if he feels the same way?

Merry Thanksgiving Nonsense 2023!

i crawl home to her (Dieter Bravo, 18+) you bring dieter home to meet your family over the holidays.

Halloween 2023!

Bite Me (Dieter Bravo, T) before a Halloween party, you and Dieter show off your “communal” costumes.

100 follower milestone!

you call and i come running (Javier Pena, 18+) prompt: "i'm sick of this 'will they won't they shit'"

in another life (Frankie Morales, 18+) prompt: “did you just wash these sheets?” “I did.” “they smell nice. and they’re still warm.”

sam and diane, eat your heart out (Marcus Pike, 18+) prompt: "i'm sick of this 'will they won't they shit'"

you may be dead, but i'm still pretty (Max Phillips, 18+) prompt: “Fuck, can we do that again?”

Little Monsters (Dieter Bravo, 18+) prompt: "Tell me what you would want to do, if you were here right now."

can you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills? (Dieter Bravo, T) prompt: “I’m not drunk. Can a drunk person do this?” “You’re not doing anything.” “But… I sent you my love. Did you… did you not get it?”

delicious (Dieter Bravo, T) prompt: “We should probably leave, before we start a scandal.” it’s absolutely perfect

[vessels-for-good-intent]

Happy Birthday, Old Sport! (and other September 18th-related shenanigans)

Tags: Nick Carraway/Jay Gatsby, Nick Carraway, Jay Gatsby, Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Birthday Presents, Post-Canon, Fix-It, Jay Gatsby Wears Glasses, and nick is here for it, Jay Gatsby Lives, the picture of dorian gray - Freeform, it was nick’s birthday present to jay, Swimming, Swimming Pools, Humidity, First Kiss, Kissing, Domestic Fluff, Pet Names, Internalized Homophobia, Writing, Literal Sleeping Together, y’all they are so sweet

Summary: Nick Carraway’s Birthday, a year after the end of TGG

Notes: Nick’s birthday is not known canonically—thanks Fitz for not using a calendar, but a Monday around the end of summer 1922 is September 18th. If based on the weather reports, Nick’s birthday would have been August 17th. I choose to put Nick’s birthday in September for my own reasons (as the Gatsbin server knows) but have a silly guy calling another man gorgeous.

story is under the cut (4145 words)

Another year. Thirty-one, still a bondsman in West Egg, in a small cottage next to my only friend’s mansion.

Tuesday, September 18, 1923, a day that was turning out to be just as hot—if not hotter—than the previous year’s. However, our tempers were in great contrast to the heat, unlike 1922. The New York Tribune had stated it was likely to be in the high 90s, with humidity of around 60%.

My cousin and her husband were long gone by now, and Jordan had traveled to some golf tournament or another. Our quintet was only a duo now. I prefer it, and I believe Jay does too. Instead of trekking into the city again, I decided I would ask Jay if I could use his pool, and so I called him up. “It’s Nick,” I said, hoping that it was Jay on the other end of the line, not someone paid to take his calls.

“Happy Birthday, Nick!” were the first excited words, confirming it had been Jay. He continued, “Old sport, I was wondering if you’d like to go somewhere with me today? To celebrate your birthday?”

I laughed, feeling suddenly awkward. It went against all I’d learned, to invite myself somewhere. But Jay was a lonely man, and I hoped he’d appreciate the company.

“What is it, old sport? Don’t tell me you have work?”

“Actually, Jay, I was wondering if you’d drained the pool yet? It looks to be a scorcher.”

“It’s a splendid idea, old sport! And the pool’s not been drained yet, so you’re in luck!”

“All right, then. What time should I come over?”

“Any time that suits you best,” he said, which I had expected. He was like that, unfailingly polite.

“I’ve invited myself over, you should decide the time.”

He chuckled over the line, warm and bright and reminding me of sunlight. “Look here, Nick, you could come over right now and I wouldn’t say a word in complaint.”

“I’m serious, Jay, I don’t want to bother you.”

“You won’t be,” he insisted. “Come over, old sport. We can talk until the heat gets the best of us. Then we’ll swim, all right?”

“If you’re sure, Jay.”

“I am, Nick. See you in a few.”

I gathered my things up after he hung up the call. My bathing suit. A book, in case our conversations grew pointless before the heat. As I did, I thought about the year before. Staying for breakfast. Almost leaving before demanding Jay—who I had still considered as Gatsby then—come to the city with me. Coming home to find two dead men in his yard—the gardener who had been draining the pool had been mistaken for Jay, and George Wilson, the cuckolded husband of Myrtle.

The week we had spent, tucked away in my house while the police searched for a motive, had been one of the best and worst weeks of my life. It had finally hit upon me that I was attracted to Jay. And so I was stuck in a glorified box with only him for company. It had been almost too much at that time. Looking back on it now, it wasn't enough.

My things don’t take long to gather, and I put them in a small bag for safekeeping, walking over to Jay’s around 10:30. It’s only 78° out, according to the thermometer placed on my porch. Compared to coming home last night (around 90°), it’s positively cold.

—————

When I knock on the door, it opens to Jay’s butler.

“Mr. Gatsby is in the library, sir.”

“Thank you,” I nod to him.

As I head to the library, I wonder what Jay is doing there. We had—well, I had discovered four months ago the reason for the uncut pages–Jay doesn’t have 20/20 vision. “Up close,” he had said, “everything is blurry. Far away is fine.” I had felt a little guilty—I had just given Jay a book for his birthday—The Picture of Dorian Gray—and Jay couldn’t enjoy it!

Jay had apparently seen the look of panicked guilt crossing my face, for the next words out of his mouth were, “All right, old sport, it’s as good a reason as any to finally get myself glasses. I’m not offended by it. You didn’t know, Nick,” and I found myself nearly in tears with his easy sincerity.

By this point I had arrived at the library, so I knock on the door.

“Come in, Nick! And happy birthday!” Jay calls.

I entered the room, finding Jay by the dark blond hair peeking over an armchair. His head is down and he’s holding a book in his hands. It’s open.

“Jay?” I ask.

His head whips around, and I see the edge of frames on his face, as well as the slight upward tilt of his lips.

“Hello, old sport! It’s good to see you.” Jay lays back in his chair, tilting his neck up to look at me—glasses. Holy shit. His glasses.

Whether it was done purposefully or not, they take me by surprise. I can see Jay’s face perfectly from where he’s standing.

He’s gorgeous. Well, he’s gorgeous already, but the way the frames enhance his features in a way I can’t describe. His hair, fluffy without its typical gel, only helps.

Jay sits up suddenly, pushing himself eagerly out of his chair. I watch as he stretches, wincing at the cracking noises.

“Sorry, old sport. I know you don’t like that noise.”

“That’s okay. You sounded pretty stiff—how long have you been sitting there?”

“Well, old sport,” Jay says, taking the cheaters off his face and waving them at me, “These came this morning. I remembered your gift and have been reading it since.”

“How do you like it, Jay?”

He thought a little, and then answered, “It doesn’t make much sense to me yet. But I believe it will as the book goes on.”

“What scene are you at now?” I asked curiously.

Jay grabbed the light green book I remembered from a few months ago, opening it to a bookmarked page. “Found it!” he mumbled. “Dorian has just wished for his own eternal youth and mourned that the painting will never change.”

“I’ve caught you at a dramatic part, then. If you’d like, I’d be happy to let you read.” I sincerely hoped otherwise, but I’d let Jay read, even as much as I’d like to talk with him.

“Nonsense, old sport, it’s your birthday! I can tell you what’s gone on in my life since your last visit,” he paused, “Unless you’d like to read, Nick? It’s your birthday after all. What would you like to do?”

“Let’s talk, Jay. How do you like reading now?”

He laughed, smiling, from where he now sat on the arm of his chair. “Well, old sport, you knew I liked to read before my sight gave, and I simply didn’t have time to get fitted. Did you know they’re—magnifiers especially—called cheaters? I think it’s because of the fact that it’s not my natural vision, but rather a correction to it.”

Jay was rambling at this point, but it’s always nice to listen to—especially now that it’s not about my cousin. “You felt guilty about giving me that book, right Nick? Well, I’m glad you did. I can read what I want again.”

“I’m glad, Jay. They make your eyes stand out.” The last bit had slipped out, but I appreciatively watched Jay’s face flush. Awkwardly checking the time, I found it was 11:15. We had spent a long time talking.

Jay interrupted my thoughts to offer lunch.

“That’d be great, Jay. Do you have anything cold?”

“How do you feel about macaroni salad, old sport?”

“All right,” I agreed. Blueberries?

We went downstairs shortly after, realizing the walls were becoming damp with humidity, and the library uncomfortably hot.

Jay groaned. “I should have closed the windows. It’s going to be miserable in here.”

“Do it now,” I suggested.

“Come with me, then.”

As we trudged up the stairs to the highest level of his mansion (eight, with this tower), we both began to breathe heavily, a combination of over exertion and the heat.

At one point, we paused at the top of the stairs, and Jay leaned—and then slid heavily down the wall.

“Every year,” he grumbles, “I forget how damned hot New York can be.”

“I—yeah,” I break off awkwardly, realizing I had been about to make some comment about the previous year’s events. “Anyway, the hottest day of the year has been my birthday for two years. It’s never been this bad this late in Minnesota.”

We drift up the next stairwell, both of us lost in thought.

“I’m sorry, old sport,” says Jay, suddenly. “This probably wasn’t how you wanted to spend your birthday.”

“Jay,” I tell him, smiling and pausing til he looks at me, “I don’t mind. I like having your company, you know.”

I watched as the words registered and he blushed. Then he cursed. I spun around in surprise, only to find him holding the cheaters away from his face. He’s gorgeous, with or without.

“What happened?” I ask, curiously.

“It got—so humid—that my glasses fogged!” he pants.

Curiously, I feel the wall, face twitching in disgust as my hand comes away damp.

“That’s disgusting. Please, let’s close these windows.”

Jay laughs, sudden, bright, unexpected. “Or I could have someone else do it and we can go eat lunch.”

“We just got up here,” I protest, half hearted. “But sure, let’s do that. I don’t even know how many windows there are in this place.”

“Do you want me to count?” Jay jokes, and I smiled. He’s gorgeous, even in his heat-flushed state. I was no match for him, dark hair hanging lank over my forehead, my torso impossibly sweaty. We hadn’t even made it outside yet, and the air felt like you could grab a handful of it.

“You’re not wrong about the humidity,” Jay’s voice broke through my thoughts, “But you look more than fine, Nick.”

I realized belatedly I’d spoken aloud. “Christ, Jay, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he insists. “Let’s go have some lunch.”

The walk back down is easier, although Jay nearly slips down a few stairs.

“What else did you have made for lunch, Jay?” I ask, curious.

“I had some fruit brought—strawberries and all that.”

“Blueberries?” I ask. “If you got blueberries—God, Jay, I’ll—“ I stop there, certain I would embarrass myself if I continued. “I’ll be very happy,” I finish lamely.

To my surprise, Jay was blushing at my elbow, smiling. “Yes, old sport, I do know of your love for blueberries. Don’t worry.”

Lunch was then served. We ate quickly with little conversation other than the weather and our now joint wish to swim. Jay thanked me for pushing him to read again, saying, “I had forgotten how relaxing it is. It’s quite nice to disappear into a book for an hour.”

I smile. “That’s why I like it. Although it usually occupies me for longer than an hour.”

“Have you written anything lately, Nick? I know you used to.”

“I miss it, but no, Jay, I haven’t recently. Today’s my first day off since the Fourth of July.”

“I’ll have to take you on more breaks, then,” Jay mutters, and I wasn’t quite sure whether he had intended for me to hear it, so I tried desperately not to react—though I could feel a blush rising on my face.

He continued, louder this time. “You’re flushed, old sport. Has the heat gotten to you?”

“A swim would be nice,” I agreed, ignoring his statement.

“Of course,” Jay said. I got the idea that he had wanted to say something different, but I said nothing. We got up from the table in an awkward silence and walked to the library—I had dropped my bag there—in the same fashion.

“Why, old sport, I haven’t even given you a birthday gift yet!” Jay exclaims.

“That’s all right, Jay,” I told him, suddenly nervous for whatever he had planned. “Perhaps after our swim?”

Jay smiles in agreement, leading me to a room near his. “Change here, and I’ll meet you shortly.”

When I enter the room, the first thing I notice is the mirror. Or rather, what the mirror shows: my hair, waves tighter by way of the humidity, and flyaways nearly tripled. Glancing around for a hair brush, I sigh when there’s not immediately one in view. Something to ask Jay for then—Jay didn’t say anything. He had to be aware of it. Why didn’t he say anything?

Exiting the room, I find Jay already dressed and waiting. He’s absolutely gorgeous, and I find myself staring. I can’t compare, and I lock my arms around my chest in sudden discomfort.

“All right, Nick?” he asks.

“Fine. Do you have a brush I could borrow? My hair, you see,” I gesture towards it, watching his eyes flick up.

“Your hair’s great, old sport. And besides, we’re just about to swim!” I blush heavily at his first words, more so when he follows them up with a smile. His bathing suit doesn’t help matters, clinging to him like that. He’s so pretty.

“C’mon, old sport,” he cries, polished accent slipping away slowly. We walk to the pool. It’s even warmer and more humid outside, and I watch as Jay immediately jumps in, graceful. I find my eyes catching on the gentle lines of his body.

“Well,” I call, “How is it?”

“‘S nice! C’mon, jump in!”

“I don’t want to accidentally hit you, Jay.” He pouts, then flips to a backstroke, away from the pool’s edge.

“How ‘bout now, old sport?” his tone teasing. I laugh, sitting at the lip of the pool, water cool on my legs. Jay frowns. “Don’t tell me you aren’t jumping in, Nick?”

“I’d rather not, Jay. I prefer to get used to the water, rather than all at once.” Then he smiles, and I am again struck silent by the beauty of it.

“I’d just take the chance. Especially with weather like this.” He swims over suddenly, grabbing hold of my hands. “C’mon, old sport. Give it a chance,” and with that I let myself be pulled into the water.

“Oh!” I exclaim once I break the surface—Jay, in his excitement, had pulled me under as well as in.

“I’m sorry, Nick.”

“It’s just fine, Jay. Nice and cool,” I assure him.

Apparently realizing that our conversation had drug to a halt, Jay smiled, a teasing glimmer in his eyes. “So, old sport. Your birthday gift.”

“What is it?” I demand, a little excited. Last year, I had forgotten all about it. After Jay found out, he had apologized profusely and promised a much better celebration this year.

He turns that bright smile on me, and I feel my blush come back. “A surprise.”

“Come now, Jay, tell me!”

“I don’t think I will,” he said, and disappeared under the water. He surfaces next to me, saying, “You’ll see!” and I flush at his proximity. “See, you’ll love it!”

“What do you mean, Jay?” but he only smiles.

“Come swim, Nick,” he invites.

Instead of swimming away from him, I cup my hand, driving it quickly through the water towards Jay. It hits him in the face, and I see him flash through shock before settling on hilarity.

Jay laughs, big and bright, calling out a jokingly betrayed-sounding, “Nick—” before his hand mirrors mine, and I find myself dripping with water. I retaliate, lunging through the water at him, hoping to push a large wave at his chest. It works—but I also find myself with my hands pressed against Jay’s chest.

We both blush, and I hurriedly remove my hands from my friend’s chest. “I’m sorry,” I quickly apologize.

Jay’s mouth opens and closes, once, twice, before his voice finally comes, choked and low. “Why, old sport, I’d hoped to give you your gift inside. But if you’re going to touch me like that, well. I’ll have to give it to you here.”

“Jay—“ I broke out, “I—what in hell are you planning?”

“You’ll see, sweetheart,” he almost purrs, and I shiver.

We swam without talking for a few minutes more before I became too distracted to swim and instead stood in the shallows watching Jay’s graceful turns. I should have been aware of Jay’s repetitions changing—he had swum around behind me, and latched his hands around my torso. “Jay! You—you surprised me!” I could feel the blush rising on my face.

“Really?” he teased, “And yet you paid so much attention to me.”

My blush increased tenfold, and Jay laughed, withdrawing his arms from me–he had told me later he had done this to watch my skin turn pink–but in that moment I lost my footing, and managed to steady myself—using Jay’s chest.

He gripped my arms from behind, attempting to help. “Don’t fall, old sport. Even if it is f—into me.”

I turned around to face Jay, and to my surprise I found him about as red-faced as I was. Still gorgeous, perhaps even more now. Suddenly, the last vestiges of a fear I had been trying to rid myself of over the past year left me, and I found myself grasping Jay’s hips through the thin material of his bathing suit. His head snapped up, and when he spoke it was almost too quiet to hear.

“Sw—Nick, I’m going to do something very rash if you don’t let go,” he warns.

“Do it, then,” I challenge. “I don’t mind.”

“I did warn you,” Jay breathes, before I feel his hands clasp at my neck, pulling me down to him.

Our eyes met for a split second before we were kissing for all our worth. When we separated—for air, although I thought at that second that I would not mind being kissed to death, and by Jay no less—we stayed close. “That’s—that was your birthday present, Nick. Although I’d like to kiss you again, if you’d like.”

Jay had caught his breath faster than I had, and when I did, I agreed, “I’d like that. This is the best birthday present I’ve had in years.”

“And way better than the mess you had to deal with last year, sweetheart.”

I blushed warmly at him. “Certainly,” before drawing him up again to my lips.

—————

We had gotten dressed again, though in one room this time, stealing glances and pretending at shame when caught by the other. When Jay moved to put gel in his hair, I grabbed his wrist. “You didn’t earlier, and your hair’s great, Jay,” I parroted back to him the words I had heard an hour or so previous.

“All right, Nick. I won’t. But you shouldn’t either,” he said, smiling at me.

“Fine,” I agreed, gazing at that brilliant smile, before remembering I was able to kiss him now. I moved to do so.

“Hi,” Jay said when I stopped.

I smile, warm from the heat but also the comforting feeling of being cared for. “Like your smile, it’s gorgeous—you’re gorgeous, Jay Gatsby.”

“You’re the gorgeous one in my opinion,” Jay said. “Your hair is soft, your eyes are such a pretty hazel, and your face is perfect.” He reached for my face, carefully trailing his fingers over my eyebrows and down my cheeks.

“No, no. It’s you who’s gorgeous, Jay. Your hair and your eyes fit together so perfectly—dark blond hair and deep blue eyes. I find myself lost in your eyes so often, Jay, you wouldn’t believe it. Don’t get me started on how pretty your lips are, I won’t stop talking for hours.”

“I’d let you,” Jay assured me. “But I’d kiss you every time you paused.”

We found ourselves in the library again, Jay’s glasses gloriously returned to his face, The Picture of Dorian Gray open in his hands. I had pulled my book out of the bag I had brought, but found myself staring at Jay more than reading. He was exquisite in every situation, a lip quirked as he read about Dorian’s misadventures in late 19th century London.

He glanced up. “You’re staring, sweetheart.”

“In my defense, you’re very pretty,” and I watched in satisfaction as he flushed pink.

“If you’re not going to read, come sit with me,” Jay said, and I slid over, putting an arm around his shoulders and leaning in to read. Reading the page he was on, I found Lord Henry talking to his uncle about who Dorian Gray was, before Jay turned his head and pecked my cheek.

“Sometimes I wonder if you had a motive for getting me this book.”

“Oh?” It was true, of course. The Picture of Dorian Gray had been a favorite of mine, especially after finding out certain details about Mr. Wilde.

“Yes,” Jay said, “I think you did. You see, Lord Henry and Basil both think that Dorian is very good looking. Did Wilde intend it to come across like this?”

“He did. But it caused him a lot of trouble, seeing where he ended up.”

“What happened to him, Nick?” Jay asked, curious.

“Mr. Wilde was placed on trial, because the book contained references to people like us. He was convicted, spent some time in an English prison, moved to France, and died a short while later.”

“Was he like us?”

I nod, “He was. The man stopped communicating with him after the allegations were formed, and he went on to marry.”

Jay leaned into me, his cheek on my shoulder, and said, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for Mr. Wilde. I wouldn’t leave you, Nick. Ever. “

“It won’t come to that, Jay. We’re careful men.”

“Yes,” Jay agreed, and said no more.

“Actually, Jay, could I have some paper?” He beamed, kissed me, and walked over to a drawer.

“You going to write, sweetheart?”

“I got inspired,” I told him simply, quirking an eyebrow.

He played along. “By who? Do tell, Nick?”

I laughed and walked over to him, grabbing his hand to kiss it. “You, Jay.”

“You’re sweet,” he said, handing me a few sheets of paper and a pencil.

“Thank you,” I said, and led him back to the couch. This time, he lay down with his head on my chest. Not the most comfortable position for him to read—or me to write, but it was Jay. Jay, my darling, handsome man.

He fell asleep soon after, and I carefully reached for his glasses and book, marking his place. The cheaters went on the table next to me, and under them I placed the sheets of paper, which had ended up as just a ramble about Jay’s attributes.

I lost myself to sleep, hand curled around his chest. Jay had given me the only thing I needed.

[4ragon]

Blackmadhi disaster date that turns into a murder investigation but they're into it

ALKfdjskldg oh man, hold on, I gotta get into the headspace because I have never once tried to write Blackmadhi. God, I don’t think I’ve ever even written Nahyuta before, oh boy. Okay. Drabble. Let's do this.

“For you, Monsieurs. Did one of you wish to try your wine selection?” The waiter said, beginning to look frazzled. "Again?"

“Ah, yes, that would be wonderful, thank you,” Nahyuta said, holding out his wine glass for the server. Quickly, the man poured some of the crimson liquid, and Nahyuta took a sip. Immediately, his brows drew together. “Oh. This is…the cabernet you had suggested, correct?”

“Yes, indeed, it is our finest—”

“Hmm, perhaps I just don’t have a taste for the sorts of wines that you Americans enjoy,” he mused. “In that case, could you perhaps switch our order to that Pinot Noir?”

“O…Oh, yes, of course!” The man quickly bowed away. “I’ll…bring that out right away.”

“Thank you very much,” Nahyuta replied with a serene smile. As the waiter rushed away, he turned toward his date brooding across the table. “Now, where were we?”

“Hoy, Sad Monk, look me in the eye and tell me that you’re enjoying yourself.”

Nahyuta paused. “As I have said for the millionth time, these sorts of restaurants are a staple of American date nights, and I will not have you continue to gripe for the entire evening—”

“Balderdash,” Simon snapped, his looming, brooding form sitting hunched in his seat like some sort of cages animal ready to break loose and murder everyone in the dimly lit interior of the restaurant. “You think I’m too daft to see it? You’ve already sent the waiter back to oblivion three separate times to retrieve increasingly unpleasant wine selections—a drink which neither of us even likes—while you continue to recite to me the definitions of foods neither of us would wish to consume, which you memorized from some late-night internet binge.”

“Red wine is the drink that couples traditionally drink on dates,” Nahyuta explained for the millionth time that night, rolling his eyes. “Not that I’d expect a panda as uncultured as you to understand the nuances of date culture, but I for one am going to take this seriously.”

Simon exhaled through the nose. But before he could say something scathing, there was a shriek. Instantly, both of their heads snapped to attention.

“Oh my god!” a woman wailed, jumping to her feet. “My husband! He’s dead!”

For a moment, all of the air seemed to be sucked from the room. And then—

“Finally! Something interesting!”

“Excuse me?!” Nahyuta snapped, as Simon stood to his feet. “We’re in the middle of something.”

“Oh, yes, let me raise this wretch from the dead so that his holiness the Sad Monk can continue regale me with more tales of romance and blether.” The man turned. “You blaggards, stay in your seats lest you taste my steel. I have some questions.”

“What are you doing?!” Nahyuta hissed. “Sit down. What, do you plan on apprehending the criminal yourself?”

Simon spun toward him. “Would you really rather dull your mind with meaningless chatter over a candlelit dinner, or would you like to slowly slowly whittle down the sanity of a murderer trapped here with us while we pick apart these witness testimonies one by one?”

Nahyuta blinked. Then he sighed, standing up and brushing back his braid. “Alright, fine, this was the most boring thing I’ve ever suggested we do together, can I please at least play the role of the bad cop?”

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Nia just needed a friend to do a hard mall trip. Trying out dresses. For a formal dance. And hey, maybe Lena and Kara are mad at each other but... She just needs Lena okay?

When Lena receives a call from an unknown number, she almost ignores it. But just enough people spread her phone number that she answers it on the off chance it might be someone who needs her.

“Lena Luthor, how can I help you?”

“Lena, please don’t hang up.”

The voice is familiar, but Lena can’t place it until the voice continues.

“It’s Nia. Nia Nal? And I know--” Lena almost hangs up right then-- not because it’s Nia, but because Nia treads dangerously close to a subject Lena is dead set on avoiding. Almost. “I know you have no reason to take my call, but… I need your help.”

Lena almost hangs up. She doesn’t.

“What do you need?”

---

The crisis, Lena learns, is that Nia has been given the assignment of her life covering the Golden Globes ceremony being hosted in downtown National City, but has nothing even remotely appropriate to wear. The mundanity of it all is so far from what Lena expects that it’s long moments before the words fully register.

“Uh, Lena…?”

“I’m here,” Lena says quickly, clearing her throat. She leans forward in her chair, rattling off an address. “Meet me there tomorrow at 11am.”

The next day, a few minutes after eleven, Nia walks up to Lena outside of Sylvie with hesitation all over her face. “Lena?”

Lena tucks her phone away and turns towards Nia with a professional but bright grin. “Nia, you made it.”

“Uhm, yeah actually… I kinda thought I’d gotten lost…”

Lena looks at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Lena, I can’t afford anything on this boulevard, are you crazy??”

Oh.

“You’re not paying,” Lena says simply.

Wide eyes blink at her in shock. “What? No! No, Lena, I can’t ask you to do that--”

“I’m offering.”

“Look, I was thinking we could just go to the mall--”

“The mall.”

Nia quails under Lena’s judgement, and Lena softens.

“Nia, you are about to be on the red carpet, covering an event that could catapult your career into the stratosphere. I think that warrants something a little more than what a department store can offer.”

“But…” Nia continues to protest, but uncertainty colors her features, and Lena knows she’s slipped under her guard. Carefully, Lena places a hand on Nia’s wrist.

“I won’t force you to accept what I’m offering,” she says gently. “But calling a Luthor for help means calling for a Luthor solution-- and nothing says Luthor more than shopping at the best boutique in town.”

Nia nods, but she ducks her chin with a swallow. “It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“I don’t want you to think that’s why I called, you know?” Nia expels a sigh, working a harried hand through her hair. “It’s just that Kara was supposed to come with me for moral support, but she’s had to cancel four times and the ceremony is in three days and if Andrea hears one more time that I don’t have a dress, she’s going to kill me…”

“Nia,” Lena says softly. Nia stops, and meets Lena’s gaze with a hesitant one of her own. “I would never think you were calling for a hand out. I’m offering.” Nia still looks uncertain, but Lena holds her gaze. “You asked for help… so let me help.”

Nia considers her words, studying Lena carefully. Finally, she wraps her arms around herself with a steadying sigh. “If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure.”

Nia follows a few paces behind as Lena turns and approaches the door to the shop, lingering to let Lena be the one to press the buzzer to be allowed in. But as they near, the door opens for them, ready and waiting to admit them.

Luthors don’t use buzzers.

“Welcome to Sylvie.” A pair of well groomed attendants relieve them of their purses, exchanging their bags for a couple flutes of champagne offered by a third.

“Thank you,” Lena replies easily, well versed in the practice. Nia fumbles a step behind, her movements stiff and uncertain. Instead of moving directly into the belly of the store as she usually did, Lena lingers, allowing Nia the chance to take in the shop for the first time. The showroom looks much like any other, as could be glimpsed through the windows, styled with clean lines and immaculately dressed mannequins. The true Sylvie experience, however, happens further in, beyond the curtains that separate the dressing rooms from the rest of the store.

“If you’ll follow me, ladies, I’ll show you to your dressing room.”

Lena wonders what Nia expected as they approached one of the curtained off areas. Perhaps a cramped alcove like the hollywood thrift stores shown in coming-of-age films, where your elbows knocked the walls as you changed and you’d be lucky to find a stool to put your own clothes. Certainly it isn’t the plush, spacious room that awaits them, if Nia’s wide eyes are anything to go by.

Charnelle waits for them at the curtain. “Welcome, ladies,” she greets, parting the curtain so that Lena and Nia can slip inside. “Lena, lovely to see you again.”

“And you,” Lena returns.

“I’m Charnelle,” she introduces herself to Nia. “Wonderful to meet you. I’ll be assisting the two of you today.”

“Thankyousomuch,” Nia says in a rush, her shoulders tight as she shakes Charnelle’s offered hand.

Charnelle allows the curtains to close behind them, isolating them in their own little pocket of divine luxury. Lena settles herself on the central chaise lounge, folding her legs elegantly before her. Nia perches on the edge beside her, her gaze flicking to the small boudoir in one corner and another curtain that shields the actual changing area. Inside there, Lena knows Nia will find a plush bench to sit on as she undresses, and gold hangers to hold her clothes while she tries on various gowns. It’s designed to be beyond comfortable, a place where one could spend hours-- and lots and lots of money.

“So, what do you have for us today, Lena? Another benefit gala to dazzle?”

“Actually,” Lena replies, “Miss Nal here is covering the Golden Globes this week for CatCo Worldwide.”

“How exciting!” Charnelle rounds on Nia. “And what are you looking for in your gown?”

Caught with a mouthful of champagne, Nia freezes, then swallows audibly. “Um…” she coughs out. “Something nice? I probably shouldn’t be outdressing the stars or anything, so nothing too crazy?” She shrugs. “I don’t know, exactly.”

“Charnelle,” Lena intercedes, “could you bring us some formal options in black, maroon, or blue? Floor length, of course.”

Charnelle nods, beaming. “Absolutely.” She gives Nia a wink. “She has your colors nailed, honey. What are your measurements?”

Nia stares at them both. “Uh. A six, usually?”

“They’ll need your measurements to ensure a proper fit,” Lena delivers gently. “Do you mind if Charnelle--?”

“I’m trans!” Nia blurts, her chinks coloring a solid ear-to-ear pink. “Sorry,” she adds quietly. “But-- yeah. Just so you know.”

Lena stares, surprised more by the outburst than its content, but Charnelle takes it in stride. “So am I, baby girl,” she responds smoothly. “That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to have a dress that fits.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Nia finally, finally relaxes. She offers a shaky grin. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s do this.”

Charnelle gives Nia’s wrist a squeeze on her way to the boudoir to pull a tape measure from the top drawer. While she’s busy, Lena catches Nia’s eye and lifts her glass in a silent cheers of support. Nia rewards her with a small smile, before Charnelle returns and makes quick work of measuring Nia’s bust, waist and hips.

“All right!” Charnelle chirps, wrapping up her tape. “I’ll be right back with some options. You two stay here and get comfortable, all right? I’ll be right back.”

She disappears, and Nia all but collapses onto the chaise next to Lena. “I can’t believe I did that,” she groans.

Lena pats her on the knee. “You’re all right. Sylvie only gets my business because they know the value of discretion.”

“Yeah.” Nia lifts her head with a hum, surveying the dressing room once more. “This is nice. Thank you for talking me into it.”

Lena smirks. “Just wait.”

As if on cue, the curtains part to admit not Charnelle, but the woman who’d offered them their drinks. This time, her tray holds an array of small finger sandwiches. “Refreshments?”

“Oh, wow!” Nia exclaims, quickly helping herself to three. “Okay, yeah. I could get used to this.”

Lena grins, snaring a cucumber sandwich for herself. “Thank you. And another round, if you could,” she adds, seeing Nia’s empty glass.

The woman nods. “Of course.”

When she has disappeared again, the dressing room fills with quiet, and Lena realizes that she doesn’t have a clue what to say. She’s gone shopping with her mother, and with Andrea, and in both cases the conversation flowed easily, for better or for worse. But she’s never been shopping with a girl several years her junior, and never one in the middle of Lena’s biggest heartbreak.

“It happened the last time I went shopping for a dress too,” Nia says, breaking the silence. “The anxiety about… you know. I guess something about formal wear brings out the worst of it.”

Unsure of how to respond, Lena looks at her. “When was the last time?”

Nia sighs. “Prom. I’d transitioned by then, and most people were used to me, but I didn’t have a date, and part of me just internalized it as a fixture of me not being girly enough, and not, you know, the fact I didn’t know how to talk to boys, let alone date them. I didn’t even know if it was worth it to go at all, and I just-- started crying, right there in the dress shop.”

“What happened then?” Lena asks gently.

Nia smiles fondly. “My mom. She just hugged me, and told me how proud she was to have such a beautiful, confident daughter. It was sort of embarrassing at the time, but… it was something I needed to hear, you know?”

She pauses then as the server returns with their champagne. Afte the woman dips out again, Lena nudges her. “And did you ever find a dress?”

Nia snorts, nodding. “Yeah. Like, two minutes after I calmed down I found my dream dress. And my friends and I had a blast at prom, so I’m glad I went after all.”

“Good,” Lena murmurs, sipping her drink. “Well, I can’t promise anything about a dream dress, but I’ll call it a win if we get out of here without any tears.”

“Cheers to that,” Nia concurs, lifting her own glass for a deep sip.

In that moment, Charnelle returns, wheeling a short cart of long dresses along with her.

“All right, ladies-- who’s ready to see some gowns?”

---

Nia settles on a bias-cut gown of sky blue, accented with beaded embroidery at the bust and straps. It may not have qualified for dream status, but it’s perfect for the Globes, and Lena can tell Nia is excited by the time they step back out onto the street, garment bag draped over her arm.

“Thank you, again,” Nia offers, hiking her purse higher on her shoulder. “You really didn’t have to do all this, especially with how weird things are right now. I know it probably wasn’t easy to say yes when I called last night.”

Lena blinks. It honestly hadn’t occurred to her to say no. “Nia?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you call me?” It’s her turn now to shift uncomfortably on her feet. “I’m always happy to help, but… as you say, things are weird. Why me?”

“Honestly?” Nia asks. Lena nods. “You remind me of my mom. I can’t begin to tell you how or why, but you do. And the thing is… my mom was probably the kindest person I’ve ever known. So-- if you reminded me of her, I figured you were a pretty safe bet. And the worst you could do was hang up on me, so…”

Right.

Lena nods, her throat locking painfully around a sudden lump in her throat. Forcing a smile, she clears her throat. “Okay. Well… I’m glad I was able to help. Are you okay to get home?”

Nia nods easily. “Yeah, I’ll just catch the bus. Thank you again. This was really nice, and it was really good to see you.”

Lena nods, but before she can turn away, Nia catches her by the wrist.

“I mean it, Lena. I owe you one. If you ever need anything…”

Lena turns her wrist, allowing her hand to settle into Nia’s palm. Giving it a squeeze, Lena offers her a smile.

“I know who to call.”

// prompts are closed

[star-of-zeus]

Misconceptions of Zeus

@adri-le-chat​ has very kindly passed on an ask to me for an informative post talking about some misconceptions of Zeus and some epithets that counter them. I’m very excited for this opportunity to talk/rant about how great Zeus is and how he doesn’t deserve the bad rep he gets, so here goes! I’ll just be listing the misconceptions and explaining the epithets/general things that counter them below.

      1. He’s an absolute jerk. I would like to first point out Zeus's epithet Panellenios (of all the Greeks) to counteract the jerk part in a way - he's a very "accessible" god, contrary to popular belief. He’s not elitist, you don’t need to have specific qualifications/traits or anything to worship or work with him - you just need dedication! He is also called Zeus Pater (father), god of fatherhood/parenthood as well. How could I counteract this misconception without also talking about Zeus Xenios (of hospitality) and Zeus Phyxios (of refuge). How could a god of hospitality and of refuge be a jerk? He was the one that punished the jerks for being jerks and being mean to guests/refugees and such. 

      2. He will get angry at you easily. I saw someone on one of the discord servers I’m in talk about someone that said Zeus will sic demons on you if you misbehave and... what? Zeus Melikhios can translate to "merciful" and not just "mild" - his wrath could be appeased even if you incurred it. He isn’t an unnecessarily rage-y god, he is fair and just and if you got the punishment he doled out.... honestly you might have deserved it! He's divine justice, you're not gonna be stuck down by Zeus for making a small mistake. He's called Zeus Palamnios (punisher of m-rderers) not Zeus "punisher of you who forgot to give offerings that one time".

      3. Zeus is always a bearded old man This one is a more harmless misconception of course, but the thing that disproves it is quite interesting so I’m going to talk about it anyways. Zeus was worshipped as a giant snake and a child. Yes, you heard me correctly, a giant snake and a child.

Even if in one perspective Zeus Meilichios was simply one aspect of Zeus, in another he had to be treated as an independent figure. He was often portrayed differently too, as a gigantic snake. - p.91 of On Greek Religion by Robert Parker

Meilichios/Melikhios is a Chthonic epithet of Zeus, and it can also counteract the notion that Zeus is only an Ouranic god. In actuality, quite a few Ouranic gods had Chthonic aspects! Hermes, Demeter, and Persephone are “mixed” gods as well in that they have both Chthonic and Ouranic aspects.

There are at Aegium (in Achaia) other images made of bronze, Zeus as a boy and Heracles as a beardless youth, the work of Ageladas of Argos. Priests are elected for them every year, and each of the two images remains at the house of the priest. (Descriptions 7.24.4) - p. 38 of Priesthood by Leopold Sabourin

So, not only was Zeus worshipped as a boy, he had a whole priest for his worship as a child!

      4. He sleeps around a lot.

This is probably the most common misconception that people have about him, so let’s get down to it! As Zeus is a very powerful god and the king of all, kings and warriors alike would claim him as their father. Alexander the Great claimed that he was the son of Zeus-Ammon. As Ken Dowden puts it in “Zeus”:

If someone wishes proudly to claim that some hero or tribe is descended from Zeus, another adultery will usually be added to his list. This is how family trees (‘genealogies’) work.

Quite a few of his supposed adulteries simply stem from men who didn’t know their fathers and wanted to lay claim to importance through their heritage. People who also wanted explanations of how a place or thing came to be would do the same. Additionally, even when looking at the myths, Zeus doesn’t have a sh-t-ton of children at once, they take place over time, here’s an explaination that I found on labrandeus’s blog:

I’m not stating anything new when I say that in popular culture people like to portray Zeus as this horny guy who just can’t keep it in his pants. But what is new I think is when I say that the myths actually don’t support this. Yes, you heard me right. If you look at the myths carefully, it turns out that Zeus isn’t the hopeless womanizer many people think it is. The key factor here is time. When we think of the Greek myths, we often don’t have a clear time frame so we imagine them all taking place at the same time. But that’s not the case. The myths take place over a long period of time. I’ll give you an example to make it more clear: The Iliad names two living mortal children of Zeus: Sarpedon and Helen. Heracles lived one generation before them, he is already dead at the time the Iliad is taking place but one of his sons is fighting in the Trojan war. So, Alcmene, Heracles’ mother, is said to be the granddaughter of Perseus, son of Zeus and Danaë. Danaë again is a descendant of Epaphus, son of Zeus and Io. Epaphus and Sarpedon lived about 480 years apart (the Wikipedia page of Epaphus also has a nice illustration). That’s a long ass time.

So, even in the adultery that Zeus does commit (also keep in mind, of course, that the myths are a product of their time and do not reflect the gods in their full capacity) it isn’t a series of children in quick succession, it’s some children over time. His children in myth also had importance and a role: a lot of them moved on to defeat monsters that were plaguing humanity. As Adrian and I like to say, Zeus plays 5-D chess.  I hope that this post helped clear up some misconceptions that people had. Zeus is a wonderful and multi-faceted god who I am honored to serve and call my patron. He doesn’t deserve the bad rep he gets in pop culture and modern media, and I hope a few of you understand that better now then you did before. :)

[kartificialdreams]

Breaking

Chapter V

2016

I walk through the building, hushed murmurs dying abruptly as I walk past. I press the elevator button up to my floor and head straight into my office. I throw my head back as I let a long sigh out, headache killing me from the night before. A knock pulls me out from whatever thought was about to invade.

“Come in.”

“Excuse me, sorry to disturbe you ma’am. You have a last minute meeting.” My assistant hangs her head low as if she were terrified to tell me with who.

“Didn’t I cancel all my meetings?”

“You did ma’am, but they were very adamant about meeting with you and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Who?” I narrowed my eyes.

“Someone by the name of Manjiro. He didn’t leave a last name. He said you’d know.”

I look her dead in the eye, as if trying to see if she was just messing with me. I tell her to send him in and basically sit at the edge of my seat. I hadn’t seen Mikey after I had left the gang, wanting to focus on school. I wonder how much he’s changed. A knock is heard once again, signaling he’s coming in.

“Mikey, it’s nice to see you again.” I smiled as we embraced.

“Nice to see you too Y/n. Quite the building you have.”

“Fashion is a growing industry. But I’m sure that’s not what you’re here to talk about now is it?”

“No, not exactly. I came with a business proposal. As you know, Bonten is on the rise.”

“Bonten? You mean the gang that’s involved with gambling, fraud, prostitution, drugs and murder?”

“That one! Anyways, how would you like to be a partner?”

“Mikey you can’t be serious. You can’t come in my office and ask me something like that. Besides don’t you have to run this by the leader?”

“I don’t have to. I am the leader. Y/n, we can help you, maybe take out a competitor or two?”

“Why? Why my business?”

“To be completely honest, we have history, I can trust you. You’re also the only one I know who has access across the world. You’ve made quite the name for yourself Y/n.”

“That’s what happens when you clean yourself up a bit. What’s in it for me?”

“1/2 the cut in profits on transactions made through your business. You’ll also have protection from Bonten, meaning no cops will come sniffing if there was anything happening under their noses. You run business as usual, but you’ll need to open a ‘private manufacturing unit’ specifically for Bonten. Only those with ID’s may enter, we won’t hide anything from you and you’ll have full reports every week. And if some time in the future your lovely heart desires something else, all you have to do is ask and I’ll see if I can make it happen.”

“Mikey, it’s taken me a long time to get to where I am now. If I go down, I’ll drag you and the rest of Bonten down with me. Understand?”

“This is exactly why I wanted to partner with you, you don’t fuck around. I’ll try to keep my executives out of your building. But they will be the ones bringing the reports to you, just in case someone tries hacking into the servers. They will be tasked to bring the reports directly into your hands and your hands only. You and I will have meetings at least 2 times a month to make sure everything is in order.”

“Very well. I do have one request, this stays hidden from Mana and Luna, they’re around. A casual “hi” won’t hurt, but don’t let them know the real reason you’re here.”

“And Mitsuya?”

“The truth, I can never keep things hidden from him anyways.”

“Got it. Oh, and Y/n, there is one more thing I forgot to mention- my executives, a few are familiar faces to you.” He paused, as if he didn’t want to continue. “2 in particular are ones you’re very familiar with. It’s Ran and Rindo Haitani.”

I sat there, trying to keep my temper in check. I nod at him, wanting to finally have alone time. Mikey leaves, the promise to meet again next week pushed to the back of my mind.

“What cruel fate. I’ve steered clear of him for 7 years. And now he’s back.”

The rest of the day goes by fairly calmly. I inform Taka about our new partnership and send in plans to install a new wing to the building. I’m busy trying to line new pieces for the fashion show, I didn’t notice someone had walked in.

“You’re awfully busy.”

I whip my head, startled.

“Waka, hey.” I smiled as I hugged him.

“You didn’t answer your phone so I came to check up on you. I brought take out and soda.”

“You are the bestest friend! I’ve had so much to think about today and my brain feels fried.” I slump onto the couch in my office.

“What’s got that pretty little brain of yours workin over time?” Waka takes the food out and placing it nicely on the table, cracking open the sodas.

“Mikey paid me a visit today. He asked me to partner with him, which I agreed to. But then he mentioned something at the end of the meeting.“

“And that is?”

“His executives, 2 of them are Ran and Rindo.”

Waka starts to choke, veggies shooting out from his mouth.

“He did that on purpose.” He lets a few coughs out. “He knew you’d reject if he told you at the beginning. Sneaky as always Manjiro, very sneaky. What was in it for you?”

“Money, protection, the likes, he even said I could ask for more if I wanted to.”

“What’re ya gonna do if you see Ran?”

“Ignore him the best I can. I would’ve turned it down, but I want to expand more Waka. I’ve worked so hard for this, all for the sake of my family. So if it means I have to see Ran from time to time, then so be it.”

“What will your fiancé say?”

I paused, not even thinking about what he would say. After Ran had abandoned me, Waka and I went to parties more than usual. I eventually met some guy I started hooking up with, that soon turned into us moving in together and finally, getting engaged. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about breaking the engagement off.

“I honestly don’t know. He’s busy with his job, I probably won’t tell him.”

“Bad idea, he’ll find out eventually, he figured out you and I fucked with just one look.”

“True. Hmm, I’ll bring it up before the fashion show.”

“Y/n, if he tries anything, you let me know immediately. You know I’ll do anything to protect you the best I can.” Waka places a hand on my knee.

“Thank you. We should get going, he’ll start to wonder if I’m having an affair if I’m not home soon.”

Waka and I walk down to the garage and part ways. The ride back home, all I can think about is Ran. How am I going to get away from him now? Why does it have to be him of all people? It doesn’t matter, we’re not together anymore and I’ve moved on.

“I’m home!”

Yes, I’ve moved on. Haven’t I? I’m kissing someone else, wearing the ring of someone else, sleeping in the same bed with someone else. My whole life is completely different. So why, even now as I lay next to the man I promised to be with, am I still thinking about Ran?

[stellocchia]

So, I once made a post about c!Tommy and c!Dream’s relationship throughout season 1 (which you can find here), but today I was thinking, why not do the same for the Exile Arc?

There are some people that still don’t seem to have a comprehensive idea of what actually went down during that time (either because they joined the fandom afterwards or haven’t watched it at the time) so I’ll try to do that here. I’ll cover the first 2 streams here, and then continue in the next part because this is gonna be way too damn long otherwise...

As always I’ll be talking only about the characters and the roleplay from here on out and also I’ll be touching on some very heavy topics under the cut (such as gaslighting and abuse). Also this is gonna be another one of my Overly Long Analysis, so... you know... be warned of that.

I’ll be going through this vod by vod, so It will be so long... God why do I always do this to myself?

Let’s start with TommyInnit Is Exiled From The Dream SMP... which is the vod when Tommy actually get’s exiled.

So, the exile scene per se has been covered a 100 times over, but, right after Tubbo asking Dream to “please detain and excort Tommy out of my country” Dream yeets Tommy off the walls and then he immediately establishes the general idea of how it’ll be in exile: “I don’t think you wanna die Tommy. You need to- to listen to me”.

Also it is to be noted that in this “exile” time and time again Dream establishes arbitrary rules that were most certanly not meant in the initial sentence (which is why it’s much more of a kidnapping then an actual exile). Starting from before they even leave L’Manburg completely. In fact when they are still in the vc with the others and still just down from the obsidian walls, Tommy and Dream have this exchange:

“Do I have any time to speak words? What can...” “NO. NO. NO. NO!” “what the...” 

And then right after (just after leaving the vc):

“Do you have food?” “Yeah...” “Good, we’ll be going a long while still” “Am I not allowed- well surely- surely I’m only exiled from L’Manburg-” “Oh, no no no. You’re exiled from everywhere that’s been touched”

The sentence was only for him to be exiled from L’Manburg. Dream theoretically only had authority over the Greater Dream smp in any case, so how come immediately Tommy’s “sentence” becomes being exiled from “everywhere that has been touched”? What authority did Dream have to exile him from the Badlands? Or the Holy Grounds (considering those are widely considered neutral)?

This is from right after Ghostbur joins them:

“Well, I don’t- I don’t have to come with you” “Well, I mean, I’ll kill you” (...) "I don’t have to follow you! I don’t-” “Tommy! Then I’ll just kill you. What happens if I kill you?” “I die...”

Again, technically Tubbo only asked Dream to escort Tommy out of his country, not all the way to his place of exile. Tommy here is right, he is exiled, he is not supposed to have a jailor going with him, he is not supposed to be imprisoned. All he supposedly had to do was get off the lands he wasn’t allowed into and then he’d be good. Of course Dream’s plans were different there.

Also the trend of constantly undermining anything Tommy is feeling at any given moment sure doesn’t stop with the Exile Arc! 

“No, no! I don’t want to head anywhere! I wanna to go back! I wanna go back!” “Fine fine, we’ll head this way then. It’s fine, this is fine” “I don’t wanna go!” “Tommy come on...”

Honorable mention to Dream talking about the first time he exiled Tommy:

“Do you remember- this is actually funny! Do you remember the first time you ever joined the server? And uhm... you got exiled? By me?” “Yeah?” “It’s kinda like that, except now if you don’t listen you die”

And the conditioning begins all the way here, with Dream trying to decide Tommy’s emotions for him:

“Oh... I hate you” “*laughs* Okay Tommy, you don’t hate me” “No, no I definitely do” “Noooo, you don’t hate me”

Cue Dream just blowing up Tommy’s second Summer Home after he explained that it was supposed to be a safe haven for him and Tubbo. Also note that Dream is already getting rid of any mob attacking Tommy even if at this point he still had armour and weapons to defend himself. I talked about this before, but Dream does seem to want Tommy to be as dependent on him as he is on Tommy, which is why during exile he made him dependent on him for protection/safety and company and in prison for food. Also Ghostbur going: “I don’t think this man is very nice...”, thank you Ghostbur, I wish you could remember that, but you’re trying your best and I appreciate it...

“How long is- how long am I exiled for? When can I just go back?” “You can’t (...) if you go back you die”

Again, not Dream’s decision to make. Tubbo was the one exiling Tommy meaning that, if Tubbo actually had the decision power in that istance, Tubbo was the one who should have decided when he could come back. Also, again reiterating the point from before:

“I thought I was only banished from L’Manburg, that was the deal, not the entirety of the smp-” “Oh no. No you’re banished far enough where they don’t see you”

Also, a little look into Tommy’s mentality here:

“Tubbo said he wasn’t thinking with emotion, but with reason, but: what the fuck is the point if there isn’t any- any emotion?!”

This is honestly why he is Dream’s exact opposite and probably why he finds him fun, while Tubbo is irrelevant to him. Tommy thinks emotions should always be taken into account when making decisions and he values sentimentality over everything. Dream is the opposite, to him emotions are irrelevant and sentimentality is a weakness. Tubbo is a bit of both, which makes his clash of ideologies with Dream a lot less evident. 

Anyway, they get to the island and Dream builds Tommy a dirt shack for him to set his spawn into. And then there is the first istance of Dream taking all of Tommy’s stuff (building blocks and food included) and blowing it up. Which, again, is in no way an actual exile condition. Tommy is in jail basically. He got kidnapped and now he is in jail. Also right after that Dream gives them food and obsidian (of course acting like he is doing them a big favour, when he actually just created that need), which Tommy bromptly refuses, later burning the obsidian.

Also Dream’s parting words here are: “I’ll see you never”. Which couldn’t be less true! There is quite a bit more after that, of Tommy and Ghostbur settling in, finding a ruined portal with some armour and the village nearby and Techno visiting, but this is about c!Dream and c!Tommy and it’s already incredibly long as is, so maybe I’ll talk about everything else another time...

Onto the next one: Tommy Is Alone in Exile with Dream...

This stream starts off with Bad visiting Tommy to give him a few presents (which consist of Chirp, 2 diamonds, an enderchest, and almost dead diamond pick with silk touch, some coocked chicken some bones and a few stacks of oak wood logs). Also Tommy sees Logsteshire for the first time. Then Dream arrives and he is not happy about the present (something something, having other people giving Tommy useful stuff would make him less reliant on Dream). Also Bad seems to be slightly scared of Dream since he immediately tells Tommy that he should not say that any of the stuff he gave him was from him. Anyway, Dream destroys everything, but Tommy, with Bad’s help, manages to save Chirp. Here’s their exchange in this scene of course:

“Tommy?” “Yes! Yes?!” “Do you have uh... something you wanna put on the floor here?” “Yes *throws in 3 red concrete blocks*” “Anything else Tommy?” “No! You’re evil by the way, you’re an evil man-” “Come on... I know there is something else you wanna drop down here...” “No there-... *gives disk to Bad* I don’t reckon there is!” “Okay are you sure...?” “Yes!” “Alright... how about uh- how about your armour Tommy?” “No this is- I actually earned this myself” “I know you did! Just drop it in the hole Tommy” “No, no! You can’t just come and demand things from me! I’ve been exiled, I’ve done your shit! What- what do you mean-” “Tommy~” “What?” *Dream hits Tommy with an enchanted netherite axe* “Drop them down~” “Hooooo okay okay okay!”

So, in case anyone was wondering, physical abuse is there as well. And this is fully depicted as physical abuse. Like, normally, with this being Minecraft, it is implied that violence is generally inconsequential, here though c!Tommy reacts to it clearly in pain and shock. There is no doubt there. 

Sapnap arrives at this point as well. After that Dream makes it a point that Tommy cannot have the enderchast that Bad gave him because you can never have enough random arbitrary rules when kidnapping someone apparently! 

“Why are you here? Why are you here? What- what could you- what could you possibly want more from me? You’ve tortured me-” “I’m just! I’m just... keeping an eye on you Tommy” 

I’ve highlighted this because, considering the last time Dream was there he said he would never see Tommy again, Tommy’s confusion here is more then understandable. But of course Dream acts like it’s obvious that he would be there and that it’s necessary to make sure that Tommy is not “up to no good”. Also, another extremely important exchange: 

“You’ve exiled me you stupid manipulative green bastard!” “Yeah I know! I know! And you know why I did that” “Yes? Yes?” “No, you know why” “Why?” “Because you don’t listen to me ever. You’re the only person who doesn’t ever listen to me (...) listen, you are like a little annoying bug in my room and it pisses me off so I take you and I put you outside and that’s what I did. And now I’m just making sure that you stay outside”

So... the bullshit about this being about George’s house is out of the window by the first proper exile stream. Also Dream goes in the ever increasing list of villains who, if annoyed enough, will reveal all their evil plans to the protagonist. Like Tommy screaches enough and Dream will immediately go in evil monologuing mode...

“So what do you actually want from me then?” “Well nothing, I’m just here to talk to you. Tommy, we’re still friends ok? Just because I exiled you doesn’t mean we’re not friends-” “Just because I killed your friends and family doesn’t mean we can’t be bros...” “Well, it’s true!”

Ok so, it’s confirmed that Dream would still go on with this “friendship” facade even if he killed Tubbo or Wilbur then. Also:

*Tommy sees a creeper* then in the most monotone tone ever: “Help me” Dream sprinting from the other side of the cave: “TOMMY!”. I love this scene and I love this two dumbasses (and I mean the cc’s here). Also, to go back to the serious stuff: once again Dream is the one killing every single mob around Tommy because he blew up all his means for defence. Also Bad and Sapnap are still there as well, but Dream is always the on interveening (mostly because he is the one following Tommy around more closely). I’ll have a few of the more interesting quotes here afterwards until the next interesting scene:

“If I had 8 legs I would fuck you all up” “Oooh, no you wouldn’t” (Dream de-valuing Tommy’s anger once again)

“Stop following me” “NO” “Well okay then...” (honestly this was just funny...)

“Can I call you Wilbur? Or is it Ghostbur...?” “You can call me whatever you like” (for those saying that Ghostbur not correcting Tommy was weird)

“Alright Wilbur, what do you need an enderchest for? I might make an exception but-” “We- we need it so that we can access our stuff from the old world, the old world” “But not to go back” “How would we be able to go back with an enderchest?” “Well I don’t know maybe there is stuff in there that’s... better” “Tommy do you have anything that could get you to go back? In the enderchest?” “A boat? What’d you mean?” “Yeah to be honest we just need wood to get back, it’s not really-” 

Here we have Ghostbur poking holes in one of the new rules that Dream added that day. As a matter of fact, why would an enderchest be dangerous? Tommy mostly keeps sentimental stuff in there and a bit of iron. Still that’s the whole point: Dream is trying to get Tommy under his control so he needs to bring him to a point where he’ll listen to his orders even when they don’t make any actual sense. Also, btw, Dream doesn’t actually give them an enderchest after this exchange.

“Do you want to come with me Tommy? Do you want to come with me and visit the old library?” “No no no” “Yes! Yes please!” “No he wants to stay here with me” “I don’t. I definitely don’t” “He does! He’s just trying to be nice to you Wilbur. He’s trying to be nice to you” “I’m not Wilbur, I want to come with you” (way to gaslight an amnesiac ghost...)

“So how long is Tommy supposed to be here?” “Like a week?” “Oh, a week is not bad!” “*laughing* No he’s here forever” (Like goddamn, imagine if every minor griefing was punished with permanent exile!)

“M-maybe like- does Tommy gets like visitations? Like once every month he get’s to go to L’Manburg-” “No! No no no” “No visitation, huh?” “No visitation” (well, let’s thank Sapnap for trying...)

So, after this Tommy gets his plan to go through the Nether and find a quick way to and from L’Manburg to, perhaps, sneak in unnoticed at some points. Dream “allows” him here to go to the Nether (even though technically there is no reason why the exile would extend to there as well), so they get to work on fixing a ruined portal. “Did you know, I apparently blew up a nation and killed everyone” (thank God we have Ghostbur, he makes everything better). One thing I want to note though: at this point Tommy still kills the mobs attacking him when Dream is not stalking him and doing it for him, which is kind of nice. We are still at the first exile stream though...

“Can I go back for like an hour and see all my friends?” “No, they can come here though. I-I mean Tommy, I think- I think that someone could come here and visit you, but you can’t ever go back. Like I-I don’t have anything against people coming here and visiting you if they want to. They don’t HAVE to, but they can if they really want to” “Tommy think of it this way: whenever you’re in prison you can’t just go and visit your friends, but they can come and visit you” “They can come and visit you, yeah, that’s actually a very- that’s a perfect analogy”

I wonder why the best analogy for Tommy’s situation is not a f*cking exile analogy, but actual prison. Maybe because he is confined to one place, not allowed to keep any personal items and never allowed to go back? Also they actually get to Nether hub at this point and there is the famous scene with Tommy looking at the lava: 

A curious thing about this scene (aside from being a clear indication of the beginning of Tommy’s depressive spiral) is both that Dream didn’t seem to particularly care about Tommy dying up until now (and in the future as well) as long as he is the one to kill him. Meaning that he seemed fine with it as long as he had control over it. And yet at the end there he agrees with Tommy’s statement of “it’s never my time to die” which kinda makes me think that Dream by this point was already entirely set on his idea of Tommy needing to be alive for Dream to control the whole server. Tommy and Dream head back to Logstedshire after this scene.

*Tommy looks at the lava while standing very close to the edge* “I’ll go back through just to... check and see” *Dream hits Tommy away from the edge* “Come on” *Tommy goes back to the edge and Dream pushes him away again, this time covering the hole* “It’s not your time to die yet Tommy” “It’s never my time to die” “That’s true” 

“Home sweet home...” “Home sweet home. I think it’ll be good! People might visit you all the time, I mean, I can visit you! It’s- it’s actually fun to come here! It’s a little bit- it’s a change of scenery, you know?” “It’s not fun to be stuck here” “Well... you’re not ’stuck’ it’s your vacation home!” “Can I go back? I’m ready...” “No but you can leave this area, you can go somewhere else. This is just- like, I took you far away, you can go further if you want”

So, if anyone is wondering, this is not, in fact, Dream giving Tommy more freedom. Especially considering that when Tommy does leave Logstedshire later on Dream literally hunts him down, so no, that was never an option. What Dream is doing here is make himself sound benevolent by comparison by telling Tommy that the only other options he has are worse since they are even further away.

“I’m here for a good time, not for a long time” (more hints towards Tommy’s depressive spiral)

“Guys how do you know when it’s too much?” (and again)

“Can I go and see the tree?” “Tommy, you can’t go and see the tree” “Dream why don’t you let him just- it’s not in L’Manburg! Why don’t you let him just see the tree and then escort him back?” 

Ghostbur my beloved, pointing out holes in Dream’s rules all the time. Something tells me that’s the reason why Dream tried to kill him later on...

Anyway! This concludes this first post because it’s... Oh fuck this is REALLY long.... welp! I’ll make the others in the next few days! 

[sunlight-moonrise]

The Law of Attraction (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Reader cannot understand how Spencer is in a relationship with someone who is his complete opposite. 

A/N: Hello Everyone!!! Here’s another story from the secret-fic-swap in the Discord server. I tried my hand at a new genre and I like how it came out. A big thank you to @imagining-in-the-margins​ for helping me make this real nice for y’all (this story was also written to her). Enjoy!

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Content Warnings: If you’re a fan of Max or Maxcer, this may not be the story for you. Sacrifices needed to be made for this story to be told. 

Word Count: 4.2K

Masterlist

The thought that the concept of ‘opposites attract’ was only true when it comes to physics. After all, the comparison of people to magnets doesn’t make any sense. If two people are together, there should be some similarities to build an established relationship, right? Without that foundation, the structure will surely crumble back into the fragmented pieces that created it, leaving them cracked and weaker for it.

Compatibility is necessary, yet there is none whenever I look at them. This is the fourth function that he has brought her to, and with each event, I find it harder to look their way. But when I do find them among the crowd, I can’t look away. Like a car crash or thunderstorm ripping tree roots from the ground.

It doesn’t make sense to me, why on earth would Spencer Reid be with a girl like her.

“If you keep staring at her, she might drop dead,” said a sarcastic voice, breaking me out of my reverie. I turned to see Tara with an amused smile occupying her face.

“I just don’t get it,” I mumbled, focusing my attention on the drink in my hand.

“What’s not to get?” she asked, glancing over at the couple in question. “They seem cute together.”

“They have nothing in common. He might as well be talking to some random person in this bar.”

I chugged the remainder of my beverage with desperate hope that the alcohol will somehow make things better in this situation. It didn’t.

“You sound bitter.”

“I am not bitter,” I bit back.

“I didn’t say you were, I said you sound.”

I didn’t respond to her because deep down I knew she was right. I just fiddled with the straw in my now empty glass as Tara continued, “Look, they both like coffee and going to the park, that’s something.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped my throat at the thought.

“So do half the people on the administration floor, he might as well have a harem if those are the main qualifications.”

“So what type of person should Spencer Reid have?” she asked, an eyebrow arching up as she focused her attention on me.

“I don’t know. Someone who is family-oriented and loves kids. Someone who doesn’t judge him for his idiosyncrasies. Someone who listens to his rambles and actually responds to them. Someone who he can escape to when things get too tough. Someone who understands when to give him space but will continue to support him unconditionally. Someone who can challenge him and make each day exciting and interesting. Someone who can ke—”

“Whoa there, I didn’t think you were going to give me a whole novel.” If she thought that was a novel, then the rest of what I wanted to say would be considered an encyclopedia. The only one that Spencer would never read.  

“I just want him to be happy,” I relented.

It was the simple truth. Everyone deserves some sort of contentment in their life, but with everything that Spencer has gone through in the past, his happiness should be at the forefront. He always put others before himself. It was time that someone prioritizes his wants and needs for a change.

“And she doesn’t make him happy?”

Not in the slightest. 

But I didn’t want to say that. I was sure half of the team already thought, or knew, that I was infatuated with him. But I didn’t need to give them the satisfaction of a confirmation by talking about this any further. The looks that Tara had been giving me the past few minutes validated my belief that I didn’t need to dig myself into a deeper hole.

“Maybe,” I said, hoping to put an end to the topic.

But just then, I heard a laugh despite how noisy the place was. I knew without a doubt that was Spencer’s laugh – it was the only sound that would demand my attention that quickly. It was the one he used when he felt uncomfortable.

“Excuse me, Tara.”

I didn’t give her a chance to reply before I hopped off the barstool and made my way to where Spencer and his girl were as casually as possible. Jennifer and Penelope were also with them, and it seems as if the three ladies were doing most of the talking.

“….like kids someday?” I heard Pen say. I didn’t need to hear the beginning of the sentence to know what it was about.

“Ehh, certainly not. My nephew is a handful as is, I don’t think I need any more than that one in my life,” she laughed. She, of course, being the ever loving, ever annoying, Max. A quick glance at Spencer's face confirmed that he was bothered by the subject being discussed. If the rest of the ladies were a bit more sober, they’d probably have seen it too.

“Hey guys,” I interrupted, taking my previous seat next to JJ, “I ordered some water for us and some appetizers. Tara is going to bring it over when it is ready.”

Cheers and thank you were shouted across the small table, but there was only one face I cared to pay attention to. Spencer’s mouth was quirked in a sad smile that was meant to hide the discomfort that had already taken root in his heart like an invasive vine.

“Did you place my fries order?” Max asked, garnering my attention. As much as I wanted to ignore her, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t openly be a bitch to her, no matter how much she irked me. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Other than stealing the affections of a man I’d never actually pursued, that is. But I couldn’t really blame her for that one, right? I should’ve jumped on the opportunity before. It was my fault.

“Yup,” I answered quickly with a small fake smile before focusing on the wooden décor of the bar.

“So any plans for Halloween? Assuming we don’t get called in for a case of course,” JJ asked the table.

“There is this pop-up haunted house coming that weekend.” Spencer said, his voice laced with that childlike excitement that made my heart race, “It is near the annual fair, so I’m going to try and do both.”

“Awww, that’s a cute date idea.”

The table was silent for a moment before Max announced, “I probably won’t go. I am not a big fan of anything spooky or… horror. I’ll leave all of that to this guy.”

The table shared an awkward laugh in a poor attempt to lighten the mood.

“Anyway,” I coughed out, attempting to save this poor conversation, “you guys need to hear this terrible joke the bartender told me. So basically, this screwdriver walks into a bar….” and just like that, the topic had been changed.

Tara joined us shortly after and the conversation remained lighthearted for the remainder of the evening. We later said our farewells and readied ourselves to go back home. While I should’ve been sad to leave him, I couldn’t help but feel a bitter joy from the fact that Spencer and Max didn’t talk directly to each other for the rest of the night.

●●●

It’s been a couple of weeks since the last team outing. Rossi must’ve missed us, because he decided to host a dinner at his place to celebrate the ending of a long and tough case. No one was going to pass up the opportunity of free food and wine, especially after dealing with a bunch of cops and detectives with entire tree trunks up their asses.

I was the last to arrive, which was not surprising since I live the furthest away from Rossi. Krystall welcomed and settled me in while informing me where everyone was. What I assumed was a team gathering turned out to be a whole party. There were definitely more than two dozen people occupying the space.

Good god. 

“What’s all this?” I asked as I greeted Rossi in the, thankfully, empty kitchen. Because, of course, Rossi wouldn’t be Rossi if he didn’t take care of all the hors d'oeuvres himself.

“Krystall wanted to celebrate our anniversary,” he sighed, as if this ordeal was somehow troublesome. I had to roll my eyes; he wasn’t fooling anyone. We all knew that Rossi would move mountains for his wife.

Their love was pure and genuine, a perfect example of two people meeting again at the right time and sharing something wonderful with one another. As I reminisced on their beautiful wedding day, a thought came to my head.

“Isn’t your first anniversary coming up in a few months?”

“That’s for our second marriage, this is for the first.” Rossi simply stated with a proud smirk, as if it was standard to celebrate any and all anniversaries in life. I supposed that for him, it was.

“Why do I get the feeling that this was more your idea than Krystall’s?”

“Guilty.”

Classic. Well, I wasn’t going to tell a man what he should celebrate nor how to do so. I wasn’t going to ruin any opportunities to eat some fresh crostini.

Once I made my way back out into the main room, I was able to find my team within seconds. My eyes instantly landed on Spencer’s tall and lanky form. And I would’ve been excited for that, if it weren’t for the familiar woman standing beside him.

Max was there. Hooray.

Usually, I was able to properly prepare myself for seeing her. It actually, unfortunately, took a lot of effort to not be openly hostile to someone I dislike. It wasn’t something I was proud of, but it was true. Typically in a situation like this, I’d avoid the person all night. However, I wasn’t going to allow her presence to influence the night, much less stop me from spending time with one of my closest friends.

“Hey guys.”

“Ahh, you’re finally here,” squealed Penelope, “I already grabbed your favorite drink!” She stepped aside to make room for me in the small gathered circle before handing me the glass.

“So what did I miss?”

They all caught me up on the harmless gossip circulating around the office and the new happenings emerging in everyone’s lives. Everything was going well until I heard the next words from Max, words that felt like a bucket of ice water and lead being poured over my head.

“Well, Spencer and I are moving in together.”

Time slowed down, I was sure it had. Because I was able to gauge everything in a matter of seconds. Tara’s concerning glance my way, her hand reaching out and retreating as if to hold me. Penelope’s joyful appearance over the news, her arms rising quickly causing her wine to slightly spill on Rossi’s floor. Matt expressing congratulations as he roughly patted Spencer on the back.

And Spencer….

Spencer looked like he rather be anywhere but here. His lips were drawn in a too tight smile that I knew was far from authentic. He was tapping his heel against the floor and wringing his hands together.

If this was merry news from the two of them, why did he look like he swallowed a spiked fruit?

The loud clanging of metal against glass brought everyone’s attention to the noisy source. Time returned back to its normal pace at Rossi’s call, thanking everyone for joining in on the celebration and announcing that the food was ready in the dining room.

While everyone cheered and made their way towards the ornate display, I headed to the balcony. It was too hot, too stuffy, too loud inside the house. There was one too many people there.

As soon as I passed through the double doors, I took a deep breath of cool, refreshing air. Everything around me felt muffled. Like I had stumbled into a small pocket universe that only differed from ours by a few notches on the volume knob.

I was thinking too many things, and none of them adding up or making sense in my head. How do you move in with someone you’ve only known for such a short amount of time? What was he going to do with his apartment? With his personal belongings that were scattered and settled on crowded shelves? Why did he look so uncomfortable when she announced it? Did he not want us to know? Did he want to say it himself?

“What are you doing out here?”

As if being brought back to reality by the very same hypnotist who enchanted me in the first place, I became aware that I was not the only one on the balcony. I turned to look at Spencer, taking in his disheveled and tired appearance.

“I just needed some space. I was feeling a bit crowded.” It wasn’t a lie, but my companion and I both knew there was a lot more than just that. Trying to keep the attention off me, I asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Checking on you. I saw you come out here dressed like that and wondered what would drag you out into the freezing cold.”

Now that he mentioned it, the breeze was hitting hard. I didn’t notice my body trembling until now. It is funny how you can’t feel much when lost in your own thoughts. The pain was a welcome distraction, I supposed.

Spencer stood next to me and shrugged off the suit jacket he was wearing. I opened my mouth to refuse, but he gave me a pointed look before I could. Instead, I accepted the warm jacket over my body. The scent of cinnamon and spice immediately enveloped my form and I tried to hide the way my inhales grew deeper. Trying to keep him as close as I could for however long he would allow. He kept his hands on my arms, rubbing them up and down the sleeves of the jacket to instill some heat in me.  

“So whatever happened to taking it slow?” I asked bluntly, keeping my eyes on the interesting speck of dirt that had ended up on my shoe. I didn’t feel bad about getting to the point -- There was no way I could subtly ask him what the deal was, and I’d rather not beat around the bush.

“Well, after the whole situation that happened, sh— we decided to pick up the pace of things,” he spoke lowly, as if he was unsure of the words coming out of his mouth.

“Has she even met Diana? Or know about her?” I instantly regretted asking, the angry look he shot my way had me feeling remorseful. But it also answered my question.

Max only knew the surface level of Spencer. She wasn’t aware of all the good, bad, beautiful, and ugly layers that comes with a man like him. She wasn’t the only one to blame, but I wondered how a profiler couldn’t tell that he was hiding those parts from her because he didn’t want to share them with her. He didn’t want her to know, because the knowing made it real.

“I just want the best for you.”

His irritated expression dissolved into a defeated one as he released the breath he was holding.

“I know, I know. It’s just…”

He stopped talking, appearing scared to share his opinions and feelings with me before he remembered that, unlike Max, he never had to hide things from me. He didn’t want to.

“It’s just…” I prodded, hoping he would continue with what he was going to say.

But he just stayed stuck there, opening and closing his mouth multiple times. I could practically see the cogs in his brain whirling as he properly tried to explain. “Well, the thing is that Ma—”

“Spencer?”

We sharply turned our heads to see Max and Tara staring at us. It wasn’t until that moment that I remembered our position. With Spencer’s hands rubbing tenderness heat onto my arms, his jacket over my shoulders and our bodies pressed together to keep warm.

It would be one thing if everything was settled, but this situation was anything but. Max had every reason to be angry. This wasn’t a new thing to her. So when she turned around, she stomped away fueled by the belief that she’d nearly caught her boyfriend committing adultery. Again.

“Fuck,” I heard the man in front of me whisper as he released me back into the cold night.

Still, as he left, he looked back at me. His eyes burned into mine up until he tore them away, making his final decision and hastily running from the balcony. Away from me. Towards her.

Tara and I shared the silence, but she looked at me with those inquisitive eyes, as if I was a client seeking out therapy from her.  

“What?” I hissed, “We were just talking.” I refused to feel guilty over something that I didn’t do. If anyone had done anything, it was Spencer. But at the same time, I didn’t think he was entirely wrong, either.  

“I didn’t say anything,” she muttered, holding her hands up high as a sign of surrender.

“You didn’t have to, I can feel the judgment from here.”

“Look, I’m not judging you. But I do want you to put yourself in Max’s shoes. You guys were gone for a while and she finds you two all over each other.”

“What are you talking about, Tara? Christ, it’s not like I was fucking him on the balcony!”

Although I didn’t intend for my words to be humorous, Tara laughed. I was conflicted on whether it was at me or with me, but it ended up amounting to nothing, anyway.

“Look, the night is young and you need to relax. Come back inside, enjoy the party, and don’t let them bring you down. At least for the next few hours.”

She was right, as she usually was. It was why I usually sought her out as the voice of reason; I knew that despite everything, she would always have my best interest at heart.

“Okay,” I agreed before following her back into the chaotic fray.

I heeded her advice and avoided the couple for the remainder of the night. Shockingly, it was pretty easy, but I was sure it was because they were avoiding me too. There were times, lots of times, where Spencer and I made eye contact, but we’d just as quickly look away, as if we were ashamed of what we have done.

All we did was talk. So why did it feel like something more?

There were also times when I made eye contact with Max, but instead of shame, there was anger and contempt. If looks could kill, like Tara had suggested, I was sure my heart would have given out.

It wasn’t until later in the evening that I saw Max take a cab home while Spencer was still inside the house. No one else but me noticed that they didn’t leave the party together.

●●●

I hadn’t seen Spencer since the incident at Rossi’s a few weeks ago. He had to take his mandatory sabbatical leave and I had to take an abrupt trip back home. What used to be almost daily texts between us became nonexistent in a matter of hours. It was a terrible predicament that I was hoping to fix soon.

As I arrived, I spotted him at his desk. For a long time, I stood there staring at him. If he wasn’t nose deep in a bunch of files, I was sure he would’ve seen me, too. I contemplated on how I should go up to him, but nothing I could think of was good enough to say. 

Hey, I have your jacket, I took it to the dry cleaner’s, so it is all clean. Rid of me like you wanted to be. 

Hi, how were the lectures this time around? Still have a bunch of teens crushing on you?

What’s up, it’s been a while, do you want to get lunch during the break?

I hated that things were awkward, even though I was pretty sure that I was the only one that was making it so. I should have just gone up to him, greeted him, and acted like everything was normal, because everything was normal. Right?

Just when I was about to do so, Emily called us in for a meeting. Impeccable timing.

We had a serial killer case in Louisville, Kentucky. My situation with Spencer was going to the backburner.

During our stay in Louisville, Spencer and I barely interacted. We exchanged notes and passed long messages, but that’s pretty much it. I wasn’t surprised. Our specialties don’t really correlate when we are working on a case. Anytime I did catch some free time, I’d look his way, longing for the opportunity to speak to him. He didn’t look back.

Then, just as the case ended, another chance presented itself. After five days of hardly any proper rest, we finally found the unsub. Everyone was in their respective room catching up on some much needed sleep. Except for Spencer, whose gangly body was tucked away at the bar by himself, a glass of what appeared to be soda in front of him.

Silently, I took the seat next to him, and for a few minutes, everything was quiet. But unlike the usual, comfortable quiet, it was torturous.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

I stared at him, letting the silent communication denote the fact that I knew he was lying to me. Spencer released a sigh and looked at me with eyes more intoxicating than any whiskey that shared their color.

“Actually, no, I’m not okay.”

I was going to ask him what was wrong or if there was anything I could do to help, but before I had the chance to do so, he hastily answered the question I hadn’t asked.

“Max and I broke up.”

I stared at him, my face and mind blank as I tried to comprehend what he’d said. That Max and Spencer broke up. They were no longer together. Spencer was single.

I thought that if this ever happened, I would be happy, elated, jumping at the chance to take her place by his side. But I felt none of those things.

“What happened?” I didn’t want to appear nosy or meddlesome, but I needed to know.

“We were fighting a lot, and I couldn’t take it.”

“Oh.”

“We were… actually fighting about you.”

I sharply turned my head at him, both intrigued and disturbed by the implication that I had anything to do with the failure of their relationship.

“What? What about me?”

“She thought I liked you,” he said while staring straight back at me, daring me to scan through each fleck of gold and green to ensure that he was telling the truth. But his hazel eyes expressed nothing but honesty as he continued, “and she was right. I do.”

“Y-you do?”

All he could do was nod his head, lifting his hand and catching a loose strand of hair before tucking it behind my ear.

“Can I try something?” Spencer shyly requested.

Once again, the universe felt different. I held my breath, trying to wake from the dream. Although he didn’t say it, I had an idea of what he wanted. If the hand on the side of my face and the staring at my lips were anything to go by, I knew what was going to happen next.

I nodded back and closed my eyes. A few seconds passed, the sweetest kind of anticipation. But then I felt the gentle pressure of his lips against my own, sweet and tender. He moved his head to get a better angle while I brought my hands up to cup his face. The roughness of his stubble against the tip of my fingers was a perfect contrast to the softness of him. I could taste the soda he was drinking on his tongue and breathed in the cinnamon scent that seemed sunken into his skin.

When we pulled away, it was full of hesitation. All it took was one look for us to know we couldn’t do this. Not now, not yet. He was still healing from the recent break up and I didn’t want to be a rebound. I didn’t want us to resent one another for jumping into a relationship so soon. We weren’t ready.

We sat there in relative silence, taking in everything that has happened.

“Maybe one day,” he paused “one day we can give it a chance.”

“Yes. I’d like that.” I beamed at him, “And I look forward to that day. Until then, we remain as friends.”

He returned my smile and I realized that it had been a while since I’ve seen his real smile. I missed it so much.

“Friends,” he confirmed.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt relief and comfort. Because I knew everything was going to be okay. I had hope that someday Spencer will get the happily ever after he deserves and he’ll get it with me by his side. One day.

[rainbowtransform]

@ethereal-deadly-clover @melancholycatastrophe

:) (def would consider checking out this post before for a little more context!!)

Here’s the thing: Dream loves his server. He enjoys playing with it, growing flowers and managing to coax dogs and cats out from the undergrowth of trees. He looks at the stars above him, big and bright and beautiful. When he decided to settle, Dream puts away his shoes.

He walks barefoot through the grass, feels the wind, and feels the earth beneath him. The word he has inhabited, the world that holds him close and murmurs words of love is huge. It’s awaiting his exploration, and hums a song that he doesn’t quite understand.

His feet are bruised by the time he finishes his walk. Bad scolds him for it, but he sees the faraway look in Dream’s eye, and remembers the first time he’d gotten his own server. “Be more careful,” he says quietly while wrapping them. “Shoes are important, and you’re not going to help yourself without them.”

Dream shrugs. He wriggles his toes, and smiles.

“I like going barefoot.” He says. “It makes me feel closer to the World.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Pandora’s Vault burns his feet almost instantly. Dream spends the first week hopping from foot to foot, settling them into his respawn hole, and wondering why it never hurt this much before.

Sam looks at him with no expression, and only raises an eyebrow at his hopping. There were shoes in Dream’s changing bag, but he’s hasn’t worn shoes in forever. The only time was when he’d enter the Nether, but he’d take them right off afterwards.

“They’re uncomfortable.” Dream tells Sam. “I’m wearing them.”

A sigh.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

He’s in the trees, feet dangling. Sam’s underneath him, shoes in one hand and a half-smile flitting across his face. “It’s almost winter,” he says. “You’ll get cold. You’ve got to wear shoes.”

Dream shrugs. “I’ll wear socks.” He counters.

“They’ll get wet,” Sam says back. Dream crosses his arms. No one likes wet socks, but Dream doesn’t want to wear shoes anymore. He hasn’t been for a while.

“What if I only walk on the Path? Or I only leave when it’s warm enough or I just go outside the community house.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “You’re not going to do that.” He says bluntly. “You can barely sit there for this world, you’re always exploring. Now you’re going to dust inside for a whole season?”

Dream sighs. He climbs down the tree, and Sam smiles at him. He gives Dream the shoes, and then tightens his own laces when Dream’s tying his. “I’ll be back before this season’s over.” Sam tells him, brushes aside Dream’s hair.

Dream feels uncomfortable. Sam says his goodbyes, and once he’s out, Dream takes off the shoes.

(The others look away. They’ve gotten used to not trying; Sam’s the only one who still does. Callahan even took his shoes off for a week or two, trying to connect to the world like Dream.)

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The thing about Techno joining him is that he’s calm and collected. He’s bored, but he hasn’t been through the things that Dream has been.

“So,” Techno says, looking at the shoes Dream has on. “Why are you wearing Velcro shoes? Can’t tie your laces?”

Dream shrugs. “The Warden put them on me.” He said. “He usually does before Quackity comes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s like a punishment inside another punishment. He knows I don’t like shoes.”

“You can take them off right?”

“With permission.”

Techno shrugs. “Well… I’m giving you permission.”

Dream shrugs. “The Warden’s supposed to.”.

Techno hums. He drops his cape around Dream’s shoulders, and leans against a wall. “Well,” he says. “I’m going to sleep.”

(And if Dream leans next to him, far away enough to not touch him but close enough to grab Techno just in case, that’s enough. And if Dream wakes up tomorrow with no shoes, Techno looking like he hasn’t moved, there’s no one’s business except his own.)

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Dream writes and writes. His hand shakes, cramps, but he taps bare feet against chests and dips them into the respawn pool. Techno takes the books, and flips through them, and sometimes he’ll make Dream laugh. He also just watched Dream and the difference between shoeless and having them.

It’s done, Dream thinks. He signs his name off, writes it in a flourish. It’s like signing his death warrant. Dream finished the last sentence, and hands off the book to Techno. He doesn’t read this one, but he does give a hard look in the camera’s direction.

“Listen, Dream,” he says softly. “I’m going to go away for a while. I promise, I promise, I’ll come back. But you’ve got to stay strong okay?”

Dream stares at him. “You’re leaving?” He says.

Techno takes the cape from the floor and drapes it over Dream’s shoulders. “I am. I’ll come back for you. Team Chaos, remember?”

“Team Chaos,” Dream echoes.

And then he’s alone.

(Quackity hates that Techno got away. Sam hates that Techno got away, and burned the shoes. Dream cowers in the corner, begging forgiveness even though he did nothing.)

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Drowsy, Dream opens his eyes to see the Warden putting Velcro shoes on him. Dream hates them. It means that Quackity’s going to do something and Dream doesn’t know what. Sam doesn’t look at him, but he does make sure the straps are tight on him before leaving.

Quackity comes in minutes later. Dream curls in a corner, trying to get away, trying to get them off, ect are they on him what is he planning sometime sometime sometime—

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

He’s lead outside, with a bunch of people on the entrance. He tries to reconnect with the earth again, tries to feel the world underneath his feet, but there’s—it’s nothing.

He can’t feel anything except the socks and the shoes that feel dead, dead, dead. He would have fallen, trying to grab something in his hands—grass, dirt, the shoes—if the Warden’s hand didn’t tighten on his arm.

The warning is clear: stop.

“See?” Quackity says. “He’s fine. Sam hasn’t done anything to him.”

Dream looks up at the sky, and tilts his head. It’s dark, almost like it’s about to rain. Dream hasn’t seen rain in a long time. He wonders what season it is, before his attention is snapped toward Antfrost, who looks him up and down.

“Why is he wearing shoes?” Antfrost asks. “Dream never does.”

“Pandora’s Vault is hot,” the Warden says. “His feet will burn otherwise.”

They ask the Warden a bunch of questions. They don’t ask Dream, but Ant kept giving him weird looks when he reached for the grass beneath his feet. He just wants to connect again.

Dream feels wind against his face, and he looks to where it’s coming from. There’s a shadow, flying low with the wind. Dream almost looks up, but doesn’t. It’s probably a bird.

The Warden’s hand tightens again, and Dream could feel tears building. Dream looks up and then suddenly everyone is staring at him.

“Dream,” Puffy says. There’s something in her expression that he can’t quite place. “Are you okay?”

Dream turns away and tries to grab some grass again.

“Prisoner,” the Warden says. “Answer the question.”

Dream catches Quackity’s eye, and watches how his expression changes from one of pleased to angry. The Warden’s hand is getting tighter, almost digging into him. Dream nods once, and the Warden lets go.

“Well, that’s a lie.” Technoblade says from above, and then all hell breaks lose.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Dream loves the night sky and the stars that come with it. When Dream first settled, they could see millions of stars above them and Dream made his own constellations. The stars glowed bright.

(Later on, it became too light to see some of them. But Dream remembered where they used to be. He’d sit on the roof of the Community House for hours, tracing where they were.)

But in the Arctic, they are unfamiliar. “Make new ones,” Techno told him. But Dream misses the old stars, he misses his fri—

He misses when there was no wars.

When it was just Dream in the world, he managed to bring a star down from above. He held it in his hands, hot and cold at the same time; and he watched it. It fizzled and spit and didn’t burn out for a long time.

Dream thinks he was a star, intimidating and untouchable. But he’s also at the end, his fizzle had sparked out. He’s not who he used to be.

He doesn’t know who he is.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

He tries to be barefoot in the snow, tries to feel the earth underneath his feet. There’s nothing except the stinging bite of cold and the dogs’ breathing.

Techno finds him, shoeless, sitting on his porch edge. He’s holding onto two pairs shoes, one Velcro and the other with laces. “It’s pretty cold,” he says.

Dream doesn’t reply. Techno sits down next to him, “Listen,” he says. “You lose the most heat out of feet and your head. I’m okay with you being shoeless in the houses, or the porch. But once you step off, you’ve got to wear shoes. Choose one.”

Dream looks at them. “Laces,” he says. “I can wear laces.”

“Sure, nerd,” he says. Techno leaves the shoes on the porch, and then gets up to go inside. “Phil’s making hot chocolate,” he says. “If you want.”

Dream nods. He lays down on the porch, and looks at the stars above him. A million, waiting for constellations.

So, Dream begins drawing.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Dream used to coax flowers into blooming early before the Wars began. Iris and Ivy, lilacs, and Lilies, asters and carnations. Roses and willows, and everything underneath the sun.

In the Arctic, they don’t grow. They shrivel because the Arctic is cold, and flowers are used to warm weathers. And Dream almost cries, when he manages to have a flower grow.

It’s a daffodil.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The Syndicate come back from a mission, gunpowder staining hands and wither residue left on Techno’s cape. They’ve also got Redstone dust on them, but Dream doesn’t ask.

Dream watched them walk up, and Techno glanced down at his bare feet. “We can go on a training mission,” Techno tells him. “Somewhere warmer.”

There’s a break, and Dream looks down at his feet, and the flower that he’s grown. Niki and Phil are already inside, discussing what they should bake for dessert tonight and Boo’s already gone and writing something in his Book.

Dream looks up at Techno, and smiles. “Sure,” he says quietly. “I’d like that.”

(There’s something almost beautiful when he reconnects to the server. When his feet dig into soft soil, and he can feel everything.

Dream lays down, and watches the sky. Techno lays next to him. They’ve got weeks to spend here.)

[nightferns]

How c!Ranboo's attitude towards c!Wilbur lines up with everything he's been told | a quote list

All /rp of course

So on Tubbo's last lore stream (my new purpose) Ranboo said this:

"-thats why im here so when he does something that does redeem himself then someone can be there that will be able to see it and everything, and honestly i'd rather have it be me the person, rather have the person that be there be me instead of maybe someone else[...]"

And then this, when asked why he didn't tell Wilbur about marriage:

"[...]From what i've heard from Tommy and everything the Wilbur that 13 years ago- at least might've- he used stuff against Tommy and everything so just in case- "

And it made me wonder what exactly lead him to that opinion so i spent a day ghathering quotes in which Ranboo heard/or was told something about Wilbur, before the revival. Its a bit of a long one so strap in.

Convos about Alivebur that Ranboo either listened to or was a part of, pre-meeting him.

Vod: Tubbo and Tommyinnit Start To Break Apart…

TommyVods

Tommy [talking about Techno]: -Wilbur died in action, so he doesn't- so he didn't live long enough to face the consequences, but that guy he is a fucking bitch.

Ranboo: So he was fighting with you and then he decided to go against you.

Tommy: yeah. He decided that the last minute "Hey! Hey what im gonna do is fuck everyone over."

Ranboo: Oh… so he was sort of a vigilante of sorts? His own-

 [...]

Tommy: sit down [on the bench]…  fuck. I just want back the discs, that's all- thats all I've wanted everytime im sat on this bench, that's all we've wanted.

Ranboo: Yeah, I can tell... You seem pretty adamant about those.

Tommy: Yeah! It's because-! Literally bro- since the- four months! [...] four months ago is when I first started trying to get these discs! And it was just me, Tubbo- there was no Technoblade on this server! There were like 6 people- and it was just me and tub- there was no nation there was no- it's always been about getting back the shit dream stole from this very chest!

So now Tubbo's gotten this position of power and is doing it- it's dis- it's disappointing.

B-but thank you, for sticking up for me, no one did that, you saw big Q fucking turning on me- you saw Fundy- they're-  they're just sheep bro, they're just sheep. Thank you

Ranboo: Well, you stuck up for me when you could've easily pinned it on me. You could've just said "oh, he was the one that did it", because- i mean, my name was being said in there too, but then you just decided to take all of it and now we're in this situation.

So I couldn't just let that happen, I couldn't stand by, have Tubbo call you selfish when you did something- the opposite.

Tommy: Thank you-

If they evict me through- that is it he-

Ranboo: yeah.

Tommy: -dude, you know i'm worried- i- i don't want to, i know there's that one line that we- that rings through my head as i sleep l of Wilbur going "Tommy, let's be the bad guys." But I wanna- i don't wanna be the bad guys. I just want-

Ranboo: I don't think that's- that's not a good thing to do.

Tommy: The reason- do I say this now? Yeah-  The reason I didn't make Tubbo the leader, when I had- and I could've chose anyone, and I chose Wilbur, the man who was already half-insane but I knew he was coming back around, and I didn't choose Tubbo.

Is because i knew that if tubbo was the president,

it would pull us apart Ranboo, and look at him he's picking his nation over me. And i- and if he does on Friday I don't know what I'm gonna do with myself.

Ranboo: No matter what happens on friday i'll help you. I'll-I'll figure it out- I'll try to talk to Tubbo, i'll try to see if something better can happen.

.

Vod: *Archive* Mar 6, 2021

Philza

Phil: [places down a picture of Wilbur] my son.

Ranboo: Oh. There he is.

Phil: I wanna put his picture in the-in the meeting room, cruz i want to be reminded, i miss him, it's lik- he's been gone a long time.

Ranboo: He has. He really has. He's been gone, before I even came here.

Phil: He did some dumb shit y'know. And my hand was forced, in a sense, but I miss him everyday, I do miss him.

Ranboo: Oh, yeah i heard about that

Phil: I do wish he'd come back.

Ranboo: Yeah, Well… well I mean, wasn't he a ghost for a little bit?

Phil: Yeah, but that wasn't really him-

Ranboo: Oh.

Phil: That was- That was like the pure kind of innocent version of him if that was to exist I think, he was very kind of uhm- it was just not him though, it was just not him. So it was kind of like talking to a doll of like- someone.

Ranboo: I mean- I mean it's the most you're able to get at least. Like-

Phil: Yeah…

[...]

Phil: -sad, miss child, miss, maybe i shouldn't have stabbed him but you know.

Ranboo: Yeah, well i mean- yeah.

Phil: I Bet if- i bet if- if i was to talk to him again he' would- he would probably forgive me, he- he definitely was at the end of his rope and i dunno maybe he'd think of it differently.

Ranboo: I mean, it was his wishes, I mean he wouldn't- it was his wishes, it wasn't- like- he wouldn't- he wouldn't not forgive you for following what he asked you to do.

Phil: Yeah. I dunno.

Ranboo: But- one day hopefully-

Phil: Can't help but think if i did the right thing or not sometimes.

Ranboo: I mean, when you think about what he would have done if you hadn't, you know?

Phil: Yeah, he was out of control.

Ranboo: Like if you- if you hadn't like- would anything- would anything have changed?

Phil: I dunno, I kinda showed up at the most chaotic time possible and yeah it was just- didn't really have a lot of time to process things. It was like "Hey I should probably stop him from blowing up this place" that I had no real knowledge of other than that he helped build it. That's all I heard. I got- i got like letters from him just like telling me what he'd been up to and stuff, and that he was having fun with this friends and then the letters stopped, and i got worried so i started to like- 

Ranboo: mhm.

Phil: -make my way over to this area.

Ranboo: Yeah.

Phil: And I was right to worry, apparently.

Ranboo: I mean, I don't know, I think- I mean, I think there's really- there's really nothing you can do about it now, you know? There's- it's really like- you can- you can try and get closure but I mean, the ghost- Ghostbur is missing in action and he has been for a little while, and...

Phil: Yeah, whenever I talked to Ghostbur I didn't really feel like I was talking to him though, like it wasnt really- It was him but it wasn't him, like-

Ranboo: Yeah.

Phil: It's hard to explain.

Ranboo, I mean you just- i- i think you did the right thing even though its not- it wasn't the optimal thing, you know? I mean, was it the best solution? Probably not, but it was still a solution so.. I'd say you still did a good thing even though in your eyes it's probably not good, but what else were you gonna- what else were we gonna do?

Phil: Yeah, true.

Ranboo: yeah.

.

Vod: Tommy's Plan to Kill Dream

TommyVods

Tommy: Tubbo, I died. I spoke to Schlatt, I spoke to Wilbur, Wilbur Soot, alright?

Tubbo: Has Schlatt changed his ways? Or is he still smoking and drinking-

Tommy: Tubbo, they've been in there for so long, and so many years, alright?

Tubbo: Years? They've only died months ago-

Tommy: Tubbo, I was in that prison for about… month and five days, alright. Time in death though? I was here for months and months and months! Time's different when you d- Don't tell anyone this- Time's different when you die.

Tubbo: So you're older, now curz-

Tommy: I don't, I don't know! [...]

.

Tommy: -But Listen to me! I've seen everything! I know so much more than you now, I've been with the dead and I know so much more! So much more I'm not willing to explain. But listen to me we need to kill him, before it's too late-

[...]

.

Tubbo: Why is it different now? Why are we killing him- why didn't we just kill him to begin with, when we had the chance? Why did you put it off?

Tommy: Because Tubbo i thought he would use the revive book for go- ok, this is what he said to me he said he will only use the revivebook to revive Wilbur, and he said that that when he gets out out of the he's gonna hurt, not just you, but everyone i care for, he's gonna hurt everyone. So please we need to kill him.

[...]

Tubbo: So why don't you want him to bring Wilbur back now? What suddenly changed? 

Tommy: I've spent months in the death area- well- let's call it the death zone, with Wilbur, right.

Tubbo: the death zone? Like limbo-

Tommy: I've spent months there, I've spent months and months and months there and I was only there for a few days, Wilbur's been there for real months, he is so different and he is powerful and you know how he molds me like a piece of clay Tubbo. I don't want him to come back, we can't let him come back, and Dream said to me that he'll revive Wilbur.[...]

.

Tommy: No, i spoke to you, not Ghostbur, i spoke to you

Ghostbur: But i am Ghostbur

Tommy: I spoke to Wilbur,

Ghostbur: You don't wanna talk to him.

Tommy: I know, I never wanna talk to him again.

Ghostbur: He's not very nice, he's not a nice guy.

Tommy: Acu- Ghostbur i've got a question for you, do you want him to come back?

Because i- i don't, i don't think i do ever ever.

Ghostbur: He's a- i- uhm.. t-the world needs- needs structure and order and he he's good at that, he did that but- i-

Tommy: No, the world needs less villains, and he was a villain if I've ever seen one.

Ghostbur: But a villain is just a- sometimes the line's a little blurry, you could say, a little blurry it's a tiny bit, it's like a villain- a villain is just a hero you haven't convinced yet.

Tubbo: I'm not sure I follow you.

Tommy: No, but he started as hero, he started as a hero and then he was the villain.

Ghostbur: Well-

Tommy: I don't think we should bring him back ever. 

Ghostbur: Oh…

Tommy: I think you should-  you like being a ghost don't you? Hey! Look bl- Red! You can stand on the red! [...]

.

Ghostbur: Yeah,i- i- i like it here but  we were talking about this and i thought we wanted to bring back Wilbur, because he understood-

Tommy: No-

Ghostbur: -because, because L'manburg got blown up-

Tommy: No! No no no no, We don't want to bring back Wilbur, i've spent months with Wilbur, wh-when you die times different Ghostbur, i know i can speak to you 'cause you don- you keep secrets, times different, alright? i've spent so long with Wilbur,

Ghostbur: How- how long?

Tommy: Months and months and months alright? And if i was here for months, he's been there for years, possibly decades, he can't come back.

This isnt a-

Ghostbur: How- how- so what's the corversion? What's the- how long-

 Tommy: What's the conversion rate?-

Ghostbur: yeah, what's the-

Tommy: -God, you sound like a fuckin' bitcoin miner.

Ghostbur: -If time's different in the- in the- in the dead land then what's the- what do you call it? Limbo- if time is different in limbo then what's- what's- what's the difference?

Tommy: I don't really know. But I was there, apparently, I was dead, according to the Dream but he does lie, I was dead for- for 3 days. And i was there for-

Ghostbur: And how long, how long was that in months?

Tommy: I don't know, i can- i can say  months and months, i- i'd- i'd say between three to seven?

Ghostbur: Okey.

Tommy: So the middle, four point five.

Ghostbur: -So Wilbur's been dead for ten to twelve years.

Tommy: And there's a lot to learn when you're dead, innit?

Ghostbur: What did you learn? I've just forgotten things.

Tommy: Oh I learned about bad shit.

Ghostbur: Yeah?

Tommy: Do you know what Wilbur did? He very slowly and excruciatingly, over an entire month, explained to me what hemorrhoids was and it hurt me so much.

And then he'd go on about all the books he has been reading. It was terrible, it was the wor-

Tubbo: Did you see each other? Or were you just-

Tommy: Oh, Don't make me talk about it! Don't make me talk about it! Oh, it was- it was the worst!

.

Ghostbur: Tommy why didn't you want Wilbur back?

Tommy: Well… I spent a long long time speaking to Wilbur in- when I was dead. And i- and when I wanted to bring him back I thought he- I thought there was still some brotherness there, I thought maybe he's still my pal. And I found out he's not- he's only grown worse.

Ghostbur: He spent a lot of time around a bad guy, he spent, like a decade you said, around- around Schlatt and Schlatt's the bad- Schlatt's the bad guy right?

Tommy: I don't think Schlatt's the only bad guy.

Ghostbur: He's a bad guy right? Him and Eret are the bad guys right? That's the- that's the-

Tubbo: Yes, more or less.

Ghostbur: That's what you told me.

Ranboo: And Dream of course.

Tommy: There's a lot more bad guys.

[...]

.

Vod: Ranboo prepares with tommyinnit to take down dream on the dream smp full stream (VOD)

Ranboo Vods

Ranboo: [About Dream] He's trapped in there and we thought he was powerless but even in there he still has power that's why we're killing him actually. Its because-

Ghostbur: What's the worst he could do with the power?

Ranboo: He could bring back the people that are- well, technically the villains in this story, and then get out. And then start to do what he did before he got into prison, just again, and probably worse honestly!

Ghostbur: He's gonna bring back Schlatt?

Ranboo: He can bring back anyone that's died.

[...]

Ghostbur: Also- um, so are we- are we not bringing back Wilbur anymore? Is that… off the table? 'Cause Phil and Technoblade and- and- and people are still keen- and Eret is keen to bring back Wilbur. And i- i'm- Ranboo i gotta tell you i'm really scared. I- i'm not scared of Wilbur i think.

Ranboo: Yeah.

Ghostbur: I'm scared of going back to.. nothing. I- I'll be gone again. I dont- I- i kinda like being here and i like all my friends and i don't...

Ranboo: Yeah. See it's different with me because I never knew Wilbur, i never met Wilbur. I've only met, well you… so...

Ghostbur: I- I think im pretty- I like to think im pretty neat.

Ranboo: Yeah i think you're pretty neat too. I don't- i don't think-

Ghostbur: Yus!

Ranboo: I mean, Honestly i'd- i never knew Wilbur, i never met him but I mean,  what i've been told, he seemed like he had good intentions and- and i mean, i think that's kinda what you are, you are his good intentions.

Ghostbur: In a pint sized glass.

Ranboo: yeah.

Ghostbur: in a little package, little package.

Ranboo: yeah!

Ghostbur: I've read his memoirs Ranboo, i've read- they are all gone now they were blown up when my library was destroyed, so many really important pieces of history were blown up when that library was destroyed.

Ranboo: Definitely yeah.

Ghostbur: But I have- i read his memoirs and he- he was- he was pretty ok! Most of the time, he seemed like he was- people liked him but then- then- then he lost this election and- and- and you know the story, everyone knows the story. 

Ranboo: yeah, yeah.

Ghostbur: But i just- i- from seeing how much everything went down and how Tubbo was- was really badly you know? Scared with- by- by- you know? the explosion and things which- thinking about it that's- maybe was Technoblade's fault and Phil's fault, but um, because of all this now more than ever it's really important that we have a leader and that's why i was on the side on bringing him back

and if- if things have changed, if you tell me i'll go along with whatever you say if- if you think Ghostbur sticks around, i'll stick around but if you think Wilbur- Wilbur sticks around i'll- i'll do whatever it takes to help you! I just- I just wanna help! I just wanna help Ranboo!

Ranboo: yeah, im-

Ghostbur: -And i can see it in you that you know what's best.

Ranboo: The thing is i- i really don't. i mean, Ha- Wilbur... he seemed good, when you read anyone's memoirs it helps them… kinda rationalize the way that they think so- i honestly don't know, because-

Ghostbur: History is written by the winners.

Ranboo: Yeah and he, he technically won, I mean he did what he wanted to.

Ghostbur: but then he lost and everyone hates him.

Ranboo: I don't- i don't think everyone hates him. I don't really hate him. I mean, it's like hearing about a historical figure. I mean he did good things yeah, but he also did bad things so. I- i'm indifferent as i am with a lot of things.

Ghostbur: I'm sure- i'm sure that you'll figure it out

[...]

.

Ranboo: I haven't even heard of Wilbur honestly, i- i've barely heard of Wilbur, i mean, Tubbo really has not told me much about Wilbur other than i mean, he's the one who blew up Manburg the first time. 

But i like Ghostbur i mean, i like- i like Ghostbur i'd say a lot more, because Ghostbur seems nice, i don't think that anything is going wrong right now, i mean if we- if we kill dream then… then uh- ' cause we don't need a leader. 

I really don't know... I really don't know, I don't think we need a leader, because if- if someone rules everyone then- i mean if the leader becomes corrupted, when the leader becomes corrupted then we see what happens. We- we see what happens when someone who leads becomes corrupted, heck i'm a part of an anarchist organization So… I really just don't know what to do.

Because I mean, Tommy doesn't want Wilbur back.

I don't think anyone wants Wilbur back, so why is it even a question?

All I do know is that we definitely have to kill Dream, right? We definitely have to kill Dream. I mean, we gotta- we gotta kill Dream.

I mean, i don't even know if anyone wants him back, i mean, the only person that i would think would be Phil, right? The only person that I'd think would be Phil, so… but Phil's ok now, he's doing alright, shure he's sad now, but I think he'll be good, yeah I think we'll be able to kill Dream and everything will be good!

I mean, if we kill Dream, Wilbur isn't coming back, we won't have to worry about much- we'll still have to worry about things but not on the scale Dream was doing right? Right? [...]

[...] So if everyone's ok without him, I mean, everyone's ok already… right? Everyone's- Everyone's good, I mean, I like Ghostbur, I think that Ghostbur is awesome. I don't know-[...]

.

Ranboo: Oh my goodness. Yeah see, i like Ghostbur a lot more, i like Ghostbur a lot more.

.

Vod: Wilbur's Revival Dream SMP

TommyVods

Tommy: No you don't understand, It's not that he's dead it's that Wilbur's back.

Tubbo: What?

Ranboo: What do you mean Wilbur's back? No, you mean Like- Wilbur? Like-

Tommy: Let's go-

Ranboo: "Press button and blow up" Wilbur, that one?

.

Tommy: No, no ok, listen to me, Did you think I liked Wilbur? Is that what you think this is about Ranboo? Why are you being so unempathetic?

Ranboo: I don't know what you mean! Like-

Tommy: Wilbur is back, Ranboo! Ghostbur is dead!

Ranboo: Yeah-

Tommy: No, no there's only one way to know.

Ranboo: What do you mean? Like- like THE Wilbur? The one that- like your friend?

Tommy: We are not fucking friends, Ranboo.

Ranboo: Wilbur wasn't-? I mean, I knew he did some bad stuff but I thought he was at least kind of your friend. 

Tommy: No, Wilbur was nothing.

Ever since i died Ranboo, we- i spent so long with Wilbur-

Ranboo: Yeah?

Tommy: -and i thought he changed, every time i thought he changed, but Ranboo he never changes, Wilbur never changes… and now he's back.

.

Ranboo: May- Maybe- Maybe he's different you know? I mean, he's been spending a lot of time in the afterlife-

Tubbo: Yeah, he's been dead for a while,

Ranboo: -he probably might be different, you know?

Tommy: He's not different Ranboo, i've been there Ranboo, and he's so much fucking worse. When we go up to him, you two just stand back-[...]

.

[cdroloisms]

vegas team 2.0 lets go !!

vegas team au 2.0 my beloved !!! 

if you don’t know what the vegas team au 2.0 is, it’s an au that a couple of my twitter friends and i developed (notably, @stabbysideblog and @dreamsclock) as a post-canon version of sparrow’s vegas team au, which had c!dream, a post-revival c!wilbur, and c!quackity working together at las nevadas. 

this au exists much in the same vein, but exists post-canon (and therefore, post torture from c!quackity) and adds c!sam to the crew - it’s essentially four really, really messed up people screwing things up in las nevadas and being completely AWFUL to each other. it’s a very messed up group dynamic, 50% angst 50% crack 0% fluff or healing (...unless ;) ) and it’s absolutely one of my favorite aus at the moment. 

anyway, have this ficlet for the au i wrote a little bit ago that basically goes into how these four end up working together !! 

tw: implied torture, unhealthy relationships (SO many unhealthy relationships), manipulation, threats, emotional distress, mental instability

When Sam first sees the two figures standing on top of the roof of Las Nevadas, the first thing that comes to his mind is oh no, I have a bad feeling about this.

The feeling is far from foreign; a "bad feeling" has been his life for the past week ever since Dream and Wilbur had disappeared from Pandora's Vault seemingly without a trace. He's tried to keep the knowledge under wraps, only telling Bad and Ant to send them on a manhunt to find the prisoner (a lost cause if he's ever seen one; the two have hunted Dream before, and all of them know that there is no way they're finding the man if he doesn't want to be found) while he and Quackity plan for the coming storm. And there will be a coming storm, he's sure - he's heard enough of Dream's desperate, deranged plans of revenge voiced in near incoherent screams through bubbling lava to think that he will come out of the cell with anything close to mercy in his heart.

Unfortunately, there's been little to nothing from the pair of fugitives running around the server, his communicator chat still buzzing with Tommy's usual shouting and Puffy's usual invitations to tea and Technoblade's usual cryptic "technoblade" messages sporadically throughout the day. It's frustratingly, maddeningly normal, and each day of waiting for the other shoe to drop only leaves him even closer to snapping completely. In a twisted, bitter sort of way, he's almost relieved at the sight of the people standing on the polished quartz roof of the casino; at least now he'll finally get some answers.

Next to him, Quackity narrows his eyes. "Nobody should know about this place," he says, lips twisting into a tight frown.

Sam shrugs, shoulders heavy and tense under netherite. "Do you think-"

"-that it's our dynamic fuckin' duo? Yeah," he breathes out, short and quick through his teeth, and his wings stretch and flutter behind him, "I think it might be."

The figures become clearer as they step closer, silhouettes dark and thrown into harsh relief against the backlighting of the sun behind them. One of them is definitely wearing armor - netherite, from the looks of it - and both are very clearly armed. Wonderful.

The taller turns towards them, gestures with a wide sweep of their arm. "Big Q!"

Sam jumps at the voice; Quackity smiles humorlessly. "Wilbur."

Wilbur turns towards the other figure - Dream, for sure then - and they seem to talk, though they are far too far away for Sam to make out anything they say. Dream seems to hand something to Wilbur, and seconds later twin dots of bluish-green arc smoothly towards the ground in front of Sam's feet. He steps back, watching from the corner of his eye as Quackity does the same, and sure enough Wilbur, and then Dream, land on the grass where their enderpearls hit the ground.

"It's been a long time, Big Q, Sam," Wilbur smiles, tight-lipped, confident, tipping his head at each of them as he says their names. He's not wearing any armor save for a crossbow - enchanted - slung loosely over his hip and a netherite sword hanging off of his belt. "How have things been?"

"Cut the crap, Wilbur." The smile stays on Quackity's face, but his eye is dark and cold and dangerous. He's changed - of course he has, you can't do what he's done in Pandora without changing, but the sight of his expression still sends a disturbed shiver down Sam's spine. "You want something."

Wilbur, to his credit, doesn't seem fazed at all. "We've been doing pretty well - I think we've made quite some progress, considering how little time it's been since we've escaped that prison - nice build, by the way, Sam." His voice is lilting, almost sincere, and he looks over at Sam with a laughing light in his eyes like they're sharing an inside joke. "It's really quite impressive - what do you think, Dream?"

Dream doesn't seem to respond; he's all decked out again, netherite covering him from head to toe, the enchanted metal plates completely dwarfing the man hidden within them. His hands clutch at a golden apple, knuckles white against the golden skin, and a plain shield is strapped over his left arm as well a hulking enchanted axe on his back. They've been busy, it seems, and Sam's teeth grind against each other; he's not sure, if it comes down to it, that this is a fight that he and Quackity can win.

"Wilbur," Quackity repeats, impatience creeping into his tone, "What do you want?"

Wilbur smiles wider; it makes Sam uneasy, like Wilbur had been waiting for this, waiting for their desperation to send them at the devil's table with paper in one hand and a pen in the other.

"You're a businessman, aren't you, Big Q? You know how business deals work - so let's talk business. I think we can come up with something agreeable, what do you think?"

Quackity huffs a short laugh- "And what's stopping me and Sam from putting a sword through your gut?"

Wilbur smiles, sharp-edged. "Well, Big Q. Resurrection magic- it's quite interesting, really. Dream was explaining it to me, you know. And here's the thing; how many lives do you think I have right now?"

What- oh. "You have all of your lives back."

"Oh, no, Sam, I'm not saying that, exactly," Wilbur waves his hand flippantly, "I'm just saying you don't know, you know? And if I were to- say, have more than one life, and you were to kill me, well," he shrugs, a thoughtful look on his face. "We were smart enough to set our beds far away from the prison, of course. It would be an awful shame if people were to find out about what the perfect, responsible Warden was allowing in his inescapable prison, wouldn't it?"

No, no, no-

"So you're blackmailing us," Quackity's eyebrows are furrowed, jaw clenched tightly. Wilbur tips his head back and laughs.

"Oh, this isn't a threat, Big Q! Just a few- let's just call them hypotheticals." He begins to pace back and forth, gait smooth and unburdened, "I'm just saying that you two are powerful right now, you know? And it's great! I love this- what was it, Las Nevadas, you're calling it? It's great. It's absolutely magnificent. I'm just saying that you might want to be careful about what people end up finding out; you know people can be about power, on this server, and it would be such a shame to see this place burned to the ground."

Quackity's wings tense, and Sam can already see the younger's mouth opening and his fingers beginning to glow white with him reaching into his inventory, and oh prime if things escalate here then they're so, so screwed-

"Business!" He shouts louder than he wants, Quackity's head snapping towards him, lips still slightly parted from the words that he never got to say, and Sam ignores him to focus his attention on Wilbur, still staring at them with a smile playing on his lips. "You said you would be willing to talk business, right, Wilbur?"

"Yes, of course! Let's talk business. What do you think, Quackity?" Wilbur pauses, looks Quackity in the eye, and the younger glares but doesn't say anything. "Oh, don't worry too much, Big Q. I honestly think that it'll be good for all of us - a mutually beneficial arrangement, if you will."

"Wilbur, just," Sam sighs, fights against the incoming headache. "Can you please just get to the point?"

"Of course, Sam," Wilbur all but chirps, "So- we have something you want, and you have something we want. I say we pool our resources- our knowledge, Dream's combat prowess, your protection and items - and make something better."

"Pool our resources- wait wait wait, you mean you want to fuckin'-"

"I don't know how much Dream has told you, but I've been dead for a pretty long time; there really isn't all that much to do in the Void, you know. I've gotten pretty bloody good at cards, if I do say so myself." Wilbur grabs Dream, ignoring the way he flinches as he slings an arm around his shoulders, "What do you say? Have room in Las Nevadas for two more, Big Q?"

Sam blinks. Prime, give him strength. "What?"

Quackity hisses quietly, "You want to help with Las Nevadas? Both of you?" Sam watches as he turns his glare from Wilbur to Dream, and oh, so that's what this is about. He points his thumb jerkily in the direction of the masked man, watching, as Dream ducks his head down, unable to back away too far with Wilbur's arm still braced behind his neck. "And why should I work with him?"

"Two in one deal, Quackity, you have both of us or nothing at all," Wilbur drawls, "Besides, I know you've wanted the power of the resurrection book - and done quite a lot to get it! I'm really very impressed. Of course, we couldn't simply give it to you, but with us on your side, there's hardly even a difference." Quackity opens his mouth, looking like he's about to protest- "And, really, it would be nice to have Dream on your side in case the Blade comes for your other eye, no?"

His mouth shuts with an audible click, one-eyed glare meeting Wilbur's all-too easy expression, before finally nodding jerkily. "Fine. As long as he doesn't cause too much trouble."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Wilbur claps Dream on the back, and he curls into himself more, arms raising up to his head. "You've done more than enough to keep him obedient."

"We'll have to write out the terms later," Quackity presses on. "Don't want either of you trying anything. I've put so much fuckin' time into this place, I'm not letting you fuck it up, you hear?"

"Of course, Big Q," Wilbur's smile is jagged, all teeth, as he holds his arm out between them. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

Quackity breathes in, out, looks over at Sam. There's a question written in the tight edge of his shoulders, in the way his wings are braced and held to his sides - are we sure about this?

Sam tips his head in a shallow nod. Do we really have a choice?

Quackity takes Wilbur's hand, shakes it. "Then welcome to the team."

Wilbur laughs, and it sounds like flames and explosions and the ground shaking beneath your feet, burns with the cold heat of smoke and ash - and Sam knows, with a bitter, searing certainty, that this is going to collapse around them in a blaze of glory, that they've all but signed their death warrants, have nothing left but to wait for the countdown timer to hit zero and blow this place up to kingdom come. Wilbur meets his eyes - dark, dead, grey like cinders and gunpowder - and he knows that the other man is thinking the same thing.

"I think this is the start to something beautiful," Wilbur says, and Sam grits his teeth as he steps into the building.

Something beautiful, indeed.

[ttuesday]

Alright, what Video games would the modern VDL gang have as their favorites?

ah hello my dear anon, I see you're back again *gives you a slice of bread* welcome

Arthur

Arthur likes video games that have a good storyline. He needs something he can sink his teeth into and get emotionally invested in.

He wasn’t sure whether he was going to like Telltale’s The Walking Dead game at first but after playing for a few hours he was absolutely obsessed with it

The game makes him cry a lot especially the ending of season 1

Dutch

Dutch is a simple man, if he sees a survival game that has a tall, dominating vampire lady in it then he needs to play it.

He hasn’t played any of the other Resident Evil games but he knew he just had to play RE Village.

After finishing the game, he bought himself some circular sunglasses cause he wants to look like Heisenberg.

Charles

Charles plays video games to relax and get away from the stress of life with the gang.

He has always wanted to play the guitar but he’s never had the time to learn the instrument. But that’s what makes the absolute classic game Guitar Hero so good.

Charles becomes a pro at Guitar Hero, buying all the different guitar variations and the drums set you can get for it too.

Hosea

There’s no point trying to build anticipation for what game Hosea loves the most, it’s Candy Crush

Karen

At first, Karen loved GTA V for it’s great story and amazing characters but then she found out it has an online mode.

There’s no easy way to say this but Karen’s that player that will chase you around the map and kill you for literally no reason.

She loves it when people get really angry after she kills them, it’s something she likes to laugh about later.

John

John plays a lot of those racing games like Forza Horizon.

He likes them cause he doesn’t have to pay too much attention to what’s happening, all he has to do is drive the car.

Karen tried to get him to do a race in gta online but she kept crashing into him. After that John swore never to play gta online again.

Sean

Sean’s the kinda guy to play the same video game for MONTHS to the point where people wonder if he‘ll ever play another game or just this one forever.

Man loves Skate 3, he could play it all goddamn day and not get bored

Seriously, the amount of joy he gets out of this game is actually kinda adorable

Javier

Javier is that guy that has an entire city built in Minecraft.

He’s an expert at the game, even on hardcore mode!!!!

He also co-owns a very successful survival server with Lenny, though Javier does most of the work on it.

Pearson

there is only one right answer to this and that’s Cooking Mama

Mary-Beth

we all know Mary-Beth is an Animal Crossing fan

she even has a plush of Tom Nook 

Bill

Bill has played The Last of Us too many times to count. 

Now whenever he gets drunk he just rambles about how amazing the game is, how he loves Joel with all his heart and about how cool the different types of zombies are

...he hasn’t played the second game yet

Kieran

Are you ready to get mad? No? Ok, quickly prepare yourself to get mad. Kieran’s favourite video game is... Fortnite. HA

For his birthday, everyone buys him Fortnite lunchboxes and pencil cases lol

Lenny 

Lenny adores the Assassin’s Creed franchise, he can be a real history nerd sometimes so he loves finding all the little historical details.

But please don’t ask him what his favourite Assassin’s Creed game is. Arthur asked him once and Lenny made diagrams and charts to map out the pros and cons of each game and he still hasn’t picked which one is his favourite.

Abigail 

Her and Jack like to take turns playing Subway Surfers.

It’s what she plays whenever she gets some time to herself.

Molly

Molly loves singing as loud as she can on Singstar

She also got the dlc for it so she can sing while Charles plays guitar

Susan

Tetris... yup...

Micah 

Micah is the biggest Call of Duty fan out there.

He’s played the campaign of every game and he’s a pro at online.

And yes, he’s that guy that will sneak up and knife you in online instead of just shooting you.

Tilly 

Tilly could make a 2 hour presentation on why she loves Detroit: Become Human so much 

She makes everyone play the first mission and then judges everyone based on the choices they make

The game also makes her become very aware of the little choices she makes in everyday life

Trelawny

Trelawny thinks sending people emojis is a game

No one has told him that emojis aren’t a game because of how much fun he has with it

He sends people the most bizarre emojis all the time now 

[c-r-ash-crash]

New Life Chapter 4

Etho pushed himself to his feet, using the cave wall to steady himself. He rubbed at his face groggily. God, he hated moving to new servers. Especially if that server included permadeath. He slipped his mask on, and clipped his sword and makeshift scabbard onto his waist. He pulled on his gloves and rubbed the sleep from his eyes one last time. Up and at ‘em.

He marched out into the main room of the little shelter he and Bdubs had constructed the night before. He slipped silently into the small tunnel connecting the shelter to Bdubs’ tiny closet of a room. He stepped into the room and saw Bdubs passed out on the bed, sprawled out awkwardly. Etho couldn’t help a small smile at the sight. Then his hand brushed against his sword.

It would be so easy to kill Bdubs right now. His abdomen was completely unguarded, and there were no weapons within sight other than his own. It would be smart too. If what everyone else said was true, Bdubs was also on four lives. Taking one and knocking him down to his lime green life wouldn’t be a bad idea. He wouldn’t go red just yet, but he’d also be easier to take out if need be.

Etho shook his head, letting his hand fall back to the side. What was he thinking? He and Bdubs were allies. He couldn’t kill his fellow hermit. He wouldn’t kill him. Besides he wasn’t a red life yet. He wouldn’t be allowed to kill him. Not yet, at least.

Gently, Etho reached out his hand and shook Bdubs awake.

Grian rode through the forest, reins draped through his fingers. The horse he had found was a beautiful steed, snow white and muzzle speckled with spots of black and dark gray. His search for caves last night had been fruitless. But when he had found the horse, he had found a set of diamond armor tied to the creature's side. Part of Grian wondered if it was a gift from the universe. Most of him really, really hoped it wasn’t.

Suddenly, he heard two voices drifting through the trees. One was male, one was female. He recognized Scar’s voice instantly, and after a moment, he also recognized Lizzie’s. Quietly, he dismounted and wrapped the horse’s reins around a tree. “I’ll be back in a minute, buddy,” he murmured. Then he set off.

After a moment, the trees cleared to reveal a small river side beach and a cave plunging into the side of a small hill. Scar was sitting on the edge of the hill, and Grian could see a bright pink and blue smudge just inside the cave that must have been Lizzie. “You know, I’m actually the boogeyman,” Scar was saying. “So you should definitely give me a life.” Grian froze.

“Scar, don't joke about that!” he blurted out before he could stop himself. Scar leapt to his feet and Lizzie scrambled to see over the hill. “Oh, hey, Grian,” Scar said, grin growing wider. “Didn’t see you! Did you hear what I was telling Lizzie?” “About how you’re actually the boogeyman?” Grian said, eyebrow raised. “Do you even know what the boogeyman does?” “Well of course!” Scar said. “Then you know that if the boogeyman doesn’t kill someone in nine days then they become a red life?”

Scar’s face fell momentarily, horrified. But then his eyes lit up with mischief. Grian swore under his breath. “Of course I knew that,” Scar said, turning back to Lizzie. “Which is exactly why you should give me a life, Lizzie. If you do that then I won’t kill you this round.” “But why’s that such a big deal?” Lizzie asked. “I have plenty of lives to spare. It doesn’t really matter if you take one. Besides, this is just a game right?”

Grian flinched back, and Scar’s jaw tightened. “No, Lizzie,” he said quietly. “This is not ‘just a game.’” “Lizzie,” Grian explained, voice slightly pained. “If you lose all your lives, then you're dead. Like, permanently. It was a miracle we survived last time. I don’t know if the universe will let us come back this time.” The mood sombered. Lizzie simply stared as she processed what Grian had just said.

Then, suddenly, Scar clapped his hands together, startling the others out of their thoughts. “That’s exactly why you don’t want me to kill you, Lizzie,” he said. Suddenly, Grian had his arm caught in his grip and was pulling Scar into the trees. Scar stumbled along behind him, spluttering indignantly. Once they had reached the spot where Grian had left his horse, he shoved Scar up against a tree.

“This isn’t a game, Scar,” he growled. “Lizzie is a friend. And if she dies, she could die permanently. Don’t ever threaten people like that again. Our actions have actual consequences. This isn’t just some harmless scam you’re pulling. This is people’s lives, Scar. Do you not see how messed up that is?” Scar’s gaze hardened. “Grian, let me go. Now.” Grian didn’t move. “Grian,” Scar warned, much more firmly this time.

“Promise me,” Grian said, voice small and almost defeated. “Please, Scar. Promise you won’t pull a stunt like that.” “I promise,” Scar said. Grian didn’t notice the way he crossed his fingers as he spoke. Grian released his hold on Scar. Suddenly, Scar sprinted away and began untying Grian's horse from the tree. “What are you-” Grian said, but before he could finish the sentence, Scar was already galloping away.

Bdubs pressed his ear closer to the wall, listening for the tell-tale sound of lava. His brow furrowed, but then he pulled back. “This wall should be clear,” Bdubs said. “Who knows, maybe we’ll even get lucky and it’ll open into a cave.” Etho nodded silently, then gestured for Bdubs to move.

Bdubs stepped back as Etho raised his pick and brought it down on the rock face. A minute later, he had broken through the wall. He brushed away a few stray pieces of stone, and Bdubs tucked the item drops into his pocket. “Well, shall we see what’s on the other side?” Etho asked. Bdubs nodded, and slipped through the opening.

There was indeed a cave. Quickly, Bdubs propped a torch up against the wall, and scanned the area. He saw a few veins of iron and coal, but otherwise, nothing truly useful. “No diamonds in here,” he called back to Etho. “There’s some iron though if you want that.” “I think we’ve got bigger problems,” Etho said from right beside Bdubs. Bdubs jumped. “Geez,” he muttered. “How long were you standing there?” Then he noticed Etho was staring intently at a darkened corner of the cave.

Bdubs followed his gaze to see Tango and Skizz standing in the corner, hands on the hilts of their swords. “Oh, hey guys,” he greeted. “How long have you been in here?” “Couple hours,” Tango said evenly. “Stayed here once we heard you guys coming though. You might want to consider being more careful. After all, we only have so many lives.” Bdubs’ hand strayed towards his sword. “We do,” he said, a hint of threat creeping into his voice. “I would be pretty careful if I was you.”

Suddenly Etho broke in, trying to diffuse the tension. “So, how’s the resource gathering been going, gentlemen?” “Pretty good,” Skizz, still slightly cautious. “We found a couple of diamonds.” “Oh, really?” Etho said. Bdubs could practically see the gears turning behind his eyes. “How many?” “Four,” Skizz said with a shrug. “That means two each.”

Before anyone could blink, Tango was entangled in spider webs, another cobweb item floating in Etho’s hand. “Well, gentlemen, it’s wonderful that you’ve found some diamonds. But let me explain how this is gonna go,” the ninja said, calmly, tossing the cobweb from hand to hand. “One of us is the boogeyman. If you want to escape with your lives, you’ll hand over those diamonds.” “We don’t even know what the boogeyman is supposed to be,” Tango scoffed. “That’s hardly a threat.”

“Oh, I’m happy to explain,” Etho said. “You see, the boogeyman is someone randomly chosen by the server every nine days. And guess what? They get to kill people regardless of how many lives they have.” Bdubs felt sick. Etho was literally threatening to kill their friends. Did Etho know Bdubs was the boogeyman. If Bdubs really thought about it, his strategy was a good one. Someone on the server was allowed to kill, and no one knew who it was. Using that fact to get better resources was a good move. Bdubs tried desperately to ignore how vulnerable Tango was right now, how close at hand his sword was.

Skizz’s hand crept towards his sword. “Ah ah ah,” Etho warned. “There are two of us. One of you is trapped, and one of us is allowed to kill. I wouldn’t try anything Skizz.” Bdubs’ stomach began to turn. It would be so, so easy to kill Tango right now. He shoved the thought down.

“What’ll it be, gentlemen?” Etho said. Bdubs’ hand brushed over the hilt of his sword. Suddenly, he drew it, and Skizz and Tango flinched back. He cut the webs away from Tango. “Get out of here,” he ordered. Tango and Skizz didn’t protest, sprinting out of the cave. Bdubs watched them go. The headache from yesterday was returning. He ignored how feverish his skin felt, ignored the growing nausea in his stomach. He should have killed Tango.

Pearl added another layer of stone to the small platform she and Scott had made. He was a few blocks above her, scanning the nearby forest for any signs of other players. She glanced up, ready to ask him what he was seeing, but stopped when she saw his expression.

He was sitting despondent on the edge of the platform, twisting his crown between his hands, rubbing his thumb over the rim. The poppy he had picked earlier was sitting by his side, seemingly forgotten. What had happened between him and Jimmy earlier. Clearly they had been friends, at least once upon a time. But it was clear that wasn’t the case anymore, or at least Jimmy hadn’t wanted that to be the case. She watched as Scott’s fists curled around the crown. He looked as if he wanted to fling it away. But after a moment, he relaxed. Pearl sighed affectionately, and began clambering up the tower.

Before she reached the tower however, she heard the sound of horse hooves, and glanced down to see Scar riding a beautiful white horse. “Hey, Scar!” she called down. Scar startled, but then he too called down to Scar. “Hey guys!” Scar called up. “What’re you up too?” “Just a quick break,” Pearl said, dropping back down to the lower half of the platform. “Nice, nice,” Scar said. “Say, Pearl, I can’t help but notice you’re on your dark green life.”

“I am,” Pearl said, not missing the way Scott’s hand drifted to the bow slung across his back. “Well, that means you have a few lives to spare,” Scar said. “You know, we have a give life command now, so you can just transfer lives to each other.” “Oh, really?” Pearl said. “And I assume you want me to transfer you a life?”

“Well, of course,” Scar said. “But if you need some extra incentive, I’m also the boogeyman.” “What does that mean?” Scott asked warily. “It means I’m allowed to kill you.” Pearl froze. Casually, Scott unslung his bow. “Lot of good that does you,” he said. “It’s two versus one. Besides we’re up here and I have a bow.” Scar’s face fell. Then, they heard the sound of soft humming drifting across the clearing. A few minutes later, Jimmy appeared at the edge of the little field. Scar’s face lit up. “You may be safe but Jimmy’s not,” he said. “What?” Jimmy asked, startled by the sudden acknowledgement of his presence.

“Hey, Jimmy,” Scar greeted. “Have you heard of the wonderful give life command?” “I have actually,” Jimmy said, pleased. “I bumped into Grian earlier. He told me about it.” “Well, then, surely you already know how to use it,” Scar said. “I’m not giving you my life Scar,” Jimmy said. “Would it convince you if I told you that I’m the boogeyman?” Scar said, a bit of menace creeping into his voice. “I could just kill you if I wanted too.”

Pearl didn’t miss the way Scott instantly loaded an arrow and aimed it at Scar’s head. “I’m not giving you a life, Scar,” Jimmy said again, a bit more nervously this time. “‘Cause then I’ll be on my red life, and I really don’t think anyone wants that. I have a spyglass, though.” There was silence for a moment, but then Scar shrugged. “Yeah, I’ll accept that.” Jimmy tossed it to Scar, and scampered off as quickly as he could.

Pearl didn’t miss how Scott waited until both Jimmy and Scar were out of sight before he let himself relax.

Grian clambered up the hill to the enchanting table that marked spawn. He opened the book that lay in the center of the table, and smeared lapis dust across his sword. He began to speak the enchantment, but suddenly, he heard something hit the ground behind him. He whirled around, brandishing the sword but relaxed when he saw Etho.

“Man, Etho, we really need to put a bell on you,” he joked. “Please don’t” Etho said lightly. “That sounds like it’d be a nuisance.” “Yeah, but you couldn’t scare the rest of us half to death all the time.”

Etho rolled his eyes, and tossed a crafting table to the ground. “Bdubs, where are you?” he called down the hill. “I’m here, I’m here,” Bdubs complained, appearing as he spoke. “Cool,” Etho said. “You can get our stuff enchanted after Grian.” Bdubs nodded. “Tables free,” Grian said, resheathing his sword. “I see your resource gathering has been going well.” “Yeah,” Bdubs said, rubbing lapis across his and Etho’s swords. “Took us a while to find diamonds, but eventually we did.” “Nice,” Grian said. “What are you making, Etho?” “Jukebox,” Etho said, tossing the item to the ground as he did so. “Yeah, we found this really cool music disc earlier.”

Etho slipped the disc into the jukebox and eerie music began to echo throughout the night. “You know,” Etho said. “Whenever you hear this, someone’s about to die.” Grian burst out laughing. “Oh man,” Grian said. “Please tell me one of you is the boogeyman so we can make this happen.” “You’re correct,” Bdubs said.

Suddenly, a sword was slashing across Grian’s chest. “Wait what?” Grian said stumbling, fumbling to draw his own sword. Before he could do anything though, Bdubs made another thrust at him, piercing his shoulder. Grian turned tail and spirited away. He reached the edge of the river, and was about to jump into the water when a sword plunged into his back and through his chest.

Grian was slain by Bdoubleo100.

[bitchassbucky]

.eps (explicit)

Word Count: 2k

Warning/s: dark!bucky x dark!reader, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, blood mention, gore and dismemberment/beheading, murder, toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, sedation/drugging/use of sedative, stockholm syndrome-ish, one very special character reveal

A/N: i told y'all there's more <3 the special character treat is for @sarge-barnes-sir mwah!

this is queued shdhhsh gonna fix the links in the mornin’

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS ABOVE, IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ THIS VERSION, GO AND CHECK OUT THE NON-EXPLICIT VERSION.

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

Safeness, comfortability, warmth are all but a false sense of reality.

When a prey takes down its walls, the predator moves in. Camouflaged in familiar colors, in words that you’re used to hearing, in praises, in lies. Most predators use the mask of the night to move in darkness—unyielding and calculated. Come morning, there will be only one left alive, tainted with victory and bloodshed.

You and Bucky have been engaging in a dance for two—a battle of who’s willing to take the leap of faith and unleash hell upon the other.

Stifled smiles and pursed lips.

The air is filled with unsaid irritants, little things that ticked away like bombs.

There was no time for pleading, no time for mercy, no rest for the wicked.

Did you still love each other?

How far are you willing to go to keep up with his… complacency?

Bucky’s mundane life already taking a toll on you. The endless nightmares of him feeling you. The swirling vision of Bucky being with you every waking—and sleeping—moment: it grates your soul to shreds.

“We’ll be together forever, right?”

“Yes, darling.”

“What about the day after forever?”

“That too, honey.”

Where was the man you loved so deeply? The man that broke his morals just to be with you?

Was he under this hull of a Yes Man? A poor little thing that says ‘yes’ to everything like a puppy.

The man you held so dearly now slipping away, chipping his humanity, shedding the once-human.

“Would you marry me tomorrow if I asked you?”

“Of course, baby, why wouldn’t I?”

“Would you kill for me?”

“I’m meant to do the same for you.”

It’s irritating how Bucky gave up too quickly. Too fast, moving too fast. The gazelle let the lion tear its neck as it lay there, unmoving, letting the blood seep into its hide.

When you first met Bucky, it was your own fairytale unfolding before your eyes. Kismet, reality, forgiveness from above. He was soft and shy, passionate, lively.

Far from what you expected from a man his age—you blame Steve for forcing you into his narrative before. That all men are out to get you. They will hurt you. They will use you and leave you for good. But Bucky? Bucky came in like a knight. He saved you from the carcass of your past. He saved you from the sins that you prayed and knelt for.

Bucky taught you how to love.

Bucky taught you how to live for yourself.

Bucky taught you that being alone doesn’t mean you have to be lonely.

“It was an unspoken little thing, wasn’t it?”

“What thing, baby?”

“Our love.”

“Yes, honey, it was.”

He worships you.

He worships you like a fucking God and you hate it.

Suffocating, too suffocating. You dove straight for the water and now you’re drowning.

Do you still love each other? The question hangs in the air, heavy with its weight, light as a feather.

It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault.

So you stand there with a syringe half-filled with a horse sedative. It’s a concern how easy it is to waltz into a pet store and pick up a general anesthetic. You make a mental note to look at it later.

Bucky’s body slumps forward, his forehead meeting the edge of the table with a dull thud. If the overdose doesn’t kill him, the weeping crack in his head will.

Holy fuck, humans bleed a lot. And fast. Good thing you already have that clear tarp taped down. Even with the hush money stuffed down your throat, it would take a good nick to regrout the kitchen.

“What is that for, honey?”

“I’m painting the cabinets.”

“Okay, darling.”

So you let him bleed, surprised that the liquid is redder than what you thought it would be. A soft gurgling noise came from Bucky, the last of air escaping his dead body. You stood there, syringe in hand, as you thought how to dispose of a six-foot-tall man without arousing suspicion.

Not that he’ll be missed anyway: the local news and the internet already branded him as a psycho and you as a victim. You were both victims in this fairytale. They reported his case as “skipped the town like the sicko he is.” So, no—no one’s going to look for him.

The sun was high up in the sky and there was a dead body in your kitchen.

A butcher and a surgeon walks into a bar for a drink. “What do you do for a living?” Said the butcher, “I save lives! What about you?” The doctor answers. “I save animals from dying slowly. We’re basically the same. You’re just very clean.” You see, the butcher comes into the bar covered in blood, reeking of death. The surgeon, on the other hand, wears his white coat with pride even though he’s surrounded by death every passing second.

Today was the day you learned that you have the tools of a butcher and the precision of a surgeon. Unlike before.

You carefully take Bucky’s fingers off of his left hand, leaving a skin flap on the edge of the last knuckle for you to stitch close later. Four promises. Four goddamn promises and he broke all of them.

It was his fault that he’s dead. He made you do this.

Starting with his left shoulder, you jab the knife between the bone and the soft flesh of his armpit, bringing the blade downwards. The sickening smell of blood swirled along with the image of muscle and fat being sliced made you gag.

Does the brain know that it’s seeing something it shouldn’t?

A rational part of you wanted to look away but the time is ticking, it’ll be much harder once rigor mortis sets in an hour.

You swing the knife down, cracking the bone once, and then again, and again, and again until the shoulder bone splinters and dislocates itself from the rest of Bucky’s torso. You had to switch knives and blades and a fucking bone saw to get through the rest of his limbs, leaving only his chest, head, and stomach untouched. After taping up and packing the arms and the legs, you work on putting the rest of Bucky into a nondescript suitcase.

The only problem being his head getting into the way of things.

Wanting to preserve even a shred of his dignity, you left his face untouched. Well, save from the crack in his skull.

You begrudgingly take a hefty chef’s knife and start cutting through the jugular vein, only stopping when the blade hits the spinal cord by his nape. The serrated blade of the bone saw sits on your blood-soaked gloves, scrape-scrape-scraping until it snaps into two.

The human head weighs around 10 pounds, kinda like a bowling ball.

An opaque black garbage bag containing Bucky’s head looks nothing suspicious as you put it inside a backpack—into a firepit you go.

His limbs—arms and legs alike—are going deep into the ocean, forgotten and to be used as fish food.

The limbless torso will be finding its home in a deep hole in the middle of a densely wooded area, far from the city.

But you’re not quite sure what to do with the mason jar of teeth though; the clinking noises of it remind you of the seashells you used to collect when you were a kid. Maybe you’ll stash it away with the torso.

Placing the bags into the trunk of a rental, you begin your journey to the end of your fairytale.

The drive to and from the places was tiring, to say the least. The internet connection of the diners was spotty at best. Locals were overly friendly with the city folks who came passing through their towns. The roads reek of roadkill and manure from the farm animals that were left to roam for fresh grass.

At least you get to come home in a spotless apartment, alone once again.

But not lonely.

Your space is yours again. No trace of anyone anywhere. Immaculately yours.

—

Humans are social creatures.

No one can truly be alone, especially in today’s world where we’re connected to everyone—whether we liked it or not.

Leaving your wretched job behind was an easy feat to do. No one can say no to the victim of such a vile crime. That’s all they saw you: a helpless little thing. So off you went; saying half-assed goodbyes and sending emails of courage and hope and fucking resilience.

Your resignation meant that the company’s free of any dirt from you, Bucky’s disappearance quickly becoming a joke and a rumor blending in one.

They let you leave: in your bank account a fat check ensuring that you’d shut up about the scandal for months until you can’t feed yourself no more. So you packed your bags and jet off without looking back. You never liked that apartment anyway.

Nevertheless, you found yourself looking into another dead-end job in one of the towns you stopped over before. It’s a charming place like time froze in their plaza while the rest of the world went on. You found a small studio apartment in a street tuckered away from the main avenue, you settled there as days became nights and nights turned into days.

You woke up one morning craving a healthy serving of coffee and pancakes, luckily the town’s local diner wasn’t far from your new home.

The coffee was too hot, the pancakes were amazing, fluffy, and just right. You’re sitting in a sunny booth, the warmth doing its wonders.

“Hi, can I get today’s paper, please?” Your voice is sweet as you call your server, giving her a quick smile.

A pair of Raybans adorn your face, unconsciously hiding behind its darkened glasses. The waitress gives you a thick stack of newspapers, refilling your cup with black coffee.

Upon opening the paper, you ignore the town’s headlines and went straight for the job postings. The door jingled open as patrons come in and go, waving to familiar faces.

Job Vacancy Announcements

Secretary to the Town Sheriff

You skimmed over the rest of the details, only noting the address of the office. The job looks quite lucrative for someone who would only take messages and organize files for the sheriff.

Looking over the job posting again, you read over the words walk-ins only. That shouldn’t be hard enough.

The diner looked deserted save from the man sitting behind your booth. Leaning over and tapping his shoulder, you put on a polite smile, “Hi, sorry, do you know how to get to the sheriff’s office from here?”

“Hello, darling.” The man croons in an accent, he looks over to you, “join me in my booth, will ‘ya?”

You’re in no position to reject his proposal, you’re the one who needed an answer.

Taking your coffee cup, you slide into his booth, “hi.”

“Just the face I wanted to see.” Clean-shaven, a hint of mint and smoke, and something woody; a worn leather jacket and white button-up shirt hugging his soft frame. “Some folks over on the apartment complex were talkin’ about a city girl wanting to rent a studio all by herself. That happen to be you?”

You look over to him, trying to understand how that small of news spread like a wildfire, “yeah. I moved in a week ago.”

He leans over, smiling sweetly as he unabashedly lets his eyes roam your features, “What’s a city girl like you doin’ in a place like this? I hope we ain’t too boring for you, gal.”

Chatty—he’s way too chatty.

“Just wanted a change of pace, really. Away from the bustle of the city.” You rustle the paper, clearing your throat to get back on the matter on hand, “so the sheriff’s office? Is it too far from here?”

“What business are ‘ya bringing into the office?”

“A job, actually. Says here that they’re looking for a secretary.” You might as well tell him everything, he seems too chatty to be dismissed over and over again.

“Well, darlin’, today’s your lucky day. No need to drive down the old road.” He reaches down to his seat, pulling up a brown hat, “Hi, I’m Sheriff Bodecker. Now, to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

You bite back a giggle, you’ve always wanted to be involved with the law.