#(yes...that shall be her character tag)

[bell-swamp-fitzjames]

mcdonald goodsir talking scene but its like an hour bc i just would like to see them talk more

[luvuomi]

an untuned 𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓵𝓲𝓷 ༄.°

though the departed have long since transcended to a realm that is beyond mortal reach, traces of their existence continue to remain left behind like the feathers of a snow-winged goose that has taken flight. aside from his vision—its rekindled permanence forever a stark reminder of the burden that must be carried—amélie also harbors another relic of ███ and unlike the former, its presence harbors much more fond memories from a simpler time.

when she was still a child, on his fifteenth birthday, the boy had urgently roused her from sleep in the dead of night, showing her two tickets for a performance happening in the opera epiclese that very day. hesitant to leave the comforts of her bed, the boy’s enthusiasm—which had been a rare sight in regards to his otherwise stoic demeanor—was difficult to ward off. and so, in silent acquiescence, amélie would accompany ███ to the court of fontaine, lending an ear to his passionate musings, which was an uncommon indulgence for him before arriving at their destination.

the opera house felt larger than life itself back then; regal halls decorated with oil paintings gilded in gold, polished marble floors, and chandeliers that dangled high from the ceiling, sparkling in their opulence. amélie won’t forget how out of place she had felt the entire time, especially once they had taken their seats on those velvet chairs that felt as though they were made to sit royalty. but as the lights dimmed and a ballerina, alongside her violinist took to the stage—accompanied by a fellow orchestra—amélie was no longer just a little girl sitting in the theater.

following that night, ███ had insisted they learn the piece, with the hopes of one day getting to perform it for themselves. he would play the violin and she would play the role of the ballerina. they would practice for countless hours along the shorelines of petrichor playing until either his fingers grew calloused or her legs became too sore to move. in the end.. they never would get to play that piece together and their only audience had ever been the pale moon above.

years later, amélie now returns to that spot on the shorelines, unaccompanied and with a violin in hand—his violin. it has remained untouched for quite some time now, strings taut from a lack of attunement and the hollowness from within more apparent than when he had held it. but here on this familiar stage, where the waves slowly fall in and out of the tide and the moon offers its faint gaze upon her just as it did all those years ago, the lonely ballerina takes hold of the violin once more.

“to you my friend. may the stars of this sky guide you on into the afterlife, and may you find peace in a world much kinder than this one.”

🎨 →⠀﹐⠀╱⠀adorable chibi art was made by the lovely Renkiiqui whom you can find on vgen and twitter! guys please go commission them ( threat /lh ) they are so talented and deserve so much more recognition for their work. trust me when i say you will not be disappointed with the outcome <3

[middle-earth-mythopoeia]

Uh, guys? Don't confuse your crappy televised fanfic for the story that Tolkien actually wrote.

Galadriel was never "under Sauron's thrall." That's something ROP made up. In Unfinished Tales, she was the only one in Eregion who suspected that Annatar was lying about being an emissary of the Valar. Celebrimbor was deceived by him. She was not. She was certainly not "under his thrall." No, not even because she had Nenya.

Yes, when Frodo offered her the One Ring, she was tempted. It could have given her the power to prevent the fading of Lothlórien. But when she makes this speech in the book, and in the Peter Jackson movies, it's her own thought, she's not repeating something that Sauron said to her once:

“You will give me the Ring freely! In place of the Dark Lord you will set up a Queen. And I shall not be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night! Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain! Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightning! Stronger than the foundations of the earth. All shall love me and despair!”

These are Galadriel's words. Her words. Not Sauron's. And she was tempted by the One Ring because she could have been a more powerful queen, not Sauron's queen. Like, you guys really took one of the most powerful and complex female characters in Tolkien's works and you made her story all about a man and his power over her and his manipulation of her. Fuck off.

And stop tagging ROP as Lord of the Rings.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Pact 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, violence, size kink, blood, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your city has been ruined by goblins and must make a deal with a different sort of beast to save your people.

Characters: orc!Steve Rogers, orc!Bucky Barnes, human!reader

Note: here we go.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The mist wafts around the mountain pass, the dulled glow of firelight speckled through the camp. As the sky dims, bodies shiver, with more than the cold, and voices lower as ears listen for the howl of wolves or winging of fanged bats. You hunch down between your sisters, Medra and Castina, holding your hands up to the flame above the kindling and cinder. Your brother, Ralf, whets his blade, as your other, Frin, chips stones to points for the tips of arrows. The same labour can be heard from around the encampment.

Your mother and father are in the tent already. The rest of you are sleepless. You don't think they are dreaming peacefully, only hiding as their aging bones ache from the damp cold. You glance down and scratch away the dry blood around the linen wound tight around your hand. Castina reaches to pet your arm as she notices the movement.

"I can smell the smoke from here," she whispers.

"The foundation will hold," Ralf intones, always the one who knows. "It's stone. The pillars are strong. There won't be much to rebuild."

"Only goblins to chase out," Medra, the youngest retorts. "Ugly creatures."

"Beasts," Frin agrees. "But we will regroup and we will reclaim the city."

"Will we?" Castina asks. "Or shall we perish here in these crags? A fortnight now and we only move between the same caves."

"What do you know of war, hm?" Ralf challenges. "Here, take my sword and go down there. See how far you get, girl."

She frowns and rescinds her hand from your arm, pulling her cloak tighter, "I don't not reproach, I only wonder."

"You speak too much," he snorts.

You lean into her as she wipes her nose and her teeth chatter. You open your cloak and spread it over her shoulders. You are the middle of your sisters, of all of you. She is the eldest girl and yet she is so thin she cannot stand the frost. Her nose has been dribbling for days. You hear her trying to clear it at night. That and many noises which trouble you more.

"It is late, arguing cannot do us any good," you gird as you welcome Medra under the other wing of your cloak.

"Then go and put your head to rest, sister. Hide in your fancies as the men tend to the real world," he scoffs.

Frin tosses a stone at him. "Don't be such a mule. Did you not snore until midday?"

"I was on night watch last eve," Ralf hisses.

"Yes, I'm certain your rumbling scared away the night creatures," Frin chuckles.

"At arms!" The holler brings both your brothers to their feet and you squeeze your sisters. "At arms! At arms!"

Footfalls sprint in all directions as the men stir to action, each quick to man the border of the encampment with steel and hide. You shudder as Medra whimpers and Castina wipes her nose. Your father pokes his head out and hacks into the dirt.

"Have the come to finish their work?" He asks dryly and pulls on his pointed helm. "Aditha, my sword."

He turns back at the rustling within. You stand and Medra clings to your arm. You tug on Castina as she struggles. She needs to keep warm.

"Halt!" The echo rolls around the stone wall of the mountain and sends a ripple through the women and children as they recede from their fires, clustering against the stone. "Men, to your lines."

The bodies in armour, leather and otherwise, form a boundary around the camp, locking together in formation. Shields at the front, arrows to the rear. Yet, you do not hear marching in responses.

"A shadow--"

"Shhhh---"

The voices hush as the collective draw in a terrified breath. Your father emerges and scrambles to join the ranks. A child cries and their mother cooes. An infant begins to fuss. You squeeze your sisters' wrists.

"You should only draw steel if you mean to use it," a sonorous voice carries as if from the heavens.

"East!" A soldier hollers.

"No, west," another claims.

"Well, city of man, is it blood you search for in these mountains?" The voice bounces off the walls once more.

"Show yourself!" The general demands. "What foe hides himself like a snake?"

A rock tumbles down the rock face and lands in the midst of the camp, sending dirt up at impact. You cry out in surprise and turn to look above. Tall shadows loom on the narrow ledges. You back away with the rest of the women in children, likes tides off the coast. The men redirect their bows.

"Ah, now, you will not fire," the beast above proclaims. The mist slowly clears. "For your women and children are not behind your shields, rather at my mercy." The large figure lowers himself to sit, with his legs hanging over the rock face. He is not spindly and sickly like the ravenous goblins, rather thick as a great oak. His dark hair hangs past his shoulders, his beard thick around his square jaw, two teeth poking up from beneath his lower lip. Orcs.

"Beasts! You would savage the defenseless," The general accuses.

"If I wish to do so, so I would," the orc replies.

"Knock," the general calls.

The orc shows a palm, "loose your bows and I shall loose hellfire." He closes his fist and lets it drop.

"You are upon orcish lands. We only wonder why." Another appears behind him. His skin is a fairer shade, yellowish green, and his hair is gold, a braid on each side of his head against his loose locks. He looks over the edge.

"We men do not fear monsters," the general calls.

The soldiers break out into a rabble, clanging their shields and swords, shouting to the sky. The orcs laugh. Both of them.

As silence casts back upon the men with the weight of their fear, you peer between them and the creatures above.

"There are only two," you say. Medra squeaks and Castina hisses as she tugs on you weakly.

"Who speaks?" The general snarls. "This is no business of women."

"Sister," Ralf booms, "silence."

"Is sense not in a woman's domain?" You return. "There are two against you all. Has enough blood not been shed?"

The dark-haired orc scoffs, "your wench speaks sense, does she not?"

"It is not her place." The general snaps.

"Nor is this yours," the blond orc insists. "Though we can see that your own is in ash."

"Are orcs and goblins so different?" Another man shouts. "It is a trap!"

"Goblins," the brunette spits at the very word. "Those mongrels."

"I'd listen to the woman. She speaks wisely," the blond adds.

"We would not let ourselves be seen if we meant harm," the other adds.

"Then what is your meaning?" The captain barks.

The dark-haired orc laughs, the blond puts his hands on his hips.

"The goblins are a plague and we mean to cut the disease out of these lands," the golden-haired orc declares. "So let us agree over a keg of ale, lest we drown in blood."

"And how do we know you are not the ones to hold our heads under?" Another accuses.

The rumbling from above is like an avalanche. More laughter. Medra nestles closer and Castina groans. Her hand is clammy in yours. You let go of your younger sister to untie your cloak and slip it fully around the eldest.

"Let us hear them out," the captain counters, then moves closer to the general to speak unheard.

"We will feed your masses. Your stores will have been raided by the heathen," the blond orc avows.

"A discussion might be held, beyond our camp." The general agrees. "My people are tired and scared."

"I do not blame them," the dark-haired one returns, reaching up as the other helps him to his feet. "There is a pass, west from here. A series of stones jutting out like a great wave. We will await you there."

The orcs disappear as swiftly as they appear, the mist curtaining their departure. The general convenes with his officers as the soldiers exchange looks of concern. The women and children wail and whine in a tempest.

"You," a captain approaches, "since you do think yourself fit to meddle in the affairs of men, you will attend to pour the ale."

"My sister is sick," you hug Castina.

"You have another," he grabs your arm and tears you away. "You undermine not only the general but the city with your tripe. Come, lest you bring further shame to your father and brothers."

Ralf lashes your name out and you wince. You turn and bring Castina's arm around Medra, "take her to mother."

You face the solider and let him lead you away. You knew better than to speak up and yet you could not witness any more blood. You cannot stomach it.

"Churlish girl," the man grips his sword as you follow at his heels.

A party forms near the edge of camp. The general leads four captains and a dozen common soldiers. You walk amidst them with your hands clasping your skirt. Your father will have another reproach waiting.

You shiver without your cloak as you walk along the craggy ground, stones skittering away from your shoes and bouncing off the soldiers' boots. The scout ahead whistles but you can't see much beyond the wall of bodies around you. There's a grunt and a loud thump as the party comes to a halt and you nearly stride into the back of one of the men.

"As promised, fine orcish ale," the voice carries on the wind. "We will light a fire to keep warm and speak."

The soldiers fan out in a line. The general keeps to the head of the pointed formation. Your sights are obscured.

"We've brought a wench to pour serve the ale," a captain declares.

You are thrust forward suddenly by your arm. You scramble to keep up and are hurled ahead. You stagger and crash against the tall barrel before the two tall orcs. You catch yourself on the slats and peek up at them meekly. The dark-haired one reaches for you and you exclaim and collapse to the dirt, shielding yourself in fear.

He is unexpectedly gentle as he lifts you to your feet, "only meaning to keep the lady on her slippers."

You steady your legs as he releases you. The other reveals a wooden tap and shoves in into the barrel. The men reach for their belts and free their bone cups and brass flasks. The orcs reveal long tusks hollowed out for drink.

"General," the blond orc stands patiently.

You pour for the general first, then the orcs, and finally the assembly of men patiently approach and claim their frothy prize. The general and his captains stand in a half-circle as the dark-haired orc strikes a fire over kindling and stone. He stands and claims his ale from his companion.

"A truce between man and orc," the general mulls as he eyes the ale. The orcs drink.

"A pact which might prove fruitful to both," the blond suggests.

"You offer homecoming and food, but what do you ask?" The general growl.

"Let us introduce ourselves, first, eh? Let us meet with more than suspicious. You may call me Steve, my companion is Bucky. We hail from the Stonehead horde." The blond declares.

The general clucks, "General Howler," he returns. "The Duke was slain in the fire. His son is but a lad."

"Tragic," Steve replies with no lack of pity. "You require to rebuild, to feed those who will soon starve in theses passes. And labour to aid in all that. We have many who are strong who might bring timber and fortify your city anew. We have stores of stock to share. We do so with open hands in exchange for one thing."

"One thing?" The general repeats warily.

Steve and Bucky share a glance. The latter beckons to you and hands over his empty cup. You fill it and return it to him. His thick fingers brush yours. He is gargantuan compared to you. His brows are heavy, his jaw is square and stone, and his skin has a reddish undertone. His blue eyes gleam as he looks upon you, he cheek twitches. The other orc skims you with a glance.

"Daughters," Steve says at last.

"Daughters," the general echoes.

"Aye," Bucky says. "Women."

"For what purpose? You think we would let you desecrate our wives?"

"Wives? Not your wives. Ours," Bucky argues.

"Can not you lay with your own kind, cretinous beasts," a captain snarls.

"A plague," Steve intones. "A plague has swept through us and it took as many mothers as it did their babes. My own beloved among them. There are few left, not enough."

"It's... no, it cannot be done."

The orcs look to each other again then to the men. They dip their chins. "Enjoy your ale then. Go back to your people. Batter down and pray."

The general winces. The other men whisper and the captains drone behind their gauntlets. You skirt toward them.

"One daughter," the general says. The crowd grows silent. "Her." He points at you. "Prove that it can be done. That your seed does not split her in two and you will have more. And you will deliver us food enough for the winter to come. Should you bear fruit, you will have more and you will help us rebuild in the spring."

The orcs shift and turn to each other. You back away from both monster and man, pressing yourself to the rockface. The dark-haired one spins around and gestures to you.

The blond presents his sword. "On my blade, let it be done," he declares.

[animasola86]

LOST & FOUND 🫂 CH8

To further guide you into your new life, Mommy takes you to a sex shop, introducing you to the benefits of certain toys...

soft!Daddy!dom x Mommy!domme x little girl!reader

WARNINGS: F!Reader insert. NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Mommy/Daddy kink. Dd/Md/lg dynamics. Dom/sub undertones. Pet names. Sex shop. Sex toys/vibrators. Semi-public assisted masturbation. Vaginal fingering. Fluff. (More notes under the cut!)

WORDS: 5.8k 🔷️ READ ON AO3 🔷️ 1–2–3–4–5–6 7–8–9–10–11–12

A/N: Mommy POV incoming! Age and name reveal (again) because she is an original character (inspired by the women I tagged). We learn a bit more about her life and the world she lives in. (Reminder that this is a fictional relationship borrowing elements from Dom/sub and caregiver/little dynamics. I'm taking massive creative liberties here!) By the way, the next two chapters will have no Daddy in them, I'm sorry, I don't know what happened, Mommy took over. He'll be back soon though! (More info on Reader in previous A/Ns.)❗ (Please READ THIS if you're confused about the tags I listed this under!)❗

Chapter 7 🔷️ Chapter 8 🔷️ Chapter 9

After lunch, Isabella decided to finally confront you with the things she only ever teased at, the implications, the ideas, the expectations. She knew you still had no idea what it really meant to be a submissive, their submissive even, as eager as you were, and as grateful to be off the streets and heading towards a new chapter of your life. It was cute how clueless you were.

She knew that Noah had already taken it further than she had initially planned their little arrangement to go, the horny bastard, but that was part of his charm, and luckily you hadn't shied away from his advances. Indeed he seemed to have pulled you in fully, with whatever he had done to you. So as furious and jealous as she had been when he had whisked you away over night without telling her, she was glad about it too.

Now she didn't have to beat around the bush anymore.

And so she took you to Lady Noir's Naughty Needs, a horrible name for a sex shop, but the selection was good, it was discreet (she preferred to enter the store through the back entrance like she preferred to enter most things, to be honest) and subtle enough to trick you into a sense of safety.

Lady Noir, who was a very tall and very creative transwoman, with a voice that was either like nails on a chalkboard or a good scratch down the back, had done a splendid job in dressing the shop in elegant blacks and reds, lots of velvet and lace, it was extravagant like herself, but also comfortable enough to soothe the nerves of an anxious girl – and you were indeed quite taken aback as Isabella took your hand and led you through the door along the black velvet covered hallway into one of the 'testing booths'.

You took a timid look around the small space, wide eyes scanning the black leather couch as she motioned you to sit down. You looked so cute and fashionably out of place with your pink sundress, side braid and white frilly ankle socks. Soft lighting illuminated the otherwise dark room, but nothing could hide the dusting of heat on your cheeks.

On a low table in front of the couch sat a thick catalog, and as Isabella sat down next to you, she pulled it towards you and flipped it open. “Now, shall we talk openly, cariño?” she asked, turning back to look at you. Your eyes were glued to the selection of various sex toys on the pages in front of you.

You blinked before you met her gaze. “Yes?” you mused, looking at her like a deer in headlights.

“You agreed to be our submissive,” Isabella started quietly, “and while I did explain a few details to you, I just want to make it clear what it is we're expecting of you.”

You nodded, listening closely, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth.

“You, the submissive, are to give up control to us, your Dominants, me and Noah, your Mommy and Daddy. You will do as we say, you will trust us to know your limits, you will let go for us. We want you to be our little girl, someone to cuddle and pamper and take care of, someone to make us feel good. While we might be considered your caregivers, we will not only guide you through life, we will also do with you as we please.”

She watched you as she talked, and when she paused, she tapped her fingernails on the catalog on the table. You held her gaze, anxious but curious, attentive and alert.

“This is first and foremost a sexual arrangement, mi amor, this shouldn't be a surprise to you considering the things we did already experience together, hm?” She leaned towards you a little, her hand moving to rest on your thigh, fingers curling around it. “And as you never said anything against it, I can assume you are okay with us touching you like we did?”

“Y-yes, Mommy,” you murmured without hesitation.

“Are you a virgin, darling?”

“No,” you said, averting your eyes as shame crashed through you.

Isabella knew, or at least put the pieces together in a way, that you were raised rather conservative with how you struggled to talk about things that should be natural. It still came as a surprise to her that you apparently already lost your virginity.

She raised her eyebrows in a questioning fashion, and you added: “High school boyfriend, didn't last very long after...”

“Ah,” she made, squeezing your leg. “I see. What a shame, I'm sorry. But trust me, we will appreciate you for much longer, as long as you will let us.”

“B-but I don't... don't have much experience...”

“And that's okay, you don't have to. You just have to be open to new things. Are you open to new things, honey?” Isabella whispered, leaning closer, a smile on her lips.

You bit your lip, but quickly nodded again. “Yes.”

“Good,” she said, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “Can I assume you never had sex with a woman before?”

Her question made you flinch a little, which she laughed softly at. “I... uh, I kissed a girl before, before you, obviously, but no... uh... no s-sex...”

“And do you want to have sex with a woman?”

You just nodded, staring at your lap, at her hand firmly pressed between your tight thighs.

“And what about being sandwiched between a man and a woman, at the same time?”

You looked up then, still chewing on your lips. “If... if that's okay... with you...”

She chuckled. “Sweetheart, it's what we want! Both of us. We will have our fun individually, but mostly, we want to share you. This is for us too, you know? Trying out new things. Like you, sweet girl.” She slipped her hand lower, under the hem of your dress. “But don't think it'll just be you and Daddy having fun while I watch, or you and me with him watching, no, I really mean share. You were made to handle both of us at once, you know?”

You frowned at that, squirming a little against her hand.

Isabella sighed. “Okay, let me be blunt, my dear,” she started, scooting closer, retrieving the hand from between your thighs to wrap her arm around your shoulders, pulling you against her. Her other hand found your chin, turning your head so she could whisper into your ear. “Have you ever had anything up your pretty little bum, mi amor?”

The heat that radiated off you was instant. She laughed softly, brushing her lips against your ear. You croaked out a barely audible “No”.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, tracing the tip of her tongue along the shell of your ear. “A sweet little virgin bum... the things I will make you feel, cariño. I can't wait...” She pressed her cheek to yours and made you look back at the table. “We're here to buy some new toys, you know? I'm in need of a new strap, and as it's going up your butt, you're here to pick one out. That okay with you?”

Your face was positively burning. You were staring at the catalog, at the picture of a woman wearing a strap-on with another woman kneeling in front of her, ass up, aesthetically positioned to only suggest the action. Then you started shaking, your breaths rasping past your parted lips. “I... I don't know...” you whimpered quietly, unable to pry your gaze away from the scene on the table.

“Hmm, I know it sounds scary, but it will feel so good, darling. Just imagine riding Daddy's cock, his hands on your hips, you looking deep into his pretty eyes, and I'm behind you, stuffing your other hole, filling you up so much you can barely breathe. But oh the sensations... I can assure you it will be like nothing you've ever experienced...” Sighing deeply, she rubbed her cheek against yours, feeling the warmth burning under your skin. Her arms wrapped fully around you, pressing you against her chest. “Don't be afraid, sweet pea, it'll be amazing. Your head will be so empty, you will not have a worry in the world!”

She felt you swallowing hard, your breaths still a little labored. Your heart must be beating out of your chest. It amused her more than she wanted to admit. She could imagine this to be absolutely terrifying for someone who'd only had her cherry popped unceremoniously by some clumsy boy, dumped after and never had any real sexual adventures since then. To fall into the hands of an unconventional couple who enjoyed all aspects of kink in a very excessive way must be quite overwhelming.

But you had to see the benefits of it too. One day you would. She knew for a fact that sex in any form was a great way to battle any kind of anxiety, having been there herself. When she was your age (which was only about ten years ago), she found herself in a world where she didn't belong, or got told this by anyone around her. To not just be a woman, but a Latina, in a world full of old white men, trying to convince conservative and sometimes racist people to see her vision, had been exhausting and discouraging to say the least.

But then she had met Noah, also still a greenhorn, a young man with great potential, working harder than anyone she'd ever come across. While she was battling prejudices and stereotypes, he'd battled the fierce competition, but he still managed to push his company into higher spheres, network his way around, grow roots in a world full of gardeners who loved to cut down anyone to even attempt to toss them off their thrones.

She had been drawn to his dominant aura, to the way he filled a room, became the center of attention without doing much. At first she'd submitted to him, wanted to learn and soak up anything he could teach her, but he soon turned her into craving more, make her own success, dominate as well, become the one to turn heads, and not just for her looks and aura, but also for her sharp tongue and brilliant ideas.

He gave her the confidence she needed (by sharing the power, both in the office and in bed), and she was grateful, and she knew it could benefit you as well. She wanted to make you shine again, be someone, find yourself, let go of all the crippling fear and doubts, and the only way how was by being pounded senseless. She'd gone there, and she'd see to it that you went there too. It would help you so much to just let go and take whatever she and Noah gave you.

You still seemed anxious, though. She hugged you tighter, kissed your warm cheek. “Don't be scared,” she whispered once more. “We'll ease you into it, one little push at a time. It may sound like a lot, but I'll make sure you won't be overwhelmed, unless you come to the point where you want to be overwhelmed, of course. Oh, cariño, it's the best feeling to let go and just take, to let it happen, to lose control. Trust me, I've been there. You'll love it.”

Your breathing eased a little as you leaned into her, but she could tell it would be a long journey to get you to be completely comfortable with anything sex related. Maybe it hadn't been the best idea to take you to Lady Noir, but you were here now, so why not throw you into the deep end and get it over with.

As if she'd been waiting for her cue, the store owner then entered the small room, rapping her knuckles on the door. “Well, hello there,” the tall woman cooed, her deep voice thrumming through the air. “Who have we here? Aren't you the cutest little bean I've ever seen!”

You stared up at the towering presence of Lady Noir who was wearing a tight black skirt and an even tighter black top, accentuating toned arms and an impressive bust that even rivaled Isabella's, who leaned back and crossed her legs, smiling. “This is Lady Noir, darling, say hello,” she whispered, nudging your side gently.

You cleared your throat, attempting something of a bow that made her smirk. “H-hello,” you said quietly, introducing yourself.

Noir leaned in and grabbed your extended hand with both of hers, so large they dwarfed your small one, her dark skin shining in the dim light. “Oh I am delighted, little one.” She smiled at you, squeezing your hand before releasing it again and sitting down on the edge of the table, where she crossed her legs and faced you and Isabella on the couch. “So, what brings you here? Need any new toys, Bella?”

Isabella laughed softly, tilting her head. “You know me so well,” she said. “Well, as you can see, we got ourselves a little girl, finally. And she is so perfect, the perfect little thing, aren't you, honey?” She looked at you, and you met her gaze, highly embarrassed. “So humble and shy,” she added, raising her hand to pat your warm cheek. “Obviously, we want to ease her into it gently,” she said, turning back to Noir.

The other woman nodded, her chin resting on her palm with her elbow on her knee, her long legs toned and smooth, exquisite black high heels on her feet that swayed with her motions. “Of course, don't want to break the precious thing, hm?” she mused, her dark eyes gleaming. Today she had her black locks arranged in intricate rows of thick braids that swirled around her head like large snakes. “Do you have any experience with sex toys, my dear?” she addressed you with a soft tone.

You looked up, blinking in confusion (such a cute look on you). Then you shook your head.

“No? Not even improvised one? Ever stuck a pen in there? Or a cucumber?”

Your eyes widened, and you looked down, shaking your head more furiously, your hands clenching around the hem of your dress.

“What about fingers? Come on, baby girl, I'm sure you have at least tried your tiny little digits before? Rubbed a little? Dipped a bit?”

Isabella saw you swallowing, watching you curiously. You gave the tiniest of nods, just a jerk, a shudder through your body. Noir chuckled deeply.

“That's all good, little one. No one's born a porn star, right? Well, I was, but let's not talk about me,” she laughed. Her words made you look up with something like confused interest. She took the catalog into her hands and flipped through the pages. “You know, this should be obvious, but self love is so important, such a natural thing. Best to relieve tension, to clear the mind, to focus on other important things. Flicking your bean really is nothing to be ashamed of. But if you prefer to let others work for you, I can only recommend a variety of these,” she added, holding out the catalog towards you, open on two pages full of various vibrators.

Your eyes scanned the items, and Isabella could see the heat crashing into your head. You were shaking like a leaf. She pulled one arm around you, settling her hand on your waist, scooting closer to you. “It's alright, honey,” she soothed quietly. “Do you want to pick something?”

You blinked, your eyes watering the longer you stared at the items. “I... I don't know...” you breathed shakily.

“Pick a color,” Noir chimed in. “We'll pick the rest for you, hm, sweetheart?”

It came to nobody's surprise that your finger hovered over the more subtle colors, a light pink, a faded purple, a soft blue. Isabella gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Good girl, good choices,” she whispered before she looked up at Noir. “Can you give us some of the smallest now? We'll come back once she's more accustomed.”

The other woman nodded with a wide smile. “Of course. Shall I slip in one bigger one, just to test the waters?” She gave Isabella a wink, who nodded with a smirk.

“Please do, I know you know best.”

“I do, darling, I do.” She stood up then, flipping the catalog as she turned slightly. “Oh, how about these? I can get them in all sizes and the colors she chose?”

Isabella laughed, following the finger pressed to a page full of strap-ons. Normally she'd prefer black ones, harness and dildo, but these came in soft pinks as well. If it would ease your nerves, she'd switch out her old set-up. Not that you would see a lot of what would be going on behind you, but maybe the idea of having something girly stuck in your butt would help with the sensations. (It would also be better to train your other holes, including your throat, with something that didn't look as intimidating.)

“Good thinking,” she said. “I'll take these, and two of those,” she said, nodding at Noir, showing her her selection. She'd go for pink, but the sizes were non-negotiable. You'd get used to it.

The tall woman nodded. “Anything else?”

“Get us a lot of lube,” she added with a wink, leaning back, her arm still around you. “I'm sure we'll need it.”

A shiver crashed through you, but you didn't show any more reactions, probably stuck in your own head, worrying your little brains out. This wasn't to humiliate or embarrass you, it was to show you aspects of your new life, of the world you had entered. She hoped you'd see that one day.

“Can we stay here for a moment longer?” Isabella then asked as Noir turned to leave, ready to prepare her order.

“Of course, anything for you, my love,” she said with a soft smile. “Do you need anything? To take the edge of?” Her last words were lower, only meant for Isabella's ears.

She just looked at the other woman, who understood without words before she bowed her head and gave her a wink, then disappeared through the door. You seemed to relax a little once Noir's towering frame had left the small room. Breathing deep, you settled against Isabella.

“Relax, mi amor, Mommy's got you,” she cooed, pulling you closer until your head rested on her chest, her fingers gliding over your head. “Why are you nervous?”

You took a shuddering breath. “It... it's all so new... to me...” you replied quietly.

She nodded, leaning down to press her lips to the top of your head. “I bet, but don't be overwhelmed. Like Noir said, this is all natural. Nothing perverse or filthy about self pleasure, or pleasure in general. It'll help you.”

Before you could say anything to that, the door opened again, another woman, one of Noir's assistants, came in, carrying a tray with two glasses of champagne and a small (bright pink) egg-shaped object next to them. She put the tray down and bowed her head, before leaving without a word.

You stared at what had been brought in. “Want to pick it up?” Isabella asked quietly. You sat up straighter on the couch, swallowing audibly. “It's just a little vibe, honey, feel its texture, its weight, turn it on, test it out.” She grabbed one of the champagne flutes and took a sip, watching you.

It took you a long moment before you reached out to the item, tentatively sliding your finger over it. She could tell you'd never used anything like this before, you even held it by its thick tail as you finally picked it up. She leaned in and switched the sides, letting the heavier egg-shaped part rest on your palm while she pressed the button on the end of the tail. You flinched when the vibrations buzzed in your hand.

“You wanna test it out?” she mused softly, pressing her shoulder into yours. “Don't worry, it's clean and safe. You can trust Lady Noir, she's the best.”

“She's a little... intimidating,” you whispered, skillfully ignoring her question. “So tall, and her voice...”

“Wait till you see her naked,” Isabella laughed, letting it slide. “She has the biggest cock you'll ever see in your life. And that thing is intimidating!”

You stared at her, confusion washing over you. “But... she's a...”

“She was born a man, dear,” she said with a gentle smile. “Started in the adult film industry when she was just eighteen, then quickly figured she didn't like being an anonymous cock. I still envy the boob job they did on her, so impressive. She moved into the spotlight, made quite a name for herself, The Black Switch, they called her, but as all things are eventually, she left the porn biz to start her own, creating the best sex toys you'll ever use. The softest feel, the most power,” she added, stroking the vibrating item on your palm. “Do you want me to help you with it?”

You bit your lip, staring at the pink object before you blinked and looked up at her with wide eyes. “Here?” you squeaked.

“Why not? We're all alone here. The walls are thick, nobody is coming in. It's just us, sweetheart, and you've been alone with Mommy before, haven't you?”

She took the vibe off your hand and turned it off, scooting back on the couch. Then she pulled you into her lap, your back resting against her shoulder, legs draped over her thigh. She nudged them apart and gently pushed the hem of your dress up.

“Do you trust Mommy?” she whispered into your ear, her breath ghosting your skin.

“Yes,” you replied quietly, settling against her, allowing her to push your legs further apart until they fell open over her own.

“Good girl,” she praised, the hand holding the toy pressing against your stomach, the other moving under your dress, her fingers teasing at your crotch. It was warm and damp already. As much as you fought these things, you were still clearly affected by them. Her dirty talk, the pictures of the toys, the prospect of using them. It got to you, and she was glad.

She rubbed your mound for a moment, feeling the fabric of your underwear sticking to your slick skin. You tried to relax on her lap, but your breaths came out labored, your lips parted and trembling, your body stiffening under her ministrations. She moved her fingertip along the edge of your panties, slowly pulling them away from your cunt, exposing your hot skin.

Her other hand shifted the vibe and turned it back on, on the lowest setting, a gentle hum, but when she brought it down between your legs and teased it against your hooded clit, you gave a sudden jolt, almost slipping off her lap.

“Easy, mi amor, just relax. Let it happen,” she cooed. You inhaled deeply, leaning into her. “Good, just breathe, let me make you feel good...”

She pressed the vibrating object back against your smooth mound, sliding it along your slit, letting you feel the soft buzzing. Little gasps escaped you that made her stomach tense. So adorable. Her fingers soaked in your wetness when she moved the toy against your core, and as she gave your clit a little prodding, she imagined feeling it throb against her tongue, the idea of licking up your slick making her close her eyes, a low moan rasping through her.

“Oh my precious little girl, you feel so sweet, I bet you taste just as amazing. I can't wait to dip my tongue into you,” she whispered into your ear, relishing in the shudders crashing through you, both from her words and the constant buzz against your sensitive bud. “Will you let Mommy eat you out, sweet girl? Can I have you for dinner tonight?”

You gasped, your body shivering against her. “Yes, Mommy,” you moaned quietly.

She continued holding the vibe against you, imagining the flush of your skin, the constant drip of arousal, the sweet scent filling her nostrils when she would eventually bury her face in your cunt. She couldn't wait, but she had to. This was not the place for something so intimate and new to you, no matter how private they were right now. This was just to get you to relax, let go, feel the power of pleasure wiping the worries away.

When you started grinding your hips against her hand and ultimately the vibrator, she pressed it harder between your labia, nudging your clit, letting it slide up and down, every thrum sending little shivers up your body while little mewls slipped out of your throat. Your hands were gripping the fabric of your dress bunched up in front of your stomach, chest heaving as your breaths quickened, and when she finally pushed the egg-shaped toy lower, against your entrance, you gave a shrill little squeak as it slipped into your cunt, swallowed by greedy muscles, clenching tightly.

Isabella added a finger, wanting to feel the contractions of your sweet pussy around the buzzing item, and you threw your head back against her shoulder, moaning quietly, your noises tense and muffled, and she told herself to teach you to be really loud, to let it all out, to not care about anyone hearing you. One day. For now she quite enjoyed your little squeaks and yelps and gasps, the way your body squirmed on her lap, your thighs twitching, itching to snap together if it wasn't for her hand holding them open.

“Feels nice, doesn't it?” she whispered, kissing the shell of your ear. Her index finger nudged the toy a little deeper, its thick tail coiled around her pinky to hold it in place.

She pushed and prodded, watching your reaction, and when you suddenly stiffened, a voiceless shriek parting your lips further, she knew she'd found the right spot. Holding the vibe in place, letting it buzz softly against your sensitive nerves, she savored the fight you fought, struggling against the pleasure building up inside you.

“Yes, just like that, baby, let it happen. Purr for me, kitten...” Her pinky curled, pressing the button at the toy's tail, increasing the vibrations.

You mewled, moaned, gasped, writhing against her, your hands grasping for her arm, to hold it there or pull it away, she wasn't sure, and neither were you.

She watched you, how you tilted your head back, eyes squeezed shut, lips trembling, cheeks aflame, chest rising and falling faster, straining against the stiff fabric of your dress, your legs kicking uncontrollably, little twitches all through your body, and she held the vibrator inside you, along with two of her fingers, feeling the soft clenching of your walls, the slick amassing in her hand, dripping out of you with every new wave of pleasure.

You came with a soft gasp, melting into her embrace, hips stuttering, thighs spasming, your hand tightening around her wrist before you relaxed, let go, slid away into the bliss pulsing through you. She tugged at the toy and pulled it out, then turned it off, cradling it in her hand for a moment, warm and wet, as she let you come down from your high.

“My good girl,” she sighed softly. “That was beautiful, so beautiful, just like you.”

You turned your head and buried your burning face in the crook of her neck, your body boneless on her lap. She wrapped her free arm around you, and you settled against her, legs pulled up, your hands clutching at her waist as you held onto her. Your breaths were still labored, hot against her neck, but any kind of tension was gone from your body.

She brought the wet vibe to her eyes, watching your slick glistening in the dim lights. Inhaling deeply, she filled her nostrils with your sweet scent, she even moved it closer, cradling it in her hand but then only extended the fingers that had been inside you. Her tongue swiped along her fingertips, her moans loud in your ear as she licked your wetness off her skin.

“You taste divine, my sweet,” she whispered, breathing deeply. “Thank you for indulging me.”

You hummed into her, a sleepy little thing in her arms, cooing softly. “Thank you, Mommy,” she heard your faint voice. “I think... I needed that...”

She chuckled. “I'm sure you did, always happy to lend a hand, mi amor. You can just ask, okay? I will give you anything you want. You are my sweet little girl after all.”

You gave another hum in response, snuggling into her.

She allowed you a few more minutes, just sitting with you, holding you, enjoying your presence. You leaned into her, so fragile in a way, such a cute thing, slipping more and more into your role as if it was an inborn instinct to act like this. She'd known you were perfect, from the moment she'd seen you sitting on the street, so lost and lonely and anxious, your eyes so hollow and hopeless. If she'd believe in it, she'd say it was love at first sight.

Whatever one would call it, it was the moment she truly felt the need to nurse you, help you, pamper you. She had spent the last decade on top, dominating, putting people down, showing them their place, always below her. But with you, it felt different. She'd still be telling you what to do, but for the first time in her life, it would be in a nice way, a caring way. It was all new to her too, but it felt right, you made it so easy to hug you and care for you, to let her own softer side shine through while she vowed to make you feel good.

Whatever the future held, she knew it would be glorious. She couldn't wait to feel you come undone on her tongue or on her strap or on her fingers again, over and over, until she was satisfied and you were a trembling mess with an empty head. That was the goal. Fuck those worries right out of you.

Inhaling deeply, she rubbed her hand over your back. “Did you fall asleep, cariño?” she asked softly. You mumbled something in response, and she laughed quietly. “Do you think you can walk now, baby?”

“Yes, Mommy,” you muttered under your breath, slowly shifting on her lap, sitting up, stretching your legs before you clambered off her, holding onto the armrest of the couch.

The skirt of your dress was wrinkled and bunched up, your panties still pushed aside, showing the soft glistening of your folds. She leaned in and fixed you up, rearranging your underwear and smoothing your dress down, then gave you a soft pat to your bum and stood up too. The used vibrator vanished into her purse.

“Now, what are you in the mood for next?” she whispered as she put her hands on your warm face, looking down.

You pursed your lips, thinking. “I don't know. Anything you want, Mommy.”

Your voice was so soft, almost sleepy, she couldn't help it, she had to lean in and brush her lips against yours. The kiss was short but sweet, and she had to lean away with a sigh as her own desire flared up inside her.

“Hmm, what do we do...” she mused, pulling you against her as she started walking towards the door of the small room. “Shopping again? Or... oh, ice cream, maybe? Or a milkshake? Though we should probably get a smoothie, something healthier, huh? I could show you my gym, or we could do some yoga? Have you done yoga before, baby?”

She kept talking as she led you through the velvety hallway again, nodding to one of Lady Noir's assistants who came forth with two large bags. The young woman followed them, through the backdoor and over the parking lot to the car, where her driver took them off her hands and stored them in the trunk.

And Isabella walked with you in her arm, leisurely making plans or suggestions, knowing you wouldn't be able to choose anything in your current state of mind. It didn't matter either way, she'd be content just walking with you, sitting next to you, spending time with you. It was relaxing to cradle you against her, to focus on you instead of her own busy mind.

She settled you next to her in the car, pulling the seat belt around you, before her hand slipped automatically between your legs, rubbing against your damp underwear. You turned your head to her, your cheeks flushed, but your eyes a little clearer now.

“Can we go home?” you whispered then, biting your lip.

Home. How fast you'd adjusted. She smiled at you, parting her lips to reply when you continued:

“Do you think Daddy is back yet?”

She froze, turning her head to hide the scowl on her face. Something about the way you asked that didn't sit right with her. This was her day with you after all. He had already brought you back late, cutting off precious hours she could have spent with you. And he was still on your mind, even though you had her fingers at your cunt.

“He's probably still working. He's a busy man, mi amor, don't get your hopes up.” She couldn't make her voice sound any less resentful, so she cleared her throat and looked at you, forcing herself to smile. “But I'm here for you, cariño, isn't that enough?”

Your eyes widened before you blinked quickly. “Oh, of course, Mommy, I didn't mean –” Sure you didn't, she thought bitterly, but smiled all the same, curling her hand around your mound.

“It's okay, baby, relax, no harm done,” she said, tilting her head as she watched your warm face, an idea swirling through her mind. “Oh, I know what we can do. Unless you really want to go home?”

You swallowed, shaking your head. “I... I want to be with you, no matter where,” you replied quietly.

Your words should have eased her doubts, but instead they were tainted and she couldn't take them seriously. And deep inside, her old ways flared up again, wanting to prove to you who she really was, that you wouldn't need anyone but her. She knew she was flawed in that way, and while you did bring out the good in her, her not-so-good side was still very much alive inside her.

And so she gave your cunt a gentle rub, smiled sweetly and leaned forward a bit to tell the driver:

“Take us to the Pet Cafe.”

Chapter 7 🔷️ Chapter 8 🔷️ Chapter 9

End notes: Hey, so, I made Mommy a Latina because I love Latinas and I want to throw in more Spanish pet names and “show off” the Spanish skills I honed after almost two years of Duolingo "classes"... (Needless to say: I mean no disrespect, I truly admire Spanish-speaking people and I always wanted to write a character like this. Also I am aware that some of these pet names differ from country and region, so let's just imagine Mommy having a Spanish mother and, I don't know, a Mexican father, or vice versa, or from another South American country. Again, please don't take offense, I am just a humble European admiring other cultures because my own sucks so much..., I'm bound to make mistakes, so I apologize in advance.)

On another note: I have no idea what Mommy and Daddy do for a living, what kind of company they have, what kind of business. Any kind of economics or economy talk makes my writer brain hurt, so I ask you to imagine whatever you want them to do. The important thing is: they are successful in whatever it is they're doing (and unlike a certain other man from another story of mine, all they do is very much legal). In the end, it doesn't matter too much, I hope. It's about their relationship with Pumpkin after all.

Thank you for reading! New chapter every Saturday!

Up next: You're going to the Pet Cafe, whatever that is...

MASTERLIST 🔷️ AO3 🔷️ ORIGINAL WORKS

[alastor-simp]

Sickly Deer - Sick Alastor X Female Reader

❥Summary - Alastor is a very proud man, and he will almost never admit that something is wrong. However, you noticed he seemed a bit off today and wanted to know what was wrong?

❥Tags: Sick alastor, sick day, alastor becomes sick, female reader, reader takes care of a sick alastor, stubborn alastor, fluff , adorable fluff, taking care of someone sick

❥Notes: Always wanted to do a sick character story and I finally get to do one with Alastor.

Was a quiet day in the hotel today. Usually there was the occasional chaos, but surprisingly it was peaceful. Charlie and Vaggie were out shopping for groceries for the hotel. Angel was lounging in his room, relaxing with Fat Nuggets. Niffty was reading a book, most likely manga in the lounge room, with Husk taking a cat nap on the couch next to her. Sir Pentious was in his ship, crafting some devices with his egg bois.

You were lounging in the hotel library, enjoying some quiet time to yourself while reading. Well it was quiet for a second until you heard the sound of static-like cough coming from next to you. Alastor happened to be in the library as well, reading his weekly newspaper. He's usually very quiet when he reads, except with the occasional sound of humming or static. But this was new, as you almost never heard him cough or let alone sneeze for that matter. The coughing started slow, but then it kept getting rougher as he kept doing it, causing you to worry. "Hey Al?" Your eyes were gazing at him with concern. Alastor turned his head towards you, wearing his signature smile: “Yes? What is it my dear?” “Well, are you alright? I noticed you have been coughing a lot. Once you said that, Alastor let out a boisterous laugh. “Oh-ho! It is nothing my dear. Just a small tickle. Nothing to concern yourself with!” He waved his hand in the air, after he finished talking. You still felt unsure, but if he said it wasn’t a big deal, you wouldn’t question him.

How wrong you were, the more and more you saw Al throughout the day, the worse his cough got. Not only that, his face was slightly paler and a bit drenched with sweat. He still was acting like everything was alright, but you knew he was lying. Enough was enough. You caught up with Alastor, as he was walking down the hallway. “Alastor! Stop!” You yelled his name out. He stopped in front of you, and slowly turned around, head tilted in confusion. “You’re sick, aren’t you” Alastors face stayed neutral when you said that, but you knew you got him. “I told you already, my dear. It’s nothing to concern yourself with.” Alastor just smiled wider and turned away from you to continue walking. He was stopped again when he felt a hand grab one of his coat sleeves. His body grew tense and he turned back eerily, not appreciating you touching him. You gave him a strong look: “Well, I AM concerned. And you should be resting cause you’re only going to make it worse.” His garnet colored eyes locked on to yours, static in the air getting louder. “I am the radio demon, my dear. I do not get sick, so please remove your hand, n̸͚͇̏̉o̸̼̓ẇ̷̹̓.” His eyes flashed into radio dials for a split second, causing you to remove your hand from his sleeve quickly. “Thank you. Now then, I shall take my leave.” He turned back around and began to walk away from you. As you were watching him walk away, you noticed he drew to a stop again. His body was still up, but then he began to fall forward. “AL!”

**Alastor POV**

“Ugh….huh?” Alastors eyes opened slowly. He recognized he was in his hotel room as the ceiling was covered in grassy moss and leaves, as he was the one to change it due to his magic. He soon realized he was laying on his bed, wearing his pajamas as he slowly got up from lying down. He doesn’t recall heading back to his room, as his head was still a bit fuzzy. His head was throbbing and his throat was feeling sore. Alastor knew he was feeling sickly, but he refused to believe it. He hates to be perceived as weak, so he preferred to play it off that he was fine.

The sound of the door opening alerted him, causing him to look up. He sees you walking into his room, carrying a tray along with a plastic bag hanging from your arms. “Oh your awake? How are you feeling?” You bear a smile at him, as you walk closer to his bed, setting the tray down on the night stand. “How did I end up here?” Alastor questioned you, still confused at what happened. “You don’t remember?” Your eyes gazed at him back with concern. Alastor shook his head. “You fainted Al. I stopped you in the hallway cause I knew you were sick, but you said you were fine and as you walked away, you stopped and fell forward.” Al’s eyes widen at your statement, as he kept listening to you talk. “I carried you back to your room after that.” You gave him a small smile.

“I see. I’m sorry for the trouble you had to go through my dear, but I’m quite alright now.” Pulling the covers off, Al swung his feet to place them in the floor. He was stopped by a hand on his chest. “Oh no you don’t mister. You are staying in bed and getting better. Understand?” Your eyes were filled with determination. “My dear, I am qui-” “Understand?” His words were cut off by you. He continued to look at your face, seeing that you were refusing to budge. Heaving a sigh, he nodded his head. He positioned himself back to how he was on the bed. “Does anyone else know about my ailment?" He said, as you turned his head to look at you. You were removing some stuff out of the plastic bag and set them on the night stand before turning back to him. "The only ones who know are me and Niffty. No one else, I promise you. I had to tell her you were under the weather, and she told me to head to the store to get you some medicine while she made you some venison stew." Alastor continued to listen until he asked you another question: "Did you change me into my pajamas as well?" Your face flushed at that, and you shook your head no. "Your shadow happened to appear when I brought you to the bed. I told it to change you." Alastor just nodded his head at that, smiling at bit wider at your adorable reaction.

Grabbing one of the chairs from Al's desk, you brought it over to where his bed was and took a seat. Reaching for the bowl, you placed it on your lap. He observed you blow a bit on the spoon and hold it out to him, causing him to raise an eyebrow at you. "Come on Al. There's nothing wrong with me feeding you." Alastor sighed, and opened his mouth, allowing you to give him some of the stew that Niffty prepared. He was able to finish it all off, which pleased you. Placing the bowl back, you grabbed the medicine and a glass of water and handed it to him. Alastor grabbed it and quickly popped them in his mouth, chugging the water to get them down. Sighing, he laid back on the bed, placing his head on the pillow, turning it away from you. "I despise this feeling." He whispered that to himself, but you were able to pick up on it since you were still seated next to him. "What feeling?" you said back to him, tiling your head. "Alastor continued to look away. "The feeling of being sick. Makes me appear weak." Alastor grumbled out the response.

Alastor remained quiet after that. A hand was placed against his cheek, allowing his head to turn back towards you. His eyes widen at you, as he saw you wearing a kind smile. "You're not weak Alastor. Everyone gets sick from time to time, nothing wrong with it. Also, you should know the others would never think about that, they would rather you get some rest and get better." Your thumb stroked his cheek. Alastor listened to what you said and gave a sigh, closing his eyes. "I know, my dear. Just.....feels strange." Moving his hand, he placed it against the one on his cheek. "Thank you, my dear. If there comes a time where you are ailing, I will return the favor." His lips curved into a soft smile. He heard you chuckle, as your hand moved away from his cheek. "Get some rest, Al. I'll come back to check on you." Smiling, you got up from the chair, and grabbed the tray, heading over to the door. Alastor just watched you walk away, leaving his room, and closing the door. His eyes began to grow heavy, as his body started to relax, drifting into a deep sleep.

TAG LIST:

Tag List:

@pepperycookie , @yourdoorisunlocked, @ghostdoodlen, @aceofcards0-0, @jyoongim, @saturnhas82moons, @unholycheesesnack , @luujjvi , @forbidden-sunlight, @pinkcrystal44 , @veethewriter , @rains-sleeping , @danveration , @demoarah, @cookiekyo , @iiotic, @delectableworm , @91062854-ka , @alastorsgoldie , @lokis-imaginary-friend , @themysteriousslenderman , @huntlowfan , @pawstrey , @futureittomainn , @christinaatyourservice92 , @littledolly2345 , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it , @angelinevalentine89 , @yunimimii , @staryosh1 , @mihawksdemoness , @crystalreads , @blahblahbruhmeow , @madam-strawberryrose , @inkslayer , @azazel-nyx , @lixanjewel , @ainsliemac , @sweet06tart , @nobuharashinyao , @aria-tempest , @fluffismystaplefood , @darischerry , @nightmarenaya , @mooniee123 , @yakultt-art , @ktssstuff , @blakedbeanss , @sweet06tart , @ihyperfixatedagain , @alastorssimp , @sadnessiscoldtea , @artemisandhunters , @crystalreads , @thereeallink

[simp-ly-writes]

Gentle-Fellow's

─────── · · A Smosh Fanfic

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x gn!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You, Spencer and your fellow cast mates Angela and Shayne all star in yet another Don't Win Mario Party, Gentlemen addition!

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, part social media au, use of dated terms as comedy, swearing, smoking, fluff, attempt at humour, cute.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 1,463

─ · · A/N: thank you so much for the ask, anon! sorry it took so long, had to brainstorm some jokes and scenarios but it was a load of fun! 😄

─────── · ·

"Oi! 'ello Chaps, I'm here with my fellow gentle-lads and t'day we'll be playing some good old fashion mario party, just how I like my liquor-" you began to intro to the camera before Spencer was slapping you gently on the shoulder, his body acting out more impact than you actually received but you still fell off the couch for comedic benefit as he put his shoes up on your supposed 'corpse' in good taste.

"Well enough with what that fellow was going on about, I must say we shall play. This game is better suited for a trio rather than a quartet- the same philosophy can also be said for working in the navy. Was much better to night-watch with a trio-"

"Ah yes, I do believe three-and-some is an adequate amount. I have yet to try four but it sounds you would not recommend?" Shayne leans forwards on the couch to fully face Spencer who adjusts his tophat while looking down at you, silently asking if you were okay while laying down off camera. You shot him a smile upwards, rolling over and returning back to the couch.

"Yes, I would not recommend such activities. Too many men with not enough places to go and scope out. Much better to have three, did you not serve to learn this?" Spencer asks with a tilt to his head, his top hat already falling off again as you hold back a chuckle to his playful glare in your direction.

"I in fact did serve! I was a leader, and I good one at that too. Took my whole group to one of the colonies, we had to strip ourselves of layers from how humid the climate was," Shayne clarified, pretending to light his cigar as Spencer lit his own, passing his lighter towards you.

"Thank you, gentleman," you responded, lighting your two cigarettes, wearing them like vampire fangs that had Angela near tears at the end of the couch. "I do remember being down to my undergarments at multiple points with my men, I'll have you know we were all in position within the ama-zone. Quite the discoveries we made there, so uncivilized."

"AYE!" Angela corrected, pointing a finger, her moustache slipping down her face, "I'll have you know my third mistress is from those parts, and she is the best. You mustn't make such hastily claims gentlemen, it is unbecoming of you!"

You nod your head, "yes, yes, very unbecoming. What are we? Boys like our sons? I can't remember the last time I had ashes in my lungs with that child's work," you continue as Angela agrees with a huff, the game seemingly long forgotten as you all carry through conversation, trying your darnedest not to break character.

"Ah yes, I think I have a son or two, I can't quite remember. I think to name them all William, a strong English name," Shanye comments once you all get... gently reminded to play the game you intro-ed over half an hour ago, you hoped that the editors would be able to find something distinguishable in these files.

─────── · ·

"I do believe it is your turn, gentleman," Spencer comments, casting you a wink. "My, I have seen to misplaced that powered-device. Does anyone see it?" Everyone starts to feel around the dips in the couch, Spencer was the first to stand, walking closer to the cameras from where you rolled to during the introduction bit and comes back with your controller, dipping it towards you with a bow.

"Thank you, my, you must be quite the bachelor, charming a fellow like me, oh my," you add with heated cheeks as Spencer returns to your side, his leg nocking against your own as you shout out in disbelief to obtaining a star you DID NOT want. "This is outrageous, I demand a re-play of my turn! I did not intend-"

"We must play by the rules," Shayne cuts you off, tilting his hat down as you stick out your tongue. Angela is focused on not winning the next mini game as you and Shayne continue your staring contest in the following two rounds before you claim victory. "Haha! I have trained with only the best, you can read a lot about another man through his eyes. Have you been hunting before? I love that wild look." Spencer jumps to respond.

"Yes, I must say, you really can tell a lot..." and in that moment you both look at one another. Shayne and Angela are both screaming over something on the screen but you both sound it out, lost in this little moment before realizing your both won... or well lost.

"It appear we have lost," Spencer says, emitting a sigh. "No, I would say we have won," you tease loving the way his cheeks heat up to his ears before you both return to the game more driven then ever to not win.

─────── · ·

Jokes have you all toppling the couch at some point from your rambunctious laughter, Angela is struggling to breathe through her sentence much similar to you over just how funny Spencer manages to be wearing sweatpants and a cheap half tux.

Spencer immediately went to protect your head with his arm as you all fell backwards with a large crash, the crew all gasped out in shock before your laughter only grew more boisterous. "I think I hear a little man again," Shayne comments, forcing himself upright to look over the couch as stars begun to be distributed.

Like snipers at position you all kneeled, your eyes only visible from the turned over couch. Top hats giving away your cover and you had placed second, falling back to the ground in fake shock and relief. Spencer teased mouth to mouth that had you pressing a hand to his mouth and narrowed your eyes at his large ones filled with glee and adoration.

─────── · ·

Angela had lost in the end in first place. you second place. Shayne in third and Spencer being the ultimate winner in fourth.

"FUCK!" and the video ended abruptly to quickly cute to her wearing a dog cone while trying to light a cigarette, only for them to keep collecting down by her neck.

"Thank you all for viewing our game time today, I have had the most splendid time today with you chaps, as I hope you all have ventured the same?" Shayne asks the now upright couch and cast.

"Yes, I was quite filled with delight," you replied, nodding your head and tipping your hat to everyone on the sofa.

"I do agree with my fellow gentleman, here" Spencer replies, clapping you on the wrist this time, very much close to holding your hand, your fingers interlacing while watching Angelas 'winning' speech.

"I hate you all-"

"Why that id not very gentlemanly of you, do you wish to handle these matters outside in more space for our thoughts?" Shayne rebuttles.

"Yes, I rather have a few thoughts to show you," Angela challenged, brow raised as she begins to roll up her sleeves, Shayne doing the same. Alex closes the video by panning upwards and the screen fades to black.

─────── · ·

���� Smosh Games just posted! watch now?

─────── · ·

Gentleman's Rules: Don't Win Mario Party (Again!)

Smosh Games ✓ [Subscribed] 👍 67k | 👎 7.78M subscribers 300k views 1 week ago only the politest of games... click to read more

1,110 Comments

username01 (name) and Spencer out here being the cutest even while cosplaying as colonizers, iconic behaviour you two!

username88 09:45 "Ah yes, I do believe three-and-some is an adequate amount" - Shayne Topp 2024

↳ username70 OMG why did I not catch this earlier LMAO 🤣 ↳ username91 or what about 20:01 " What are we? Boys like our sons? I can't remember the last time I had ashes in my lungs with that child's work..." - (name) was UNREAL for sayin' this XD ↳ username70 OMG YES! 🙌😂

username22 I don't know about you but I'm feeling like I'm ready for a whole series of just this cast and just this game. I have had this video and repeat since it's come out! Please. Make. More. 🙏

username14 Literally so in love with how gentle Spencer was being with (name), dropping the persona to held them find their controller and even making sure they didn't fall hard?? 😭

↳ username91 and did anyone notice those little winks? UGH 😩

username40 this is not good material to be eating to, almost choked from laughing so hard, would not recommend.

userame66 That little exchange about seeing into one another's eyes was so poetic, like that bit did not need to go that hard 💗

─────── · ·

─ · · SPENCER AGNEW TAGLIST: @lisiliely @missflufffanfics @little-stitious-studios @thejourneyneverendsx @sibsteria @lizzylynch1 @babble2 @delaneyburghardt @thevintagefangirl @uniquely-haunting @maricarorp

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 2

← CHAPTER 1 | ✦ | CHAPTER 3 →

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon what canon

Word Count: 2k

A/N: So... this was posted prematurely a couple hours ago. This is the actual finished longer version. If you don't know what I'm talking about, thank god. Sorry this took so long, lmao

Just letting you guys know that my knowledge of the lore is purely based off of the movies and the Dune wiki rabbit hole I fell into right after watching part two. I also took a few liberties with the canon here.

I'm super open to constructive criticism, or any criticism at all (feel free to absolutely roast me). Like I mentioned, I've never written fanfic before so I'd love to hear your thoughts!

The evening of your first day in Giedi Prime was celebrated with a banquet where you were introduced to the most important people on the planet. You've heard many stories of the ruthlessness and brutality of the Harkonnens, hence surprised by the courtly welcome during the dinner. Although you did your best to politely ignore the Baron who floated at the head of the table being fed by servants.

You were sat beside his nephew who, despite your mother's education, has evaded your insight. You couldn't quite get a read on him.

Feyd-Rautha whispers to you amid the buzzing conversations of the banquet hall, "are you enjoying the food, little hawk?"

You shoot him a questioning look.

"I like your hairpin," he sneers.

You resist from reaching to touch the Atreides symbol affixed in your hair.

"We don't see such ornaments often here." He quietly laughs in his devilish way, only too amused with himself.

Ah, you realize. He means to torment you.

"Seems early for pet names," you say, picking at your plate, "we've only just met."

"Oh, and yet we are to be wed in less than a week's time," his raspy voice rings in your ear, "I should like to be familiar with my future wife, Lady Atreides."

The marriage pact had been signed when you were only a little girl. Inheriting your father's inclinations, you swore you would uphold your duty, undeterred by the gruesome and abhorrent stories about the Harkonnens—because you knew that centuries of conflict could end within a generation with this union. You were a willing bride.

And yet.

You give him a smile that, to those not privy to your conversation, would seem genuine, "You know nothing of me, na-Baron."

"I should like to learn," you doubt his sincerity but care not enough to discern it. He takes a smug bite of a forkful of meat, "perhaps tomorrow, you shall learn something of me."

The following morning Iassa helps you into another black gown, this time with a veil in anticipation of the black sun.

"Is it not dangerous for Feyd-Rautha to wager his life for a show?" you question.

"The na-Baron is a skilled fighter, my lady. He will emerge victorious," Iassa is straight-faced as she drapes the veil over you.

"Yes, I do not doubt it, but given he is the Baron's heir. Does it not seem a touch irresponsible to even risk it at all."

Not that you actually cared for his life, you just expected that the Harkonnens would be concerned with the preservation of their house regardless of their brutality. You recall your grandfather who got himself killed fighting bulls for sport.

"The na-Baron will be fighting war prisoners. They will be drugged beforehand. It is perfectly safe, my lady."

"Oh." You couldn't decide if you were disappointed or not, "I see."

Iassa seemed intent on dropping the subject, so you do.

You stand before a mirror and take a look at yourself. It is impossible not to be reminded of your mother. She was never one for vanity, but you like to think there was a part of her that always enjoyed the elegant dresses she and you 'had' to wear. You allow yourself a somber smile behind your veil.

"You look beautiful, my lady," Iassa curtsies.

"Thank you," you look at her bowed figure, gray robes made more dull by the stark black choker on her neck. You were sure she was at least 2 standard years younger than you are and it had only been a few months since you came of age. You wondered if she liked pretty dresses too.

Before you can ask her, there is a knock at your door.

The house steward, Jaromir, clears his throat when Iassa opens it for you, "The na-Baron requests your presence before he enters the arena."

Heavy doors open for you in one of the chambers beneath the arena. You are greeted by the sight of a half-dressed Feyd-Rautha being helped into his armor by a servant.

"Lady Atreides," he looks you up and down, "I hope you slept well."

You bow your head in acknowledgment.

"Your knives, master," a large man whom you assume to be the bladesmith presents Feyd-Rautha with two daggers.

The young Harkonnen takes one and caresses the blade with his fingers.

"I've come to wish the brave na-Baron well before his fight in the arena," you say in false earnestness.

He smiles at your inflation of his ego.

"Though I must say, I am relieved it is all for show. I would not like to see my groom wounded before we are wed."

"For show?" Feyd-Rautha tilts his head and you see his arrogant facade show the slightest crack.

"Yes, I've heard your opponents will be drugged will they not?" your voice dripping with innocence, "to ensure your safety, of course."

His grip on the dagger tightens, "and where did you hear this exactly?"

You sense the awkwardness and tension in the servants. The one who had helped don Feyd-Rautha's armor has quietly retreated to the far side of the chamber. There is a subtle tremble in the hands of one holding a plate of towels. You finally notice the three women piled upon a raised platform glaring at you.

"Just voices around the fortress," you shrug.

A deep breath recovers Feyd-Rautha's smug expression. "Call for the warden," he orders one of the guards by the door, "tell him to prepare new prisoners. Sober ones."

"My lord, you need not endanger yourself," you feign worry.

"Nonsense." The na-Baron walks closer to tower over you, "My lady bride deserves to see my true prowess."

He sees through your challenge, but you don't care. Seeing his self-satisfied smirk wiped from his face for even just a second was worth it.

"Besides," he turns away from you to inspect the second knife, "my darlings enjoy meat that's fought for its life."

The three women sneer at this and you see their sharp teeth as they hiss amongst themselves.

You've heard of Feyd-Rautha's concubines long before you arrived on Giedi Prime. Tales of their taste for human flesh were one of the things that tested your resolve in fulfilling the marriage pact. You didn't mind that the na-Baron would keep other women. It would result in less of his attentions on yourself, you figured. It was their perverse appetite that nauseated you.

A look of revulsion hides behind your veil which you sense they would be all too happy to rip to shreds.

"I will see you in the stands, little hawk," Feyd-Rautha whispers to you as he waves for a guard to escort you out.

You do your best to drown out the noise of what seemed to be a countless audience that came to see the na-Baron fight. You could understand now why they uphold such brutal traditions. The people are so excited for it.

On the other side of the arena, you sense Vladimir Harkonnen watching you from the Baron's Box that towered over the whole arena. The blazing sun only helps you avoid looking in his direction. You were sat at a viewing box, still for nobility and separated from the masses, but much lower and closer to the sands of the arena. Jaromir had told you that you were to 'give the na-Baron your favor'.

Before long, the master of ceremonies announces Feyd-Rautha's entrance in Giedi Prime Speech. They are celebrating his betrothal to you and the union of Harkonnen and Atreides, you translate in your head. You wonder if the people care for the politics of the Great Houses. They seemed no less excited to cheer at your name despite the centuries-old blood feud.

Massive doors open as the na-Baron walks into the arena. His arms outstretched holding his knives like an extension of his limbs. He riles up the crowd as he walks towards the Baron's Box and kneels to his uncle. He then rises and walks toward you, smirking under the stark light of the black sun.

You may not fear earning the Harkonnens' contempt, but you were the Duke of Caladan's daughter and you knew that the favor of the people was invaluable.

You stand and walk to the edge of the viewing box. The glowing smile you reveal as you lift your veil draws cheers from the crowd that rival what Feyd-Rautha received. You produce a pure white handkerchief from your dress pocket and make a show of kissing it and waving the cloth at the buzzing crowd. You throw it off the edge and it floats toward the na-Baron who had moved both daggers to one hand to catch it. He looks up at you with what you think could be the seeds of respect and tucks the cloth into the tight armband around his right bicep.

He turns back to the audience and raises his knives in a war cry. The crowd explodes in guttural cheers and applause. Feyd-Rautha takes his position in the middle of the arena as his first opponent is released into the white sands.

You've heard of the Harkonnen heir's aptitude in single combat. It's time to see if the stories were true or if it was just another part of their menacing facade.

You were handed a pair of spyglasses to observe with. The two fighters approach each other, the prisoner wielding a knife of his own. Feyd-Rautha holds a taunting stance. The prisoner was sober, you were sure, but even without the spyglasses, you could see he was weak. You surmised the Harkonnen cells weren't very hospitable. He attempts a swipe but the na-Baron parries with ease. Another and the na-Baron dodges. Zooming in, you could see Feyd-Rautha's twisted amusement. He was toying with the poor man—and the people loved it.

The crowds cheered at the clashing of metal, thundering when the na-Baron drew first blood by slashig his opponent's arm. It wasn't long before Feyd-Rautha's dagger had impaled the prisoner's heart. There was no pause before a second prisoner was brought out to meet a similar fate.

Feyd-Rautha stood unwounded, seething with exhilaration. He enjoyed this; the thrill of killing. He basked in the roar of the crowd. You had never ended a life before, but some deep part of you could almost understand how he felt in that moment.

A third prisoner enters the arena. He looked older than the first two, bearded and taller. He reminded you of Gurney Halleck, the Atreides Warmaster. This man certainly wasn't at his prime but you could tell he would not go down as easily as the first two.

The warrior holds his blade out in a firm fighting stance, refusing to make the first move. You notice picadors in black suits have entered the arena, circling the na-Baron and his opponent. Feyd-Rautha lunges at the prisoner and a quick series of parries from both sides occur. You see the finesse in the na-Baron's movement. He recognizes his opponent's skill and he is taking this one seriously. You were not sure what you expected of the Harkonnen's fighting style but Feyd-Rautha was vicious but precise. The crowd gasps when the prisoner disarms one of the na-Baron's knives. The warrior manages to get a grip on Feyd-Rautha's armed hand and aims to pierce the na-Baron's neck with his blade. The na-Baron struggled against his hold and the arid air was thick with anticipation.

You were unsure what outcome you desired as you stared through your spyglass. Perhaps this warrior kills your betrothed. What then? Would you really be able to go back to Caladan's windy cliffs again? Return to the arms of your mother as if it were all a bad dream? You wonder if when Feyd-Rautha becomes baron, and you his baroness, could you convince him to let you see your family.

The warrior's blade was dangerously close to your future husband's throat when one of the picadors lashes at the warrior. The na-Baron growls at the offending picador as the warrior is weakened. Feyd-Rautha pushes him off and allows him a moment to recover, taunting him to try again. Blades clash once more and after a sequence of quick ferocious movements, Feyd-Rautha's blade slashes the warrior's throat. Blood made black by the infrared of the sun splatters onto the na-Baron. He licks the darkness that landed on his lips. Heaving, he takes your bloodied handkerchief off his armband and raises it to you and the roaring crowd.

You did not even realize you were already standing, breathless at the sight.

← CHAPTER 1 | ✦ | CHAPTER 3 →

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore

[hazelsallow]

Piercing Pain

Part 2 and 3 is coming soon! Ask and I’ll tag you!

Words: 2100

Summary: Sebastian loses a bet and has to get his dick pierced. 🖤

Tags: comedy, frenemies, sexual tension, kissing, your pov, aged up characters, Omi is a shitty friend, if you squint real hard you can see a bit of dark!Sebastian

[Ao3]

. ⊹₊°✧ ───── ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ ───── ✧°₊⊹ .

It was Friday night and you had only gone out for a couple of drinks with your girlfriends, but somehow you now found yourself back at the academy, at a party with none other than your frenemy, Sebastian Sallow.

You had known him for almost a year now, since you both started at the Oak Wand Academy together. At first you had been curious about him, those dark curls and charming smile drawing you in. Not to mention his rather strong arms and muscular body.

But you had soon come to realise he was nothing but arrogant and cocky, always insisting on calling you ‘sweetheart’ and ‘love’ in that patronising way of his.

Your peers had gotten used to your strange friendship, always harassing and throwing insults at each other whenever you met in the corridors. There was always this tension between you, and oh, how you loved to hate him.

You saw him now, joking and doing shots with his usual group of followers, including that haughty looking Ominis Gaunt.

Having no energy for either of them tonight though, you nod for your friends to join you in the seating area at the back of the room.

For a while you had a really nice time, laughing and sipping drinks with your friends.

Unfortunately though, you were seated with your back against the room and did not see them approach. Suddenly, that rather husky voice of his reached your ears.

“Well, won’t you look at that.” He hunches down, arms resting on the backrest right beside your head. “Didn’t know you were here, love. Are you avoiding me?” he teases.

You sigh and glance at him from the corner of your eye. “Yes,” you state plainly.

“Aww, but I’ve been missing you so badly,” he sneers. “But I guess you’ve been busy hanging around these oddballs, huh?” He nods towards your friends.

You turn to glare at him, his freckled face dangerously close.

Your friends were no oddballs. Sure, one of them had tattoos covering her legs, and the other had a few piercings adorning her face, but they were the sweetest girls you’d ever met.

“What is your problem?” you snap at him.

“Oh, careful, Bastian. Think you hit a sore spot there,” one of his cronies sniggers.

Sebastian chuckles and tucks your hair behind your ear, knowing full well he pushed a button. “Mmm,” he hums. “But you’re so cute when you’re angry, love,” he says demeaningly.

“Shut up,” you spit at him, silently blaming the drinks for apparently having robbed you of your wit tonight.

His friends laugh mockingly, Sebastian along with them. Then he slowly drags a finger along your jawline, looking from your lips to your eyes. “Or you’ll what, sweetheart?”

Before you can stop yourself you say, “I’ll duel you.”

A low ‘Oooo’ ripples through his little group of admirers.

“A duel it is!” he calls out for the whole room to hear, standing up to demand everyone’s attention.

Sebastian was a well renowned duelist, having won the national championship with his duelling club three years in a row. No one ever dared challenge him.

Suddenly you feel everyone’s eyes on you.

You look to your girlfriends with a smug smile on your face, which they reciprocate knowingly.

The thing is, while Sebastian loves to show off and being praised for his skills, you have no craving for such attention. Meaning that no one except your friends really know of your many years of training.

To excited cheers and applause, you both step out onto the floor, and with a flick of your wands you move the furniture up against the walls.

“Let’s make this interesting, shall we?” Sebastian says, pacing back and forth before you.

You only raise an eyebrow at him.

“If I win,” his eyes make a quick dip down your body, “you suck my dick.”

His gang of followers whistles and cheers loudly.

Looking at your friends, you huff out a laugh.

He always got so daring when alcohol was involved. Then an idea forms in your head.

“Fine. But if I win… you get your dick pierced.”

He stops in his tracks, eyes widening at your sheer audacity.

His friends spurs him on, shouting, “it’s an easy win!” and “show her who’s boss, Sallow!“

Sebastian smirks at them, you can tell he loves the attention.

“Sure,” he huffs, “it’s not like you stand a chance anyway.” He leans in towards you. “Can’t wait to feel those luscious lips wrapped around me, sweetheart,” he taunts, licking the corner of his lips.

His self assertiveness pisses you off immensely.

As does the way he looks at you, making you wanna lick his lips for him.

“Actually, since you’re so sure, why don’t we up the stakes?” you challenge him. “If I win, you get a frenum ladder.”

“A what?” he asks.

“A frenum ladder. Three piercings in a row… like a ladder along your shaft.” You tilt your head with a wicked little grin.

His smile falters a bit, you can see the dilemma going through his mind. He can’t back down now, not with everyone watching, eagerly anticipating his counter bid.

“Fine.” He says, a dark look in his eyes. “But if I win, I get to tie you up and have my way with you.”

You scoff at his request. “You’re on.”

You take your places while the crowd roars with excitement.

“What will it be, Sallow? Pleasure or pain?” you taunt.

He raises his wand. “Pleasure, love” he says with a confident grin.

─ ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ ─

Not even 15 minutes later he lays on his back sprawled on the floor, the air knocked out of him and a look of pure shock on his face.

“Guess that means I win,” you grin down at him. “That’ll teach you not to patronise me, Sallow.”

His friends gather to care for him as the rest of the crowd resume their partying.

You are too busy celebrating with your friends to hear Ominis’ poor attempt at comforting words, saying, “Well, it can’t be worse than the cruciatus curse…”

Dread spreads across Sebastian’s face as realisation dawns on him.

─ ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ ─

The next day at noon you happily stroll along the corridor down to the boys dormitories.

You reach the room that Sebastian and Ominis share and knock.

It takes a while before Ominis opens the door. His hair is on end and he looks thoroughly hungover.

“Hi,” you say hesitantly.

He simply mumbles “Seb, it’s for you,” before returning to his bed.

You hear Sebastian groan as he gets up.

He’s wearing nothing but pyjama bottoms as he comes to lean on the doorframe, crossing his arms. You feel your cheeks grow hot as he towers over you.

“What?” he asks with a raspy voice.

He looks just as hungover as Ominis, with his messy hair and sleepy eyes.

“I’m here to remind you of the bet,” you say.

He rolls his eyes. “It was just a silly bet, something to entertain the boys with,” he says, grabbing the door as if to close it. “Go away, I’m tired.”

You swiftly move to stand between him and the door, suppressing the urge to put a hand on his chest.

“I don’t think so,” you say. “If I had lost you would have had me pay my debt and have the whole school know it.”

He looks at you menacingly, clearly not in the mood for your usual sparring.

“She’s got a point,” you hear Ominis’ drowsy voice say. “Don’t wanna be branded a coward, do you?”

“Whose side are you on?” Sebastian hisses into the dark room.

He glares at you, but you just stare right back.

“Fine,” he says reluctantly. “Tell me when so I can get back to bed. I need my rest, woman.”

“I booked you an appointment at 3:30,” you say happily.

“What, today?” he asks, suddenly wide awake.

“Yes, today,” you smile sweetly. “Meet me in the entrance hall at 3:15 and I’ll take you to the studio. Why don’t you bring Ominis along for support?”

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world,” you hear from within the darkness.

Sebastian looks all but pleased.

“Oh, and you might wanna drink some pepperup potion beforehand,” you say. “I imagine the experience is bad enough without being hungover.” You smile and start walking away, leaving him staring after you.

“Some friend you are,” you hear him mutter to Ominis before closing the door.

─ ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ ─

You arrive at the studio on time, and you explain to the piercing artist, Josh, what you want done.

Sebastian is clearly nervous, pacing around the room, looking at the pictures on the walls with a disdainful look on his face.

When asked to take his pants and underwear off and sit down, he scowls at you.

“Come on, Sallow, take it off,” you say, relishing in his obvious discomfort.

“The faster you get it off, the faster this’ll all be over,” Ominis says, leaning against the wall, looking rather entertained.

“Do you think you could enjoy this a little bit less?!” Sebastian snarls at his friend, who only chuckles in response.

He reluctantly strips and sits down on the reclined chair. Your eyes lingers just a bit too long at his crotch and for a moment you almost wish you had lost.

“Like what you see?” Sebastian smirks, suggestively raising an eyebrow at you.

“I- I wasn’t-“

“Oh, yes you were,” he interrupts, looking awfully pleased with himself.

But his attention quickly shifts when Josh sits down beside him and lays out the needle and the three silver barbell jewellery.

Josh disinfects the area, marks up where the needle will go, and explains the process and aftercare to Sebastian.

Sebastian swallows hard, his face pale. He looks like he’s gonna pass out. Feeling a tiny bit sorry for him, you go to stand behind him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Alright, breathe slowly and it will be easier for you,” Josh says, picking up the needle.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sebastian shouts as Josh brings the needle to his skin.

He looks up at you with pleading eyes.

“Fuck, come on. Really?”

“You lost, Sallow. Time to pay up,” you say, gently combing your fingers through his hair.

He clenches his jaw, and looks at Josh, indicating for him to go ahead.

“Relax and breathe,” Josh reminds him.

“Aarrghhh fuuuckk!!” Sebastian screams as the needle pierces his dick, his hands grasping the seat tightly.

You hear Ominis snicker and can’t help but to do the same.

“You gotta relax, man, or you’re gonna pass out,” Josh says calmly, putting the silver barbell in place.

Sebastian shoots daggers at him, his breath ragged.

Slamming his head against the backrest, he glares at you. “I fucking hate you,” he says through gritted teeth, words dripping with venom.

You stroke his hair, and imitating his own condescending tone you say, “I know baby, I know.”

But secretly, you can’t help but to feel a bit bad for him.

“Alright, ready for the next one?” Josh asks.

Sebastian nods, clenching his jaw.

Josh brings the needle to his skin again, saying, “and breathe.”

Sebastian does not breathe. He tenses up, knuckles going white as he grips the chair growling in pain.

Ominis chuckles, “Come on, mate. It can’t be that bad.”

“One more word out of you and I’ll fucking curse you, you fucking traitor,” Sebastian spits at his friend.

Josh puts the second barbell in.

“Now, now, calm down,” you say and step to the side of his chair. Leaning down so you’re face to face, you whisper, “How about this, when you’re all healed up and good to go, I’ll let you test your new aesthetics out on me, mm?”

If looks could kill, you’d be dead on the floor.

He grabs your throat tightly, pulling you closer so your noses touch. “I’ll make it hurt for you, you bitch,” he hisses with all the hate he can muster.

A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead as he breathes heavily into your face, and giving in to your impulse, your tongue darts out to lick at his lips.

“Going in for the third,” Josh sighs, having given up on getting Sebastian to relax.

Sebastian crashes his mouth onto yours, his pained growl muffled by your rough kiss.

When it’s done, he releases you with a slight shove and tries to steady his breath.

Josh puts the last piece of jewellery in, and Sebastian finally relaxes. He looks exhausted.

He glances sideways at you and chuckles darkly. “Oh, I’ll make you regret this.”

You smile, biting your lip.

Whether a threat or a promise, you find that you don’t really care.

[moonlitenvyillust]

Hey TeleNeo fans, want some pain? No? Too bad here you go

Tags: men crying (why would that be a warning tbh), angst (or at least a try out of writing angst), love letters but the sender is dead, major character death, Telemachus is mentioned but is the sender, EURYCLEA MY QUEEN, Neo cries <3, don't you love making character's suffer, ancient Greek gays, TELENEO CLUB HAS FOUR/FIVE MEMBERS ISTG-, deprived of content. So I'll write it!, me being a tired bitch, based on: "to my dear Historia" With too many alterations.

•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙|-π-|⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

And so the letter ends.

The second he heard of the great Odysseus's return, he felt a pang of relief for Telemachus. His beloved finally got the one thing he had dreamed of for his entire life. He couldn't help but feel a little jealous... He never got such reunion with his own father. The great Achilles had died and that was why he was drafted to war.

He immediately set sail to Ithaca as he heard the news. He finished his little quest and immediately jumped onto a ship. His little mind could not comprehend how much he missed the island, but more over, how much he missed his Telemachus

Walking down from the ship to the docs, he was just about to go to the palace when-

"Excuse me, Lord Neoptolemus?"

That voice... Neo remembered her, that's Telemachus's nurse maid, Euryclea.

"It's so hard to try and find you, here, a favor from the prince"

She handed him a letter, albeit an not so old not so new looking one. Atleast a few weeks old. A stain is seen on the edge... Coffee? No, that's the colour of Telemachus's meds when it dries on white.

And the letter wrote...

"To my dear, Phyrrus

As I write this, my health is severely declining. I wished to give this letter to you directly–hell, maybe even say the words I wish to say. But my voice has been lost through my last fight with a suitor. He hit me hard enough, I think I broke my vocal chords. However I of course had asked Euryclea for her word, to give this to you during your next visit. I know for a fact you are a busy man, multiple quests given to you at a time. Henceforth I didn't send this letter, I didn't want to worry you and give you an unsafe return.

That said, I want to be selfish. Just for once. I swear it. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you sooner. But even before the suitors plagues my life, I had been dying. In a literal sense.

My body is weaker than an average man and it's not only because of the fact I am untrained, but it's because of severe health disorders... Yes I have been training under Athena, but that doesn't mean my chronic pain just Dissapears. It gets worse, actually. But I can deal with it. Usually

I have realized that my time is no longer than at least a few weeks when this letter is wrote. The headaches had been more frequent, I fall over with leg pains more often, and it just overall shows a sign that my name is in the "to reap" Soul list of Thanatos.

I love you, more than how I would love a friend. But not able to be as a lover, for you deserve someone better. Someone stronger. Someone... Your height of glory. But I shall let myself be selfish for my last few days. I love you.

I ask for my body to only be burnt when you made an appearance. I know it's so much to ask. But words spread fast and you run faster.

So, if I die before you return... Consider this as my goodbye."

It had been a while since the last time Phyrrus cried

But just this once

He let himself weep

•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙|-π-|⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

I had a vague idea for this after watching a "to my dear Historia" Edit, so have this. Share my pain.

@ list because I know who would like this stuff @cutob @no1teleneoshipper @lenamiyabi @lemonade-tree7 here you go. We are deprived of content tbh. Have angst, almost forgot @kindred-spirit-93

[worth-this-and-more]

thoughts and prayers on oathbound

[spoilers for legendborn, bloodmarked and oathbound, read at your own caution ;)]

this has been marinating for so long, but i was gathering my thoughts and also waiting that everybody would've blocked the spoiler tag by now. let's begin, shall we??

first things first, character wise;

bree- i love her. the whole journey was so fucking powerful and healing like woahhh she finally got control of her powers and that broken soul like can you imagine having a part of your soul just taken away from you, like valec said many broken souls never get formed back but bree?? she was missing so so much about herself and still didn't lose herself like that's why she's the best idc what anybody says she is so so strong and fearless and now ruthless, i love her!!

nick- this is one clever mf like damn bro had uno reverses for his uno reverses, and I'm glad we got to know more about what's in his head. one think i will say he became perfect to more perfect, not necessarily a bad thing but i really really wanna know what was he doing in those time when he was on the run alone like what were you doing buddy. we learned so much about him but at the same time so many questions too like he developed well. and his charisma stat just went up 9 points for me lool keep treating bree the way she deserves my boy.

sel- this idiot. absolute moron. he's gonna be the death of me what was that?? i went in thinking oh my lil patootie he's now a demon I'm gonna relieve my monsterfucker days uwu, this fucker scared me so bad?? what the actual fuck was that?? “Briana is mine. My Scion. My sovereign. My king.” what the fuck. so terrifying. so butterfly-worthy. so so possessive. he had less scenes but every scene filled me with terror wtff is he doing. the whistling?? the taunts?? the slow walk?? the threats?? his grin?? everytime he was mentioned i was so scared its not even a joke. what the fuck was that.

william- oh my sweet summer child. he was so so good. and the parallels omg?? the way he spat back at the regents?? just a few weeks ago he was the one who stopped bree from saying shit like that, and yes the situations and implications were different but oh boy did i love it. it was so dope. and he is so so clever and brave and just my sweetest scion of gawain like oh buddy lemme worship you.

lark- bro popped off i swear. he had the worst first day as a kingsmage and he still was so so concerned and scared in already bonded to bree in spirit, although ik he wont be allowed to be bonded because yk sel exists and sel would kill him is an understatement, but oh i lark as a kingsmage would be awesome. and the way he noticed william so much like broooooooo i love you and him being so fiercely protective of our boy like oof i live for it.

mariah- i fear she ate. she shined so bright in this book, she is so powerful?? and her inspo is bree we're the same gurll. she had the heart of the dame for like three days and she not only got used to it but also managed to hold out a whole horde of warlocks and arawn too like damn girlie this is the kinda female empowerment i love. and goshh her support and love and care like haaayeee my heartttt.

zoelle- she grew on me ngl. i already wanted them to have a sweet sweet friendship and she did not disappoint. she is so clever?? and the subtle trans rep?? and so so supportive of bree like gurl i love you. she is us frrr. and the way she defended bree about her lashing at vera?? like yes. was it rude?? yeah. should bree be dragged about it every fucking time?? hell no. i love her so much she is so so sweet.

elijah- i recently learned the correct pronunciation of his name so my bad buddy but yes i love him too. his growing trust and respect towards bree is admirable, and the love for his sister?? bro you are the epitome of sibling relationships. i want them to come back soon. sel will be handled by bree or if he lays a finger on them imma riot. shoutout to elijah and zoelle, gotta be my favorite twins frr.

alice- my heart breaks for her so much. her purgatory stasis?? her constant efforts to amend her "failure" which wasn't even your fault babe its that damn arthur bitch. i want her to come back pleaseeee ik bree chose her soul over her but i have full faith in bree and slice ik they will make it back please tracy don't kill her it will break bree and me in extension please alice deserves to see her bestie be the king pleaseee.

valec- we found a lot about him, like maybe not a lot but enough to make a lot of theories but brooooo his admiration and care and concern and trust for bree was so heartwarming i cried like really i did it was so sweet. like that is elder brother valec yall like comonn i need that elder brother in my life too pleaseee he's such a sweetie.

natasia- she was not like what i expected lmaoooo i thought she was more moody and edgy and emo but nooo she's so sweet?? and she didn't know shit lmaooo. she and sel have so much angst and i have no idea how are they gonna get over it. like her reasons to not reach out to him were justified imo, she was threatened that next time it would be sel whose hands will be ripped off so like the motherly love would never ever let her get back to him ofc. but still her knowledge seemed so... little. i feel like she spent all her time uncovering her demonia situation and took everything else at face value. i don't blame her but like someone give her a crash course 101 please. also i want her and bree to sit and have a long long chat she knew faye so so much i want bree to know everything.

these are the main ones ig?? now my thoughts??

sel is arawn's son. i feel like we all knew that but i kinda lost hope on it for like majority of the book yk, like only during the last chapter we get this bomb dropped and yall that was sick. the death?? the transformation?? the font change?? "what...shall...we...do" wthh bro chill.

we got so much willark!! they got so much time together!! i wanna see it go more william deserves that sweet corner and i want him to have a lil rest while bree catches them all up with the recent events.

natasia and edwin duo is so funny lmaoooo i want these awkward parents to kinda adopt all of them haha. and i want more of edwin's speeches i wanna frame every prep talk he gives can i please have him as my father too please adopt me sir.

imo poly is now more confirmed kind of because we saw so much breenick but at the same time he did delete all the cheating allegations and his feelings about breesel too so like yeah. poly could be endgame and I'm not even complaining lool their happiness is with each other.

I'm still pretty much breesel but breenick gave me so many butterflies yall I'm not even kidding. the fight?? the kiss?? the putting on her heels?? he banter?? the flirting?? "so drown"?? i be screaming and kicking my feet in the air frrr.

i want more of valec and zoelle-elijah because i feel like they will be more at ease together and we will see a demonic family situation haha. also, them collectively teasing bree on her boy drama, epic!!

arawn is a piece of shit but what a clever fucking piece of shit so fucking manipulative. i am still confused about him never trying to know sel, or arawn and natasia's relationship. nat thinks he is erebus, so we have a deception. but what does arawn gain from it?? so many questions opened up.

i haven't had much time to read about arthuriana so i was kinda relieved we didn't see much of it but we did get one mention of scion of mordred dabbling in demon experiments and now I'm curious do we have another mole in the order from mordred's side??

nick and ava definitely had something. it pissed me off so bad wdym "seduced me" wth was that greer and William are like me frrr glad to know I'm not the only one trynna read between the lines but yeah what the fuck was that i hated it.

ig this is it?? i might have more thoughts which i still have to organise but this is from the top of my head so it might be all over the place.

in conclusion, i loved oathbound and i can't wait for the next and final book I'm so excited but so sad like its coming to an end?? just like this?? why so soon?? i don't want this to end but i want bree to be happy and safe above everything so yeah, i could get through this.

this was so long lmaooo but okay peace out!!

[urautismdiagnosis-wistie]

•°○ let the fireflies play ○°•

✨she couldn't sing for nothing and he couldn't dance for nothing can I make it any more obvious✨

Kwaziis parents (in my au, Misty Memories), Anira and Kenneth. They're in their party clothes lol Yes they have full character arcs and lore and no im not going to share their whole lives right now.

HOWEVER,I shall BRIEFLY describe them and how they met under the tag!!! <3 u don't have to read but yeh :> 😊

If yall have any questions about them or their personalities tho let me know in comments or ask box :>

Their story takes place from late 80s to early 90s btw,

Kenneth is clearly the second son of the Calicoed Jack and younger brother of Kingsley by about 2 or 3 years. Kenneth (also nicknamed "Kenny boy"or "Kenny kit" as a child) is... Well to be honest hes not very good at being a pirate, especially not like his parents. An anxious and overly cautious one.

He couldn't properly swing a sword without closing his eyes for fear of injuring himself, he was clumsy (even by non feline standards-), and was afraid of spiders. (And heights... and loud noises... and that one Pelican that tried to eat him when he was a kitten- and also-)

However, he was still raised a pirate and had the soul of one, shanty songs and tales spread through the ocean about its depths and tragic battles- He was also very good at cooking-

As a result of his mothers... tragically lost battle with illness, (and witness of his fathers struggles with infection after losing his eye and leg)hes also extremely paranoid about disease and injury...

(his father loved him dearly but hadn't realized that kenneth had low self esteem for... not living up to him, his mother, and his brother... CJ was a young and inexperienced father and also tried his best to teach kenneth- you know like fun survival challenges between him and his brother and how to fight- he uh.. he was good at surviving on an island at least? It was very safe of course, they weren't actually stranded, but it was "just in case" and also "the pirate way" and whatnot.

CJ (calico jack) did tease him a bit about "still feeling like a wee kit" in regards to his pirate failures, it wasn't ever in mean spirit, more fondness over his sons excitement in sharing the shanties he wrote himself! (Shanties cj would later use to stay sane in the amazon...) but kenneth still felt hurt by those comments though he never showed it... laughing along🥺 <:< )

anyways since kenneth didn't want to be a self proclaimed dead weight and was so concerned about injury and disease (bot as easy to get hospital treatment as a pirate yk?) Kingsley advised him to get real schooling- schooling that would give him credibility for a fake identity so he could become their crews official medic someday. Something incredibly valueable and needed.

Thats how he ended up spending half the year at a "flexibility school" in Japan meant to accommodate children who couldn't stay at school for the full year. Whether it was due to international travel, long term illness, apprenticeships (the salty spirit was usually undercover as a "transportation vessel" for the "Sarah Sails" company which was just a fake company made by their clan the Split Tail), and ofc children hopping between foster families- because of the flexible needs yk?

Like Anira.

Anira Kucing (name inspired by the kucing Malaysia cat breed) is, who would've guessed it, originally from Malaysia. Anira doesn't know this but her mother had fled from her home country due to the unfortunate circumstance of being a prime suspect for the death of her sister. Unfortunately, while her mother did manage to take a new identity in a new country, she became very ill from cancer when anira was very young and died <:( thus she was legally an orphan, and ended up attending the same school

Anira is ah, ahem, a... unique individual- grew up assuming her father had abandoned her and her mother- only to lose her mom while young and still be seen as a foreign stranger of Japan despite being raised there her whole life. She also had an interesting tendency to pickpocket everyone in sight :) because if she didn't have anyone to dote on her she might as well dote on herself! Yk with like.. stolen cash that the rude rich kids that whispered about her didn't even need anyways >:)

Anira thus became Very Talented at getting people to talk about themselves, and while that was a great way to distract people from their wallets,it was also a GREAT WAY to get fresh juicy gossip ✨ then she hears about this FOREIGN ENGLISH SPEAKING CAT GUY???

Needless to say lil wee kenneth was uh.. a very new lil guy and ofc she just hadddd to help him cuz she's so kind and great! Esp since he looked so lost and like a total dumdum. well what happened was she ran up to him after school, dragged him away to a random street as she rambled in broken English, and then said "watch this!!"

And proceeded to pickpocket three very mean looking older teens. Kenneth, who, understandably, was very freaked out by this tried to drag HER away from them- and then well... hes got broken japanese and well things escalated 😔

He got into a fight with the three older teens, or rather a "run way swat at with claws and TRY TO RUN AWAY SOME MORE because oh great im corned in an alley :) , he also tried to find anira so they could both run away but uh... she was gone...

He tried to escape by scrambling over the wall of the alley only when a small paw reached out to help- and thus they escaped together-

Later on when they caught their breaths on a rooftop, he tried his best to ask her *HEY WHAT THE HELL* as politely as he could. This tiny little menace grinned as wide as possible and showed him FIVE WHOLE WALLETS full of coins she stole! She thanked him and told him SHE was going to treat HIM to some icecream 🥰🥰🥰 and anyways kenneth immediatly fell in love. And you just know she ate up his cringey (cute) middleschool love poems too

Of course when he went to "do his sailing apprenticeship" well- of course our girlie mightve sorta followed him and stowed away and well mightve forcefully wormed her way into his entire family 🥰🥰🥰 honestly tho she had like two crack headcanons that kenneth was actually an alien spy since he was so bad at being a cat or a secret pirate because he just agreed with crime very casually and didn't realize how strict laws actually were. She DIDNT THINM HE WAS ACTUALLY PART OF A PIRATE CREW THOUGH-

Anira very much fell in love with the freedom of being a pirate, the culture and the family, and also the beliefs of the polynesian cultures they visited and adopted many of the beliefs as an honorary sister of sorts ig? Yeh :>

If you're wondering yes she did join their crew and became a navigator of the salty spirit! Very good at it too lol, and CJ loved her and doted on her like his own daughter,often sneaking her candies- Kingsley and she became ah, how shall we say- the siblings who have heinous prank wars either with eachother or on literally everyone else and can't be left alone together under any circumstances.

anira always loved kenneth for who he was entirely and kenneths entire bloodline is just a wee man who falls for a woman who commits crimes and he's no different. I'll have to post about calico jackand his wife maddie sometime

Anyways thats it lol, more details about them and their relationship and story will be shared later on hope you enjoyed lol

Enjoy this icecream as a reward for reading all of that ✨🍨✨

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 28

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: It might be my only full length chapter this week but pls enjoy.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The king keeps you within his sight. As promised, the cloak is brought to the tower chamber. You dawn it as the king pulls on the layers of his duty; tunic, breeches, leather armour, boots, cloak, and the small accoutrements to ward off the cold. For how hotly he burned beside you in the night, you would think he could not feel the winter. 

It is early still. The gray of the sky never fully recedes but it is neither pale nor dark. Even so, the day has come. 

There is a single tap at the door. The king backs away from the hearth. You sit at the table, restless in the cloak with the wolf patch. He calls for the knocker to enter. 

Bryce appears from the other side, his saddles bags over one shoulder. "My king. Roach is ready." 

"Very well," he nods, "summer maid," he turns and beckons to you with two thick fingers, "the good lord will take you ahead." 

"My leige?" Bryce wonders what you do not dare ask. 

"Only be concerned that she remains safe. Warm," he nears and shamelessly caresses your check. You flinch as you refuse to falter.  "You will get her to the capital ahead of us. You will be fleet without so many to slow you." 

You meets Bryce's gaze. In all that you've known him, he has never looked afraid. There is fear gleaming on his eyes. 

"I will always serve you, my king. And never have I denied your command, but might I speak plain?" The soldier faces his master. 

"I prefer you for your candour," King Geralt returns. 

"This will not go without note," Bryce says. "Not least of all by the queen." 

"The queen cares little for the maid. She only cares she has someone at her whim." 

"Be that as it may, but it is not her who would notice. Yet, whoever did, would be certain she hears of it--" 

"I fear not my wife and her temper. She is tawdry. A child. Let her whine and stomp her feet," the king dismisses. "Your concern is appreciated. I understand you only mean to protect me, but I care more to keep her safe." 

"Yes, my king," Bryce accedes, "I will not let any harm come upon the maid. As I've not yet done." 

"It is why I trust only you and Roach. Be gone before the party is abreast." The king faces you, surprising you as he kneels before you. You blanch as you notice the shift in the soldier's posture. "My tender maid, keep you well. I regret that it need be this way but after last eve, I must have you away from this tumultuous party." He takes your hand and pets your knuckles before kissing them. He admires your fingers as if they are adorned in gems. "I will see you in the capital. There, then, we can be happy." 

“My king,” you breathe, “what about the queen?” 

“I shall tend to her should she be dissatisfied. That is no longer your worry. She does not deserve you, treasure.” He avows. 

You stare at him. His eyes are eerie in the low light. You would not and cannot deny him. 

“Yes, your highness, as you wish,” you concede. It was never truly your choice. 

“Before we part, pet,” he squeezes your hands. “A kiss?” 

You hesitate. The soldier turns to the door and feigns ignorance. You dip your chin. The king tilts his head up and you lean forward. As you aim for his forehead, he brings his lips to yours.  

He releases your hands and quickly cradles your head as he braces your hip. His tongue pokes along your lips and you relent to his will. That is as it will be. As it has always been. You have ever been servant. 

He finally parts, humming as his bright irises glimmer, “my treasure, my love,” he rasps. 

“My king, I wish you a safe journey,” you utter. 

“And I shall bid the fates the same of you,” he drags his hand down your thigh and stands. “Safe and quick. Off, before my weak heart gets the best of my mind.” 

Bryce’s sole scuffs and he clears his throat, “come, maid. Put your hood up.” 

You stand and bow your head. You pass close to the king, your cloak stirring against him, and you cross to the soldier. He opens the door and trails you out. You do as he bid and pull your hood up. You descend the twisting steps in silence. 

The corridors are no less hollow and a bitter draft wafts through. The roiling of Bryce’s thoughts ripples from him as he marches next to you. You can only sense him past the fabric of the hood. 

“I shall make you tea for the road,” Bryce says at last. “It should keep you warm.” 

“Thank you, sir, but it isn’t needed,” you say. “We should leave quickly.” 

“Aye, we will be away ‘fore any know,” he agrees, “but not without the tea.” 

You offer no further protest. It isn’t your right to argue. You haven been bidden and so you will do. Obedience never chafed before. Obedience was safe, it was sustenance for any maid. 

You go to the kitchens and wait as Bryce boils water and brews a dark tea from leaves in a pouch he digs from his tunic. He offers it. It carries a pungent aroma. You blow over it and sip. You make a face. 

“It is... strong,” you murmur. 

“So it is, but the leaf will help warm your blood,” he insists and paces back and forth. He is restless to be away. You are as well. 

You drink and he ushers you away to the stables. You stride along the row of stalls and he dodges the nip of a dark steed. He flattens himself against another door and snarls, “the damned beast. ‘Less you can tame her, the king’ll have to keep her ‘neath his stubborn arse.” 

You recognise the mare. It is Roach, the king’s mount. You stare at her and she turns her nose to you. 

“Be wary lest she chomps off your face,” the soldier girds. 

You have little mind to worry for your own nose. You raise your hand pet the creature’s long snout as she plumes hot air from her nostrils. He pushes against your palm and eases, leaning into your touch as you brush along her long head. 

“Come, Roach, we have far to go... I believe,” you say. “Be kind to Sir Bryce. He is brave and kind.” 

“Aye, she seen me ‘fore and I never think she’s thought so,” he snorts, keeping his distance. 

You drag your touch down her neck and put your hand on the latch of her door. She nuzzles your hood and you free her. She steps out as Bryce lingers behind you. 

“Can you saddle a horse? Else I’ll have to brave her bites,” he says. 

“I can. Fetch it and her bit.” 

You dress the horses. Daisy is left behind as Bruce claims Chestnut as his own. You’ll miss your usual mount. 

You get astride and head off into the cold dawn. Your stomach churns as you descend the treacherous mountainside. You’re not sure if it is the thin air, the turmoil of what you ride away from, or ride towards. Perhaps it is all at once. 

Bryce stops you in a natural alcove, away from the winds as he searches his saddle bag. He hands you a leather packet. There are oats and nuts within. He spits out the red leaf he chews so often and nibbles on dried meat instead. 

You eat in silence. The food does not aid in the condition of your stomach. You feel rotten. 

The soldier squints and glances out from between the rockface. He tuts and shakes his head. He puts away the jerky and struts out into the open. He looks up the pass. 

“Eh, I know you’ve been there since we left. Better you show your face before I show my steel,” he warns the wind. 

You frown and fold down the flap of the packet. You hear scratching, then it comes clearer, footsteps. How did he know? Why did he not say a word? 

“It is I, sir,” Ezme declares. “Lord Vesemir--” 

“Aye, I know he sent ya. Why?” Bryce crosses his arms. You step away from Roach as she stomps. 

“He did speak with our great king last eve,” she appears just at the edge of your view. “He offered to keep the made. That the king might return to his throne ‘fore he come back to claim her.” 

“And he was denied.” Bryce says. 

“The king was not amenable, no, yet... Lord Vesemir acts only in accord with his duty. He vowed to protect King Geralt--” 

“And to serve him. As I have,” Bryce insists. “No, you will not have her. I’ve been commanded to take her away.” 

“You could remain. Lord Vesemir knows many secret places. Those that are not on maps. It would be as if the two of you were lost. The king wouldn’t know--” 

“He would,” Bryce growls. “I am not fool, even if all others in this forsaken realm might be. I do like my head on my neck.” 

“It is not safe. Not for the king or the maid. Not for you,” Ezme counters.  

“There is nothing safe in this world. Never has been,” Bryce scoffs. “Be away before I prove that.” 

“Sir Bryce, you have never been unkind.” 

“You ask me to commit treason. How should I be?” He retorts. 

Her head shrinks down. She slowly turns to you. Bryce moves to block her. She stops short and speaks over his arm. “Dear friend, know that Lord Vesemir’s invitation will remain. Always. Even after you leave this day.” 

You blink at her. Your heart is racing. You feel sick. Knots tie into themselves in your chest and stomach. You blow out a cloud of warmth breath into the frigid mountain air. 

“Thank you, friend,” you reply. “I shall follow the king’s command.” 

“I understand,” she purses her lips grimly. She steps back and faces the soldier again, “safe journey.” 

He sighs, “you know I cannot accept.” 

“And I had to try,” she says then spins and disappears back up the incline. 

“So is our call to keep on,” Bryce strides back to you and the horses. “Better sooner, the road will unwind on and on. I tire of it already.” 

You climb back into the saddle and set off again. The further you get, the worse you feel. As if you might be sick, or even as if you might need to lift your skirts in some hidden brush. You feel so wretched you can hardly focus on anything but your body. 

“Sir,” you say, “I must stop.” 

“Aye, mouse, we might,” he reins Chestnut as you tug on Roach.  

You nearly fall off of her in your panic. You are going to spew. You stumble and turn to hide the eruptions. You spit up onto the dirt. 

“I have water,” Bryce offers from behind you. 

“A moment, sir,” you breathe as fullness pulses in your pelvis. 

You go around Roach and hide behind her. You pull up the front of the dress, letting the skirts and cloak shield your back. You reach between your legs as slip your hands down your wool underclothes. Your palm comes away streaked and red. Your blood has come. Early. 

“Are you well?” The soldier asks. 

“Sir, I am,” you assure him and wipe your hand on the underside of the skirt. “It is only a womanly trouble.” 

“Aye, oh, aye,” he grumbles awkwardly. “Take ye time, then.” 

You lean on Roach and close your eyes. You are horribly sore already and exhausted to the bone. Still, you can do nothing but persist.  

“I’m ready, sir,” you lift yourself back into saddle. “I would away.” 

“If we are swift, we will be on flat ground by nightfall,” he says. 

⚔️

The days wear on. The first week is counted by the days of your cycle. The pain and the fatigue has you aware of each moment. Then it is the moon that marks the waning of time. 

The road winds away from the mountains and onto the flatlands. Only for a time before trees rise around you and shroud you in shadow, both dusk and dawn. Between the fir needles and veined bark are those noises that keep you unsettled. 

You camp before a small fire. Bryce works at planting the posts to drape canvas over. The snow is kept off the ground by the thick canopy of branches above. There is some dusting here and there, but it is mostly dry. 

“What can I do, sir?” You ask, as you have done every night. 

“I tell ya again to sit and warm yourself,” he sneers as he hammers in the post. 

“And I repeat I would like to help,” you insist. 

“I can manage. I’m not old man,” he sniffs as he grabs the canvas roll. 

“I know...” you pause as you hear another faraway whine. It sends a shiver through you. “Sir, what are those sounds?” 

He chortles as he works at spreading the canvas over the poles. “Why those are the frostwolves. And the low rumbles will be the bears. The skittering the snow foxes, and the shrill ones, those are the winter birds.” He explains, “they leave ya alone, so long as you keep the fire burning.” He ties a corner into place, “besides, they hate the smell of me.” 

“What?” You gasp, amused. 

“Aye, the don’t like my stench. I came eye-to-eye with a bear. Oh, he didn’t stick around to get a second look,” he scoffs. “And I said to the beast, I don’t mess with ya, don’t be gnawing on my leg. See, I’ve got a truce with the winter beasts.” 

You laugh and sway as you hug yourself. It is awfully cold. Your ears and head hurt almost constantly, even with your hood in place, and the gloves only do so much to keep your fingers from tingling, or your boots for your toes. 

“I s’pose they might be lured by the sweet scent of a summer’s maid. A new flavour,” he teases. 

“You scare me, sir.” 

“Scare you? Oh, but this beast is your friend. You needn’t fear the others.” 

You smile through chattering teeth. He stands straight and eyes you with hands on his hips. “Get close to the fire. You don’t want to catch the ague. Not around here.” 

“I am well, sir,” you promise. 

“Then stay well,” he nears and grabs your wrists. He drags you to the pit and guides your hands over the flames. “Keep close to the horses even. They reek but they put off heat more than cinder.” 

You nod and keep your arms out. It is nice by the fire. The further you get on the road, the colder it is. You could never dream of anything so frigid. It makes you wonder how any can survive in this place, let alone build castles or sow a field. And the more you think of what you don’t know, you are faced with what you do know. 

Your fate is as certain as any of the king’s commands. You will remain in the Hinterlands. It will be your home thus you should acquaint yourself to it. You should become tolerant to the winds and the snow and the wailing beasts. 

“Sir Bryce,” you eke out. “Will you tell me more about these woods?” 

“These woods? Trees, wolves, dirt,” he shrugs. 

“No, sir, I want to know more. I want to know everything. About the Winter Kingdom and the people who built it. What about the king? Not our king, but the one before? I hear much and yet I feel I know less.” 

He huffs and tilts his head, “it is best you know as little as possible about that one.” 

“Was he very bad?” You wonder. 

He sniffs, “I can’t tell you all but what I can is that he was selfish. He was negligent of his kingdom and his people even his own son. He let these lands go to spoil. His name is not one any speaks lightly. It is the reason our king is so loved. Because he is all that his father was not.” He dusts off his hands and shakes his head. “At least, we all hope that proves true.” 

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 26

Chapters: 26/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader  Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn’t utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

Little did you know, what started like a simple housemaid job was about to change your life forever.

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

Tagging: @number-0-iz, @emarich7, @jaziona92, @bridkesby @gallantys . If anyone else wants to be tagged in the next updates, let me know.

You can also read this on AO3 if you feel more comfortable!

Author's note: And here you are the part we were all waiting for! It's quite big still, but at last, these two lovebirds are getting back together.

WARNING: Mention of blood and a bit of gore (from a nightmare).

As Morpheus pursued his quest to uncover the truth behind the Book of Paradoxes' mystery, you carried on with your life as best you could, balancing between the dream world and the waking one. Before you could reunite with the love of your life, entities from your past suddenly reappeared before you. The very ones you had hoped never to see again.

Morpheus observed the golden threads permeating the area, their luminescence dancing through the restored verdant landscape. The radiant energy resonated within him, its gentle warmth embracing his being and coiling around his heart.

“She did this,” he whispered, trailing his fingers along one of the tendrils, which shimmered and reformed around his touch.

Astra nodded, his dark, star-filled eyes catching the warm light. "Yes. Quite impressive, isn't it?"

"I abandoned my responsibilities to my realm. My grief has caused devastation once again. One that I had no right to expect her to mend."

"Well, not truly catastrophic, but close enough. Even I, my lord, felt the effects of your... shall we say... dark disposition."

"Her essence lingers within you. You are as much my creation as you are hers, in this moment," he intoned, his voice deep and resonant. "Astra... I must make amends. You sought to counsel me, to issue warning, and I..."

"You needn't make amends, my lord—at least, not to me."

Morpheus took a tentative step forward, walking into the center of a glowing spiral that formed before him. "Can I even dare to hope she would welcome me back into her life? That I could be deemed worthy to stand beside her, to be present for our child?"

"Why shouldn't you? It won't be easy, certainly, but her love for you knows no bounds. There's nothing she wants more than having you back."

“How…”

“My lord?”

"How can a being like myself be deserving of such devotion? I, who am as eternal and ruinous as the darkness itself."

"The real question is: are you willing to accept such boundless love into your heart? Are you truly ready for everything she has to offer?"

Morpheus lowered his gaze to the ground. "All I truly desire is to have her by my side. Yet I find myself haunted by the possibility that I am destined to bring only destruction."

"I understand you're still pondering the book's prophecy, but from what I can see, they will both face doom without you around. The reverse isn't true."

“Perhaps.”

"I am certain of it, my lord."

Bright streaks wove through the atmosphere, synchronizing their movements with the guardian fireflies that watched over this section of the realm.

"Look at this. The Dreaming welcomes it—loves it, even. She is no ordinary dreamer, and no ordinary mortal, either. She never was. You may be darkness, but she is light. Like day and night, you belong together. You are intertwined, neither able to truly exist without the other."

You were nothing but light. His light. You represented the sun, the moon, and the stars.

"Then let me be your light, always. Wherever you go, whatever you face, I’ll be with you.”

"The tome made itself known to her, much as it did when I first discovered it in the library halls."

"And do you know why?"

"No. Though the reason eludes me, her connection to the book runs far deeper than I initially perceived."

"And that proves there is more at work here than meets the eye."

“Yes.”

Astra's hooves tapped against the ground. "Her light endures. It has healed what was withering in the Dreaming... through your child."

"Our child... A miracle born of dreams. A being of infinite possibility."

"Could they be destined for something beyond merely inheriting your throne?"

"I cannot venture to predict what lies ahead, Astra. What I do know is that this child represents something unprecedented… a being who exists between realms, born of both dreams and mortality. A convergence of shadow and radiance."

Astra's expression darkened. "In a sense, wouldn't they be similar to Daniel Hall?"

“No,” Morpheus' voice grew grave. "Daniel's existence is different. He came to be through the union of a human and a ghost, influenced by a Vortex within my domain. His nature is that of dreams, exceeding mortal flesh."

Astra's eyes narrowed. "And your child, though conceived here in the Dreaming, came from the union of a physically present human and the Dream Lord himself."

"Indeed," he intoned solemnly.

"But is she truly human anymore? This power she possesses... she's the daughter of a Goddess."

Morpheus' eyes closed as a string of light passed through his hair, like a gentle breeze. "She has divine lineage, yes. And yet... her mortal essence remains an integral part of who she is."

"And what about your child?"

"My child is something entirely unique. What grows in her womb holds power beyond measure. Power I have yet to understand."

A firefly drifted toward Astra, its ethereal glow casting a gentle glow across his snout.

"You seem troubled."

Morpheus fell silent, his gaze trailing a shimmering path of light as he gathered his thoughts.

"Everything I have undertaken, every choice I have made. The very foundations of my existence, my purpose, my destiny... All of it has been transformed into something entirely new. It pales in significance compared to her and our unborn child."

"And is that such a terrible thing?"

"No… She is magnificent. A true force of divine nature. How could something of such exquisite beauty ever be terrible?"

"Then... to hell with the book? No offense, my Lord, but I fear this path may lead to even more dead ends."

"Even so... I can feel the energy transforming around it. I require but a moment more to contemplate this fully."

Astra sighed. "She may not have that luxury of time. What if disaster strikes again?"

"Then I shall watch over her, eternally vigilant. It was my gravest mistake to have left her side."

Morpheus turned, the golden filaments now permanently woven into the fabric of his realm, like shimmering liquid light on a celestial canvas.

"You speak truth in this matter, Astra. She belongs to me, as I belong to her. Our child represents the embodiment of our connection, something I must protect at all costs. I must not fail again."

With an elegant nod, Astra followed the Dream King as they traversed the mystical landscapes, the majestic spires of the castle forming before them through the cosmic expanse.

A golden trail drifted behind them, accompanying the Dream King's journey to the palace before merging seamlessly with its ancient foundations.

Upon waking, you discovered your name prominently featured across news outlets and social media platforms, an unexpected development you weren't prepared to face given recent events. While getting ready for work, you stumbled upon audience-captured footage of your previous evening's performance circulating online, accompanied by articles featuring it to great acclaim.

“Y/N Y/LN Stuns on Stage: A Muse, A Mystery, A Moment to Remember!”

"Ethereal, Elegant, Enigmatic – Y/N Y/LN Captivates the Audience in a Spellbinding Performance.”

"The Fashion World's Darling Proves She’s More Than Just a Style Icon.”

“Who Is Y/N Y/LN Singing For? Fans Speculate on the Meaning Behind Her Emotional Display.”

Fortunately, the headlines and contents maintained discretion regarding your companion that evening, with no photographs or mentions of Hob appearing in any media coverage. The near-incident on the street also went unreported—except for a brief news item about a drunk driver hitting a lamppost—allowing you to preserve your personal boundaries while garnering professional recognition. 

It remained unclear whether this was merely coincidental or a deliberate act of discretion by the local authorities. Regardless of the circumstances, the absence of scrutiny surrounding the occurrence was a welcome relief.

However, Hob immediately xpressed clear regret about the predicament, constantly berating himself. "Bloody hell, love. This is on me entirely. Should've thought about how all this might put you in the spotlight, shouldn't I?"

With a smile, you shook your head. "Hob, don't worry about it. You wanted to do something nice for me, and I honestly ended up enjoying myself."

"But that fucking car nearly took you out right in front of me, didn't it? If I hadn't been such a stubborn git, if I'd just let you stay home like you wanted..."

"Don't dwell on it now. Really, Hob, none of this is your fault. There's no way you could have predicted it."

He exhaled shakily, running his fingers through his hair. "But if it weren't for that magical bit he gave you... I can't even bring myself to think what might've happened."

"Honestly, what troubles me most is that he wasn't there. He must know about it, yet... he still chose to leave me alone."

Lucienne's smile softened as she clasped your wrists. "He’s always been particular in how he handles matters of the heart. He's suffering just as deeply as you are. Though he may not show it in conventional ways, his inability to rest speaks volumes about his regret."

"We could face all this together. Why is he avoiding me?"

"While I wouldn't presume to know the precise reason, I can quite say he finds himself utterly paralyzed by shame at the thought of facing you."

Could his reluctance to confront the situation truly justify his continued absence in moments of need? He could have offered some indication of his presence, a subtle signal perhaps, to demonstrate the depth of concern Lucienne had described. Yet no such gesture appeared, leaving behind only silence.

Before you could sink into another wave of despair, Hob cleared his throat and leaned forward. "Right. There's the thing, Shortcake - got something rather important to tell you."

"What do you mean?" you asked.

"Last night, when I popped out to buy tea, wouldn't you know it… I spotted him. He was standing right there in front of the building, brooding away like the dramatic bastard he is."

The breath caught in your throat, your pulse seeming to slow to a crawl.

"What? He was here?"

"Look, Y/N, I know this whole thing is driving you mad. I had a proper word with him about it too. But listen, and you can trust old Hob on this one, that guy is absolutely besotted with you."

You swallowed. "What did he tell you?"

“He said he's working his arse off to sort this whole mess out. And, I’m quoting him verbatim here, that you are ‘his heart, his universe, and the very essence of who he is’. That's about as deep as it gets.”

You sat silent, absorbing the weight of those words as they resonated through your mind repeatedly. ‘His heart. His universe. The essence of who he is.’

“ Right now, you and that child are the most important things in all the realms to him. And I can assure you that he loves you more than anything."

"I know you're desperate to see him, but I hope knowing all this brings you a bit of peace for now, yeah?"

Taking a deep breath, you delicately dabbed at the corners of your eyes to prevent tears from falling. With a relieved laugh, you nodded several times, the motion more for your own reassurance than his.

Morpheus’ care and devotion only magnified the frustration of his continued distance from your life. Nevertheless, there was comfort in knowing he was watching over you, working towards a resolution that would allow your family to unite properly; you, your beloved, and your child yet to be born. 

If anything, this knowledge provided a measure of temporary solace, indeed.

"Thank you for telling me, Hob. I truly needed this."

"Of course, I couldn't keep that from you. You were out cold on the sofa by the time I made it back."

"I'm sorry... you made a special trip to the shop at night just to get me tea, and I fell asleep before drinking it."

He chuckled. “That was well worth it though. Now, let me give you a proper lift to work, yeah? Don't want you pushing yourself too hard in your delicate state. Honestly, I'd rather you stay home and put your feet up, but..."

"No, I'll go. I have stuff to do. I can’t afford to slack off now, knowing I'll need more time off when the baby arrives."

He gave a concerned look. "Are you certain you're up for it? Haven't had a proper kip, and after that nasty business last night..."

"I'm certain. Come on, let's go—I don't want you to be late for class."

With renewed confidence evident in your smile, you retrieved the keys and headed for the door. Hob followed close behind, adjusting his jacket collar while wearing an equally pleased expression.

"I reckon that'd be worth every bloody minute."

When you arrived at the office, you were greeted with enthusiastic applause from your colleagues in response to your recent media attention. The company experienced an immediate surge in business metrics, with a significant increase in both sales figures and website traffic. New customers, previously unfamiliar with the team's product line, began placing orders at an unprecedented rate, destabilizing the servers on more than one occasion during the morning alone.

All things considered, the night out had proven beneficial in more ways than one, putting the terrifying close call behind you.

You found yourself marveling, once again, at the extraordinary turn your life had taken. After years of persistent struggles when even your most determined efforts seemed to lead nowhere, your encounter with Morpheus at the Burgess estate had brought a supernatural level of protection that seemed to shield you from even the slightest misfortune throughout every facet of your daily routine.

Still, you couldn't help but keep a cautious perspective, and as the company's success grew with each passing week, you held onto your humility and authenticity. While this professional success was gratifying, preserving your genuine self and a balanced outlook was essential. There would be no compromises.

That afternoon, while working on new design sketches and managing incoming emails, you noticed Ella at your office door. She entered quietly after knocking a couple of times, taking a seat across from your desk, her smile seeming to mask apparent nervousness.

"What is it?" you asked, noting her peculiar expression.

"Just the usual media inquiries coming in. They're all requesting interviews with you."

"Did you tell them we're declining?"

"As always. But are you certain you don't want to consider this opportunity?"

"You know how these things work, Ella. They're not interested in our actual work—they just want juicy gossip, especially after last night. No thanks."

"Well, I can't blame them. You've always been an incredible singer. It's no surprise you caught their attention."

You shook your head. "I'm not a singer. I'm just someone who enjoys music and hums tunes from time to time. Besides, what I do in my private life is my business alone. I understand I'm no longer anonymous at this point, but I won't blur the lines between my personal life and business."

She smiled warmly. "Always so humble, even now. That's why I chose you."

You laughed. "You hired me because you had an empty desk to fill."

"Well, yes. But I wouldn't just hire anyone, you know."

"I know. And honestly, I'm grateful I was the one who sent in my application to the company at the right time."

“Mh.”

As you typed away at your keyboard, you noticed her lingering glance and pressed lips. With a weary sigh, you stopped typing and settled back in your chair, hands folded in your lap. "All right, I can tell this isn't just about work. What's really going on?"

"Honestly, Y/N, you drive me crazy sometimes."

Your eyebrows arched in surprise. "Why? Is it because I won't do the interviews?"

"Oh, forget the interviews! Are you seriously pretending nothing's going on? I've known you for years, and I can tell when something's up."

Uh oh.

“I don’t understand.”

"Yes, you do. Are you really that afraid to tell me?"

“I—”

"Your stomach issues, how you rush to the bathroom thinking no one notices, your switch from coffee to tea, and the way you've started wearing looser shirts—as if you're trying to hide something."

Your eyes dropped to your hands, watching your fingernails idly trace the hem of your shirt.

"Y/N, I know what's going on. You're pregnant, aren't you?"

Despite your best efforts to keep discretion, such subtle changes couldn't escape the notice of someone who had been a close observer of your life for so many years.

"I know we've lost touch for a long time, and I probably don't have any right to expect you to still see me as your confidant now that we work together. But... please. Tell me the truth. You've always been my best friend, even during the time we were apart. And I'm sorry I never proved it to you."

You smiled, pushing your seat back slightly and relaxing your shoulders. Quietly, you retrieved a plastic folder from your bag at the edge of the table, containing the ultrasound scan you'd begun carrying everywhere with you. After taking a moment to study the image, you handed it to her. "Lying to you would be pointless, I suppose. And honestly, hiding it for weeks has been exhausting.”

Ella stared at the photo in silence, her eyes widening as realization dawned.

“Your guess is correct, Ella. I am pregnant."

“Oh my God!!!!”

In an instant, she leapt to her feet, performing one of her signature happy dances, tapping her heels against the floor. "I knew it! This is amazing! You're going to have a baby!"

"Shh, Ella, please! I don't want the entire studio to hear you."

Returning to her seat, she fanned her face as tears of happiness formed at the corners of her eyes. "Sorry, I'm just so excited. How far along are you? It looks so tiny, just like a little bean."

“Six weeks.”

"Right, you started to feel off as soon as you returned from Cape Kennedy. But wait a second... you were there for two weeks, weren't you? Wasn't your boyfriend still here in London?"

"Hey! What are you hinting at?"

"I'm just trying to piece things together—but it's not my business anyway."

You rolled your eyes. "I know what you're thinking, but I can assure you, he's the father. He was in Florida on a brief work trip at the same time I was there," you invented on the spot.

"Oh, really? How fascinating! What does he do anyway? You've been quite private about this mysterious man... and several other things, come to think of it."

"It's just... well, it's complicated."

She brushed her hair back over her shoulder. "And what about that time your pendant started glowing? You never explained that one to me either."

“And I will, I promise you.”

"I haven't told Oliver yet, by the way. As understanding and kind as he is, I worry he'd think I'm losing my mind. He'd probably just chalk it up to stress from everything that happened."

The complexities of your relationship and the extraordinary circumstances surrounding it made explaining the full situation impossible without revealing sensitive details about Morpheus and what he represented.

Morpheus… your wonderful Dream King, whose absence left an aching void in your soul. You yearned for it all - the timbre of his voice, his distinct fragrance, and the paradoxical sensation of his cool touch against his encompassing warmth.

"Look, there are things that can't be explained simply. It's not that I don't want to tell you—I really do. I just need to find the right way to explain it without breaking certain rules."

She sighed. "You know what? I won't press the issue, not right now. You're having a baby! This is such a wonderful moment, I don't want to spoil it with all my questions."

“Thank you.”

"He knows about it, right?"

You nodded. “He does.”

"So when's the wedding?"

Knives in my heart…

"One step at a time. We're still processing the pregnancy… it wasn't exactly planned."

"Well, still. You've been together for... what, almost a year now? And with this wonderful miracle happening between you two, I think you should definitely consider marriage. Don't be like Oliver and me, who wasted years letting fear and insecurity hold us back."

With Morpheus investigating the Book of Paradoxes, could you allow yourself to envision a similar future together?

"In two and a half months, it'll be a year. And if it happens, you'll definitely be the first to know."

"I'm counting on it! I'm going to be your maid of honor. My own wedding was so rushed I could barely invite my family. That's how crazy things were between us."

"But you're happy with Oliver, aren't you?"

"Yes, happier than I ever thought possible. That's why I wish the same for you, Y/N. Even though I don't really know your boyfriend, I've never seen you so invested in someone before. It means he must truly be the one."

Though uncertain about your relationship, you knew with absolute conviction that Morpheus was irreplaceable. If circumstances prevented your union, you were prepared to embrace single parenthood rather than seek another partner.

You wanted him, and only him, even if that meant accepting the inevitability of mortality while he continued his immortal existence, knowing he might one day find love again after your passing.

Once alone, you found yourself in the quiet of your office, with only the soft hum of electronics and steady tick of the wall clock for company. Unable to contain your emotions any longer, you let out a quiet sob, tears streaming silently down your face as your pregnancy-heightened hormones swept through you, leading to another cathartic cry.

Although you clung to hopes of reuniting with him sooner rather than later, especially now that you knew he was watching from the shadows, he left a continuous sense of blinding emptiness that seemed to grow with each passing day.

Time was meant to heal all wounds, but this was a gash destined to remain, impossible to mend without the one who had caused it.

Lucienne meticulously examined the book's contents, encountering the same directive that had compelled Morpheus to end things with you. Though she sensed there must be deeper implications contained in the tome's ominous prophecy that could reveal an alternative interpretation, the solution was still unattainable notwithstanding her thorough investigation.

From Lucienne's perspective, the conundrum was perplexing. If the prophecy truly foretold a catastrophic fate should your bond with Lord Morpheus persist, then logic would dictate that separation would lead to your prosperity and enrichment. Yet the evidence suggested otherwise.

During the librarian’s discussion with the Endless regarding your near-fatal incident in the Waking World, a concerning possibility emerged. Somehow, fate had guided you to that specific intersection at the precise moment when a drunk driver would approach, and the presence of the Dreamstone had proven crucial in averting disaster. Had you removed it following the separation, the consequences for both you and your unborn child could have been severe. 

This raised a logical inconsistency: How could the Book of Paradoxes deem separation from the Dream King beneficial to your safety when his divine protection had proven instrumental in preserving your well-being?

The text appeared to be intentionally misleading, hiding its true revelations from view. Still, historical accounts and documented testimonies consistently described the book as an immutable oracle of dark prophecies, bearing the same unalterable certainty as Destiny's book or the eye of the Fates. The tome's accuracy had been consistently demonstrated with a high degree of reliability.

"The essence of this tome has changed," Morpheus stated. "It bears her signature now. As if her very essence has become woven into these ancient pages."

"Could her mere touch have caused this? True, she did find it again in our library. However..."

"My knowledge extends through millennia of dreams and nightmares, yet when it comes to her... she continues to be an enigma that even I cannot fully fathom."

Lucienne turned the pages one by one. "She told me the book found her, my lord, though how this came to be eludes me. Is it possible the tome itself beckoned to her? That it was bound to be discovered by her alone this time?"

"It is possible," he spoke. "The book concealed itself from me, taunting me with its whispers through the shadows of The Dreaming."

"Are we quite certain she is… merely human?"

"She is unquestionably mortal. And yet..." He paused. "She transcends all I have known in my eternal existence."

"She has become intertwined with the very essence of The Dreaming. This realm recognizes her as one of its own now. Almost as if she were meant to be here all along. I must profess....”

"Go on."

She placed the book on her desk, adjusting her spectacles with precise fingers. "If I may be so bold. she appears to command a certain... authority here. As if The Dreaming itself recognizes her as its rightful queen."

Morpheus tilted his head back slightly as he considered her words, a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I believe you've made quite an astute observation."

"In all my years serving as librarian of The Dreaming, I've witnessed countless dreamers pass through these halls. Mortals of every kind have wandered our realm, even those rare sleepwalkers. But when she first materialized in your throne room during your imprisonment, I sensed something else. Something unrecognizable."

He nodded, inviting her to continue.

"She traverses realms that should be inaccessible, realms and dreams that were meant for others. Denizens here have taken quite a shine to her, perhaps there's more to her abilities than mere sleepwalking."

"A sleepwalker..." His voice trailed off, deep and velvet like. "Yes. That might be but one fragment of a much larger truth."

"Indeed, just one piece of a rather intricate puzzle, my lord."

"I must ask you to continue examining the book, Lucienne. There are matters that require my immediate attention."

"Of course, my lord. Though The Dreaming endures, it still needs your guidance to truly thrive."

With a respectful acknowledgment, Morpheus walked away, his dark attire creating a stark silhouette against the library's ambient glow.

Like ink dispersing in water, he melded with the castle's newly transformed atmosphere, where golden light now perpetually illuminated parts of its chambers.

In the late hours of the night, when the city streets lay quiet save for the occasional passing vehicle, Nathaniel Ashford made his way into his apartment. He deposited his keys in the entrance hall's bowl before discarding his shoes and jacket with little regard for their placement, then proceeded wearily to his bedroom. 

The effects of alcohol were evident in his unsteady gait as he relied on nearby furniture for balance and support. He collapsed onto his bed fully clothed, lying on his back with eyes closed in exhaustion. He found himself in a downward spiral, struggling with sobriety and unable to break free from his self-destructive behaviors. The received one-year license suspension and substantial fines for driving under the influence did nothing to diminish his alcohol dependency, compelling him to continue his dangerous habit regardless of potential legal consequences.

His labored breathing and throbbing temples signaled his descent into unconsciousness. As sleep overtook him, his vision faded to complete darkness, awareness slipping away into the depths of slumber. His essence drifted into the void, his physical form becoming ghostlike and weightless.

He sank into what appeared to be a dreamless rest, until a resonant, commanding voice echoed through his mind.

“You dare.”

His eyes snapped open, and he found his bedroom transformed - a strange mist settling across the familiar space. From the darkened corner near his bed emerged an imposing figure, its otherworldly presence marked by luminescent eyes that pierced through the gloom.

The man tried to move, to sit up, but found himself paralyzed. His breath came in short, panicked bursts as the figure stepped closer. The air crackled with something ancient and terrible, something that seeped into his very soul, gripped him in an iron hold and bound him to the shadows.

"You were given a chance to reflect," the voice continued, emotionless yet charged with restrained fury. "And yet you persist." His voice deepened to a menacing whisper. "You remain a threat."

The man wanted to scream, but his throat refused to work.

Morpheus loomed over him now, a towering form in his own nightmare. "You nearly stole what I hold most precious." His tone darkened, laced with something far more dangerous than anger—judgment. "Two lives that are not merely sacred to the mortal realm, but vital to the very fabric of The Dreaming itself."

Suddenly, the man was no longer in his room. The walls twisted into a grotesque reflection of his reckless nights; flashes of himself behind the wheel, his thoughts mingling with the blaring of horns, the screech of tires.

Then—an impact. A body flying. A woman's scream.

His breath came in sharp gasps as he released his grip on the steering wheel, horror dawning across his features at the sight before him. The victim lay motionless on her side, tousled hair splayed across the asphalt. An eerie stillness pervaded the scene, broken only by the thundering of his pulse and the harsh glare of headlights cutting through the darkness.

"OBSERVE." Morpheus' voice cut through the vision like a blade. "See the devastation you nearly wrought."

Trembling, he exited the vehicle, the frigid night air assaulting his senses, each step forward feeling leaden and uncertain. A soft splash beneath his foot drew his attention downward, where his gaze met a horrifying sight: crimson liquid, dark and viscous.

He had walked into a pool of blood. Your blood.

"WATCH."

The man was forced to look, helpless as the dream played out. He recoiled, his breath catching as the gravity of his actions descended upon him. Compelled by an inexorable force, he approached the motionless form with trembling steps, kneeling beside your body as the blood seeped into his clothing. His hand hesitated before making contact with your jacket, then slowly gripped your shoulder to turn you over. A strangled sound escaped his throat as dread consumed him, knowing with devastating certainty what he would find.

As he turned you over, however, he was confronted not with human features, but with the stark, expressionless visage of a mannequin - an unsettling blank canvas that seemed to stare back at him with hollow intensity, despite its eyeless face.

“What—”

Suddenly, he found himself thrust back to the driver's seat, the vehicle surging forward uncontrollably. His frantic efforts to stop the car proved useless, because the brake pedal had vanished beneath his foot. His hands fused to the wheel, the grip inexplicably tightening with each attempt to release it.

Through the misty darkness ahead, your figure returned in the middle of the street. Your features were completely obscured, but he could sense your penetrating gaze fixed upon him, scrutinizing his very essence.

The second impact was even more devastating than the first, with your form launched through the air before crashing onto the pavement with brutal ferocity. His anguished screams pierced the night as he begged for the nightmare to cease, yet this was merely the beginning of his torment.

A distant wail pierced the atmosphere, its haunting echo resonating from every direction. An infant's distressed cries filled the place as a cradle formed where your body had been. Nathaniel staggered away from the vehicle once more, the engine now halted by an unseen energy. With mounting terror, he walked to the ornate crib where blood remained ever present, and reached for the blanket inside.

The soft fabric changed beneath his touch, becoming saturated with red. The cushioned interior lay vacant, bearing silent witness to an unspeakable loss.

The environment shaped again, becoming a stark, clinical morgue. A solitary examination table dominated the space, its stainless steel surface supporting a sheet-draped figure in the oppressive cold.

Morpheus appeared behind him, his presence radiating authority as he looked at Nathaniel with cold contempt. "Do you understand what you would have ripped from my grasp?"

Shuddering involuntarily, the man wrapped his arms around himself as an intense chill permeated his being. Though shrouded by the sheet, the feminine form beneath was unmistakable - most notably, the pronounced curve of a gravid abdomen pressing against the white fabric.

"N-no... I... I didn't mean—"

"You did," Morpheus’ voice boomed with controlled rage. "When you chose to indulge in your mortal vices, you neglected to consider the consequences of your decisions."

Nathaniel shook his head, wanting to shield himself from the grotesque scene, his eyelids forcibly open. A sinister presence urged him forward again, compelling his unwilling feet toward the examination table. With trembling hands, he grasped the sheet covering you and pulled it back. The table beneath was barren and empty, revealing a sight so disturbing that he stumbled backward, desperately scrambling away, retching violently.

Upon the steel surface rested a human heart, still pulsating with rhythmic movement, detached from any corporeal form.

"She bears my child."

The words struck like a hammer to Nathaniel’s chest.

"Not only did you imperil her life, but that of an innocent soul yet unborn." Morpheus spoke with deceptive quietness, carrying the weight of a storm held at bay. "A child who draws their first breath in dreams. A child whose very existence will reshape the boundaries between realities."

A terrible emptiness filled the air, suffocating in its finality.

“Had fate aligned differently that night, you would have destroyed something… eternal. Irreplaceable. To this world, and to me."

The man choked out. "No—I didn’t—I’m sorry!"

Morpheus tilted his head, his gaze unreadable. "Your apologies mean nothing. I shall not permit another opportunity for causing harm."

The dream continuously shifted, twisting into an endless loop of suffering, of loss, of everything the man could have caused.

"You will endure every excruciating moment of this until remorse grips your soul," Morpheus declared with an unyielding decree. "And should you fail to mend your ways," His eyes blackened, stars flickering within them like distant, dying embers. "Then perhaps it is best you never wake."

The nightmare swallowed Nathaniel whole, dragging him into the abyss.

Hopefully, this time, the man had learned an important lesson—both for his own safety and that of others who might cross his path.

Otherwise, Morpheus would ensure his punishments were delivered through the worst, darkest ways conceivable.

An impenetrable fog obscured your path as you ascended an endless staircase, your blue gown's fabric gracefully cascading behind you. Through the mysterious haze, Morpheus' castle loomed in the distance - a majestic structure that, despite its grandeur, was somehow tantalizingly out of reach.

A sense of restlessness pervaded your being as the shadowy atmosphere mirrored your internal disquiet. You continued to ascend, but the castle lingered at an impossible distance, making you pause your journey. A familiar tingle started to spread along your hands, attracting your attention downward. The golden luminescence had returned, transforming your skin into an almost crystalline transparency, with streams of radiant energy flowing where mortal veins once coursed. 

Guided by intuition, you extended your arms in a deliberate motion, your hands moving through an opening gesture. The mist retreated at your command, dissipating into nothingness as your radiant power illuminated the way ahead like a beacon in the darkness. 

The castle remained stationary, but at the foot of the staircase, a verdant expanse of trees emerged, with vegetation flanking both sides of the staircase. You proceeded gracefully yet purposefully, reaching the grassy terrain with effortless elegance as your light diffused into the surroundings. 

The distinct aroma of damp moss and stone filled your nostrils, accompanied by the melodious sound of rippling water nearby. Intrigued, you ventured forth to locate its origin, walking through an unfamiliar, thickly wooded area. Near the river stood a life-sized Grecian statue, its classical form enhanced rather than diminished by the patina of time, with tendrils of ivy gracefully embracing its weathered surface.

(Image generated with Sora AI for visual purposes)

A gentle smile graced your features as you observed the floral crown adorning its head. You traced your fingertips along the stone arm, exploring its textured surface where leaves and moss had left their lasting impressions. 

"Beautiful," you remarked, gently brushing away a stray leaf that had settled on the statue's eyes. 

While seemingly out of place at first glance, the statue's presence harmonized perfectly with its surroundings. The aesthetic choice aligned with the classical Greek influences found throughout Morpheus' domain, from the ornate busts adorning the throne room to the towering stone sentinels guarding the castle's exterior.

Absorbed in contemplation, you were startled by an unexpected movement, causing you to step back instinctively. The stone beneath your fingers had stirred, and as you watched in astonishment, the statue began to animate, awakening to life and breath. Its head gracefully rotated toward you, the carved eyes opening to fix their eternal gaze upon your form.

Motionless, you waited as the sculpture conducted its silent examination, not in a hostile way, but rather with curiosity. Its stone lips formed a gentle smile before the previously touched arm rose, its cold marble fingers making contact with your cheek. The statue's thumb traced gently across your temple, offering an unexpectedly tender and soothing caress. 

You leaned into it as your eyes glistened in the shadowed light, the gesture fleeting, its quick withdrawal leaving only emptiness behind.

It reached for the floral crown, carefully lifting it from its position. With fluid movements, it extended it out to you as an offering - a gift bestowed for reasons unknown. With each motion, the stone structure emitted soft, resonant sounds, firmly affixed to its pedestal. You knelt reverently as the statue placed the natural arrangement upon your head, the crown settling perfectly as if it had been specifically designed for you.

"Thank you," you whispered, gently touching the interwoven branches.

The statue responded with a nod before resuming its original posture, its form becoming rigid once more. In mere moments, it had reverted back to its immutable state, its countenance restored to its timeless serenity. 

Having no alternative road to take, you gathered your gown and proceeded through the garden's intricate tapestry of vines and blossoms, while the illumination changed from daylight to evening's embrace. The celestial expanse above became a mesmerizing canvas, where twilight hues seamlessly merged with an infinite array of stars, their cosmic glow guiding you onward.

Though uncertain of your destination, an inexplicable force pulled you deeper into the heart of the Dreaming. The lush forest eventually gave way to a vast clearing, where an endless sea of grass stretched toward the horizon. Here, the unobstructed view revealed a magnificent panorama above, a natural observatory requiring no telescope.

This vista held depths beyond mere galactic beauty - surpassing both the starlit majesty above and the natural sanctuary enveloping you. As you gazed upward, the glowing bodies commenced a mystical dance, converging into a perfect circle before falling down like stardust. Your attire underwent a remarkable transformation, the sleeveless gown evolving, its fabric extending to embrace your arms completely. The neckline rose elegantly to form a high collar adorned with a subtle triangular décolletage, the skirt's already prominent length extending further, flowing like a majestic royal train. Deep blue gradients adorned the intricate details, with magical embellishments scattered across the fabric, mirroring the starry display above. Your entire being produced a goddess-like radiance, from the crown of flowers disappearing and dusting your tresses with sparkles to your crystalline lashes, Your skin appeared as powerful, pulsating energy, and your metamorphosed attire echoed the nightgown from your previous sojourn in the Dreaming.

The indescribable splendor of the moment made you into what could only be described as a starseed incarnate.

“Y/N?”

Astra's voice resonated from behind as he approached with measured steps. His eyes, like liquid starlight, held the essence of dreams themselves.

“Astra!”

"You look glorious," he murmured. "Like a deity crafted from the stars."

"I'm just dreaming."

"Yes, but that doesn't make it any less... you."

He moved closer, gently nuzzling your belly with his snout. "I'd say the little one is enjoying it."

“How can you tell?”

"I am a dream—I can sense the very essence from which they are created."

"Yes... after all, this child is Morpheus' offspring."

"Correct. But you see, the baby is as much his as it is yours. It is not only a child of the Dreaming, it is something more."

"Do you mean a hybrid?"

"Neither I nor he truly knows what this child will be."

You clasped your hands together, resting them over your slightly rounded abdomen. It was astonishing how visibly your pregnancy already showed after only six weeks. "Have you discussed the baby with Morpheus?"

Astra nodded. "It's literally all he can think about now. Well, besides the Book of Paradoxes."

"In a good way, I hope?"

"Absolutely!"

You sighed, brushing away a glittering strand of hair. "It's ironic. He talks about the baby with everyone except me."

"Have patience for a little while longer, my dear."

With an exasperated groan, you rolled your eyes. "Even Lucienne keeps saying that, and my best friend from the Waking World seems to share the same sentiment. But do you all truly believe I possess infinite patience?"

"I don't believe anyone thinks that."

"Then stop telling me to simply wait around. I've done nothing but that for weeks."

Astra tilted his head, lowering his eyes. "Indeed... I apologize. I cannot blame you for growing weary of this situation."

"I just want him to talk to me… to say something, anything at all."

"I'm afraid he won't speak with you until he's certain everything has been resolved and your relationship can return to what it was before."

You chuckled. "Typical Morpheus—ever the stubborn creature. Too bad I'm just as immovable as he is."

"You are truly meant for each other, that's for certain."

"That's not what that book seems to suggest."

Astra looked skyward. "But it's just what it is; a book. Ink written on paper. Its words may portray the darker aspects of your story, but the facts speak for themselves."

"That's all very poetic, but frankly, it's bollocks." Crossing your arms over your chest, you were nearly blinded by the intense stellar light radiating from your sleeves. "All I hear about is this book predicting my doom if our relationship persists, while I'm dealing with actual danger in my world; like drunken maniacs nearly running me down in the street."

Your voice quivered as you felt the tendrils of wakefulness tugging at the edges of your mind.

"And then I discover I'm pregnant, forced to handle everything alone because the father of my child won't even come near me. You all offer kind, encouraging words, but the fundamental problem remains unchanged."

Astra hummed in acknowledgment.

"I genuinely adore you all, but you need to stop telling me everything will be okay. I swear by the very core of this realm, if he doesn't get his head out of his backside soon, I'll drag him by the ear myself. Dream Lord or not."

"Oh, that would be... rather interesting to witness."

You chortled. "Yeah, well. I can be particularly biting on a bad day, but challenging me in my pregnant state? Good luck to you."

"I shall make sure to relay that message to him."

You shook your head with a faint laugh, but your smile quickly faded. "Can you tell him something else for me?"

"Of course. What would you like me to tell him?"

Your arms dropped softly to your sides. "Tell him that I love him."

"Ah, I can assure you, he already knows that."

"That doesn't matter. Please, promise me, Astra."

The deer familiar drew himself up, his neck muscles tensing with purpose. "I give you my word, Lady of the Dreaming."

You inhaled the distinct aroma of the realm - a complex blend of scents punctuated by delicate notes of sandalwood.

Closing your eyes, you felt your body gently fading away as morning light through your window dispelled the night's magic. With a whispered breath, you replied, "You all keep saying that too."

As consciousness beckoned, the Dreaming slowly melted into the ether, giving way to the tangible reality of the new day ahead.

"Oi love, you absolutely certain about this? Don't fancy the thought of you being here all by your lonesome, if I'm being honest."

You smiled. "Don't worry, Hob. You've already spent so much time looking after me here… I can't expect you to camp out in my apartment and let you sleep on my couch forever. I'll be fine."

He massaged the back of his neck. "I don't care if that couch turns my spine into a pretzel. If it means keeping you safe, I'll sleep on the damned thing till kingdom come."

You chuckled. "I appreciate that, but I'd rather keep you as you are. I don't want you turning into a human pretzel."

"You absolutely sure about this? Not that I don't trust you can handle yourself and all that, but blimey, I hate thinking of you in here all weepy by yourself."

You sighed. "It's fine, really. I'm trying to look at things differently and trust that this is just temporary."

"Right then. I'll get out of your hair. But listen - you need anything, and I mean bloody anything at all, you ring me straight away, yeah? Don't even think twice about it."

"I pinky swear."

Watching him gather his belongings evoked a deep emptiness, as his presence had become a comforting constant in your household. The ensuing solitude proved more impactful than anticipated in the days that followed, and you found yourself frequently gravitating toward each window throughout the day, even while at work, searching the darkness for Morpheus' distinctive silhouette.

It was time to focus on self-care and prioritize both your health and the wellbeing of your unborn child. While Morpheus' distant vigilance provided some comfort against the fear of permanent separation, you knew it was only a matter of time before you would face this situation head-on, even if it meant metaphorically storming through the Dreaming's walls to reach him.

If only it had been that simple.

On a mild afternoon, you strolled to the nearby park, basking in the pleasant warmth of the sun as a gentle breeze caressed your hair. Finding a quiet bench, you settled down, resting one hand protectively over your abdomen while gazing at a towering oak ahead. The baby's presence within you was becoming more tangible each day, delicate yet strong. 

As you sat there, you reflected on the intricate emotions that had emerged since Morpheus' withdrawal. The more you pushed yourself toward the castle’s throne room, the more the Dreaming itself seemed to construct an invisible barrier, keeping you at a careful distance from its ruler, as though protecting both parties from an untimely confrontation.

The predicament was disconcerting, as Morpheus held complete control over your interactions (or rather, lack thereof), effectively preventing you from reaching him.

A peculiar change swept through the atmosphere, defying any logical description. The natural vibrancy of the surroundings ceased, as though time itself had been suspended. Passersby stood motionless, frozen like figures in a photograph. An eerie silence descended upon the park - no birdsong, no whispers of wind - leaving only an intensified sunlight that cast a stronger light on you and across the landscape.

The entire world was paralyzed, colors muted slightly, and even the rustling leaves halted midair. Your fingers tightened around the bench's edge as your respiration increased, and you started to question whether you had inadvertently fallen asleep in this public place, or perhaps even dreamed about leaving the house altogether.

But as three mysterious figures emerged from behind the bench and came into view, all questions were immediately answered. Your entire body tensed with apprehension, your brow creased deeply with concern, and your expression hardened with foreboding.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me. You lot again?"

The Three were just as ominous as before, their forms now draped in flowing white rather than black, looking serene but with an unsettling power. Their faces—the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone—were completely unchanged from your previous encounter, each radiating an equal measure of wisdom and menace. They moved around you in a slow circle, their penetrating stare fixed upon you with unsettling intensity, until they came to a stop.

Their strategic positioning effectively formed an impenetrable barrier, confining you to the bench, though you were fully prepared to assert yourself if circumstances demanded it.

“What do you want now?” you snapped, unwilling to tolerate any more enigmatic riddles being thrown your way.

The Maiden spoke first, her voice delicate yet piercing. "We come bearing no malice, dear Y/N."

The Mother let out a raspy chuckle. "No, not malice at all. Merely a message."

Your eyes narrowed as anger bubbled in your chest. "A message? Like the one you gave me before, dripping with disdain for Morpheus? What is it now—you're going to tell me how awful he is? How I shouldn't be with him?" You gestured sharply. "Save your breath and leave me be."

The Crone moved forward, her voice both soothing and resolute. "We see more than you do, little one. More than he does. We know what the future holds."

You crossed your arms. "You see it all, don't you? Past, present, and future. I've heard and read everything about you ladies. Well, guess what? I don't care what you think you know. And you don't get to meddle in my life or his. My future is mine alone to dictate."

The Mother cackled again, the sound grating. "Such fire. Perhaps you'll need it when the time comes."

“What time?” You demanded, your voice rising. “What are you trying to say?”

The Maiden tilted her head, studying you with unnerving calm. “You bear the child of the Dream King, do you not?”

Though your pulse quickened, you kept your expression neutral. “What of it?”

The Crone folded her hands. “That child ties you to the Endless in ways even you cannot imagine. And that tie... it will bring you both great joy, but also great peril.”

Your hands balled into fists. "I don't need your cryptic bullshit. My child is none of your concern."

The Mother’s smile widened slightly, wise and patient. “Oh, but it is. All life is our concern, little goddess.” She leaned closer, her icy breath chilling your cheek as she sat next to you. "Beware the paths ahead—the choices he shall make, and the decisions destiny will force upon you."

The Maiden's voice grew gentle. "Know this, Y/N; fate is fickle, and so is love. It has proven fatal to numerous Gods throughout history."

At that, your anger boiled over. "And you think I need you to lecture me about the fragility of love? I've lived it, felt it, and fought for it every step of the way. So spare me your dire predictions about matters I understand more deeply than anyone."

The Three exchanged glances, sharing a wordless agreement.

"You wear your mother’s warmth like a crown. But compassion is not a shield from consequence.”

"Everything bears consequences."

The Crone intoned, “your defiance is admirable, but dangerous. Even strength has its limits, my Daughter. Remember that."

You grimaced. "Since when am I one of your own?"

“You are one of us,” The Mother responded. "A Daughter of feeling, of story, of fate. Born of light.”

“We do not wish you harm,” the Crone continued. “But we do not grant you mercy, either."

"I never asked for mercy. With all due respect, I am not afraid of you. And I won't leave him simply because you declare him unworthy."

"You speak of the Dream King. Though he has abandoned you, your heart stays loyal to him. Yet he is Endless—his story was written long before yours began."

“Stories can be rewritten.”

The Maiden’s lips twitched into something between a smile and an admonition. "To rewrite fate means altering everything that comes after—love, loss, sacrifice—each word inscribed anew."

The Mother rose, her long wavy hair billowing in a nonexistent wind. “You stand at a crossroads. The child binds you to him, and to his sins. You can choose a different path. One that leads away from ruin.”

You took a deep breath, your voice soft yet steely. "Now you sound just like the Book of Paradoxes. Should I steal this child from their father? Hide them away? Forget about everything he means to me? No. I've already made my choice, and it isn't changing."

“Then so be it, little one. But remember: we offered warning, not threat. Choices have power, and they always bear fruit.”

"Thanks, but as I said, I don't need your warnings."

The Crone's mouth twitched with vexation. “You speak with certainty, Daughter. But certainty often becomes tragedy. Your prayers, then, will be wasted.”

The scene dissipated as swiftly as it had started, with the Three walking away, vanishing in a flash of light. Life resumed its natural rhythm in the park - leaves dancing in the afternoon breeze, the gentle touch of the cool air against your skin. You were immobile, your anger simmering beneath the surface.

You refused to let their dark portents cloud your conviction - not after everything you'd been through.

"To hell with it," you muttered. "We're going to prove them wrong."

You placed a protective hand on your belly once more, glaring at the spot where they had stood. "Whatever happens, I don't need their guidance to know what's right."

The constant interference from cosmic forces seemed determined to test your resistance, striving to cast shadows of misgivings over your already troubled relationship with the Endless. Instead, all this only strengthened your unshakeable commitment to reconcile with the love of your life, regardless of what ancient prophecies or supernatural beings might decree.

Through weariness and frustration, you would still gladly overcome any hardship and obstacle to protect your beloved Morpheus.

Even if that meant standing up against the fundamental principles of existence itself.

Matthew hastened to the Dreaming, his wings carrying him rapidly through the boundary between the Waking World and the realm of dreams. With urgent purpose, he made his way to the library where Morpheus was engrossed in his studies, laboring diligently to decipher the mysterious tome that had led to your separation. He meticulously examined ancient manuscripts and historical documents, with Lucienne's desk accumulating comprehensive notes and research materials.

The raven swooped down to perch at the edge of the desk. "Boss! Hey boss - hate to crash in like this, but there's some seriously weird stuff happening topside."

Morpheus and Lucienne looked up from their readings. "How do you mean by 'weird,' Matthew?" Lucienne inquired.

"Uuhh… really strange business if you ask me, but..."

"Tell me, Matthew," Morpheus said, his eyes fixed intently on the raven. "Has something happened to Y/N?"

"Well, not exactly. Look, I don’t know what it was, but everything froze up like someone hit the cosmic pause button on reality for a sec. It felt scorching hot and bone-chillingly cold at the same time.”

Lucienne's brow creased, perplexed.

Morpheus’ voice tinged with concern. "Tell me what you witnessed.”

"See, that's just it - I didn't catch much of anything. She was just sitting in the park, and then boom! That started happening."

"She's all right though, isn't she?" Lucienne asked gently.

"Yeah, she's fine! Still her usual self and everything. Though I did hear her muttering things to herself - sounded pretty determined too. She said something like, ‘We’re going to prove them wrong’, and ‘I don't need their guidance to know what's right’. Hell if I know.”

At that moment, A shadow crossed Morpheus' face. "I do."

“My lord?”

“It was them,” he answered grimly.

"’Them?’ You mean the Three?"

"They have visited her before."

"What purpose could they have in seeking her out?”

He stood as still as a sculpture, his eyes blazing with burning rage. “They do not appear without cause. They see her as another pawn to be toyed with in their game of fate.”

Lucienne's face grew somber. "Might this be connected to this book we've been studying?"

“Perhaps.”

"Well, whatever they said to her, she was right pissed about it. Trust me boss, she's not letting it get to her," Matthew interjected.

"This is all my doing," Morpheus confessed, heavy with regret. "The legacy of my mistakes and all their consequences have found their way to her, in spite of everything I've done to shield her from them."

“My lord—”

"And yet, she defends me still."

“I don’t need their guidance to know what’s right.”

"Perhaps this tome contains the truth after all," he murmured, his fingertips trailing along the black leather of the book that lay closed on the table, pulsing with a dark energy clashing against something brighter—hope. "I am the root of her misfortunes, casting shadows upon a light that deserves better.”

Matthew cocked his head. "Aw come on boss, that's complete crap and you know it!"

Lucienne spoke softly. "Matthew—"

“But,” Morpheus added, “she carries our child. A being of such purity that it awakened mending powers lying dormant within her essence."

He traced a sinuous circles over the volume, his fingers moving without any precise scheme.

"Why do I sense these disturbances in the fabric of her existence, even when we are apart?"

Matthew shuffled his feathers with a shrug. "You ever considered that maybe - just maybe - this book's got it all wrong in the first place? "That maybe you're actually keeping her safer than she'd be without you?"

"I'm afraid the matter is far more complex than that, Matthew," Lucienne noted.

"Look, I may not be the sharpest bird in the flock when it comes to all this mystical nonsense. I mean, I used to be just a regular human before… but something here just doesn't add up."

Morpheus' hand halted, his palm resting flat on the leather cover.

"Did you ever get that feeling when you two were together? That nagging little voice in your head warning you she was in danger? Because I'm betting you didn't."

“I…”

Morpheus reflected on your relationship's beginning, particularly the night he disclosed his history with Nada and explained the ancient prohibitions against mortal-Endless relationships. His primary concern had been for your wellbeing, dreading the possibility that you might face a similar fate - the potential loss of everything meaningful in your life, perhaps even your very soul.

However, these fears were soon proven unfounded, as in the months following your fateful meeting in the basement, your life was blessed with nothing but positive changes and fortunate developments.

You gave a sardonic nod, pressing your lips together in a bitter smile. "Ah, I see. So you're simply accepting this fate? You won't even let me make my own choice?"

"Not if it means every moment you spend in my presence brings you one step closer to your own destruction."

"Destruction? Morpheus, this is absurd. We've been together for months now, and all I've seen in my life is growth."

And he, the Lord of Dreams, who had endured searing losses and believed himself unworthy of affection, discovered, for the first time, the true meaning of genuine happiness. A happiness that dissolved into sorrow through his own misguided futile efforts at protection, tearing both of your hearts to pieces.

"My concern for her was ever-present, but..."

Lucienne scrutinized the tome thoughtfully, her mind piecing together the puzzle.

“My lord, what was it that Y/N's mother revealed about this book? Didn’t she mention that it only appears to specific beings when they are meant to see it, at predetermined moments in time?”

"Tell me what you are contemplating, Lucienne."

"If I may venture an observation, sir... I'm curious about your state of mind when you discovered the book. What thoughts were occupying you in those moments before it appeared?"

His mistakes were indelible, and their consequences irreparable. But your gentleness was immeasurable and irreplaceable, your wisdom a fount from which even Morpheus himself could learn. You were extraordinary, delicate yet powerful, so intensely significant to him that Morpheus understood he had never loved anyone as strongly as he had fallen for you.

Losing you would threaten to leave an unfathomable void in his existence, potentially shattering him beyond imagination. Your absence would leave him utterly bereft.

His body went rigid as understanding struck him with devastating force, as if the immense pressure of the Dreaming itself was bearing down upon him.

Morpheus experienced an unprecedented, profound sense of bliss and inner peace. After innumerable centuries of existence, he finally grasped the true meaning of being cherished, and his understanding of love had undergone a drastic metamorphosis. A human had taught him more in a brief span than eternity ever could, smoothing the sharpest edges of his being. You had believed in him when everyone else saw him as a monster, perceiving his past misdeeds as steps in his growth.

In his heart, he struggled to fully embrace his good fortune. A nagging doubt persistently gnawed at the back of his mind - the fear that he, an eternal being marked by past transgressions, might somehow diminish your remarkable spirit.

"Based on my research, this book appears to be more than just a collection of prophecies. It is not an artifact, but rather a sentient entity—one that moves freely through the fabric of time and space. Though I suspect you were already aware of this, given its whisperings."

Morpheus gave her a pensive nod, his gaze unfocused as he processed the implications.

"I know you value your privacy, my lord, and I won't pry. However, consider that this book most likely found its way to you at this precise moment for a purpose. It's responding to your feelings, your decisions... perhaps even the path that lies ahead of you. It reacts to the evolving destiny of those who interact with it. I believe it to be less of a prediction, my lord, and more likely a trial you must face."

Morpheus' lips pursed slightly. "Now I understand why it concealed itself from me. Why I could not find it again," he said with quiet resignation. "I misinterpreted its message entirely. In my folly, I cast it aside. But Y/N... she was always meant to be the one who could mend this."

"I believe that to be the case, my lord. It appears this was destined for you both."

"That's harsh," chirped Matthew.

"Now, if we examine these critical passages in detail," Lucienne proceeded, reaching for the tome and opening it to the first pages. "The verses seem to depict an impending doom—a love cursed to unravel, a fate set to be undone. But now that I look at them from a different perspective, they may well be cautioning us about the consequences of your separation, rather than your union.”

"Yeah, see, that's exactly what I've been trying to tell you!"

"My lord, your perspective has been clouded by doubt. About her, about what the two of you have built together. If you examine these parts again, with everything you now understand... what do you truly see?"

Lucienne turned the book toward him and pointed to the first line of the enigmatic text inscribed.

"I struggled with interpreting this text differently myself at first. But you, my lord, being who you are, surely understand the deeper meaning behind these metaphors far better than I."

He had acted against his very nature as the Lord Shaper, failing to see beyond the surface meaning. Despite spending countless hours analyzing those prophetic lines, his point of view was horribly obscured by preconceptions. His fear of repeating past dynamics and potentially depriving both realms of your creative mind had prevented him from perceiving the truth behind the illusion. His understanding of the book's nature was limited to historical accounts and experiences, failing to consider its deeper metaphysical implications.

He was willing to let you go if it meant preserving you from harm—even if the alternative meant cherishing your love until your final breath. He would rather endure the pain of separation than risk the complete erasure of your existence. He had made his choice with finality, declining to honor your request to seek guidance as partners.

Indeed, there had to be deeper significance beneath the surface. Much like how the Death card in tarot represents transformation rather than literal demise, the Book of Paradoxes appeared to have crafted its prophecies with particular layers of mystery, requiring careful interpretation to reveal the true nature underlying these trials.

His fingers traced the edges of the ancient text, following the intricate shapes of the ink. The pages seemed to resonate with a new pulsing vitality, the ancient tome once again whispering incomprehensible murmurs into his consciousness.

As he studied each page, the familiar verses echoed differently. The illustrations had been altered, depicting your figure oriented towards his direction. His hand froze mid-motion as the page slipped from his grasp, his gaze transfixed by a detail that undoubtedly had not existed in the book previously.

A fresh set of verses was right before him.

Tears welled in his eyes, catching the soft illumination of the library as he blinked.

As both Matthew and Astra had indicated, Morpheus had misinterpreted every single word he had consulted. Now, staring at these new inscriptions, the clarity of their message was undeniable. 

The foretold darkness was still there, yet he now understood with startling clarity that far from being the harbinger of your downfall, he was destined to be your sanctuary—your beacon of love and the father of your child, just as you would be his guiding light in the shadows.

The lunar motif, representing the realms of night, dreams, and the unconscious mind, served as a potent metaphor throughout these verses, underscoring your intrinsic connection to the Dreaming, and to the moonstone crystal he had gifted you.

In truth, you possessed the unique ability to serve as his redemption, if he would simply relinquish his protective barriers and allow your destined connection to flourish.

Love was not merely the answer—it was the solution. Your bond was an essential part of your shared future, a connection that was meant to exist, not be severed.

Though mortal in nature, you possessed extraordinary qualities that set you apart from Nada, and from any other human who had ever come too close to his kind. The path that lay ahead for both of you held secrets and possibilities that defied the original laws, even for Dream of the Endless himself.

"I now can see, Lucienne. Matthew. I let the weight of my past actions, what I once was, convince me there could be no other outcome. But I was mistaken. The book has been attempting to show me the truth all along, and I foolishly dismissed it."

Lucienne's expression softened as she exhaled quietly, her lips forming a graceful smile. 

Matthew startled as the Book of Paradoxes emanated an intense luminescence, forcing even Morpheus to retract his hand. It unleashed a brilliant, blinding flash, before vanishing from the library in a swift current of air, scattering various documents across the table and onto the floor. 

In an instant, tranquility settled over the library once more, as Lucienne surveyed the mess left in the wake of the magical disturbance. Morpheus rested his fingers against the wooden surface, savoring its tangible presence beneath his touch. 

The empty space where the tome had rested served as silent testimony that the enigma had at last been deciphered, finally unlocked.

It was done. It was sealed. It was over.

All that remained now was atonement.

"Man, that was some real freaky stuff," Matthew croaked.

Through another layer of mist, you traversed a solitary road, its destination obscured from view. Yet tranquility permeated the atmosphere, as a gentle azure glow pierced through the shadows.

The vapor swirled, giving way to delicate fabrics swaying gently in the air, their soft touch brushing against your skin like gossamer veils. They parted respectfully at your arrival, their forms creating an opening before you like devoted guardians acknowledging their sovereign. 

As you ventured forward, the haze gradually softened, revealing a chamber where, at its heart, stood a solitary crib.

(Image made with Sora AI for visual purposes)

Stars glittered across the floor and danced upon the curtains, while an infinite expanse of celestial lights stretched into the void. The divine display moved in mesmerizing circular movements, reminiscent of the crystalline beauty found in mortal light projections. 

The room was silent, save for a subtle movement beneath a dark blue blanket inside the crib. You approached with careful steps, bending over the little cushion where you found a newborn infant. The child was clearly visible now, unobscured by dream distortions, the scene continuing in smooth progression. As the baby’s eyes fluttered open, they revealed striking cerulean irises - unmistakably familiar - which mirrored the cosmic spectacle surrounding you. Their gaze met yours, deep and penetrating, as you carefully lifted the tiny form with trembling hands.

The infant remained peaceful as you cradled them in your arms. Their dark hair reflected their distinguished lineage, bearing the undeniable aura of the Dream Lord himself. The authenticity of this vision, whether it formed from reality or merely your subconscious imagination, felt undeniably grounding.

As you tenderly held the infant against your chest, your hand supporting their delicate head, the  fabrics rustled behind you. A presence made itself known, moving through the curtains before coming to rest several paces away. As you turned, you gasped at the sight of Morpheus, who stood among the shimmering veils, his expression filled with wonder and awe.

For countless nights, you had hopd to find him in your dreams, only for him to persistently elude you. On the sole occasion when your paths had crossed during your sleeping hours, he turned away from you and retreated, leaving behind unspoken sentiments and another scar upon your heart.

Now he stood in front of you, his presence commanding yet gentle. He took a step forward, his eyes falling reverently on both you and the baby in your arms. Words failed you as you stayed there, unable to give voice to the myriad things you wanted to say, to the emotions coursing through you.

The dream began to fade, the mystical chamber dissolving into nothingness as your mind pulled you back to your waking life. Morpheus' figure evaporated like stardust in the wind, leaving your arms bereft of the infant they had held moments before.

You awakened suddenly, drawing in a sharp breath as your full awareness returned, your heart racing within your chest while tears gathered at the corners of your eyes. Instinctively, your hand drifted to your abdomen, but the Dream King was nowhere to be seen.

Had his presence been genuine, or merely a creation of your deepest longings?

The workday extended well beyond regular hours at the studio due to increasing demands. Following the success of your recent collections in the market, the C&J brand has experienced heightened expectations. High-profile clients and agencies had submitted requests for specialized designs, necessitating an even greater level of precision and craftsmanship than usual.

While intense and time-consuming, the work brought immense satisfaction. The global recognition and appreciation for your designs served as a testament to your professional journey and creative vision.

After receiving your authorization, Ella had discussed your status with Oliver. They both demonstrated exceptional support and consideration, their genuine concern visible through frequent check-ins and offers of assistance. While they may have been somewhat overprotective, they created a positive environment that proved invaluable during this period.

Retrieving your keys, you tiredly reached your building's entrance. Dusk had settled, bathing the sidewalks in the gentle glow of street lamps. As you were about to insert your key into the lock, a deep voice called your name, causing you to freeze in place and almost drop all your belongings.

“Y/N.”

You turned slowly, your gaze meeting Morpheus as he came forward. You suddenly forgot how to breathe, staring at him in shock, his expression unreadable.

For a moment, you questioned the veracity of his image.

“Morpheus….”

“My love.”

You carefully returned the keys to your bag, your trembling hands betraying your shock as you stepped closer to him. With mere inches separating you now, a tempest of emotions - anger, relief, hurt, need - welled up inside you. Yet in his presence, you found yourself rendered speechless and still again.

"What are you doing here?" you asked in a whisper, your voice trembling.

"I have come seeking you," he replied. "Time has passed... painfully so."

"It's been weeks," you pointed out. "You've been avoiding me this entire time."

“My apologies.”

His touch on your shoulder felt peculiar as his hand traced down your upper arm—a subtle but noticeable difference from his usual mannerisms. His gestures had noticeably changed; where he had once been delicate and reserved, his grip was now firm and purposeful as his hand moved along your arm with unmistakable intent.

He was just as striking as ever, his beauty and regal bearing unaltered. But there was an incongruity that felt unsettling.

"You appear weary, my dear. Let me help ease your burdens. Allow me to care for you as I should. As has been your deepest desire."

Your eyes narrowed as suspicion began to rise in the pit of your stomach. His attitude seemed too casual, given the long separation and the significant revelations regarding the Book of Paradoxes—along with your pregnancy. How could he respond with such apparent nonchalance, without mentioning any of those occurrences?

"Is this how you're going to act? Ignoring everything that happened without any explanation?"

Even his smile was completely out of character.

"I shall explain everything in due time. But first, allow me to tend to your needs."

The way he leaned in, pressing close with an uncharacteristic intimacy that left you paralyzed and shivering in terror, provided incontrovertible confirmation that he was not who he claimed to be.

You knew Morpheus as deeply as your own reflection; his distinctive gaze, the careful way he carried himself, the cadence of his speech. Every gesture and interaction had its own signature, and this impersonation failed to capture all those essential details that sent your heart fluttering whenever you were near him.

This... this was most certainly not him.

Then you noticed it, a flicker of gold in his eyes that was clearly foreign to the Morpheus you knew and loved. Revulsion coursed through you as bitter realization struck, and you immediately withdrew from the creature’s touch, stepping back with decisive force.

“My love?”

"Don't 'my love' me. If you thought you could deceive me with these pathetic tricks, you were sorely mistaken."

His expression shifted to one of exaggerated shock, the artifice so glaringly obvious. “I don’t understand—”

"Oh, drop the act. Did everyone agree to use me as a pastime lately or what?”

"Y/N," His voice took on a stronger, more menacing tone. "I assure you, I have no idea what you speak of."

You became venomous, each word a strike. “Dream has never had golden eyes, and he most certainly would never behave the way you do. So tell me, Desire, what are you really here for?"

Slowly, the illusion of Morpheus collapsed, revealing the Endless’ true form - a statuesque figure with gleaming golden eyes, crimson-stained lips curved into a knowing grin, and platinum hair swept back in an elegant style. Their attire transformed from Morpheus' darkness to pristine white, very similar to the one you had seen at the Fashion Show's establishment.

"My, aren't you just precious. A pity you've spoiled my little game so quickly."

Pressing your lips together, you glared at them. "I'm not in the mood for this."

"Quite a change from our last encounter. You didn't even know who I was then, did you?"

"No. But as they say: fool me once, shame on you. You won't fool me twice."

They let out a low laugh, circling you with predatory fluidity. "Oh my sweet Y/N, don't be frightened. You're practically one of us now, aren't you? For however long that lasts, of course."

"Frightened? Oh no, I'm livid. Do you really expect me to treat you with respect after what you've done to him?"

"Of course he's told you about me. But you've only heard his version of events, haven't you? His perception of the truth. Though I can hardly blame you for that."

Your blood boiled. "Do you honestly think orchestrating the birth of a Vortex—forcing him to kill his own blood and face the Furies' vengeance—was merely a matter of perception?"

They shrugged. "It was a deliciously wicked plan, wasn't it?"

Rage coursed through you as your body responded viscerally to them. A powerful warmth spread beneath your skin while your eyes began to illuminate, golden threads of energy spreading across your form in an intricate tapestry. It pulsed and subsided as quickly as it began, serving as a clear warning of what you could unconsciously unleash.

"You planned his imprisonment too, didn't you? If you think you can continue this senseless vendetta, know this—I won't stand idly by while you scheme to get him destroyed out of pure spite."

For a moment, their smile wavered, but their surprise was brief. "Mmm, you're far more intriguing than you let on. How fascinating."

"Stay away from me. I can't even stand to look at you right now."

You moved past them, your body nearly grazing their form as you retrieved your keys from your bag anew.

"Oh I know. It's my brother you're pining for, isn't it? Poor sweet thing... He doesn't care, he never does."

"Yeah, right."

"Come now... I could give you everything you've ever wanted. Every delicious little desire you've tucked away in that precious heart of yours. After all... aren't dreams just desires waiting to be fulfilled?"

Your hand closed tightly around your keys, holding one like a makeshift knife. "I swear, if you don't leave right now—"

"Well then," they purred, slinking closer with a sinister grin, pearly white teeth glinting in the dim streetlight. "Let me show you just how... delightful things could be."

In an instant, reality warped and mutated around you, the familiar alleyway converging into a canvas of melting colors. Red walls took form and encircled you, their surfaces gleaming with an unnatural polish that reflected your image with mirror-like clarity.

"Welcome to my domain, little butterfly."

A rhythmic pulsing echoed through the otherwise silent room, its crimson interior reminiscent of an artificial cardiovascular structure.

"Take me back immediately," you demanded, your voice low and dangerous.

"Come now... let me get to know my favorite sister-in-law better. Besides, I'm simply dying to meet my little niece or nephew growing inside you."

"If you dare come anywhere near my child—"

"Oh dear, you're breaking my heart," they said with a fake pout, pressing their hand delicately to their chest.

"I will not repeat myself again, Desire. Take. Me. Back. Now."

"All this stress can't be good for that precious little one. Come, sit with me."

Realizing that further resistance would be futile and counterproductive, you felt your strength beginning to falter as exhaustion set in, accompanied by a wave of dizziness and mounting nausea.

Desire settled into a minimalist chair, gesturing elegantly to the space beside them. Your apprehension at being so far from known territory was difficult to brush aside, but fatigue began to overcome your resistance. Your body, exhausted from the day's events, betrayed your determination as you inevitably gravitated toward the offered seat.

The rigid surface provided little comfort, and Desire's unwelcome proximity became even more disturbing as they reached out to stroke your hair and face, causing tension to ripple through your muscles.

"I don't know what you want to do with me, but you're wasting your time."

"Oh, I can see exactly what drew my dear brother to you. Such fierce spirit... such delectable defiance."

You hardened your jaw.

"Sweet thing, my brother has a habit of falling for mortals. You're just another passing fancy in his eternal existence."

Your hands tightened into fists atop your knees. "Stop."

"This child won't keep him by your side. Just look at dear Calliope... such a tragic tale. And poor little Orpheus... torn apart while my brother watched idly from his domain."

"You have no right to speak about him or his son that way."

Their fingers expertly pressed against your scalp in what should have been a soothing motion, had it been performed by anyone else.

"And why shouldn't I? After all, I am family. I've been there through it all, watching every moment, while you weren't even a whisper in existence."

You pulled away harshly, sliding to the farthest side of the chair. "I'm so tired of everyone reminding me how mortal and short-lived I am. You all think you know him better only because you've been around since the dawn of all living things, but that means absolutely nothing."

"That's simply the way it is. My brother has had his infatuations before, and every single time, they've ended in a disastrous way."

"Yeah, well. None of them were me."

They laughed, their voice reverberating against the crimson membranes, hollow and cruel.

As they advanced, you found yourself cornered, with only the option of retreating to the floor beneath you and crawl backwards. An entirely unappealing prospect.

"Why throw away everything you could have for someone who'll never truly care for you? I can give you what you want. Right here, right now."

As you met their gaze, you felt a mystical pull — one that seemed designed to ensnare any mortal they seeked, just as they had done with Unity Kinkaid. Their hand returned to your hair, running through it from root to tip with practiced elegance, letting the strands slip between their fingers.

They were trying to exploit your momentary vulnerability to ensnare you, but you refused to be deceived.

With feigned sweetness, you grasped their jacket's lapels, nails grazing their exposed collarbones. Leaning in close enough to sense their subtle resonance, you fixed them with a steely glare.

"What I want is for you to screw yourself and forget I even exist," you hissed.

Your gesture caused Desire's calmess to break, their amusement turning into visible displeasure. Offended, they rose to their feet, walking to an elaborate display wall adorned with particular artifacts, one that seemed more than a mere corner filled with decorative pieces.

"See this lovely collection? All of us Endless keep our siblings' sigils in our realms. Little tokens that let us summon one another whenever we wish."

You swallowed. “So?”

"Let me offer you a little reward for your... resilience. I could summon Dream, let him come to you. Wouldn't you love to see him?"

Your heart lurched, caught between a flood of joy and the cold grip of fear at what might follow.

"Yes, how about a lovely little reunion?"

“Wait—”

As they extended their hand toward a silver mask resembling a crow's skull, Desire's expression twisted into an even more malevolent smirk. “My sweet brother Dream. It is I, Desire. I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil.”

The response came immediately, and at the sound of that voice, you nearly collapsed to the floor, desperate to scream and call out his name.

"Desire. What is it you want?"

The coldness in his tone was palpable, and understandably so.

"It's rather about what you want, dear brother. As it happens, I have a very special guest here in my domain—someone who's absolutely desperate to see you."

He needed no explanation, for he already knew whom they were referring to. "Tell me you did not."

The triumph on their face was absolutely maddening. “Come. I am extending an invitation."

You wrapped your arms around your midsection, feeling unsteady on your legs despite being seated. Footsteps rang out through the corridors, and as you looked up, Morpheus came forth from one of the lengthy crimson passages. His black shoes struck the smooth floor, halting as his cerulean eyes met your face, brimming with anguish and concern.

At last, there stood Morpheus, the real Morpheus, before you.

“There you are.”

At their words, his face contorted with unbridled irritation. "Desire, I believe I have told you to stay out of my affairs."

"Oh, but I'm doing you a favor, aren't I? This poor girl has been waiting for you."

Desire slid behind you, gripping your shoulders as their lips hovered near your ear. "Unless you'd prefer to leave her defenseless."

You winced as the dreamstone around your neck flared with a faint luminescence, its power somehow dampened. A worrying thought crossed your mind—would the stone's magic hold any sway over the Endless themselves?

Witnessing your discomfort, Morpheus' patience wore thin. "Y/N, come to me."

Without deliberation, you moved swiftly to comply with his directive. Desire released their hold, permitting you to step away without protest. As you moved to Dream’s side, he placed a protective hand against your back.

"You can thank me now or later, sweet Dream."

Desire's actions were clearly calculated to assert dominance over their brother, demonstrating their continued ability to influence and provoke Morpheus regardless of his admonitions.

“Thank you?” His fingers tightened around the fabric of your shirt. "If you ever dare to come near her again, I shall ensure your suffering is eternal."

Desire's laughter could be heard through the chamber one final time, but Morpheus had already turned away. As he guided you from the crimson realm, your surroundings altered again, eventually settling into the shadows of what had become your second home.

You expected him to return you to your dimension and depart immediately, without uttering a single word or showing any sign of intention toward reconciliation. However, as the known ambience of his castle's throne room shaped around the two of you, you regarded Morpheus with an inquisitive look.

"This is not the Waking World."

He blinked slowly, tilting his head. "No."

You had waited so long to be welcomed back into this hallowed hall.

"Why did you bring me here?"

His voice flowed like honey, rich and soothing. “We must talk, you and I.”

Your lips trembled as waves of pent-up frustration crashed through you like a tide. "Oh, so now you want to talk? After ignoring my calls for so long?"

Morpheus lowered his gaze, reflecting pain and remorse like a wounded creature in deepest distress. In an instant, you felt a pang of regret for your harsh outburst, steadying your breath and fidgeting with your fingers. "I’m sorry... I shouldn't have snapped like that. That was rude."

“Your anger is justified.”

"No," you said with a defeated sigh. "You just rescued me, I have no right to treat you unkindly." Spotting the marble stairs at the center of the room, you sank down onto the steps. "I just... I need a moment."

Your stomach churned uncomfortably, accompanied by a throbbing headache beginning to manifest.

"You are unwell." Not a question but a statement.

"The symptoms come and go. I just need some rest."

His expression tightened as he watched your weakened state—exhausted and vulnerable, managing both your daily responsibilities and pregnancy without his assistance.

“Y/N,” he muttered, moving closer, but keeping a respectful distance. “I… I owe you an apology.”

“Do you?”

He nodded gravely. “The Book of Paradoxes speaks in riddles. I spent countless nights parsing its ancient verses.”

“I know.”

“When all paths led to darkness, I chose to bear the burden of separation. A cruel mercy perhaps, but one born of devotion.”

You shook your head, pinching the bridge of your nose. "That felt more like torture than mercy. Besides, even without you, I still ended up risking my life at least once.”

“I am aware of that.”

"All that suffering... tell me, was it for nothing?" You choked out,

“I sought to shield you from harm. To preserve you from the inevitable consequences that follows when one of the Endless dares to love a mortal. But… I have committed a grave error.”

You sniffled, wiping away the tears already tracing their trail down your cheeks.

“My actions have achieved precisely what I tried to prevent, placing both you and our unborn child in the path of destruction.”

“So, the book was just… what, a joke?”

“A trial of fate,” he affirmed. “Like a mirror reflecting the depths of consciousness, the book’s cryptic whispers resonate through the very fabric of reality itself.”

“How?”

“It constantly shifts, revealing truths uniquely tailored to each bearer who dares venture into its pages. Even I, in all my centuries of existence, find myself humbled by certain mysteries that lie within its ancient bindings.”

You let out a pained chuckle, more a lament than laughter. “It’s been so hard, Morpheus.”

“I know, my love. If I had known the path to resolution, I would not have exiled myself from your existence.”

"I just wanted you by my side. We could've faced this together."

“I was trapped in this labyrinth of misunderstanding, each turn leading me further from the truth."

As you finally managed to suppress the rush of nausea, you looked at him through blurry vision. "You said the book is tailored for those who find it, that it represents a trial of fate. What about those passages that convinced you to leave me? What message was it truly trying to convey to both of us?"

"The book was a reflection of my darkest fears - that I would cause you harm, that I would lose you forever... that my love would bring about your demise, as it did with Nada. I could not bear to witness such a fate befall you as well."

Your shoulders slumped. "Morpheus… I've told you before, I'm not Nada."

"No. You are unlike any I have known before. Your presence has changed the very essence of who I am, Y/N. Everything I once believed about myself has been transformed into something... unexpected."

"What does it mean?"

"Your connection to my realm, and the child we have created together, have altered everything I once believed to be immutable."

“Stories can be rewritten.”

The Maiden’s lips twitched into something between a smile and an admonition. "To rewrite fate means altering everything that comes after—love, loss, sacrifice—each word inscribed anew."

A grin tugged at your lips—a genuine sign of victory—at the prospect of having already proven the Fates' predictions ineffectual.

However, your somber mood quickly returned. "I'm sorry you found out about the child like this. I wish I had been the one to tell you."

“I did learn it from you, in a way,” he specified.

“You did?”

“I had an illuminating discourse with an unexpected visitor. Your mother seeked my presence, desiring council; her understanding of the book's mysteries eclipsed even my accumulated knowledge.”

"My mother? Why? I thought she disapproved of our relationship from the start. Why did she suddenly start caring?"

“She finally comprehended the depths of my eternal devotion to you.”

To say you were surprised would be an understatement, as warmth bloomed in your heart at the thought.

“I perceived her unspoken truth about your condition,” he elucidated. “And so I came to the Waking World, to gaze upon what my stubbornness had rendered me blind to for so long.”

You recalled that particular night when, after waking, you had observed golden particles suspended in the air around your bed. At the time, you had simply attributed this phenomenon to your own light abilities, remnants drifting lazily through the atmosphere.

“You were there...”

“I was.”

"But that doesn't change the fact that I couldn't tell you directly myself. I was terrified... and perhaps a part of me was afraid of how you would react."

“Why?”

“I…”

“My love,” he said quietly. “I would never take our child away from you, if that troubles your mind.”

Your brow knitted thoughtfully. "I know you wouldn’t. That's not what I was referring to."

“…Oh?”

You folded your arms pensively. "I didn't know how to approach the subject after what you've been through. You were a father once… and after what happened with Orpheus… I just... I didn't want to stir up those painful memories again."

His face softened, a gentle curve playing at the corners of his mouth. “Did you harbor concern for me? That knowledge of this child would resurrect the shadows of my past?”

You relaxed your legs, joining your hands in your lap. "Yes."

“I am responsible,” he said solemnly. “The burden I placed upon your soul was... unforgivable.”

You hung your head, exhaling a heavy sigh. "You didn’t, not intentionally. I understand your perspective."

He stood rigid, restraining himself from moving any closer. “I do not deserve your kindness.”

"This isn't about what you do or don't deserve.” You lifted your eyes toward the star-filled dome above, its motif a recurrent element in your own dreams. “The night of the accident, I had taken off the Dreamstone. It reminded me of you, and I hated it... I hated not seeing you anymore, not hearing your voice, not feeling your love."

His lips parted, yet he remained silent, allowing you to continue uninterrupted.

"But then, a voice in my head urged me to keep it with me, not to discard it. I faced a choice: ignore my instinct and leave the stone behind, or put it on again. I chose to wear it."

His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"What I mean is, even if we have a predetermined destiny, our choices still shape our course through life. You tried to keep me safe by leaving me, but I’m actually safest when I am with you. Whether here or in the Waking World, it makes no difference."

The ambient sounds of the Dreaming permeated the castle walls - a symphony of ethereal whispers, crackling flames, and the gentle rustling of ancient tomes.

You cherished every aspect of it.

"The Dreamstone has protected both me and our child. It shielded me from the studio fire, and it even kept the Corinthian at bay in Georgia. The evidence is undeniable, Morpheus. I just wish you'd been there—that we could have discovered this baby together."

He tentatively advanced, bearing the weight of centuries upon himself. “You still hold such affection for me. Yet I have sullied this bond with my failings.”

Your breath came out in trembling gasps. "Of course I do. Nothing could ever change that, not even how infuriating you can be sometimes."

Morpheus closed the distance between you, extending his hand to your face. His touch was feather-light and cautious, filled with such tenderness that it instantly erased the residual tingling left by his sibling.

"Y/N, I know I do not have the right to ask. But...do you believe you could find it in your heart… to forgive me…?"

When you looked at him, his luminous eyes were filled with desperation and pleading. With all the strength you could master, you pushed yourself away from the steps, passing by him while contemplating your response, one hand pressed against your chin.

You gathered your thoughts, allowing yourself a moment to find equilibrium. When you turned to him once more, he watched your movements with an expression of anticipation. He stood tense with nervousness, bracing himself for rejection.

"Swear it," you commanded. "Swear to me that no matter what happens, no matter what prophecy you find or hear, no matter what anyone tells you about me or our future, you won't leave me again."

You cried freely then, releasing all the sorrow you had tried to suppress for so long. "Swear to me that we will face everything together as partners. That you will seek my help. I love you more than the universe itself, Morpheus, but I cannot bear to be abandoned again, left waiting for your return, not knowing if it will be in vain."

His rigidity gave way to unstable steps, his coat brushing against your arms as he stopped in front of you. The flaring redness rimming his eyes revealed weeks of concealed agony, as tears traced silvery paths down his face.

“I swear it.”

Your heart ached at his vulnerability - you had only seen such raw emotion once before, in his memories of Jessamy's tragic end.

"I swear it on all that I am. I swear it upon the Dreaming itself. I swear it on what remains of my son. And I swear it upon my unborn child."

His words struck deep, leaving you breathless and breaking down your last emotional defenses. “Never again?”

“No. Never shall I abandon you again. I make this solemn vow.”

A strangled sound escaped your chest as your crashed your lips against his, hands cradling his face as if holding the most precious treasure in existence. His arms encircled you at once, fingers weaving through your hair and grasping a few tresses with quivering digits. You held onto him like a lifeline, your arms wrapping around his neck as you deepened the kiss, tongues meeting in a passionate embrace.

The room filled with the melody of sighs and soft moans as you abandoned yourselves to each other, all the pent-up longing and desire exploding like fireworks. Morpheus’ breath was hitching, shaking, tears mingling between you as your lips danced together. The candles' flames intensified, their sway celebrating the rekindled connection between your two souls.

When you finally detached from him to catch your breath, you wiped away the tears that stained his cheeks, also collecting the fresh ones that formed.

"Oh, my silly Dream," you whispered with a smile. "What am I ever going to do with you?"

Leaning forward, he touched his forehead to yours. “Forgive me. Please. That is all I dare ask.”

You kissed him one more time, puckering your lips softly against his—a kiss he immediately returned.

"Though I was tempted to keep you on edge a bit longer, I don't have the heart for that. I've already forgiven you," you reassured him. "And while we're on the subject, I believe I owe you an apology too, Morpheus."

“An apology? To me?”

"Mmhm."

“Why?”

Absently touching your abdomen, you let your fingers slip onto his hand. "The first night we spent together, I told you I was protected. And it's true, I really was—I'd been on birth control for a long time. But when I was here, as your guest, I didn't have my medication with me."

His fingers curled around yours, initially cold, but instantly warming in your hold.

"Time moves differently between here and the Waking World, and I completely lost track. I was conscious and should have been more careful, but... I made a mistake. This child came to be as a result. I'm so sorry, Morpheus… I know it must have been shocking."

His eyes shone, though his tears had subsided. "You need not apologize to me, my love."

“It’s just…” You trailed off,

“The responsibility lies with both of us.” He paused, studying your abdomen with heartfelt wonder. “And it is... a blessing beyond measure.”

"Really? But... do you truly want this with me?"

“I would not have it any other way.”

Your posture relaxed visibly as your tension melted away from your features.

Morpheus reached toward your abdomen, his hand hovering with tentativeness. His expression held both hope and uncertainty, as if unsure whether he had permission to make contact. “May I…?”

Gently, you guided his hand to rest atop your abdomen where your child was growing, his palm spreading softly against the material of your shirt. “You must.”

He remained still, sensing the energy flowing in you, your hand protectively covering his. Morpheus' eyes widened in wonder, his lips parting as dark red rings returned around his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" you asked, reading his face.

“No, nothing is wrong,” he said with fondness. “I sense the child's essence. It resonates through the tapestry of dreams.”

“Aw.”

“She shall become a most magnificent arbiter between our worlds.”

You blinked as his other hand reached your waist, pulling you closer. "Wait... 'she'?"

“Yes,” he replied with a smile. “Our daughter.”

The Endless' ability to perceive beings and their biological imprint was truly phenomenal. In contrast, modern medical imaging was required to detect the initial cardiac activity of your developing child.

“We’re having a little girl….”

As everything crashed down on you, you finally relaxed into his arms, your legs becoming wobbly yet remaining steady enough to keep you standing. All those weeks of pain, grief, and insecurity—all the tears that had fallen and continued to spill—everything you had endured was worth it for this single moment of happiness.

"I love you. More than all the stars across infinite universes."

You gripped the back of his coat, holding him firmly, your face buried in the crook of his neck. "I love you too, Morpheus. I've missed you so much."

"I have missed you as well... as has my realm. Will you rest here tonight? Allow me to care for you, both of you, as I should have done from the beginning?"

You chuckled softly, your lips trembling as your nose traced the line of his jaw. "Absolutely."

All that was left was a sense of completeness, in spite of all the warnings and dirty games you had forcibly tackled.

"As long as you're the one sending me to sleep, my wonderful king."

Final notes: The next chapter will include lots of romance, and also bring back the smut. From now until the finale, the story will feature nothing but wholesome and positive events, along with a bit of additional lore.

I would also like to credit Corridor Digital on YouTube for their "ROT" video, which you can find here. It's a Silent Hill fan film that I highly recommend if you're not a SL fan. I used it as an inspiration for the nightmare part specifically.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 27 ->

[musicalmoritz]

I would ask more but I forgot the numbers so uhm?? Every other number I haven’t asked but for TBHK??

Hehe ask and you shall receive😈🔥

the character everyone gets wrong

There are so many…Teru is a big one, most fans fail to see that everything he does is self-sacrificial and he is far from pure evil. No, Akane is not a sexual assaulter/harasser, and he has a personality outside of Aoi. No, Nene is not flawless nor a pick-me but she’s not intentionally awful either. Hanako is meant to be sympathetic, he’s not just a killer or a “yandere.” Aoi is more than her ships, that goes for both Aoinene and Terukaneaoi. Hakubo is NOT a groomer and yes he has emotions. Mitsuba is one of the kindest, most empathetic characters in the series. Kou is increasingly becoming more selfish and has quite a few faults. Sumire is her own character beyond all the characters people compare her to. Tsukasa has many selfless qualities and is not just an abusive murderer. Sakura is more emotional than people give them credit for. Natsuhiko is not purely silly but he’s not totally heartless either. Mei and Shijima are not the exact same, and they both have personality traits outside of yuri shipping. I could go on forever tbh

compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom

*picks up sand and lets it fall between my fingers* I haven’t touched top/bottom discourse in so long…how have I lost the freak part of my brand…I’m the same person who wrote a fic for every day of Bottom Dazai Week. There aren’t many characters to pick from for this one since tbhk is set at a high school. I think I’m gonna go with Yako, I cannot see her topping because, well, look at her. That is a bratty bottom if I’ve ever seen one

screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

Already answered

what was the last straw that made you finally block that annoying person?

Already answered

worst discord server and why

I’m not in any discord servers

which ship fans are the most annoying?

Already answered

what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

Already answered

common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

Hmmmmm…I think I’m gonna bring up the Kou mischaracterization again, so many fans will die on the hill that he’s never done anything wrong in his life and I hate it. He canonically wants Mitsuba to depend on him to the point of being useless, and we’ve also seen him hold Mitsuba down and attempt to force-feed him. I’ll also say I don’t like the way the fandom handles the Sousuke vs. Mitsuba thing, they either view them as entirely the same or entirely separate when neither are true. They share a soul, but are different people

worst part of canon

I know I should say the twincest bait but I have a personal hatred for the scene where Hanako possesses Nene. Obviously the twincest thing is bad too but at least that has some plausible deniability yk. And they kinda stopped doing it at some point. Whereas Hanako SAing Aoi and Nene at the same time is an undeniable thing that happened on screen and was never addressed again. The fact that Kou didn’t help bcuz he found it hot also made me cringe. Idk I just wish the scene hadn’t been included, it was very odd. Felt like an excuse to throw in some lesbian fan service without committing to having lesbian characters

worst part of fanon

Already answered this

number of fandom-related words you've filtered

A total of 29 for all fandoms combined…I don’t have many squicks but the ones I do have are intense. It’s pretty much all just ships I don’t want to see. I have some ship tags that I unfiltered because I ended up liking them (TsuMitsu, Tsunene). But my current count is 29

the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

FUCKING HAKUBO I love him to death. Tsukasa too but the Hakubo hate makes me extra irritated because it’s very obviously racially motivated that fans are unwilling to see him as an actual character and instead just shove villainized traits onto him in order to justify their hate. It’s as though nobody read his arc, or more like people did in fact read it but nobody even attempted to understand it because they subconsciously didn’t want to care about a black character. While he isn’t the only character to be called abusive, it has very different undertones with him due to the stereotype about black men being violent. Yes he does act violently in certain scenes but fans overlook why he does that, and the fact that he has very strict morals with him refusing to kill children.

There are many things to like about Hakubo, he’s one of the most well-written characters in the manga. First of all, his character design is very badass; I’m not into dudes but imo he should be the designated Adult Male Character To Simp For instead of Tsuchigomori (Teacher Amane is also valid). He’s got a sense of humor that fans don’t seem to pick up on, it’s cute to me how often he teases Sumire. His entire arc is marked with tragedy, the kinda angst fans usually eat up. He spent his entire life thinking he didn’t have feelings, and he didn’t realize he did until he was forced to kill the person who made him feel the strongest. I mean c’mon!! That is top tier angst. Arguably the saddest part of the manga. And the scene where he kills Sumire’s village to avenge her???? Easily one of my favorite scenes, it was so metal. He’s also got blorbo potential because despite being a literal god of death, he is ultimately Just Some Guy. Half the time just kinda stares at people. And also the dehumanization he went through at the hands of the Minamoto clan is my prime reason for hating them (aside from the main siblings and their mom). His story is so upsetting like this man has never had an easy life. And I just want to hug him. Guys please stan Hakubo he deserves all the love in the world

worst blorboficiation

I do not know what this means- ohhhhh wait it just clicked for me. Teru. So many fans dumb down his character due to him being “silly.” And don’t get me wrong, that is absolutely a side of his personality. He is very goofy and likes to tease people and canonically has an atrocious fashion sense. But some fans reduce him to those more comedic traits and ignore his flaws and trauma, and subsequently every other side of his personality. He is sadistic and charming and highly intelligent despite not being educated on domestic tasks. He may not be able to survive in like a regular house on his own but if the gang got stranded on an island together, he would be their leader. Multiple things can be true at once yk

that one thing you see in fics all the time

So not to come for my own gang but I’m a little burnt out on one-sided Aoinene, especially when Nene is fawning over some man instead. I know it’s more accurate to canon but since when do gay shippers care about canon??? We’re supposed to be the creative ones. I still enjoy those fics because people work hard on them but unrequited love is like my least favorite trope ever. Besides, we see one-sided Aoinene all the time. At this point, the trope is overdone. Let’s start focusing more on Nene’s side of things, I want to see her get flustered over her girlfriend. I also think it’s funny that Nene gets written as straight so often considering the fact that she canonically blushed at Sakura and called her a babe. Not to mention the queer undertones of her friendships with Mei and Aoi. She is more likely to be queer than Aoi so I find it weird that so many Aoinene shippers ignore that potential side of her character. Let Nene be the simp for once

that one thing you see in fanart all the time

I can’t talk too much shit here bcuz unlike with fanfics I am contributing nothing in this area. But I personally don’t rly like it when people draw fem!Kou as super feminine. That is my butch daughter

you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

One-sided Terukane. Just like with Aoinene idc if it’s more accurate to canon, I just can’t get behind it. Akane’s dilemma over falling for someone who isn’t Aoi is such an interesting concept, even if he eventually picks Aoi I’d like to see it explored more in Terukane angst. But ultimately I prefer fanon Terukane over canon Terukane anyways. I want them to be healthily married husbands

there should be more of this type of fic/art

Horror fics and any type of dark romance. They’re only rly common in this fandom among incest pairings which I don’t especially want to read about. And even then it’s all SA which isn’t very creative in terms of horror. C’mon guys, this is tbhk, we need to make our fanfics more fucked up. But like fucked up in a good way. I’ve read a couple reallyyyyyy good fucky Aoinene fics that utilize Aoi’s temporary canon death, usually involving her haunting Nene or Nene hallucinating her, and I would love to see more of that with them. Also more Mitsukou kidnapping and/or cannibalism fics please. More toxic yuri fics please. I am so tired of having to write all of it myself😣

it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

Aoimei!! We have semi-canon sapphics in this series and nobody gaf. Tbh Sakunene too bcuz they’re super gay. Usually fandoms go crazy over gay shit so whyyyyy aren’t we talking more about the lesbians??? Shippers in this fandom will bend over backwards to explain how Terukane and HanaKou are queercoded but when it comes to Mei and Aoi going out or Nene calling Sakura a babe, it’s near radio silence. Even the yuri shippers don’t talk about yuri that much. Do better/lh

you're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like...

Tsumitsukou…I know they’re toxic as hell but I think Mitsuba deserves two insane boyfriends, I think he would love that. Wait hold on, idk why I felt the need to give a disclaimer. Forgot who I was replying to for a sec LMAO

part of canon you found tedious or boring

There’s actually not much I dislike about this manga. I used to get tired of the Misaki Stairs arc bcuz I reread/rewatched it so many times but it ended up growing on me. I don’t think there’s any arc or plot point that’s bored me

part of canon you think is overhyped

…Can I say the Yugi twins lore?? Is that allowed?? I love love love the ppl in this fandom who analyze it because they are so smart but I’m personally not as invested in it as the rest of the story. Again, I don’t necessarily find it boring, but there are other characters I want to know about more (Sakura and Natsuhiko)

your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

The way everything connects back to the Minamoto lore!! Nagisa being related to Misaki and Kunishige, then the Yugi mom going to that same shrine for help, Nene and Aoi both being kannagi, Hakubo and Sumire and Katakuri’s stories. It’s so cool to me how closely woven together the plot is

ship you've unwillingly come around to

TeruAoi. I was such a massive hater at first because they gave big “that is a gay man and a lesbian” energy but then I realized that two things can be true at once bcuz within fanon exists multiple AUs and outcomes. Yes sometimes that is a gay man and a lesbian, but sometimes that is a happy bisexual couple. Sometimes that’s a happy lesbian couple. So many options. I also love their dynamic in canon, I choose to read their little love triangle with Akane as a polyamorous relationship and no one can stop me. I also love Aoi to death and think she deserves all the love

topic that brings up the most rancid discourse

This is another one where twincest is the obvious answer but I have some additional ones as well. Any themes of sex in the manga. While it is valid to criticize the sexualization of teenaged characters, some fans take it to the extreme of denying or shunning any sexual themes at all, which happen mainly with the adult characters (aka Hakubo and Sumire). And also the discourse surrounding Mitsuba’s sexuality and the canon status of Mitsukou, which shouldn’t even exist. Mitsuba is gay, Mitsukou is canon. End it discussion

common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

Already answered this

Thank you for this ask, I really enjoyed getting to give my hot takes without holding back!! If you disagree with any of these please do not be offended, these are all just my opinions. And ofc if anyone wants to see me do this with another fandom, just say the word <3

[questionablecuttlefish]

Honestly good to know I’m not crazy cause I do think there’s a certain lc erasure lately, it happened on ao3 in the arcane tag, their search word on twt is working weirdly, and ofc some people do not want her mentioned in arcane subs related. Honestly to each their own but I just find so funny how they’re trying so hard to bury lux but I assure u, if a lux show comes around the same people will be flipping sides so quickly (maybe not in the lc ship but yes in the loving lux side).

Plus I think it’s so cool that jinx has so many artists dedicated to her lately but as much as their work it’s beautiful, sometimes l can’t help but think “in what mad world will jinx wear smth like that or act that way” lmao, making her so different of how she is, even though she was so subdued in arcane s2 I think the fans subdued her even more in fandom spaces.

Anyways, this is the whole reason why I think lux is gonna be so popular cause I think fanon jinx rn is actually closer to canon lux.

I left Twitter in November and was never really on Reddit to begin with, and given the way the fandom's gone, I don't regret not being on either.

I do find the sheer balls out insecurity of those we shall not name who are trying so hard to erase Lightcannon and bully LC fans out of the fandom spaces both deeply aggravating and hilarious.

A certain other ship gets, what, the showrunners are fans, the animation studio are fans, there's most of a 40 minute episode dedicated to it, the artbook, a chart-topping song in French with a music video and a cover with Coldplay, they keep getting fed over and over.

And it's not enough, somehow?

Lightcannon hasn't shared a skinline in 10 years - oh wait, we got Lovestruck, yay! - oh wait, it's the comphet valentine's skin boooo - and LC fans sighing at 'airship to Demacia' is just our wishful dreaming. We don't trust Riot will ever give us what we want, why would we? They've burned us over and over again.

And yet some people are so scared of this 'non-canon delusional crack ship' where one partner doesn't even exist in the show and there's no signs she will that they're willing to try to bully its supporters out of existence? Really?

If we're so 'non-canon' why are we such a threat?

Baby shippers who can't share space are honestly not worth my time or energy to argue with.

I will critique another ship to my black heart's content but I'll never tell you you can't ship it. I'll never post negative comments on the work of another ship's artists, writers or cosplayers. I'll defend to the death your right to have your fictional blorbos.

Just don't tell me I can't have mine.

(...and may Great Azatoth help you if you try, because that's not a fight you'll win.)

OP, you're also right about the 'subduing' of Jinx. I'm deeply saddened by the fandom's slow burn domestication of a character who at her heart represents chaos, joyful destruction, rebellion against the rules, and the breakdown of established order.

But sure, let's turn the crazy firebrand into a blue-haired tradwife. That feels kinda political too, NGL, in this current cultural moment, doesn't it?

LC represents the opposite to me. Not because "Lux is crazier" - I don't even subscribe to that trope lol - but because Lux represents acceptance and support to Jinx, but Jinx represents rebellion and freedom to Lux.

Neither forces the other to be something she's not, but both represent an open hand offering something the other character already deeply, deeply desires and needs.

The whole world might be out to get them, but they'll be running hand in hand, and fighting back to back.

The freedom to love who you love and be who you are, no matter who others demand you to be, that's my Lightcannon. 💛💙🏳️‍🌈🦄