All my waking dreams are nightmares

Indie . Priv . Sel . Multimuse of OCs Written by Light, She/Her, 30+, MST This is a sideblog and will follow back from @cybrvce

Sleep Themed Starters

It isn't awkward per se. Roshan has gotten along with Reilly better than anticipated, a mistaken double booking not doing anything other than bringing two people together who might otherwise not have ever met. Honestly, it could be worse. But Roshan finds Reilly cute. Adorable. And the looks they've been exchanging haven't been missed by Roshan. This could just be his imagination, but...well, he doesn't think so.

Roshan grins and shakes his head. "C'mon, it's no big deal. The bed is big enough for both of us, and I promise to keep my hands to myself." A laugh, and his grin grows broader, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

Sleep Themed Prompts

She's fighting sleep so hard despite the warmth of Corwin beside her in their shared bed. It's rare they get this much time together, and she wants to spend as much as possible of it with him before She gets angry and tears them apart. Her memories have started coming back - in pieces, in dreams, in quiet moments in-between - and she remembers enough to know that past lives have given them days, but have also only given them minutes. What will this one be?

She turns towards him and rests her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest, looking up into his eyes. "What if I can't? What if I don't wake this time?" Such a real possibility. What sort of death will she suffer this time? Or will it be him? Whose turn is it to die because of a deity neither of them remember angering?

for john. and for blue.

rough hands come together to meet just above the waistline of his jeans, where coat brushes against the lay of shirt, as fingers nervously begin to pick at one another with a quiet clear of his throat, waiting until he sees the woman look up. "i... i could use some help..." milo knew this was going to be a struggle, never finding it easy to talk to strangers, but he was doing this to get better. "i was... i was told that.. you could help. i need some books on dogs..." his voice is gruff, but quiet, matching to the square of his shoulders, and yet differing in how it softens as if afraid someone will judge him for speaking.

Random asks are love incarnate!

Alexis hears the light tinkling of the bell over the door, but she's furiously finishing up the math for the week's expenses, triple checking her numbers as if afraid that everything lining up perfectly is a trick. Can never be too careful, though; the last thing she wants is for Felix to have to quadruple check her math because she wasn't careful enough. He has enough on his plate as is.

Her eyes flit across the page, doing the math in her head instead of on her phone - she did that the first time - because something about doing it in her head, on her fingers, and on her phone helps her really feel like she's correct. It isn't neuroticism or any form of hyperfixation. She just wants to make things easier for Felix, as best as she can, and balancing the numbers and leaving a little sticky note atop the paper of her math at least gives him a decent basis to work off. She doesn't know if he actually accepts her numbers as is, or if he also checks them. Mornings aren't her shift.

She finishes up just as the newcomer clears his throat, and she looks up, grinning. "Sorry about that," she says kindly, setting everything aside and stepping out from behind the counter. He looks nervous, as if sudden movements could make him bolt, so she tries to be careful, not approaching too close or too quickly, keeping distance without being rude. Too many years in customer service will hone those skills.

"Of course, I can definitely help you with that." She gestures for him to follow her and leads him through the shelves to the one with pet care. "It depends on what you need. Behavioral issues, information on dog breeds, photography books." Her smile is warm as she looks to him. "What kind of books are you looking for?"

Oh so we're hurting each other's feelings today :<

It isn't the first time they've found themselves in the garage after hours, the door raised and the two of them sitting together on the ground. Nijah rolls his beer bottle between his fingers, only a couple of draughts taken from it. The growing feeling that No-ah might be leaving again soon hasn't been able to leave his mind, and he's wondering which conversation will finally make that a reality.

Maybe it'll be tonight. At least now Nijah has his number and hopefully a way to reach him again if it happens. No-ah is always just...so sad and anxious, on edge. Nijah wonders if he's also waiting for that conversation and unsure when to begin. (It doesn't have to. Nijah doesn't want to lose him again.)

When No-ah says his name, Nijah glances over, worry creasing his brow at the question. "What?" he asks as he processes what he just said, a question founded in some sort of worry that Nijah wants to erase entirely, a small kindling of desperation beginning to alight in his chest. "No. No, I care about you because you're my closest friend. I-"

All these years being apart, not knowing where he and No-el had gone, if they were safe, if they were alive. No-ah had been Nijah's first love, and that's never faded, no matter how many others he's tried to date, that he's slept with, that he's attempted any sort of romantic relationship with. No-el was like a brother to him, someone Nijah always tried to protect from others in the orphanage.

Without another thought, he holds the back of No-ah's neck and pulls him close, kissing him firmly, desperately, his other hand holding the side of his face. Being here with him feels right, it feels like this is exactly where he should be. Where he needs to be. He presses in a bit more, parting his lips to mesh their mouths together. He wants to hold No-ah tightly for as long as possible, but he relents, releasing the kiss several moments later and looking into No-ah's eyes.

Flirtatious Sentence Prompts

Work has been hectic, leaving Vikash exhausted at the end of each shift that only gets longer. They can't do longer than thirty-six hour shifts at this hospital, thank fuck, but even those are starting to kick his ass. He's learning the discipline of staying up that long, taking the four-hour mandatory rests to keep himself alert, sleeping in the hospital bunks that are barely above just sleeping on a box spring.

Being on his own bed is a welcome feeling after all that, but sleep is foregone because Lavender had texted him - she knows his schedule since he'd accidentally shared his calendar with her from his phone - saying she was at his place, waiting for him, and he's grateful he'd given her a key, because now she's sat him on the edge of his bed and perched herself on his thighs, tugging apart the buttons of his shirt while pressing her mouth to his in slow, languid kisses.

Her lingerie is pale purple, befitting her name, and the straps wound around her thighs and waist accentuate the softness of her skin, pressing lines across her body that his fingers lie parallel to. He holds her waist and groans softly into the kiss. Her hands drift down as each button pops open. It isn't entirely delusion from being awake and busy and stressed for so long that makes him feel like she's a fucking goddess atop his legs; she's stunning and he's goddamn lucky.

"Take it off," she breathes against his lips, and he does so, rolling his shoulders to help shrug it off as she works at his belt and the zipper of his slacks. He's hard and he wants her, and normally he'd grip her hips, roll them over, take control. But he doesn't want to this time, and it seems she isn't expecting him to. God, she treats him so well.