#also john: hey so while we're here. lemme make some outrageous demand

[talentforlying]

@formshaper: even for my kind, pain still hurts. [dream. i am frothing over this actually.] — AMERICAN GOD STARTERS

' fuck me, you're kidding. '

of all the times to learn that the endless has feelings, this is not the most convenient amongst them: on the lam from a feral posse of tulpas sent up by some cast-happy bastard with an eye towards collecting constructs of power like animals for a zoo. and look, it's not like he hadn't seen a trap coming — fairly standard practice to catch dreams, not kill them — he just . . . didn't think it would hurt to walk into. at least, it wouldn't hurt dream to walk into. learn something new every day.

fuck, he didn't think dream could ever get hurt, not really. not in a way that mattered. ( a terrifying thought, that. )

the lull of sizzling, snarling background noise jumps like a record needle skipping and he winces, glancing past the endless toward the sea of shadows mobbing the horizon, getting closer. the two of them are almost to the edge of the world dream, almost off the material plane and back into primo territory where the tulpas would be just as under the thumb of the Lord of Dreams as any other thought-form. they're so close to safety, so fucking close, and the prick's gone and popped a tyre.

there's an obvious choice: he could leave dream behind. save his own skin. come back later with a better plan, or send someone else instead, someone more capable, less . . . fleshy. a couple days of imprisonment at the hands of mortals, that's hardly anything to an endless, scarcely a fraction of a blink. fuck knows dream's had worse; it'd be nothing, compared to burgess. constantine could run.

. . . buggering pustulant fuck, they don't have time for this.

' remind me when we're out've 'ere to walk you through this shiny new mortal concept, star eyes — it's called sucking it up! ' he doesn't stand on ceremony, ducking down to haul dream's arm up over his shoulder and lift; so sodding help him, they are getting out of here, if he has to drag the prickly goth bastard down the hall face-first like a star-spangled roll of fucking carpet.

' christ, this is just like you endless types, leavin' me to do all the bleedin' legwork. i've half a mind t'start charging for me services, yunno, a couple peaceful nights of rest just en't gonna cut it anymore. gonna start adjustin' fer inflation of risk. like, this bit 'ere? now? you owe me a drink. an enormous one. ' a beat. may as well go for broke. ' and a house key. '