#and to trick said mother you play sacrifice

[little-crow-heart]

18 favorite sidequest

game: Skyrim

[toffeecoco1]

@perpetualgrey's comment on this post

Ok my first instinct was to laugh, but then I realised you might be onto something???

Shen Yuan is LITERALLY an impostor, who’s more far more kind and beloved by Binghe than the original. The Guanyin pendant is a counterfeit, but it carries the love of Binghe’s mother and is far more precious than any real jade could ever be.

The heartbreak Binghe’s mother felt after realising that the Guanyin pendant was fake and she’d been tricked was part of what lead to the gradual decline of her health.¹ In wanting to do something kind for Binghe, she felt that she’d failed, and this led to her demise. What is Shen Qingqiu’s entire story, but trying to be kind to Binghe, feeling inadequate at this, and dying? (More than once!!)

Guanyin is a Bodhisattva associated with mercy, kindness, compassion and unconditional love. She is a patron of mothers, and is called upon in times of fear, uncertainty, and despair. The Bodhisattva she originated from is seen as a saviour, through whose grace even those with the most negative karma can achieve salvation. Even when she is not worshipped as a goddess, she is revered as the principle of love, compassion and mercy.² From wikipedia, “The act, thought and feeling of compassion and love is viewed as Guanyin. A merciful, compassionate, loving individual is said to be Guanyin.”²

The original Luo Binghe appears never to have lost his pendant. Shen Qingqiu tells us: “It was the only bit of warmth in Luo Binghe’s dark world, always by his side, and even in the future when he was at his darkest, it could summon up his last dregs of humanity.”¹ He also states that “it was Luo Binghe’s biggest berserk button.”¹

Our Luo Binghe does not cling to the pendant when he’s at his darkest: he clings to the love he has for his shizun and to memories of his kindness, and later, to the lifeless body of Shen Qingqiu himself. His biggest berserk button isn’t when people insult the pendant or his mother, or try to take it away; it’s Shen Qingqiu: when people insult him or try to take him away.

From the start, Shen Qingqiu expresses truly unconditional love for Binghe. He spends three years showing endless compassion and kindness, actions which feel insignificant to him but are more than enough to completely change Binghe’s life. He holds no blame or resentment for the things he fears Binghe will do to him; though he doesn’t want to be tortured, he forgives Binghe for it nonetheless, before it has even happened. He sacrifices himself to save Binghe as his mind is eaten away at by Xin Mo, when he believes that Binghe just slaughtered a hundred Huan Hua Disciples, when Binghe’s reckless use of the sword is putting countless more lives at risk.³

Shen Qingqiu is a counterfeit that is more precious than the original could ever be. For Binghe, he personifies kindness, compassion and unconditional love. His regrets over his treatment of Binghe lead to his temporary demise. Binghe clings to him in his darkest moments, and he is that which Binghe protects most fiercely.

I always found the pendant’s role in the story to be almost lacking: it’s treated as such an important item to Binghe, yet in the end its return is almost anticlimactic. But perhaps this is because the role the pendant played in Bing-ge’s story has been overtaken by Shen Qingqiu. When he returns the pendant, Binghe is relieved and appreciative: but his joy seems to stem more from the fact that Shen Qingqiu held onto it and cherished him than from the pendant itself. The pendant doesn’t matter all that much to him anymore, at least not compared to how important it seems to have been in PIDW. Binghe doesn't need an object to symbolize love and kindness; he has a person to love, who loves him back.

In conclusion: Shizun was in fact the fake jade Guanyin pendant all along!

sources cited below :)

1. Seven Seas Volume 1, Chapter 1: Scum. Pages 40-41.

2. “Guanyin,” Wikipedia. There’s a lot more to her than what I mentioned here, she’s quite interesting.

3. Seven Seas Volume 2, Chapter 8: Death. Pages 154-156.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Duty, Sacrifice

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen (HotD) x f!twin reader Warnings: Incest, mentions of murder, knife play, dub con if you squint, smut. Word count: ~2.7k

Summary: Her and Aemond have always loved to play hide and seek, however, the night he returns from Storm's End, their game takes a much more sinister turn. Based on this request.

Author's note: No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Aemond has always loved hide and seek. For as long as she can remember, her and her twin brother’s preferred way to pass the time is for her to hide while he searches for her. He has never been the hider, always naturally favouring the role of seeker. She does not mind. There is an exhilarating thrill in finding new places within the Red Keep to tuck herself into, listening out for the approaching sound of his footsteps. He always finds her. His eyesight and instincts must be sharper than hers, she reasons.

It is innocent enough when they are young children; holding her hand to her mouth to stifle her giggles as she presses her back against a pier of the Keep, squealing when Aemond grabs her as he shouts “found you!”

As they grow older he becomes more sullen, resentful of the attention that Jacaerys and Lucerys bestow upon her. He scowls as Jacaerys laughs and touches her arm as a pig is presented to him in place of a dragon.

“Ñuhor haedri renīs se nykēla avy ossēninna!” Aemond hisses angrily. Touch my sister and I'll kill you myself!

She knows it is a cruel trick for them to play upon him, her heart aches for her twin; her egg had hatched in their cradle, but his never had, leaving him dragonless. Regardless, she knows no good will come of his hateful attitude towards Rhaenyra’s children, and will only exacerbate their teasing of him.

“Aemond, you have a duty to our nephews, you must sacrifice your own pride and not say things like that!” She scolds.

He scoffs, shooting a derisive look towards Jacarys and Lucerys. “They cannot understand High Valyrian anyway, they are not true Targaryens, they are bastards.”

Later, Aemond receives a stern telling off from their mother for what he had said. “But they gave me a pig,” he retorts sulkily, “they all laughed!”

She hates seeing Aemond so miserable, shut away in his chambers, refusing to speak to anyone. With trepidation, she pushes his door open, not bothering to knock, she never does.

“Would you like to play a game?” She asks softly.

He nods. She already knows what he has in mind and runs away with a smile as he begins to count down from ten.

This time she hides beneath the small council table, yet as always, Aemond finds her almost instantly.

She does not giggle when his hands grip the tops of her arms, hard enough to bruise, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that causes icy fingers of fear to wrap around her heart.

“Found you,” he says with cool indifference. “You are mine, dōnus hāedus, do you understand? You are not to speak to those bastards ever again.” Sweet sister.

The overwhelming urge to cry forms a lump in her throat, but she nods anyway. Aemond is her world, and she would never do anything to hurt him.

His temperament becomes darker still when their mother reveals her plans to marry Aegon to Helaena. Their brother and sister are both visibly unhappy with the match, yet she knows it is a deliberate move to help secure Aegon’s claim to the throne. She suspects that her and Aemond will be married off to other houses, to strengthen alliances.

Aemond glowers as he watches Aegon and Helaena awkwardly attempt to interact. It is painful to witness, more than apparent that they have nothing in common beyond a shared lineage.

“If only mother had betrothed me to you,” Aemond mutters.

Her eyes go wide with shock. It is the first time she has ever heard her twin voice any desire for her. It causes a strange and unfamiliar, yet not unpleasant, warmth to spread throughout her.

“We have a duty to strengthen our brother’s claim to the throne,” she reminds Aemond gently, “we must sacrifice our own desires for the good of our family.”

He simply rolls his eyes.

Aemond sneaks up on her from behind that evening, as she hides from him behind a tall shelf of books in the library. His breath is hot as it fans across the back of her neck, his arms encircling her waist.

“Found you. Tell me it is I you wish to marry, dōnus hāedus,” he commands, nuzzling the shell of her ear, making her shiver.

“It is you, only you, you know that.” Her words surprise herself as much as they do him, as they stare at each other wide eyed, too young to understand the feelings they inspire within each other. To her, Aemond is a prized toy that she wants for no one else to play with, and she suspects he feels a similar way about her.

She wails the night that Lucerys takes her twin brother’s eye. As the maester extracts the ruined organ from its socket it feels as though her heart is being torn asunder. Each prick of the needle that stitches up his ruined flesh brings with it a fresh wave of tears to her. His pain is her pain, and though he has now gained a dragon - the largest in the world - he has lost his eye.

It feels silly and selfish of her to worry about, but she wonders how they will ever play hide and seek again.

“I could be without both my eyes and I would still find you, dōnus hāedus,” Aemond reassures her. “It is not by sight that I search for you. Your heart is tied to mine, I will always find you.”

When he is healed, he proves her right, finding her huddled in the Godswood. She laughs earnestly at his “found you”, her heart feeling as though it may burst with joy. He is right, there is nothing that will keep him from her.

His seeing eye gazes adoringly into hers, as her fingertips delicately trace over the angry, red scar that runs the length of his cheek.

On their thirteenth name day, Aegon hurries Aemond away from the Red Keep in hushed secrecy. When they return hours later, the cloying scent of perfume sticks to Aemond’s clothes and he looks flushed and queasy.

“What did you do?” She asks, horrified, her stomach roiling in disgust.

“I didn’t want to,” is all he’s able to offer her.

This time when she hides, it is not part of a game, it is an attempt to be alone with her grief, to try to understand the bitter, acid jealousy that burns hotly in her chest. She crawls beneath the wooden frame of her bed, muffling her tears into the crook of her arm.

“Found you,” Aemond whispers sadly as he slides underneath the bed, laying on his belly next to her.

“Go away,” she cries piteously, turning to face him.

“Qrīdropēnna,” he says pleadingly, “I thought of nothing but you. Forgive me.” I am lost.

She gasps when he leans in, pressing his lips to hers, but quickly reciprocates. He is her other half, and she will forgive him anything.

Every game of hide and seek after that ends with them locked in a passionate embrace, though they are careful to never properly consummate their union, agreeing to wait until she has had her wedding night, so that her husband’s suspicion is not aroused by her lack of virtue.

She is proven right regarding the plans of her mother and grandfather to betroth her and Aemond to a lord and lady of differing houses, when they are paid a visit by a Lannister Lord. He is to be her husband in twelve moons’ time, she is told.

Dread forms a void in the pit of her stomach, her world feeling as though it is ending as the golden haired man sits opposite her, smiling at her with warmth and affection. It makes her feel nauseated, especially when she looks across to see her twin brother staring at him with hateful intent, the tip of his supper knife twisting forcefully into the wood of the tabletop.

Aemond finds her curled up in his armoire as he readies himself for bed that evening.

“Come out, dōnus hāedus,” he urges gently, pulling her into his arms and kissing the top of her head.

“I don’t want to marry him!” She sobs into his chest. “It isn’t fair!”

“‘Tis but a formality,” he tells her quietly, stroking her long, silver hair, “they will not keep you from me.”

“Do you promise?” She asks hopefully, looking up at him.

Aemond nods. “It is our duty, our sacrifice, but your heart will always be tied to mine.”

Their lives move as if in freefall after that. Their father passes away, and Aegon is quickly crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms.

To win favour to his claim, Aemond is to be sent to Storm’s End with an offer of marriage to one of Lord Baratheon’s daughters.

She and Aemond stand miserably in front of each other, as he is about to mount Vhagar, his leather glove clad hands cup her cheeks.

“Do not make me go, dōnus hāedus,” he pleads, seeing eye wide with anguish, “I cannot marry a woman who is not you.”

Her heart twists painfully in her chest, clutching at his black riding coat. “‘Tis but a formality,” she reminds him, “our duty, our sacrifice, but your heart will always be tied to mine.”

“I will return to you as soon as I am able,” he promises, kissing her fiercely, before climbing into his saddle.

She watches with tears in her eyes as he flies away, taking half of her heart with him.

His return is much sooner than she had anticipated. Just a few nights later, she is startled by the door to her chambers being flung open, Aemond stands in her doorway, soaked through from the rain. He looks changed. His face is hardened, the look in his eye is stern, it makes her feel uneasy.

“Lēkia?” She asks worriedly, rising from her bed. “You are back so soon, what has happened?” Brother.

His eye sweeps over her, as if seeing her for the first time, and there is something in his gaze that frightens her, causing the skin beneath her thin, white nightgown to erupt into gooseflesh.

He is quiet for a moment, before he speaks, his voice low, void of affection. “Shall we play a game, dōnus hāedus?”

Her brow furrows in confusion, she shakes her head. “I do not think–”

“It was a rhetorical question,” he interrupts, and begins to count down from ten.

Her mouth falls open, her heart racing, not liking the hungry intent with which he stares at her, and so she runs, because she fears there is no other choice.

She has never felt afraid of her twin, not properly, but tonight is different, there is a dangerous aura that hangs over him like a stormcloud and she breathes heavily with exertion as her bare feet thud against the flagstone floor of Maegor’s Holdfast, the sound drowned out by the roar of blood in her ears.

What will he do when he catches me?

If she hides, she knows he will find her. He always does. So, she elects to keep moving, panic fluttering in her chest as she takes every turn available to her in the Keep, in a vain attempt to evade her brother.

A shiver runs down her spine as she hears him call out “kesīr mastan”, the scuff of his boots feeling unfairly close behind. How had he caught up so quickly? Here I come.

She hurries into an unoccupied chamber, one usually reserved for guests, attempting to close and bar the door behind her, but Aemond shoves it open.

His arms are around her in an instant, making her squeal with fright. “Found you,” he chuckles, though there is no humour in it.

“Let me go, Aemond,” she begs helplessly, “you are scaring me.”

He turns her to face him, backing her up towards the bed that occupies the space in the centre of the room. “Scaring you? How can that be, dōnus hāedus? I love you.”

“There…there is something different about you, lēkia. Something you aren’t telling me.”

He smirks, pushing her back onto the mattress as though she weighs nothing. 

She falls back, propping herself up on her elbows, looking at him in wide eyed disbelief. He is like a cat toying with a mouse. He has never been this cruel, at least not to her.

She whimpers in fear as he unsheathes his dagger, twirling it expertly between dexterous fingers. “Please…please don’t.”

Aemond eyes her with keen curiosity. “You think I mean to hurt the person I cherish above all others?”

She swallows thickly, too preoccupied by the glint of the Valyrian steel in the moonlight that shines through the window to answer him.

“I could,” he muses, “I am a kinslayer after all. But I won’t, you are too precious to me.”

Kinslayer?!

There is little time to query his statement, as he brings the blade down upon the neckline of her nightgown, slicing it in half effortlessly. His eye roams over her bare figure appreciatively, a low hum rumbling in his throat.

Her chest rises and falls with rapidity as she stares up at him. Though her chest is tightened by fear, she cannot deny the way her pulse races at seeing Aemond’s pupil dilated with lust at the sight of her.

Carefully, slowly, he drags the tip of his blade over her clavicle, mindful not to apply enough pressure to break the skin. The cold steel makes her shiver as he pulls it downwards, circling one breast and then the other.

“I am going to claim you tonight, dōnus hāedus, put a silver haired babe in your belly. Would you like that?”

She inhales a shaky breath.

Yes.

“What of your betrothal?” 

“Null and void,” he says matter of factly, trailing the dagger across her sternum and down towards her stomach.

“What…what happened?”

“Little Lord Lucerys Strong happened,” Aemond replies with mild irritation. “He arrived while I was there, to petition Borros Baratheon’s support for our whore of a half sister. It is an outrage that we should have to give up so much to defend our brother’s birthright, while that bastard flies about the realm attempting to steal it from him.”

“Oh gods, Aemond,” she whispers, bile rising in her throat, “what did you do?”

“What I ought to have done nearly ten years ago.”

She flops back against the bed, pinching the bridge of her nose as tears prick at her eyes. He does not need to say the exact words for her to know. Lucerys is dead, Aemond has killed him.

Aemond drops the dagger to the floor, the clatter echoing off of the vaulted ceiling. “Do not worry, dōnus hāedus, now we can be together. Is that not what you wanted?”

“Not like this,” she chokes out.

His hands drag a downwards path on her body, squeezing her curves as they go. “I am not so sure of that, look at how you respond to your brother.”

She mewls at the feeling of his hands upon her flesh, arching into his touch. In spite of herself, she is unable to resist the effect that her twin has upon her.

Aemond chuckles drily, unlacing his trousers and freeing his already hardened cock. Her breath catches in her throat as he swipes his fingers through the wetness that has gathered between her legs.

“See? Where is your duty now?” He asks mockingly, lining himself up with her entrance before pushing forcefully inside, making her cry out with the sting and stretch of his sudden intrusion. “Where is your sacrifice? Or is it not so important now that your brother has made your cunt all wet?”

He has the maddened look of a wild animal as he hovers over her, but she cannot deny him. Duty and sacrifice have died alongside their nephew, and her heart is tied irrevocably to Aemond’s. She can never hide from him, and any hope of her ever being able to do so was snuffed out the moment she allowed him to bury himself inside of her.

“Lēkys jorrāeliarzus,” she whispers. Dearest brother. “Aōhon iksan se ñuhon iksā,” he whispers back, beginning to thrust inside of her. I am yours and you are mine.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Night 221: Liar’s Night

words: 1.7K rating: E pairing: Gale x Tav summary: A night for tricks & treats at the annual Blackstaff Academy Masquerade Ball. An certainly more treats than tricks that Gale had hoped for. tags: kinktober - masquerade, f!oral, public sex, fluffy smut

Ao3 - 1000 Night Series

---------------------------🟣----------------------------------

Gale huffed as he adjusted his mask, trying to straighten it. It was rather itchy too. He wished he could have just used a glamour like some many of his colleagues tonight.

Liar’s Night. A festival in honor of Leira & Mask, gods of trickery, deception, and illusion.

It was often celebrated with people dressing up in costume to ‘trick’ the gods into thinking they were someone else. Though celebrated up & down the Sword Coast, in Waterdeep, the celebration was very elaborate. As home to one of the greatest magical academies, people took their effort in the illusions very serious.

None more so than the academy itself.

As a student, Gale often wondered what the professor’s masquerade ball was like. The smaller celebration for students was often quite involved, so he had to assume that the professor’s was over the top. It did not disappoint. The main ballroom had been decorated with beautiful crystals straight from the Underdark and beyond. Intricate weavings of pumpkin vines from some of the best herbologist magicians this side of the druids. Candles floated in mid-air, a common trick, but would change on their own with the tempo of the music played by an invisible orchestra. Seeing his colleagues unbutton their collars for a bit, dressed so unique & silly, was also quite impressive.

“Gale my boy, where is that enchanting wife of yours?”

“Hard to say, Elminster.” Though not on staff at the academy, a wizard of Elminster’s acclaim was welcome at any magical gathering. And Elminster would go just about anywhere with free cheese. “It’s a little hard to see with this mask.”

“Hmmm…her suggestion, I take it?” The older wizard asked. Though not really asked, as he seemed to already have his answer before Gale nodded. “I thought as much. Do not take this the wrong way, my boy, but I would not have thought a proud peacock like you would cover put his visage so willingly.”

“Did you just call me vain Elminster?”

“Not so much ‘vain’ as more….proud of your appearance. And which you should be, my boy. Enjoy your looks and your youth while you can. They will be gone from you sooner than you know.” The older man huffed a little, seeming defeated by the weight of his own years a bit, before he sipped his wine. “I will leave you to search for your mate then. Do say goodbye before you leave though.”

“We’ll find you by the buffet I take it?” Gale quipped as his old mentor departed.

Alone in the crowd for a moment, Gale continued to try and scan the room for his wife. She had said that she would met him at the party, saying it was silly for him to come all the way back from classes just to return a few hours later. Gale said he didn’t mind what man would, arriving at a party with a beautiful woman on his arm but she insisted.

“Excuse me kind sir,” he turned around at the gentle tap on his shoulder, thinking it was someone looking for the loo again, and felt all the air rush out of his lungs, “could you direct me to the nearest stream?” There before him was Tav. His beautiful Tav. Dressed in what he could only assume was a water nymphs costume.

The intricate, flimsy material moving around her body like waves on the sea. The flecks of sparkle like moonlight blinking in the sea. Her mask, not nearly as cumbersome as his, just some delicate pieces of white coral by her temple with makeup over her eyes. Clearly her inspiration that of the Umberlee charges they helped while in the Gate. But where they looked ready to slay a man in divine vengeance for their Bitch Queen, Tav looked as if she would lure a man to the sea, who would willingly follow as a sacrifice to the Mother of Oceans for just one more glance at her.

“There…there are no streams here.” Gale replied. Collecting himself and turning fully towards her. “But there’s a pretty large fountain in the south corridor I could interest you in.”

Tav giggled. The sound like sea breeze through a chime. “I suppose I will have to make do. What’s a handsome man like you washing up on these shores?”

“I’m looking for someone.” Gale told her. “A missing love.”

“Missing? Oh, how horrible.” She stepped closer and placed her hand at his chest. Even with the thick cut of his jacket he could feel her pulse there. Although maybe that was his own heart. “Anything I can do, to help a poor lost sailor?”

Gale clasped her hand and, without a word, cast Dimensional Door. Suddenly, they were no longer in the thick of the party but in a secluded, unused portion of the ballroom. Gale torn off his mask and threw it to the ground somewhere in the dark before he kissed Tav feverously.

“Where did you get this dress?” He asked when he finally let her go.

“I made it.” She told him; would her wonders never cease. “I thought it would be a cute couples costume. Nymph and pirate.”

Suddenly his outfit made sense. Gale hadn’t questioned it. Interested in the party but less on what he was wearing, and trusted her judgement. “Well then, it seems I have caught myself a nymph in my net.” Gale replied. Falling back into ‘character’. “According to legend, that entitles me to three wishes for your freedom.”

Tav giggled again. “Alright. What are your wishes, handsome sailor?”

“I want to taste you.”

Gale kissed Tav again, deeper this time, before he moved down to her neck. Her skin tasted like salt. Gale wondered if she had added it to make her costume that much more authentic, or if it was just his imagination. He moved further down. Kissing the patches of skin her costume left dangerously bare as he moved the kneel in front of her. “Gale,” Tav hissed quietly, “we’re at a party!”

“You said you would grant me any three wishes.” He reminded her. Her blush an intoxicating contrast with all the blue. “This is my wish.”

With no further complaints from Tav, Gale moved the ruffles of her skirt aside. Letting them fall over him like a curtain as he reached up to spread her legs and lapped at her center. His wife moaned. Fingers gripping into his shoulders at the hem of her skirts to keep quiet. Gale used his practiced tongue to work her open. Moving one leg carefully onto his shoulder by her hand to give him more room. Taste her deeper. He was pleased to feel Tav buck her hips against him in a soft cadence. Using his mouth to gain her pleasure. His cock straining in his pants in reply.

In the quiet dark of their little corner, Tav moaned between the bite of her bottom lip as she came for him. Her sweet ocean coating his tongue before he pulled out from under her skirts. “Everything you wished for?”

“And then some.” Gale replied. Looking up at her with reverence before he stood to his feet. “For my next wish, I wish to be inside you.”

“Yes please.”

Tav wasted little time helping him unlace his pants and hike up her skirts again. Gale was pleased with her eagerness. Maybe it was the moment, or the fact that they were still at his work party, but she seemed quick to join with him; compared to their usual slow & passionate love making.

Gale held on to Tav’s legs when she wrapped them around his waist. Using the wall to brace them before he slid his cock inside. His little nymph moaned. Clinging to him as he fucked her. Thrusting in & out with ease from the wetness of her orgasm and tongue just moments ago.

“Don’t stop.” She begged him. “Feels so good. Don’t ever stop Gale.”

How Gale wished that could be true. To be joined with her always. To be one forever and feel her around his cock for eternity. Sadly though, all good things must come to an end, and the wizard grunted as his hips stopped. Coming deep inside her.

Gently, he let Tav down and allowed them to adjust themselves. Gale groaned as he straightened his back. The lower part tense from the strain and his impulse decision to lift his wife. Well worth it, but he was paying the price now.

“Shall we go back to the party for a bit, my love?”

“Yes we…Oh…Oh dear…” Tav giggled as she looked at Gale. Covering her mouth as she snickered. “Your face is covered in blue.”

Gale was surprised, although he really shouldn’t be, and touched his cheek to find blue paint at his fingertips. “Nine hells…” It was probably in his beard too. It would not do to go out looking like this; their disheveled appearance already a dead give away that they had not been taking in the pumpkin displays nor the night air.

“Think we can sneak out the back?” Tav asked.

“Now that you mention it, I just so happens I know a way to sneak out through this back hall.” A memory for his school days that was proving quite useful.

The couple snuck out through Gale’s hidden escape route and out off the campus to head back home. Once there, he took Tav in his arms again. “Sorry my impulsiveness ruined your costume. And the chance to show it off.” He apologized. “You just looked so lovely. I couldn’t help myself.”

Tav chuckled at his apology and offered him a kiss. “No need to be sorry. We’ll be better prepared for next year I suppose.” Gale smiled. Delighted at the thought of next year. And the year after that. And the year after that.

His wife wrapped his arms around his neck to stare lovingly at him. “You never told me your third wish, sailor.”

Gale grinned. He tilted her chin up, holding just before their lips touch to whisper, “Forever.” His one wish. His only wish for a very long time.

Tav leaned up to seal their lips together. Like the stamp on a contract. “Done.” She told him. “Now, handsome sailor,” Gale grunted as Tav hopped up into his arms. His lower back whining again as he held her up. “You’ve caught yourself and sullied a fine nymph this day. You’ll have to clean her up.”

“Oh yes, woe be unto he who interrupts a nymph’s bathing rituals.” He teased back. His cock already getting excited again as he carried her to their bathing suite. Eager to show his water nymph how long he could hold his breath for.

[fliptoast]

Aunt Mopsey

      One must be particularly insane to enter the service of a Nowhere Hour. For one there is no set path to ascend under them. The Watchman requires a sacrifice of the uninitiated, and you must watch them, unfeeling as they burn with knowledge not meant for them. The Forge of Days requires the fiery destruction of something and then beautiful creation from its ashes. The Mother of Ants asks that you open yourself to gates flung wide through scarring, either the body or the mind. The Cornel and the Lionsmith require you and another to ascend in a show of blood and teeth and hatred, and commit yourself to this private dance of a two-person war forever. Even those less commonly ascended under have guesses associated with their paths to ascension. Though it is somewhat luck for the Egalist to turn his head to you, accepting your own mortality and the mortality of others in a grand show increases your odds. The Wolf Divided seems to require your death by your own hand, fulfilling its own lifelong desire. Find the house of the Moon, ascend under the Meniscate. Eat and fuck and feel, ascend under the Red Grail. Of course, these are all simplifications, but the point should be clear. There is at the barest of minimums an idea of how to get the attention of any given hour, and for some a set list of demands others have learned will get you into their service. All this preamble to bring up the oddity that is Aunt Mopsey.

            She is pleasant to talk to. She asks you call her aunt, and she certainly feels like one. She is kind and thoughtful and enjoys listening to anyone who will speak to her. When she asks something of you, you are compensated accordingly. She does not trick or manipulate or lie. The worst anyone can say about her is that perhaps she can be hard to understand with her habit of speaking in riddles or perhaps she is a little blunt. Perhaps her sense of boundaries can also be a bit screwy, considering when you ask how she gets places that seem locked or hidden she will always reply “someone let me in”, but aren’t these just small things? No one would expect her to be a name for an hour at all, much less for one as malicious as the Mare-in-the-Tree.

            The mystery of Aunt Mopsey does not end there though. She is no ordinary Name. Names serve an hour, but no other Name is given a title quite like Aunt Mopsey. She is called a herald, a herald for the Mare-in-the-Tree. Where Mopsey goes, the Mare-in-the-Tree is said to follow. Those Mopsey speaks to are said to be under the influence of the Mare-in-the-Tree. Extreme theories tend to equate Mopsey to nothing but a puppet or meat suit for the Mare-in-the-Tree, saying Mopsey is a shell the Hour speaks through.

Regardless to the relationship between Mopsey and the Mare-in-the-Tree, the fact remains, Mopsey is one of a kind. The only known Name of a Nowhere hour, and one of the more explicitly malicious ones at that. And the pinnacle of the mystery surrounding this woman, is how. There are no other Names, at least not ones who can speak to compare Mopsey too. Her speech doesn’t lend itself to answering such questions as straightforward as “how did you ascend?” The best guess anyone has is that Mopsey, the human if she ever was one, had to be mad. Mad enough to enter the Manaus, and willingly open the door to Nowhere, going against every instinct every dreamer has ever had. From there, no one will ever know how the ascension played out. All that is known is there is a woman, found only in Numa, who speaks in riddles, is pleasant to talk to, and heralds a great evil, an evil always only one step behind her gentle smile.

[sokkastyles]

And here is the link in their post.

These posts are so damn hilarious because they always try to insist that evidence we see of Zuko's kindness is either nonexistent or doesn't matter while Azula showing nothing but cruelty to everyone around her is just a teensy "mean streak."

Also, that post they linked to about teenage Zuko? Was written about Zuko as he was introduced in book 1, before it was established that he became that way because he was trying imitate what he thought he had to be to please his father, and the introduction of his sister who has those same negative qualities, such as being a bully and a bigot, except turned up to eleven. So to use this description to make Azula look better in comparison is...a choice.

I'd like them to explain where it's shown that Zuko is "pretty mean" as a child. Where he throws bread at a turtle duck because he is trying to imitate Azula? When he says he doesn't want to play with Azula because she is mean to him? Also notice how they pull the "girls are crazy" line out of the context in which it occurs, because, once again, he said it about Azula playing a mean trick on him. Funny how all of these instances of Zuko being "pretty mean," are, in fact, Zuko reacting to Azula's meanness.

On Zuko being unlikely to value something not from the Fire Nation, we actually do see kid Zuko value the Earth Kingdom dagger, while Azula is the one who burns the Earth Kingdom doll she is given. We also see Zuko as a child learn empathy and the value of hard work while Azula is self-centered and violent totally absorbs Fire Nation nationalism. It's true that Zuko as a child doesn't question his nation until he's thirteen but he's a lot closer than Azula is even as a young child because he has that base of empathy and being able to value other perspectives besides his own.

It's also pretty clear that the reason Zuko doesn't have friendships and is seen with his mother only while Azula is socialized with other girls and shown off to her grandfather is because of how Ozai treated Zuko like a pariah. It's certainly not due to Azula's winning personality, I can tell you that, since we see her push Ty Lee, play a mean prank on Mai, and say out loud that she wants her grandfather to die. Zuko is the one who is like you know, it's maybe not nice to wish death on relatives and recognize Mai's distress and try to help her.

But right, those things don't matter, and everything we are shown about Azula as a character is just Zuko's bias. Right.

This is not how stories work! You can't talk about character bias if the narrative never establishes that it's bias, never shows us any other perspective to compare it to. Saying that Azula was probably a lot nicer offscreen means nothing, because you can't establish something as part of a narrative and not show it or imply it in any way. It is never established that Zuko's negative reactions to Azula are unfounded. On the contrary, what we see of them when they are kids is Zuko being repeatedly ignored when he reacts negatively to his sister abusing him, and his father allowing and encouraging it, and his mother and uncle being unable to counteract it because they have no power in the household.

I'd also like an example of Azula "seeing value in things no one in the FN thinks are valuable." It's no mystery why Azula values Ty Lee, when Ty Lee is constantly praising her and easily shoved back in line when she doesn't do things that validate Azula. And as for Katara, these two characters are established by the narrative as direct foils! Katara being the bleeding heart of her community while Azule is adored by her militaristic nation. Katara who sacrifices herself out of love for others, and Azula who gathers minions around her who she thinks she can use to validate her sense of superiority until she ends up alone. Katara who has been marginalized by the violence done to her community and Azula who is privileged and spoiled. Katara who builds strong ties with those around her vs Azila who controls through fear. Katara who wins through kindness and love and creativity vs Azula who blames everyone else for her own destructiveness. Katara who has great respect for the other nations and Azula who has disdain for them. Katara is the girl who values learning from others who these people are looking for. Katara who is a fierce feminist and Azula who uses her privilege against other women. Katara who loved her mother fiercely vs Azula who tried to distance herself from her own because to her, love is a weakness. Katara who draws strength from her own pain and uses it to empathize with others and make sure no one else suffers the way she did, vs Azula who is so full of hatred and desire to hurt others because she was hurt. Azula is also a classist bigot and would have no respect for Katara, but the feeling would be mutual because Katara has too much self respect, and Azula would hate that the way she hates everyone she can't manipulate.

Ditto for Toph. You think Toph has any patience for Azula and her mind games? Here's what would happen there: Azula makes a blind joke. Azula now lives under ten meters of earth.

It's ironic because Toph and Katara actually form deep friendships with Zuko, lol. Who, once he is out from under his abuser's thumb, actually does form lasting relationships built on mutual love and respect.

[bethanydelleman]

Northanger Abbey Readthrough Ch 13

Isabella's true character is revealed Catherine, "Isabella appeared to her ungenerous and selfish, regardless of everything but her own gratification." and James Morland, smitten with Isabella, has his worst moment:

“I did not think you had been so obstinate, Catherine,” said James; “you were not used to be so hard to persuade; you once were the kindest, best-tempered of my sisters.”

And then when Isabella and John Thorpe PHYSICALLY HOLD CATHERINE IN PLACE, James continues to do... nothing. He only finally tells John to stop after Catherine breaks away herself.

#downwithJamesMorland

It's unfortunate because James Morland is one of the few unmarried Austen men by the end of his novel and you'd like to use him for fan fiction but his sister defence score is so low... (nothing is sexier than a man who treats his sister right!) James ends up reminding me a lot of Edmund Bertram. There is nothing wrong with having a crush on a girl, but you should not be willing to sacrifice your principles for her!

Catherine stands resolute. Her big defining moment of moral backbone is resisting peer pressure, which might not seem like much but it's hard! Especially with the opposition of her older brother. And I want to point out, it's not just to avoid another horrible carriage ride with Thorpe, she does offer to go with them the next day. As she contemplates herself, it was not only for her own pleasure that she refused, she believed herself in the right not to lie.

I love this quote:

If I could not be persuaded into doing what I thought wrong, I never will be tricked into it.

Also Jane Austen playing cheeky with our imaginations:

“She is as obstinate as—” Thorpe never finished the simile, for it could hardly have been a proper one.

My mind automatically goes to "ass" (donkey) by the way.

This type of sentence, that immediately contradicts itself, is used a lot in Jane Austen's juvenilia:

Her explanation, defective only in being—from her irritation of nerves and shortness of breath—no explanation at all, was instantly given.

Here is an example from Frederic & Elfrida:

They were exceedingly handsome and so much alike, that it was not every one who knew them apart. Nay, even their most intimate freinds had nothing to distinguish them by, but the shape of the face, the colour of the Eye, the length of the Nose, & the difference of the complexion.

We also have our first hint here of the General's true character:

To such anxious attention was the General’s civility carried, that not aware of her extraordinary swiftness in entering the house, he was quite angry with the servant whose neglect had reduced her to open the door of the apartment herself. “What did William mean by it? He should make a point of inquiring into the matter.” And if Catherine had not most warmly asserted his innocence, it seemed likely that William would lose the favour of his master forever, if not his place, by her rapidity.

He definitely has a temper and very exacting standards, for both his staff and his children. However, he is very polite with Catherine, which makes her think favourably of Thorpe, "made her think with pleasure that he might be sometimes depended on." If only she knew!

Catherine then learns that Mr. Allen doesn't think that the trip would have been entirely prudent, Mrs. Allen agrees but only from a fashion perspective. Catherine is mortified to learn she has done something wrong, but Mrs. Allen doesn't seem very concerned:

Young people will be young people, as your good mother says herself. You know I wanted you, when we first came, not to buy that sprigged muslin, but you would. Young people do not like to be always thwarted.

This is actually a pretty wise statement, though I'm not sure Mrs. Allen has really been doing her job as a chaperone properly. It also speaks to those grey lines around propriety. We don't see women in Jane Austen's novels ruined by a single act of impropriety in the way that contemporary Historical fiction/romance is always imagining. It is usually a pattern of behaviour. And people clearly understand that young adults/teenagers will be a bit wild at times, because you know, people are people and have always been people.

Now we get to one of Catherine's flaws (which will come up again) she doesn't understand when her actions will be taken as officious or meddling. Her desire to warn Isabella comes from a good place, but as Mr. Allen points out, it's only going to make people dislike her. Elizabeth Bennet has a much more delicate and prudent approach when it comes to Lydia going to Brighton, even though that doesn't end up changing the result. She knows that direct opposition to the scheme would only make her younger sister hate her, which would solve nothing and only create more problems. As Mr. Allen points out, if Mrs. Thorpe is allowing it, let it go.

[missnaughtyerica]

Windows to the soul

Amber was the hottest and most popular girl at school and she knew it, which made her a total bitch she had an entire clique of girls of a similar stripe, vain spoilt and bitchy and if you didnt measure up to her standards then your life would be made a living hell.

One such girl was Amy she was everything Amber wasnt she was kind and worked hard at school she was also unpopular and scored rather low on the Amber attractivness scale which made her a victim to Amber and her cliques bullying.

Home wasnt much better for poor Amy her mother had died while she was a little girl and her father had recently remarried.

Amy hated her new stepmother Morganna and the feeling was mutual Morganna had no time for her step daughter who she looked down on for being ugly and weak Morganna desired a daughter more like Amber someone who used her looks and manipulative ways to get what she wanted which was exactly how Morganna ended up marrying Amy's dad.

There was no way Morganna was going to put up with a pathetic step daughter like Amy, no she wanted a bratty bitch as a daughter one who was a bully and would get exactlyl what she wanted. Luckily Morganna was a woman with a few useful tricks she could employ to cultivate a better daughter than Amy, besides Amy would be a lot happier as one of the popular girls, as she was now she was never going to lose her virginity or live her life to its full potential.

As Amy hurried home from school eager to make a start on her homework like the dutiful erd she was little knowing what Morganna had in store for her if she had known what was about to happen she may well have run for the hills but Morganna had plans that were going to shape her destiny and life would never be the same for Amy.

"Hi Dad im home" Amy shouted as she entered the house

Thats funny she thought there was no answer she was sure dad would be home thankfully there was no sign of Morganna then sh heard the familiar voice of Morganna

"Hi Amy Sweetie would you be a dear and come help me with something im down here in the basement?" came a voice from the basement

Amy didnt really want to help Morganna but then she was the kind of girl that would help anyone even a bitch like Morganna so she headed down to the basement to get this over with as soon as possible so she could knuckle down with her homework.

Entering the basment Amy was immediatly suprised by what she saw Morganna was there along with Amber, Amber was sitting there tied to a chair with an empty chair sitting opporsite Amber.

"Whats going on why is Amber here and why is she tied to a chair just what are you up to Morganna?" asked Amy

"Im doing this for you dear believe me its for the best once this is over you will thank me no take a seat and we can get started" Said Morganna

"I dont know what sick game your playing but i want no part of it Now untie Amber and let her go" Amy said as confidently as possible which for Amy wasnt muhc truth be told

"I said sit now Sit" hissed Morganna

Amy found her self unable to resit the command and immediatly sat down opporsite Amber who was staring directyl at her she could see a mixture of fear and hatred in the bitch's eyes.

"Look at her Amy, Amber is everyting you should be and soon you will be a daughter I can be proud of and you Amber will be a withered husk of a girl im sorry but sacrifices must be made if Amy is to become the daughter I deserve" Morganna said as she stroked Ambers blonde hair

"Now Amy look at Amber look into her eyes look deep and see the truth of her soul a dark soul tainted by bitchiness pure and evil and yours for the taking"

Amy looked into Ambers deep blue eyes she tired not to but she was transfixed she tried to muster ever ounce of strength but she just couldnt look away.

"Perfect now Amber surrender your soul to Amy make her the bitch she deserves to be" Intoned Morganna

Amber groaned but was poweless to resist as she felt everyting she was and everything she was ever going to be slowly flow from her eyes and into Amy's eyes.

Amy moaned in pure pleasure as wave after wave of pure bitchess folowed into her young body

"Fight it resist you dont want to be a bitch" said a voice in Amys mind but that was soon drowned out by a new voice one far more powerful

"Dont listen give in surrender yourself to bitchiness become the new Amber"

"Yess i want it make me a bitch stepmother make me a new Amber" Moaned Amy as she orgasmed at the thought fo turning into a bitch

Amys brunette hair began to lighten as it turned blonde and lost its split ends and became perfect just like Ambers, Amy's tiny A cup tits slowly began to inflate Amy laughed as she saw all of Ambers beauty begin to fade away she was becommng flat cheasted and ugly a real loser.

"Fuck yes I feel so good I love being a bitch" purred Amy as he transformation completed

Standing up and streching her newly minted bitchy body Amy told Amber to get the fuck out of her house, she had no time for losers anymore she had plans and they involved fucking Ambers boyfriend and taking her place as Queen Bee at school Morganna could only laugh at her victory she loved her new bitchy step daughter.

[nancypullen]

Thursday

I’m trying to convince myself to paint the powder room vanity. I have everything I need, and it’s a small vanity and probably won’t take much time at all. I just can’t seem to get motivated.  I purchased paint from Heirloom Traditions.  It’s supposed to be amazing so I hope it lives up to the hype. You can check it out here: https://www.allinonepaint.com/ They’re always offering free sample pots, all you pay is the $6.99 shipping.  My vanity is small enough that one sample pot should do the trick. Most folks are painting dressers or kitchen cabinets, but my little job will be inexpensive and hopefully quick. The previous owner of this house apparently had a nautical theme in the powder room.  That’s fine, to each their own, but she glued everything in place. She had glued sea shells to the mirror, and worse, there was rope glued all the way around the ceiling. I was able to get the shells off the mirror and scrape it clean, but when the painters pulled that rope down (it was basically cemented on) it tore up the dry wall and made the whole room look shabby and awful.  I don’t need that little bathroom to be HGTV worthy, but it looked really bad.  That is why I was so thrilled when Mickey started sending me photos of his work while I was down in Florida. This is what it looked like at the top of every wall.

And this is what it looks like now, thanks to my hand dandy husband.

Those vent covers went back in, there are no gaping holes. Drywall addressed, trim added, ceiling painted...my hero!

He also removed the contractor grade mirror...

and touched up that wall.

No, there’s not an abnormality in the wall. There’s something about the lighting and the way it throws shadows.  It’s fine.  Just between you and me I plan to change that light fixture anyway. That faucet s coming out too. I have a couple of floral/bee pictures that I printed for this room. I’ve got my auction mirror as well. I’m heading in this direction.

None of those colors are exact, that’s just me playing with ideas.  But that’s the neighborhood we’ll end up in.  A cute little rug, a pretty soap bottle,and some contrasting hand towels (already have those!) and we can check another room off the list.  Hallelujah!  By the time that’s finished it’ll be gardening season.  I may have to ignore the inside of the house until fall. Speaking of things that need work, why is my hair the only project that’s never finished?  While visiting my mother I made an appointment for a hair cut.  I don’t have much faith in the hair community in Denton, so I thought I’d roll the dice in Florida. I gambled and lost. I don’t think the stylist believed me when I stressed that my hair is like a gremlin, once it gets wet all hell breaks loose. To her credit she listened when I said I only wanted about an inch off the ends.  The length is perfect.  But she tried to give me “face framing layers” and cut my hair like straight hair. You can’t do that.  There’s a process to cutting layers into my hair and it usually involves a Ouija board and a goat sacrifice. What is does not involve is sliding the scissors down the hair shafts to create feathery ends.  For me that’s a recipe for frizz.  It did not end well.  It took me two days to calm the beast, and of course one of those days was the big family gathering where loads of photos were taken. I’m always frozen in time with bad hair. At least I had makeup on.

It doesn’t help that I’m growing the white out (again!). I’m so over coloring my hair.  I’m hoping that by autumn (maybe our October trip?) I’ll have enough growth to get a good trim and call it done.  I wish I’d never colored after the first grow out during lockdown.  I bought into the whole “look younger” hogwash.  How about just looking healthy?  Authentic? Comfortable?  I’m not looking for a job or a date. I. am. free.  My hair is too. This was snapped on the morning that my sister and I flew out.  When we looked at this selfie we all moaned about wrinkles, hair, etc.  

But ya’ know what? We’re all grannies, and we’re healthy, and we’re happy. I’ll gladly take every crinkle and white hair (even those frizzy layers!) because they’re no big deal.  Gosh, people are dealing with very real, very heavy problems - who cares about aging? It’s a privilege denied to many.  I’m grateful. Now, after saying all of that - can you believe my mom is 87? She looks fantastic!  She can work circles around me in the yard too.  I hope I have a scoop of her heartiest DNA. Alright, I guess I’d better get busy in that bathroom.  I can’t finish until I start, right?  Can’t get to the fun stuff like pictures and soap bottles until I lay the foundation.  Guess I’ll turn on a murder podcast and make some progress. I hope you’re having a wonderful Thursday. If not, then treat yo’self!  A cookie, a new bottle of nail polish, a bouquet - any little treat can be a cheerful spot in a ho hum day.  You deserve it. Stay safe, stay well, be happy.

Nancy

[thefloatingstone]

People get terribly compulsive about doing these things And they think that going on arranging the patterns of life is something that's a duty That means a debt, that you owe it to yourself, or to your family, or to someone or other You're in debt See that's the trouble

When a child comes into the world the parents play an awful game on it Instead of being honest they say "We've made such great sacrifices for you Here we are we've supported you, we've paid for your education, and you're an ungrateful little bastard." And the child feels terribly guilty because What we do is we build into every human being the idea That existence is guilt

The existentialists make a big thing of this You watch out for them Because they're hoaxers and they say that guilt ontological If you're not feeling guilty, you're not human That was because papa and mama said "Look at all the trouble you've caused us, you shouldn't dare to exist. You have no rights, but maybe we'll give you some out of the generosity of our heart, so that you'll be permanently indebted to us." And so everybody goes around with that sort of thing in their background, unless they have different kinds of papas and mamas Who didn't play that trick on them And if they don't do it, somebody else does it Auntie comes around and says "You don't realize what your father and mother have done for you. You think you can just stay around here and goof off, but they have sweated blood to give you your clothes, and food, and so on, and you ought to be grateful for it." But that's not the way to make people grateful They won't be grateful that way They'll imitate gratefulness, they'll put on a big show and say "Oh thank you so much, I feel so indebted to you," and so on and so forth And they'll make it look good But it isn't real Because actually, one's father and mother Had a great deal of fun bringing you into being, or we hope they did And they wanted to do that the worst way They have no reason to complain about all these things And try and make the children feel guilty

-Alan Watts

[alyjojo]

Past Life 🪡 Karmic Spread January 2024 - Leo

Character Card: The Witch (past), The Pathless (present)

Gender I’m Picking Up On (in the past life): Female - both

Who You Were: 5 Swords

What You Did: 2 Wands

How It Ended: The Fool

What Karma Was Brought With You: 6 Pentacles rev

Who You Brought With You: Queen of Pentacles

Additional energy: The World

Past Life Oracle: Mother & Biblical (past), Native American & Orphan (present)

Dreaming Way: Anchor (past), Sun (present)

Charm:

Moulin Rouge 💋 on The Fool

Balloons 🎈 on Native American

Fractal Moon rev 🌙 on The Magician rev & The Devil

T.W. rape, child harm

Yours is by far the oldest of the bunch, I can’t even guess a time period. With Biblical I’m getting Middle East…ish. A land of desert, but not sand, the ground is red, but it used to be green. When you were alive, it was all green. Something specific drying up, a river? Google says that’s possibly B.C. time periods, and what little research I did shows this as speculation. Your character card shows you as Witch, I’m getting more of an herbalist, at least your part in it, I keep seeing garlic 🧄 specifically, twisting garlic in long braids, but what you did with it I’m not sure. Sold it? Maybe garlic was just really important, this is a whole different world I’m seeing. It’s possible there’s “priestess” energy here, if so I’m getting it’s your mother - and you continuing this way of believing/practice. By force. Pressure. Not by belief. In the preshuffle, The Magician rev kept falling out over and over again, and I kept hearing “I didn’t know!” like you were upset, you’d been tricked. It came out like three times, and after laying everything out, it’s at the bottom of the deck again, with The Devil. Because it’s at the bottom, it’s something that’s carried over, so this is still affecting you now. You could be easily manipulated, or a sucker for a salesperson, a strong personality, a sleazy snake charmer that sounds confident enough. Fractal Moon shows many layers to these Devil experiences of trickery, manipulation, God knows what 🙏 It can’t be easy, still. In this life, it’s reversed, you’re going to see everything you didn’t see before, in the last life and this one up until these points of clarity.

Mother is combined with Biblical, clarified by 8 & 10 Swords. I keep hearing “rape”, I’ve heard “prostitution” and “sacrifice”, and it is intertwined with these beliefs of hers, whatever they were. Essentially, you were sacrificed. I don’t get that was the intent, maybe, but you were given to some male, like a toy to play with, and there was nothing you could do to stop it, because it was your mother that made the decision, it was her will. She was the boss. You were 5 Swords, you hated this, we’re very resentful, felt you could do it better than she could and not do these hurtful things, you didn’t believe what she did…and you may still have some deep seated traumas in relation to sex & intimacy, maybe it doesn’t make sense to you why it bothers you, or others, and now you know 💯 You were traumatized, more than once, many times. I’m also seeing you as a child, maybe not to others at the time of course, but by my and the law’s standards nowadays, you were a child. If you need a break here, take a break, you can’t see me but I have to leave my table for a few minutes, get a drink, breathe, and clear this part of the energy out of my head, it’s making me ill 😞 It’s everything one would fear it would be, it’s fkd up.

————-

Ok. I haven’t even gotten to the current life yet, but I see The Pathless here, and I’m just gonna say you’re probably being too hard on yourself by current societal standards, you’re literally here to heal a deep-seated trauma, not to give a fk about what anyone else has going on to compare yourself to. Or what they think. Ok? Be kind to you. Treat yourself now like you would this child. Nurture you, love you, speak life into you. With that being said, this isn’t your only life, you’ve probably had several, and probably have several different lessons going on simultaneously, but this is the main one showing up with karma to resolve, it’s the one you’ve either taken on or have been given to clear up (Moon rev). I can see why it took so long. You were ready now 💯

In the past, your personality was this Anchor, you were practical, logical, but raised in a cult basically, you didn’t believe any of this crap, and 5 Swords shows you with a mentality of “knowing better” in a condescending way. You hated everything about this lifestyle or what your mother did, or you were jealous of her position vs yours, understandably. She’s mentioned several times, she’s why your life ended. Your dream was stability, marrying a wealthy man, maybe even starting a business for yourself, you had dreams and ambitions that didn’t involve this life at all, but you were young, impressionable, female, and submissive by force. You didn’t have a choice, you just thought/hoped you did, you were right and you knew it. Your mother gave you to people, I’m getting several, they would come and go. One in particular took things too far, too rough, you were badly hurt and died from your injuries. It was brutal.

*breathe* Again… I love these readings until I get one that makes me ill in every sense. I’m sorry 😞 No one wants this life or story, this karma or trauma. This life has also been extremely difficult for you, that’s why it’s “The Pathless” which describes someone going in circles, having trusted shitty people to lead them, they now feel lost and directionless. Is that your purpose, no I don’t think that’s anyone’s purpose. It’s just where you are after the bs you’ve survived. But, you’ve survived 🩷 6 Pentacles rev is giving more than you ever receive, trickery, manipulation, deceit, cheating, it’s all at the bottom. You’re here, Queen of Wands, and the King is at the bottom as the one doing this to you, I’m guessing you’ve probably had a shitty partner. They don’t reciprocate the love or effort you give, they could be selfish, attention seeking, and a player. Or at least they have been before, because you do show up as a match, no one is reversed, this may be mentioning some history that’s been overcome - I’m not sure. It may not be romantic either, but someone you give and give and give to, endlessly, and you feel manipulated and trapped in chains to just continue giving for whatever reason. They were in this past life, but it’s not giving me a “who”, not the worst ones. If you were hoping for a specific person not just a dream person in the past, and this is romantic now, then it’s them. If it’s platonic, then it’s more of an acquaintance that wanted you in some way.

The other person you’ve brought is a Queen of Pentacles, could be an earth sign, there is a ton of that energy here, five cards just in this area. This person is your mother from the past, but not your mother now. Having the Orphan card, if you do have parents they’re distant, and in that case this may be one by blood, and you just have nothing to do with them. They show up with 7 Swords, Queen of Pentacles rev, Queen of Cups rev and 5 Wands, this person is trouble. Manipulative af, they’re a liar, a thief, a sneak, deceptive, controlling, and there’s some fkd up relationship with money being highlighted, they use people for money? Or they try to anyway, with sob stories and guilt trips, I’ll just stop. Fractal moon shows many layers to all of this, I couldn’t even cover it all I’m sure. You don’t deserve it, but you’re going to see it, and the point is to see it

The World is your purpose, seeing the truth about the snakes around you, maybe they’ve always been around you. You can only know what you know, until you know better, and then you can do better. That’s all you can do. You’re to put an end to painful situations and relationships that don’t reciprocate, don’t see your value, don’t honor your boundaries or show you respect. There is heartbreak to heal from, family related, love related, could be work related too with 10 Pentacles. It’s a feeling of lack, feeling unworthy, like you don’t deserve things you absolutely deserve, but Spirit needs you to see things clearly. You can build what you don’t have, once you know what’s not good for you and what you want, need, demand, expect, and deserve.

Native American with 3 Cups, clarified by 6 Swords. This may be a memory or something, somewhere you’ve traveled, obsess over, a deeper interest, it’s something that’s celebrated and feels personal to you. Or maybe was as a child. I don’t get that you’re actually Native American, could be, but I’m getting like a birthday party or some kind of event, it’s a confirmation message for whoever it is, and it’s positive from what I can see. The Sun ☀️ is your own energy, it radiates light, health, clarity, helps you see through this Moon bs for your highest good, it also promotes a long life ahead of you, and good health. Clarifying this Pathless, where are you supposed to be headed, because this ain’t it. 6 Pentacles upright, hallelujah, giving to those that give to you, period 💯 People, situations, jobs, setting the standard for yourself and only accepting that which gives you what you fkn deserve, I love this for you 🩷 Leos are meant to shine, this Pathless crap is not your destiny, it’s just your…very difficult challenge. Better things are meant for you when you decide you’re done with these kinds of people and this ick, you’re free to realize you’re a bad bitch and switch tracks whenever you feel like doing so.

[hotchocolatelovesyou]

Okay so Abel's writer said that Abel does not see ghosts after the end of the game, not sure I can send links but if you go to the it lives project blog and add /post/711623580654370816/ at the end of the URL, the answer will show up, basically the ghosts served a purpose and that was to make sure something was done about the corrupted Power. So the problem isn't with Power itself, but the fact that Matthias corrupted the source of the Power, and it needed to be purified in some way. But by the ending, the corrupted Power is abated for now with the sacrifice of whoever ends up sacrificed in your ending. So now that the ghosts have seen through that the corrupted power is dealt with for the time being, they go away. So I imagine they wouldn't return unless the Power later became corrupted again. And to my understanding, though Abel's parents died in a car crash, the car crash happened when Abel's mother swerved ghosts she was seeing because of the amulet which is infused with Power, so though they weren't directly killed by the Power, it still had a hand to play in their deaths, which is why he saw their ghosts with the amulet.

Hi!

Thank you so, so much for taking your time and explaining things so carefully. Things make much more sense now!

You see, I am now curious about how the ghosts would react in case some type of corruption happened again, especially if it was indeed Matthias who died - he seems to me the type of villain to have some kind of trick or plan just to get out this peculiar situation - but I might (for sure) be seeing too much into it now lol.

(I wonder if the ghosts would torment him again or go to his siblings)

(did his siblings see the ghosts too?)

(looking to much into this again lmao)

One thing is for sure, I'm happy that Abel stopped living like this. When I was playing and I suddenly started hearing all those whispers, I jumped out of my skin. It was creepy af, I loved it.

I loved it.

Also, kudos to him for keeping his mental sanity somehow.

Thank you once more, by the way! I genuinely appreciated your thoughtful answer and explainations. Hope we might have the chance to interact again ⭐

[novakspector]

That's not how the Force works. 😆 [warning: Ahsoka spoilers]

George Lucas said many years ago that anyone can use the Force, but that only Jedi take time to learn how. That's the explanation for why the Star Wars galaxy isn't full of people using the Force willy-nilly, doing Jedi mind tricks on each other. What a chaotic situation that would be.

It's technically open to anyone, but it takes years of training and discipline to be able to do it, and only Jedi are dedicated enough to put themselves through it. Random people just don't have the free time it would take to learn how to use the Force. That's why there was a Jedi temple where they took younglings to teach them the ways of the Force. It's a discipline that requires a lot of sacrifice on the part of the disciple. It's a lifelong commitment, you have to put aside your own desires completely and devote yourself to it. Very few people are interested in doing that, just like very few people are interested in renouncing worldly pleasures and becoming priests, nuns, or monks in our world.

Lots of people can play chess and do so as a hobby, but very few dedicate their lives to studying it so they can play competitively on a professional level and become a Grand Master. The Jedi Knight title is a formal title earned through years of practice and application of the skills they learned.

Jedi padawans were identified as Force-sensitive at a very young age, usually infancy, and were completely dedicated to learning the Force from the time they were babies. They were taken as babies so they would not form emotional attachments with their family and it would be easier for them to devote their lives to the Force. It's actually pretty sad, and that's the point. It's supposed to be a sacrifice. They had this choice made for them and it's unfair. They lose their family, but they gain a life few get to live. They are guardians of the Republic using their abilities to keep the peace. Of course, they could always choose to walk away and go back to their family as adults, but who would do that? The Jedi temple was all they had memories of, that was their family. It's suppose to be bitter sweet.

The Force is open to all, but not everyone can be a Jedi.

Sabine Wren being able to use the Force when she shows zero aptitude for it, has no innate Force sensitivity, only started learning about it as an adult, and barely trains is not how being a Jedi works.

Anakin was considered by many Jedi to be "too old" to begin training, and he was 9. Luke was an older teenager and Yoda considered him "too old." What they meant was, they already either had formed strong emotional attachments (Anakin to his mother), or were set in their ways (Luke) and difficult to teach. To teach a child something is different than teaching an adult. Children absorb knowledge like a sponge and due to having limited life experience approach topics more openly. An adult learning a new philosophy, way of life, martial art, approaches it with their own preconceptions shaped by their life experience. That's what the Jedi mean when they say someone is too old to begin training.

It's like religion. There's a difference between someone who is raised in a religion their whole life, and someone who converts as an adult. One isn't better than the other, one isn't more faithful than the other, and the convert may in fact be more knowledgeable than the born believer, but they aren't the same experience.

So making someone like Sabine Wren a Jedi opens up the question, "If she's doing this, why isn't everyone a Jedi?" If someone like her; a stubborn adult with no innate Force sensitivity who barely trains; can do it, why isn't everyone? Why isn't the galaxy full of Force users?

That's why making "Jedi" a title a person had to earn through years of discipline and sacrifice was an important part of the story. Yes, maybe it's "exclusionary" and not "inclusive," but here's a question: who cares? Who is bothered by this? Why is this being politicized in this way? And make no mistake, it is being done for political/social reasons. It's the modern Star Wars writers having a distaste for the concept of meritocracy or just the idea that some people are born special while others are not. Booo! That's not fair! EVERYONE CAN BE SPECIAL!

To be blunt, these people who are writing modern sci-fi are a bunch of losers who cannot identify with characters who are "chosen ones" or born special. They hate Luke Skywalker, they hate Anakin Skywalker and anyone of that ilk. So they want a Star Wars where any random loser is able to pick up a lightsaber and become a Jedi as long as they really, really want to. It's all about how bad you want it! As long as you believe, you can do it! But the problem is, that's never how it has worked before. It's an involved discipline that is a complete way of life, that requires some innate ability. It's not something you can do as a hobby the way they have shown Sabine Wren approaching it. It's not knitting or playing tennis.

Who the fuck cares that you needed to be "special" to be a Jedi? Why is that a problem for the audience? It makes 100% sense for it to be that way in the world of the story, otherwise like I just said, EVERYONE WOULD BE USING THE FORCE! I would say, it's not a problem with the audience. The audience was never asking for this. It's the writers who have a bug up their butt about the idea of Jedi being born that way, for purely real-world, real-life political and social reasons that have nothing to do with the story.

The audience member who dreams of seeing themselves as a Jedi doesn't need Jedi status to be democratized in the story. They don't need Jedi to be a title anyone can be given regardless of training and innate ability, in order to imagine themselves as a Jedi. People have been imagining themselves as Jedi for decades without this silly and nonsensical democratization of Jedi.

[specialagentartemis]

And tbh this os why I don’t usually get super worked up about modern Greek myth retellings getting mythic figures’ personalities “wrong.” In Homer, Menelaus was generally noble, if sometimes ineffective; to the Athenian playwrights, he was portrayed as everything wrong with Sparta. This even extends to the gods: In Homer, Apollo is honorable and just; in The Kindly Ones by Aeschylus, Apollo is inflexible in his idea of justice; in Andromache by Euripides, Apollo is vengeful and kind of petty.

This is especially true when it comes to Odysseus. To Homer, Odysseus was a wily liar but also a hero, clever but over-proud, good at coming up with clever solutions to problems but also putting himself in those problems because he thinks he can solve them, sometimes a mediator and sometimes egging people on, ruthless in his goals except when he decides to lie and make things more difficult than they have to be; a polytropos man for sure. In Ajax he is calm, measured, sympathetic, trying to mediate rather than escalate conflict, and unwilling to mock his friend-turned-enemy laid low; in Philoctetes he is much more selfish and scheming; in Iphigenia is Aulis he is the architect of the sacrifice-Iphigenia plan, and riles up the troops to make it happen so they can all sail off to war; in other sources he doesn’t want to go to war at all. In Cyclops, as it’s a satyr play, Odysseus is the well-meaning noble “straight man” of the play who fully intended to deal honestly with Polyphemus, not steal from him; in Roman literature, Odysseus was portrayed negatively as an underhanded and untrustworthy schemer because tricks and lies didn’t befit Roman military honor. Different writers chose different elements of Odysseus that fit their cultural context and the story they wanted to tell.

So, retelling Greek mythological stories to highlight stories and aspects and character traits relevant to your current cultural mores and narrative desires is a very, very long-standing tradition. “Changing” characters’ personalities to fit the story you want to tell is a narrative choice that goes back 2400 years. I don’t think it’s inherently wrong or disrespectful or dishonest to do so. It’s about the aspects of these stories that resonate with you, what stories you want to tell with them.

That said, I absolutely think that Greek myth retellings can be lazy, uninspired, sexist, reductive, weirdly demeaning to the characters’ mothers in order to prop up the hot boy love interest, uninterested in the cultural context of the Bronze Age Mediterranean, annoyingly smug, or just cliché. I’m certainly not saying that Greek myth retellings are beyond reproach. Certainly there are some that I think are pointless! But criticisms about mischaracterization or disrespect for the gods just feels like missing the point to me when authors have been doing exactly that for longer than the English language has existed.

I do think it’s funny how consistently Menelaus is portrayed in Greek tragedy as just, a total asshole. Rude and cruel and just the fucking worst.

This is because Menelaus was the mythic king of Sparta, and Sophocles and Euripides who were writing these plays were Athenian, and more to the point, Athenian living during the Peloponnesian War against Sparta. It’s literally just the ancient version of making all the antagonists in every American movie in the 80s and 90s Russian. Writers going, You know the guys we’re at war with? They SUCK

[thepaintedlady00]

The Sandman and the Girl Without Dreams

Chapter 16: The Path Paved In Golden Flames

TW: gore, violence, knives, cuts, a tiny bit of angst (this is the end of the angst train I promise), bickering, slight reliving of some memories, smut (oral both receiving, penetration), fluff, apologies, gifts, Dream finally has his head out of his ass This chapter is mostly unedited so if there are mistakes please just ignore them 😅 My app won't let me edit long posts so 🤷‍♀️ Enjoy! Reposting AGAIN BECAUSE THIS APP HATES ME! xD

Destiny watched as his Weaver turned down the empty path, her body disappearing from sight into the maze. He bowed his head, fear and sorrow consuming him. The Fates clicked their tongues and sighed. The Crone spoke, cold and angry as ever, “Such a foolish girl you’ve brought up, Destiny.”

“We thought she’d be more reasonable than the last,” The Mother noted.

The Maiden shook her head. “The path of gold is certain to consume her.”

“We don’t know that,” he answered. “She has chosen the path unseen. The outcome is yet to be written.”

The Mother met his eyes. “Written or not, a sacrifice is necessary to free your lady love as well as those ensnared by the darkness.”

The Crone hummed in agreement. “A sacrifice of fire and starlight.”

“A final test.” The Maiden said quietly. “Of future, past and present. Time will tell what your Weaver is worthy of.”

Destiny stood in the garden even after The Fates had vanished. He watched the butterflies swirl, upset and confused. “I have faith in you, Penelope.”

***

The Corinthian stared me down, my reflection shining in his dark glasses. I could feel Dreams eyes on me, could feel the cold, gentle caress of him against the barrier I had put between us. The Corinthian sighed. "I'm disappointed. After everything he's done… Everything he's denied you, you still defend him? Why?"

"I made a promise," I said, glad to feel the cool metal of my blades in my hands. Thank god for magic. "One I don't intend to break again, especially not for you."

He smiled. "I would have liked you as my lady."

"Penelope," Dream whispered again, his voice raw and desperate.

Ignoring him I addressed The Corinthian. "Are you going to stand down? Or are we finally crossing blades, nightmare?"

"I ain't gonna stop, but I ain't gonna fight you." He shrugged his shoulders. "With those bits of Destruction a fight with you would be pointless… Boring. Lucky for us both I brought back up."

I had only a second to react, twisting my body to shield Dream as the knife flew from the crowd and ricochet off of my blade, slicing through my arm as it redirected away from us. Dreams hands grabbed me, steadying me as I glared out into the crowd as heavy footsteps and a whistling tune filled the room. He stepped up onto the stage and smiled at me. "Quick thinking, Barlow"

Pushing myself off of Dream I faced the tall man standing beside The Corinthian. "Porter. I gotta admit, I was hoping you were dead."

He shrugged. "I’m resilient. The others were weak, Elias especially. But, thanks to you he's not here to hold me back anymore."

Dreams' hands still stayed on me, holding my arms, even as the blood from my cut neared his fingers. "What do you get out of all this?"

"I get to fucking kill you," he said with a wide grin. "Elias was a fool to have kept me from doing it sooner. Though, I admit killing your friends was quite satisfying, especially The Marquis." My grip on the hilts of the blades tightened as The Bull pulled a knife out of his belt. “What do you say, sweetheart? Are you ready to play this game for real? No tricks, just me and you. Winner takes all.”

“Let’s get on with it then.”

“Penelope,” Dream said, his hands squeezing my arms. “This is-”

I stepped out of his grip. “Just deal with your nightmare, Dream. Pretend we aren’t even here, you’re good at that.”

Maybe it was an unfair time to throw insults at him, but I needed to focus and him doting on my every move would make that difficult. I pushed the guilt I felt at the feeling of my words striking him, pushed everything else down until all that remained was The Bull. He took a step forward, his smile never faltering, then another before moving his knife toward me. I sidestepped and ducked beneath his burly frame, slicing his knee and stabbing deep into his back before dodging again as he threw his elbow back in an attempt to get me off him. Back in front of Dream, my blades singing with the blood that now coated them, I looked up at him as he smiled wider, rolling his shoulder a little. “My turn.”

He moved faster than before, dodging each swipe of my blade and punching my jaw as hard as he could. I fumbled to the ground, ears ringing and my entire skull rattling with the blow. Fuck it had been a long time since he and I had gone toe to toe, I’d forgotten how hard he hit. His laugh echoed off the ceiling as he moved back toward The Corinthian. I carefully moved my jaw, spitting blood out of my mouth before standing once again. “That all you got?”

"Far from it doll," he said with a laugh as he advanced forward once more.

The kick to my sternum was unexpected and sent me flying off the stage and onto the ground. I had no time to catch my breath before The Bull leapt down, knife poised and ready to end this. I rolled to the side, gasping and sore, just missing the stab of his blade. He twisted the blade in his fingers and moved to stab me again, but I stabbed into his wrist, holding his arm away from me as he pushed harder with a desperate thirst for blood.

When my strength didn’t falter his fist came swiftly from the side and punched up into my ribs, the hit not only broke a few, but sent me falling further into the aisle. I hurried back onto my feet and moved backwards, dodging each movement of his fists and blade, waiting for an opportunity of my own to strike. The wound on his shoulder provided such, it was a small delay but it would have to do. He moved again and then I struck, lunging forward, leaping onto him and digging both my blades into his back and pulling up.

The Bull grabbed me by the hair and threw me into the doors to the room, not giving me any time to move or think before kicking me all the way out into the lobby. My head cracked against the ground as he advanced, stepping on my knee until the bone strained and cracked beneath him. With a pained cry I stabbed his thigh and rolled when he lifted the pressure off me, kicking the shin of his leg as I went. I was off balance now, my knee burned as I shuffled backward and watched The Bulls movements. He smiled, but this one was no longer the wide smug grin, it was tense and forced. He was getting annoyed with me.

He started advancing more sloppily now, the pain I’d inflicted on him mingling with that bubbling frustration. It was risky, relying on his fractured emotional state, but I intended to use every possible advantage I could. We moved around the people, who appeared to be sleeping or frozen, dishing out hit after hit until my back slammed into the cool metal of the elevator doors just as they began to open. The Bull shoved me inside, winding his fist back. I ducked and used the opportunity to lay into him.

My blades sliced the back of his knees, stabbed into his side and stomach, just as I brought my hand down to bury the blade into his chest, his hand caught my arm and threw me onto the bloody floor of the elevator as it began moving up. His knife dug into the side of my stomach and my sharp cry filled the space. The Bull settled on top of me, smug and over confident as he abandoned his own blade and forcefully pulled one of mine from my hand. “I’m gonna make this nice and slow.”

The metal of my blade caught the light, fire raging inside it as he brought it down to my face. I caught it in my hand, wincing as the metal sliced through my palm. My blood didn’t drip down onto me though, it ran backwards up the blade and spread out over his hand. I could smell the flesh burning as The Bull let go of the hilt with a startled noise as my blood burned him. I wasted no time throwing all my body weight into him, pulling him to the ground. The dagger flipped in the air, I caught it and quickly buried both of my blades deep into his eye sockets. His body moved, twitching and flailing for a moment before it stopped entirely.

Breathing heavily I forced myself to my feet, wiping the blood off my blades with my already ruined pants. I hit the lobby button and stared down at the lifeless body of The Bull. The ride down was silent, still, as my body reeled in pain. “Have fun in Hell you fucking bastard.”

The doors opened and I slowly made my way back to the convention room, just in time to catch the demon standing between The Corinthian and Dream, holding him still with Lyrias twisted dark threads. “Now you die, Dream Lord. You then Destiny.”

I threw one of my blades, aiming to slice through the threads. “You and I have business, demon!”

Its head turned to me with a dark sneer. “You. Why won’t you just die?!”

With a painful shrug I moved closer to the stage. “Maybe it’s just not in my nature.”

It turned away from Dream, jumping down off the stage and standing between me and them. “You cannot stop me, Weaver. Not without killing Destiny’s precious Lyria.”

“I’ll find a way.”

A dark smile, oozing with black spread on her face. “No, you will die.”

It lunged forward, slashing with dark claws and cutting my leg and hitting the daggers from my hands as I dove behind it. The Corinthian had turned to Dream, dagger raised and ready to strike his creator. I grabbed his threads and pulled him to his knees. Dream watched, still unable to move his feet from the threads I hadn’t cut around his legs. “Penelope!”

Claws dug into my shoulder, reopening the once sealed wound there as the demon cut deep and then threw me to the ground. It smiled widely, twisting its hands, a noose tightening around my neck and pulling me back into the stage, choking me. Voices filled my ears, The Stewards, Olethros, Isabel, Pierre, Johanna. Voices of all the people I’d lost, or could lose. The demon laughed. “Such a convenient thing for you to keep tied to you. A noose, made of your own failures, perfectly sized to hang you with. Pathetic. Soul bound. Fate Weaver. Your titles matter not, for you are weak. It was foolish of you to think you could ever beat me.”

Soul bound. The voices grew louder in my ears as my lungs began to burn. Fate Weaver. I closed my eyes, my hand scratching the ground, fingers running through coarse sand. Sand. The hilt of my dagger brushed against the tips of my fingers, buried deep in the black sand that now coated the floor between me and the demon. I wasn’t just those things. Thunder rumbled in the room, echoing loud and fiercely as the dark clouds of The Gathering Storm covered the ceiling. I wrapped my hand around it and cut the threads around my neck, ignoring the way the blade sliced through my skin as well. Lightning struck the claws of the demon, bringing it to its knees with a startled cry as I stood, the sand swirling around me. “I’m not just a soul bound or a Fate Weaver. I’m the fucking Lady of the Dreaming and so long as I live you won’t lay a finger on my King.”

Storm swirled around Lyria’s hunched over body, twisting around her limbs and shocking the demon as it writhed and fought against it. I moved fast, grabbing hold of her shoulder and looking back at Dream, our eyes locking for the first time in days. “Finish it, Dream.” I looked at The Gathering Storm and bowed my head. “Thank you, my friend.”

Then Lyria and I were gone, landing in Destiny’s garden as he stood, waiting for us. The demon was weakened by the lightning and I had hoped that Lyria would be strong enough to fight it. If Destiny could get through to her, maybe the book could provide some information. Black blood spilled from her mouth as the gold of her eyes flared against the darkness. “Kill me.”

“No.” I said, grabbing the book from Destiny’s table and flipping through the pages. “We’re going to save you.”

“There isn’t time!” She cried out. “Kill me. Do it before I hurt him again.”

Destiny knelt down in front of her, cradling her face in his hands. “I will not lose you again.”

Her head slammed into his face, the blow from the demon strong enough to send him to the ground as it climbed on top of him, raising its claws with a shriek. Its hand froze in the air, trembling as the gold in her eyes raged. She was fighting, as hard as she could, I needed to be fast. The pages provided little information, but a dispelling spell finally met my eyes and I wasted no time in reading it. The demon's dark shadowed body pulled away from Lyrias, both of them screaming as I completed the spell and the demon was pulled back to its own shadow realm.

Lyria slumped forward into Destiny's chest as he sat up and quickly checked her for a pulse. “Des, is she okay?”

He pressed his head into her hair and breathed in deeply, quiet for a long moment. “She’s alive.”

I released a relieved breath, my shoulder stinging as I neared the two. Her eyes fluttered open, the black finally gone from them as she looked around us. “Is it truly over?”

“Yes, Lyria,” Destiny said softly. “You are home.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she turned weakly to him. “Destiny… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He stroked her cheeks. “No, this was my doing. I should have told you of Penelope… should have told you what I intended.”

The sting in my shoulder intensified until I found myself gasping for air. Looking over my shoulder at the shadows as they began to seep from my wound. Destiny looked at me, Lyria’s eyes followed. “He’s left his mark on you. He will use it to pull you to him.”

“You can still trap him.” Lyria mumbled weakly as Destiny held her close. Her golden eyes met mine. “His soul, whatever is left of it, is bound to the book. Find the page with my handprint and you’ll find the spell to rebind his physical form to the book as well.”

“Penelope-”

“Don’t worry Des, I’ll finish it. Just… Tell him I’m sorry,” I whispered, gripping the book tight in my blackening hands as my shoulder seethed in shadows. “And that I loved him more than anything.”

“Weaver!” Destiny yelled as I let myself be pulled into the darkness.

***

Dream rose to his feet, his eyes turning away from where his lady had vanished from to The Corinthian as he clapped slowly. “Quite the woman isn’t she? I’m starting to think I put my money on the wrong Weaver. So, back to square one it seems.” He pulled a knife from his jacket and shook his head. “But I won’t go willingly.”

“A knife against a dream?” he asked, stepping towards his creation slowly.

“You don’t think dreams can die?” The nightmare egged on. “Let’s find out.”

Dream held his hand out, drawing upon his power. “Enough.” The sand has only just begun to swirl around The Corinthian as he stabbed his knife into Dream’s hand. It was surprising to him when it actually hurt, so much so he dropped to his knee and examined the cut with tentative hands. “How?”

“I’ve got Rose Walker getting stronger every second while you get weaker,” The nightmare said with a wide, smug grin. “She’s taking your place at the center of The Dreaming. She’s bringing the walls down between the sleepers' minds and now they’re all dreaming the same dream. A dream that I inspired.”

“No.”

“It’s already happening. There’s nothing you can do. She’s asleep and dreaming.”

“Then she’s not beyond my reach.”

The Corinthian shrugged. “Oh, I think she is. Now that she knows you’re planning to kill her.”

Dream ignored the nightmares words and pushed himself into the dream just as she and her brother turned towards him. “You need to wake up!”

“Don’t listen to him, Rosebud. You’re the one with the power now, not him. This is your dream.”

He moved through the plastic lining the door with a sigh at the sight of so much death and violence before him. “It’s his dream, for your world.”

The Corinthian sneered at him for a split second before smiling at Rose. “Then let’s make it yours. Whatever you want, Rose. A blank canvas!”

The dreams of her brother and the other humans vanished and Rose’s eyes went wide with fear. “Where’s Jed?”

“Jed’s fine. He’s upstairs, asleep, he’s right next to you. This dream is yours now. The Dreaming is yours now!”

“The Dreaming is yours? Is that what he told you?” Dream demanded coldly as he watched his nightmare struggle to keep his composure.

Rose looked up at him, sorrow and confusion shining in her eyes. “He told me you were gonna kill me.”

Dream nodded a little. “Did he tell you why? When a vortex brings down the walls between dreams, she creates a single volatile dream that will collapse in upon itself, and take the waking world with it. Your world. Everything and everyone will die.”

The Corinthian bent down to Rose’s ear. “Don’t believe him, Rosie.”

“It’s happened before. I failed in my duty, an entire universe was lost.”

Steel singing in the air echoed around them as The Corinthian pointed a knife at him. “He can’t kill you if you kill him first.”

“Killing me may save your life, but it won’t save the lives of those you love.”

“I’m tryin to keep you alive here!” The nightmare growled, the playful mask he bore slipping at last.

“I’m trying to keep your world alive,” Dream argued.”

“Enough!” Her voice echoed in the vast space as Dreams' eyes looked up, there in the distant darkness he could see Penelope… A dream of her? No. A vision. 

She’d been thrown to the ground, her surroundings unknown to him as a clawed hand of darkness grabbed her head and held her down, squeezing enough to puncture her cheek. Dream took a half step forward when her eyes met his, wild and desperate… afraid. Penelope! Her eyes filled with tears, the fire in them raging as her hand found a dagger. She shoved up, stabbing deep into the arm of whatever creature lurked.

Rose’s power radiated through the room, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the sight of his lady as she was dragged back into the shadows and out of his sight. A scream and a wild shriek filling the air. “If I’m as powerful as you say I am, then I will find my own way. In the meantime the walls go back up. Because I am not dreaming anymore. Thanks to you two I’m wide awake.”

His heart thundered in his chest as he watched the walls further separate him from going to Penelope. And just like that the dream faded, The Corinthian filling his view as he lifted his hand and examined the healing wound. His nightmare took off the dark shades that shielded the rows of teeth from view. “If you think I’m going back to The Dreaming with you-”

“You’re not going back.” His voice was low, nearly hoarse with the emotion that raged in him. Penelope was somewhere fighting for her life and he could not save her and The Corinthian… his masterpiece needed to be unmade and he needed to be the one to do it. “I brought you into this world to serve humanity. Not to feed upon it.”

“Do you know why I do it? So I can taste what it’s like to be human.” The Corinthian scoffed at him. “You don’t care about humanity, none of them, not even her. You only care about yourself and your realm and your rules.”

“I contain the entire collective unconscious. Without my rules it would consume me. Humanity would be consumed.”

“Or you might actually feel something.” His nightmare smiled, sad and angry. “I am not the problem Dream.”

There it was. The answer to the question he’d been asking for so long. Why did his dreams and nightmares feel so distant from him? Why did they prefer Penelope, someone they’d only just barely been introduced to when he had been beside them for eons? It was far more simple than he’d thought possible. He pushed them away, shoved them into strict rules that shackled their growth and thus their ability to view him in any light other than a captor. “You are right. This was my fault, not yours. I had so much hope for you, but I created you poorly then. So I must uncreate you now.”

The sand swirled, glowing red as it ate away at his masterpiece. “I am only sorry I won’t be here to watch you lose everything… to see Rose Walker do the same to you.”

Dream knelt before the pile of sand and plucked the small skull up and a sad smile. “Next time I make you, you will not be so flawed and petty, little dream.”

He turned to the crowd of his creations flawed inspiration and shook his head. “And you… who call yourselves collectors, until now you have sustained fantasies in which you are the victims comforting daydreams in which you are always right. But no more. The dream is over. I have taken it away. For this is my judgment upon you, that you shall know from this moment on exactly how craven and selfish and monstrous you are. That you shall feel the pain of those you have slaughtered. And the grief of those that mourn them still, and you shall carry that pain and grief and guilt with you until the end of time.”

They all rose from their seats and walked, dazed out of the room. Dreams eyes settled onto the spot Penelope had once stood, his heart sinking lower and lower every second she did not reappear before him. My love… Where are you? Please… Tears filled his eyes as the minutes passed with no sign of her. Penelope.

***

Darkness surrounded me, the wound on my shoulder burning now in the rancid air as I stumbled into the altar and shakily set the book in place. I flipped through the pages, eyes scanning and desperate to find Lyria’s handprint. Come on. Come on!

A dark chuckle echoed around me, pain ripping through my shoulder and tearing a scream from my throat. “Why do you still fight against the dark, little Weaver?”

Before I could even move out of the way the demon had grabbed me and thrown me to the ground. My head cracked against the stone as I pushed myself back, hands fumbling in the dark for my lost daggers. The glowing red of the demon's eyes was all I could see in the darkness in front of me as it shifted and moved without a sound. Its long talons flashed for a second before its whole hand curled around my head and squeezed the sharp points into my skin. I groaned, still trying to move as my eyes lifted and a hazy vision of Dream and Rose and The Corinthian flashed in the distance. Dream... I thought softly, my hand shifting toward him and bumping into the sharp sting of Destruction sheathed in steel.

I wrapped my hand around it, taking one last look at Dream's eyes before forcing my body up and stabbing the blade deep into the demon's arm. It shrieked loudly, its hand tightening around my head as it flung me through the air and sent me crashing into the altar. This time my whole body burned with pain, every wound I sustained in my fight with The Bull and with the demon before, as the adrenaline began to fade and everything else started to settle in. I coughed up blood as I turned and reached for the book, weakly flipping the pages until my heart sank at the sight of a torn page. “No.”

“Did you really think I’d leave the one page that could rebind me?” Mephistopheles asked with a loud, smug laugh. “Don’t you see now? You cannot trap me.”

“If I can’t trap you then I’ll just have to kill you.” I wheezed as I took my blade in hand and stabbed the book as hard as I could, the steel piercing the thick leather. A soft, dark light began to seep out from the book. It wasn’t enough. I needed more. 

Mephistopheles growled in the darkness. “Your little blade isn’t strong enough to kill me. NOTHING IS STRONG ENOUGH TO KILL ME!” Claws sliced clean through my side, pulling me and the book back to the ground as the red eyes loomed over me and a twisted grin of darkness and thorns smiled down at me. “I’ll give the Endless your regards, Penelope.”

No. The world of threads offered little help, as all the threads save the gold were covered in darkness. My eyes fixed on the molten gold as it swirled brighter than ever, gold drops pulling towards me like fireflies in the dark. Forsake that which you fear. For the path through flames of molten gold is that which holds your freedom. The Fates voices echoed in my ears as Mephistopheles’ claws tore through my stomach. FUCK! My hand shot out and wrapped around the golden thread. Fire, bright golden swirls of fire wound around my arm and sunk into my skin, burning hotter than anything I’d ever felt. A scream tore through my throat as the gold curled up my shoulder as I lifted the dagger again and stabbed the blade the rest of the way into the book. Golden light illuminated Mephistopheles’ face and he tore away from me, attempting to shield himself from the light.

“NO! NO!” He roared as the light burnt away at the shadowed body. It lunged for me one last time, a mad move made by a dying demon. I ripped the dagger from the book just in time to lift it in front of me and watch it slice clean through its neck. The head of the demon fell to the stone and the book blazed in a puff of golden fire, blackening until the soul within it was consumed. The dagger clattered to the ground as I turned to look at the golden thread, unable to pull my hand from it. Power burning and bright and nothing like any power I’d felt before surged through me. I pulled against it harder, tears streaming down my cheeks as the power grew too great, too painful for me to stand any longer. The gold filled my vision as my body weakened to the point where I couldn’t move anymore. Blood oozed from my wounds, pooling beneath my back as a vision played in the glowing thread.

A tall figure clothed in black and stardust moved across a stone bridge. Dream. He walked through the town with his head held high as everyone he passed smiled and bid him a fond good afternoon. He looked happy. Dream followed the familiar path to Cain and Abel’s houses and shook his head with a chuckle as he crossed the bridge. “I thought I told you not to stray far, yet here you are wreaking havoc on Cain and Abel’s garden.”

A little girl was perched upside down half hanging from Pierre’s statue, her long raven hair blowing in the breeze as she flipped around and leapt into Dreams' waiting arms. Cain bowed his head to Morpheus. “It’s no trouble, my lord. She can be quite helpful when she wants to be.”

“Yes, when she’s not too occupied with vanishing!” He shook his head as the girl pressed a big kiss to his cheek. “You’re just like your mother.”

“Mommy’s good at disappearing!”  The child sang. “She can do it SO FAST!”

Dream laughed, a laugh so full of joy I’d never heard it before. “Yes, she is. Speaking of her, we should get back to the palace. She’s going to be back today.”

The girl looked up into his eyes, stars shining in hers. “Do you think Uncle Destiny and Aunt Lyria will give her a gift to bring me?!”

“Don’t they always?” He asked as she jumped from his arms and hugged Cain, then Abel and then the much larger Goldie.

She grabbed Dream's hand and tugged him along across the bridge. “Come on then Daddy!”

They moved back through the village, the sight of the mighty Dream Lord being dragged through the town by the smaller girl didn’t seem to surprise anyone. Just as they reached the bridge a woman stood on the opposite end, looking out at the setting sun. The little girl let go of Dreams hand and booked it toward her, only giving her enough time to turn before nearly tackling her to the ground. “Mommy!”

Laughter echoed as Dream moved closer, revealing my face buried in the girl's hair. “Ophelia!”

“Did you bring me a gift?” the little girl demanded, squeezing my cheeks.

“Of course,” I replied, laughing. “It’s in the library with Lucienne and Matthew.”

The child, Ophelia, leapt to the ground and ran inside as fast as her little legs could carry her. Dream pulled me into his arms and pressed a kiss to my lips. “How is my brother and his wife?”

I shrugged. “They’re doing well.”

“Did he answer your question?”

“He did.”

Dream looked down at me, an expression of anticipation and hopefulness filling his usually stoic face. “Do you intend to keep me in suspense my lady?”

My smile grew wider as I nodded. “He confirmed our suspicions.”

Now, Dream was beaming, bright as a star as he enveloped me in a tight hug, lifting me off the ground a bit. “This is wonderful news! Did he tell you which it would be?”

Once he set me back down I cupped his face with a wide smile. “A boy.”

“A boy,” he breathed, hands resting on my stomach. “I assume you already have a name in mind?”

I smiled, the eyes of my future self looking over his shoulder and into my own. “Omiros.”

“Omiros.” I could hear the smile in his voice as more tears streamed down my cheeks. “A strong name. Though I have to wonder where you, my love, came up with such a name.”

My eyes turned away from me and looked up at him with happy tears. “I heard it a long time ago.”

His head tilted to the side as he stroked my cheek. “From where?”

“A dream,” I answered.

“You said that last time,” he noted, suspicious.“Well maybe you should believe me then.”

“My son. Omiros,” Dream said again, softer, almost like a prayer as his thumb rubbed against my stomach.

The gold thread faded before my eyes, taking the vision with it, and my hand fell limp onto the stone floor. Every breath I took was painful and slow as I felt the life slowly drain from me. The darkness and decay of the realm remained as the creatures gathered around me, drawn to the starlight that had been glowing from my head. A green butterfly flew past my eyes and settled on the bloody skin above my heart. The light moved, flickering out for a moment before glowing even brighter beneath the butterfly. The creatures made a noise, soft and desperate. "You would be stripped of your light and left to darkness should you try." 

The light, the blessing, would set these people free. I didn’t know how I knew, but something inside me just did… It was the only way to set all this right. I lifted my hand, despite the pain the movement sent through me, and touched my heart. The butterfly settled over my palm as I pulled the light from my chest, holding its steady warm glow tightly. Every breath I took was painful and slow as I felt the life slowly drain from me.

"Goodbye, Morpheus," I whispered, letting the light slip from my fingers and up toward the sky. Silver spirits of the creatures trapped in the darkness followed the light up into the sky, tearing through the darkness and leaving me one last fading view of the night sky before darkness overtook me.

***

Destiny stared out into the night sky as he held Lyrias hand in his, absentmindedly stroking his thumb along her skin. He could feel her heart beating again, after all these long years, she was home. All of it was thanks to Penelope. She’d offered him help, even knowing that the likelihood of her demise was great. He looked down at the shimmering gold of Lyrias cheeks and smiled, pressing a kiss to them as he stood.

“Father,” he said out into the sky. “I have never asked for anything… You know I would never ask unless it was of great importance. Just this once, I ask for your favor.”

Beside him Time stood, hands clasped in front of him. “I cannot guarantee she will live. First she must pass her final test, and then her fate will be decided.”

Destiny nodded. “It is a chance, one I can only hope she will be strong enough to make good use of.”

“We shall soon see.”

***

The darkness that cocooned me was neither too hot nor too cold, neither wet nor dry, it simply was. I felt weightless as voices swirled around me, one soft but cold. A hand shook my shoulder, soft and warm and familiar. “Penelope, it’s time to wake up darling.”

“Mother?” I whispered as my eyes opened to her kindly face looking down at me with a soft smile. She pushed my hair out of my face. “Am I dead?”

Her face twisted as she gasped at the question. “Heavens no! Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because this…” I stopped myself, eyes roaming over the modest bedroom that had so very long ago been my own. “This isn’t real.”

Mother laughed softly. “You and that imagination of yours. Now, get up. We have a long day of lessons ahead of us.”

I sat on my bed, my eyes darting wildly around the room and my breaths heavy and sharp. What the fuck is going on? I thought as I pulled the covers off me and practically ran to the mirror. I looked like I had then, youthful. The wounds I’d gained while fighting The Bull and Lyria and the demon were gone. I turned my wrist over, running my fingers along the smooth unscarred skin. It was all gone… No, it just hadn’t happened yet. I sank to the floor, tucking my knees to my chest and letting out quiet, scared sobs. Was this real? And if it was… what was I meant to do?

A voice, warm and loud, echoed through the room. “You must choose what was or what could have been, Fate Weaver.”

“I don’t understand,” I whispered, but the voice didn’t come again. Okay, I told myself, wiping the tears from my eyes. This is just another test. I just needed to figure out where I was and what this choice was. After I got dressed for the weird day that was no doubt ahead of me I looked around my room, if there was anything here to tell me what was going on it would certainly make this easier. I pulled a box out from under my bed and opened it up to reveal a simple fine dress, one I recognized almost immediately.

This was the day I snuck out and attended the party at the Burgess house for Alex. The day I met Morpheus. The day that changed everything. Choose what was or what could have been? Whoever it was that set up this weird trip to the past wanted me to either make the same choices I had, the ones that led me to where I ended up or to choose differently? I practically scoffed. Why would I change what happened? I had already lived through it. Unless… whatever being was doing this expected me to live through it all over again.

The pained memories of the asylum filled my mind as I set my head in my hands. What would change if I tried to do things differently? Morpheus. I looked down at my arm where the mark had been and sadly ran a thumb over the smooth skin. If I change things… It would change our relationship, change what we meant to each other… what we still mean to each other. I kept going over it in my mind as the day dragged on. My father, the man I’d killed with my bare teeth, sat across from me at the table as we ate. I’d forgotten how miserable I was. Forgotten how absolutely horrible life had been living in the Barlow house.

Sure, I was fed and had plenty of time to myself, but it was lonely. There was no Matthew to swoop down and chatter in my ear. No Lucienne to offer up a book recommendation or talk to me for hours about the knowledge she held. No Mervyn calling me kid and offering to show me how to do various jobs. There was no Cain and Abel and Goldie with their garden and their bickering. No town full of loving nightmares and dreams. There was no Dreaming, no home… No Morpheus.

For a while I wandered the Barlow estate grounds, deep in thought, but no matter how long I thought about it my answer stayed the same. I would follow the events of the day as they had happened, even if it meant I would have to live the years that followed in the same torment that I had before. I looked at myself in the mirror as night finally came and smoothed a hand over the dress that would soon be ruined, before climbing out the window and making my way toward the Burgess house and the crowd that gathered there.

I walked as if I was in a daze, moving through the crowd until Alex's young and familiar face smiled down at me. "Penelope! It's about time you showed up! I thought you'd abandoned me to be eaten by these people!"

“Alex…” I hadn’t seen him in eighty years. Even after all the pain he’d caused me, I couldn’t help but feel happy when he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and led me inside. For a split second I’d forgotten that this wasn’t real, that this was all some kind of memory or, or, something.

I looked up at the house, residual fear and anxiety building in me as Alex led the way. Hand on my shoulder he looked over me with worried eyes. “Are you alright? You seem quiet.”

“I’m fine,” I answered. “It’s just been a long day.”

“Well, relax, Pen. Tonight is supposed to be fun.” His family butler scolded him quietly and he nudged my shoulder. “Go have fun for a bit, my father has me holding the door to keep the uninvited out. Something about responsibility.”

I took one last look at his face, one last look at him while he was still my friend. “You are rather irresponsible.”

“Says you,” he retorted with a laugh and a nudge to my shoulder.

“Don’t be too long… responsible Alex, or I’ll be the one that becomes the meal.” Goodbye, my friend. I thought as I watched him walk out the door. Hopefully once I got to Dream this whole thing would end, but if not… Alex wouldn’t be like this again.

I instinctually moved toward the least crowded part of the room, my eyes drawing to the door with the guards standing in front of it. Now that I knew what secrets it held the curiosity was gone, replaced by a cool and pulsing rage. He was down there. Alone. Naked. Locked away in some goddamn fish bowl for what? Roderick Burgess’ pride? I had to close my eyes and remind myself that this wasn’t real. Dream was free. He was safe. Just like before I watched the people dance, drink and come close to overdosing on every drug imaginable at the time. All just one large facade. The rich man fell to the ground, convulsing just as he had before and I turned toward the basement door. Everything and everyone froze as the voice from this morning echoed around me again. “Choose.”

For a moment I looked around at the party, studying the faces of the upper class crowd. They were miserable, all of them, I had known it then and I knew it now. I turned back to the door and descended the dark stairs, into the basement that would soon fill with beatings and blood, but the second my eyes met his in his glass cage my heart soared. Whoever organized this, whatever they wanted of me, had wasted their time. There was no world where I wouldn’t choose him. 

The basement was just as I remembered it, damp and dark, reeking and poorly lit. The glowing glass sphere hung in the center of the large space and my legs nearly buckled at the sight of it. Morpheus sat up, dark, star filled eyes watching me as I moved closer and closer to him. He watched me with a stoic expression, but his eyes betrayed what he felt, as they always did.

“Don’t worry. There's nothing they could do to make me choose differently.” I said as I stood face to face with him, tears running down my face as I pressed my hand to the glass without hesitation. “I’ll always choose you, Dream.”

He said nothing as he mirrored the gesture. Just like the first time pain exploded across my palm, but this time when the images and voices filled my head I knew them. The memories of Dream and I played in my head, every tiny gleam in his eyes, every stupid game I played with him, our goodbye and then our reunion, Matthew and Lucienne and Mervyn and Cain and Abel, home. They were here, all along from the beginning they were here. The glass shattered beneath our hands as Dream’s voice silenced all the others. “I thought you’d left.”

I smiled as the glass turned into sand. “I would never leave you, my Dream. You’re my home.”

The memory or illusion of Dream stepped out of the metal frame and stood in front of me, lifting his hand and blowing sand into my eyes. Everything faded away until I stood staring at an empty expanse of darkness. Two figures stood before me, neither looking my way but at each other. 

"It has been a long time since we have shared a plane,” the soft, cold feminane voice said.

The other replied, rough but warm. "Yes. I have missed you."

The soft voice belonged to a woman, tall and thin, beautiful beyond belief. She wore a gown of glowing light and her long hair was black with stairs swirling inside it. Night. I told myself. This was Dream and the other Endless’ mother. “I am here now.”

The loud voice belonged to a man, old with vibrant red hair and a long beard filled with gray strands and features that reminded me of De and Olethros. He shook his head. “Only because you felt drawn here. You did not come for me.”

“No, but I am here nonetheless.” Her eyes, two glowing stars, turned to me. “Your light is gone, little star. It was a mistake of you to give it away for even I cannot return it to you.

The old man changed before my eyes, into a small boy. “To give away such a blessing is quite the feat alone, especially for a mortal born. But, more interesting, perhaps, is your choice.”

“I just did what I thought was right.” I answered him.

“Right?” he questioned, now older but not old. “Was it out of obligation or love I wonder? Mortals seem to be quite fickle in their feelings.”

This must be their father, I told myself. Dream had spoken little of his parents and from what I could gather from Desire there was a good reason for it. As I watched them coldly argue with one another over what my fate was to be all I could think of was how unhappy and bitter they both sounded. Night was cold and emotionless as she spoke. “Does it matter why she chose this path?”

The man turned to her, the young boy once again. “It does to me, as it should to you.”

“She may have foolishly given away my blessing, but the fact remains she passed your test, Time. Do you not wish for our son to be happy?"

“My blessing is a rare and powerful thing. I will not give it to someone unworthy of it.”

They fought again for what seemed like hours. Listening to them certainly made their children's messy histories make more sense. For a while I considered trying to leave, find my own way, but there was literally nothing but abyss around us so I quickly decided against it. Then my thoughts shifted to whether or not I'd have to choose a side between them, should this argument turn into an actual fight.

As I looked between the two it was difficult to figure out who I found more intimidating. Time was loud and even in his old appearance he looked like he could hold his own in a fight. Night, while delicate in appearance, held a very cold and calculating look in her eyes that made me question just how soft she truly was. Truthfully I hated both options. Maybe I could take them both? I thought, touching my thighs. Right no daggers. They both looked at me curiously.

"Do you honestly think you could fight us both?" Night asked.

"Two Endless beings of greater power than you could ever know?" Time added.

I shrugged. "I don't know! It's not like I have a lot of options. And also it's quite rude to drag me here, test me, argue in front of me, then read my mind and judge me on trying to figure out how to fight you two if need be. Mind your own business, which it seems you two have plenty of!"

"Who would you choose of the two of us?" Time asked, sending Night a glare. "I am far more powerful."

Night merely rolled her eyes. "You always were so self important. The mortal would obviously pick me, for she has been given my blessing before."

"Another reason as to why she would choose me. For it is my blessing she needs now."

"ENOUGH! God I see why your kids are so fucked up! You two are, no offense, truly fucking terrible.” I looked at Night. “I thank you for giving me your blessing. I’m sorry I gave it away, but I’d do it over again if it meant saving those people.” I turned to Time, now an old man. “Give me your blessing or don’t. I don’t care. I’m going home with or without it.”

He tilted his head a little. “You think yourself capable of navigating the endless darkness?”

I shrugged again, frustrated and exhausted. “I don’t know, but I don’t care. I’m going home. If it takes me days or years I don’t care. If I fucking die here trying to find my way back… I. Don’t. Care. I have to try at least, I owe them all that much.”

“You are a curious human, Penelope Barlow.” Time said, stepping towards me and holding out his hand. “My son has asked me to save you.”

“Dream?”

“No, I’ve not spoken to Dream in eons. It was Destiny.” He changed again into a younger man. “He’s asked nothing of me since the creation of this world. Yet he asks for a favor now, for you… a mortal.”

I smiled at the thought. “He didn’t have to do that.”

Time nodded. “No, he did not, but he did. You hold much influence over my children and are regarded highly among them, for all would have asked this of me."

"You sound confused by that."

"I am. You are nothing but a mortal." Time insisted. "Your soul being bound to Dream means little in regards to my other children. And yet they would all come to me on your behalf."

"Maybe it would be easier to understand if you actually spent any time with them." I bit out. "Both of you."

Time didn't respond to the jab. "You passed the final test I had laid before you, The Fates were right in their assumptions. But, know that it is only for Destiny that I grant you my blessing.” I could see Night scoff as he held his hand out to me, old once again. Once my hand met his wrinkled skin, golden light filled the darkness. 

My eyes drifted shut as the bright light grew hotter and filled the dark abyss, and when I opened them again I was back at the hotel, laying in the center of the aisle, chairs on either side of me. Some of my wounds had healed, the ones that would have killed me, but the others were still fresh and bleeding. My hand was blackened from the flames and burnt marks curled up my arm, remnants from the golden thread and there, laying at my side was the head of Mephistopheles and the burnt book that once bound him.

***

"Did you find her?" Matthew asked as soon as he landed at Dreams feet.

Dreams' eyes scanned the crowd for a moment. "No, but she's still here, I can feel it. We'll check inside."

He turned just as she hobbled out of the hotel doors. She froze at the sight of him, her tear stained face looked pale and sickly. The blood and wounds that covered her all over didn't help ease his conscience, but it was her hand that he focused on. Penelope cradled the right one to her chest, holding a black book, the dark lines of burnt flesh in the shape of rope, no, threads. She'd had to touch the burning thread, had to twist it around her arm to free herself of whatever torment his callousness had doomed her to.

For a moment they both just stood there, looking at one another, not willing or able to move first. He took a half step forward, and her eyes filled with tears, lips quivering as she closed the distance between them, crushing herself into his chest. He felt lighter, like he could finally breathe again as he hesitantly hugged her to him. Through her sobs she pleaded, "Can we go home? Please?"

Home. The word was bittersweet. It meant that she still considered The Dreaming her home, but also meant that even with what he'd said to her and denied her, she still trusted him. "Yes."

Her body relaxed as the chilled air of The Dreaming wrapped around them, but neither of them moved. Dream was afraid of what would happen after he let go of her. She had to be angry with him and after searching for her for so long… After seeing Desire's hands on her… Dream knew they had much to discuss. Matthew cawed. "I hate to ruin the moment but… Is that a head?"

She pulled back, lifting her left hand and the severed head she gripped in it. "Right. I'm gonna have to take this shit to Destiny tomorrow."

"What the fuck have you been up to the past few days?!"

"It's a long story," she admitted with a wince as she waved her hand, easily creating a box and tossing the head and book inside. Whatever she had done to gain the upper hand over the demon had unlocked her connection to his power fully now.

Dreams' eyes slid down to her deep wounds as blood dripped to the floor. "You need attended to."

She nodded, dazed and stumbled to the side. "Yeah, uh, I'm about to pass out. The… The blood loss is really starting to, uh, kick in so if you could… Catch me or something, I'd appreciate it."

Just as she predicted her eyes rolled into the back of her skull and she began to drop to the ground. Dream caught her, holding her to him tightly. "Matthew, tell Lucienne that Penelope is back, and send her to my quarters."

"You got it boss," the raven said. Hearing his casual tone made Dream feel better. Perhaps now that she was back things could return to normal. He set her on the bed, carefully discarding her clothing and looking down at the deep wounds and still retreating black veins. No. Things would never go back to normal, at least not the normal he was accustomed to.

He worked tirelessly, sewing and wrapping her wounds with what magic and skill he had until he finished. He pulled fresh blankets over her and sat on the edge of the bed, holding her injured hand tentatively in his. Dream watched the black veins and discoloration fade from her skin. His hands helped cool the sweltering heat of her body and once the color had begun to return to her skin he let himself feel the relief of having her home.

It may not last. She could still wake up and decide to leave, but for now he was content. Penelope was home, here in their bed, and most importantly she was alive. Lucienne knocked at the door, entering quietly and clutching her hand to her chest at the sight of her friend. "My lord! What's happened to her?"

"I do not know," he admitted. "After she and the demon vanished I only saw a glimpse of whatever she faced. When she awakens, I'm certain she will fill you in on the details. The items she came with, where are they?"

"In the library, sir. I thought it best to keep a close eye on them, just to be certain they are truly dormant."

He nodded. "A wise course of action."

Lucienne stroked Penelope's hair and looked up at him. "Do you need anything, my lord?"

"I must finish this business with the vortex." His voice was soft and sad, unable to pretend any longer that the task at hand meant nothing to him. Rose Walker had proven herself to be brave and kind hearted and strong. She reminded him of Penelope when he'd first met her in the damp dark of the Burgess basement. And that only made his duty more difficult.

Lucienne nodded. "I'll stay with her."

"No," he said softly. "Return to the library and watch the artifacts she brought. Matthew can watch over her, that way I will be able to see her through him."

"Very well, my lord." She smiled down at Penelope and sighed softly, relieved. "I am glad she's home."

"As am I." He stroked her skin one last time before standing. Now he could only hope she wanted to stay.

***

When I opened my eyes I was back at Destiny's garden, everything had been repaired and put back just as it was supposed to be. Destiny stood beside the table, carefully setting it as the sun began to rise. "You are early. Or perhaps you are on time."

I smiled, laughing a little. "Were you expecting me?"

"No," he answered, turning around to face me. "But I was hoping you would come back."

"I have you to thank for that," I said, moving closer and wrapping him in a soft, weak hug. "Your parents are assholes, by the way, your dad especially."

His hand gently pressed against my back, his famous and comforting one armed hug. "I am simply glad you are here, Weaver."

"Me too." I mumbled. "How is Lyria?"

"She is resting," he said, turning to finish setting the table. "But she will recover quickly, thanks to you."

"Good." I sat down in my chair and sighed in relief as the pain subsided a little. "How are you?"

Destiny smiled. "I am better than I have been."

"Wow, a real answer?" I teased. "You sure she didn't hit your head too hard?"

He sat down across from me and shook his head fondly. "Did you retrieve the book?"

I nodded. "And the bastard's head."

"Both must be taken to Hell and returned to The Morningstar."

"You think Lucifer is involved in this?" I asked. 

Destiny didn’t respond for a moment. “No, but Mephistopheles was a Duke of Hell and what remains of him should be returned to his master.”

There was more, I could feel it. “What else?”

“While you’re there I would ask you to retrieve some things of Lyrias from Lightbringer.” He looked at me, but this time there was a thinly concealed rage in them that I’d never seen before. “The demon stole them and took them to Hell in order to keep them from me. His remains should be enough to trade for them.”

"Alright, how do you want me to facilitate such a trade?" I asked. "The devil and I don't exactly have the best relationship."

Destiny gestured to a small letter beneath my cup. "I've written out what to say. Hopefully it keeps you out of trouble."

I opened the letter and read through the  finely written, far too modest request.

Lucifer, Ruler of Hell, I come to you with a proposition from Destiny of the Endless. I will offer you the effects of the slain demon Mephistopheles in return for the previous Fate Weavers artifacts, as well as safe passage through Hell and an undelayed departure. Do this and Destiny promises there will be no need for war between Hell and the Endless.

“Sounds simple enough," I said, moving to stand. A bit too simple.

His hand reached across the table and settled over mine. "Weaver, I simply wish for you to get Lyria's artifacts back, though I know there are some questions of your own need answered. So, I hope you shall heed my advice when I ask you to remember the ruler of Hell can be rather pedantic. Tread this path cautiously."

"Aren't I always cautious?" I joked.

"You will be going as my emissary." He gestured to the broach on the table. It was shimmering gold with an intricately carved depiction of his garden. "My sigil will mark you as my Fate Weaver and grant you entrance into Hell. They will likely be expecting you."

"Expecting me?"

"Word of Mephistopheles death will have reached them by now, along with the nature of that death.

I sighed, wincing at the pain that motion caused. "So I'm gonna be walking into a bloodbath?"

"No, so long as you do not stray from the path or your purpose."

"I'll be safe, Des."

"Of this I have no doubt, Weaver."

***

Back in Dreams bedroom I forced myself to get dressed just as Matthew flew through the window with a relieved sigh. “You fucking asshole!”

“Whoa, chill out there Smokey,” I said looking down at him as he perched on the bed. “Why are you so mad at me?”

“You disappeared!” He yelled with a caw. “They told me to watch over you til you woke up and you just poof, gone! I was worried! I thought for sure you’d gotten trapped or some shit!”

I winced as I sat down beside him. “Sorry Matthew. I didn’t mean to… poof. Destiny and I just needed to have a quick chat.”

He ruffled his wings at me. “Well, warn a bird next time.”

“I will,” I said, smoothing over his feathers. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Penny. For a while last night we thought we lost you for good.”

Looking around at the room, cast in rainbow light I chuckled a little. “You might have, for a little bit at least.”

“So, what did Destiny want?”

“I gotta take that shit I brought last night to Hell.”

“You’re going back to Hell?!” He cawed again. “Like willingly?”

Looking down at him with a smile I shrugged. “Looks that way.”

“God, you’re weird.” He said. “Come on, Merv and Lucienne are freaking out looking for you.”

“Did you tell them before you told Dream?”

He flew onto my shoulder. “Of course! I sure as hell wasn’t gonna tell the boss I lost you again!”

We walked through the halls for a while before Merv came around a corner and nearly slammed into me. His pumpkin features relaxed slightly as he pulled me into a hug. “Thank fuck! I thought you left us, kid!”

I smiled into his thin shoulder, inhaling the smell of pumpkin and tools. “I’d never abandon you guys.”

He steadied me as we walked the rest of the way toward the library where Lucienne paced back and forth as a dream stood off to the side of her. “He’s not going to be happy when he comes back and finds her gone again. Are you certain you checked everywhere?”

“She is nowhere outside the palace. We would have noticed her.���

“I do tend to stand out,” I said, hobbling forward towards them. 

Lucienne let out a breath and ran to my side. “My lady!” Her arms wound around me, pulling me into her embrace. “You must stop scaring us like this.”

“I’m sorry, Lucienne.” I said. “Had a meeting to get to.”

She pulled away and helped Merv get me settled in a chair at the table. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’m alright,” I insisted.

“My lady, you are badly injured,” she said, examining the deep wound on my neck. “You need to return to bed and rest.”

“No can do, Lucienne. I’ve got a job to do. Speaking of, where's the things I brought back?”

“I’m assuming you’re referring to the book and the… head?” She said moving around the corner to bring the box of the artifacts out. “I’ve been keeping an eye on them.”

“Thanks,” I said, examining the box carefully as the feeling I’d tried to ignore since getting back began to bubble to the surface. “Where… Is Dream busy?”

Lucienne gave me a gentle look. “I just returned from helping him deal with the vortex.”

Shit. I tried to stand. “Is he okay? Did he…”

She set a hand on my shoulder, urging me to stay sitting. “He’s alright, my lady. As is Rose Walker.”

“How? I thought there was no other way.”

“Normally there isn’t,” she said. “But, this whole situation appears to have been manipulated by Lord Morpheus’ sibling.”

“Desire.”

“Yes,” she admitted. “Lord Morpheus is speaking with them currently.”

“Can’t say I’m too surprised.” The memories of them, their cruel game, filled my mind. “Is he… Did he seem angry?”

Lucienne looked confused for a moment. “He did. Desire’s game would have put the entire Dreaming at risk.”

I sighed. “And did he seem angry after I passed out?”

“No,” she said. “He was worried for you, my lady. All night he remained by your side, tending your wounds and ensuring that you were healing.”

“Thank you, Lucienne.” I said to her, standing to look over the artifacts in the box. “I need to get ready to go to Hell.”

Lucienne’s face immediately twisted into sharp concern. “My lady, that is most unwise! You are still injured!”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “But I still have to do this.”

“Surely it can wait,” she insisted.

“The longer I put it off the worse it’ll look to Lucifer. I killed one of their Dukes, they know that I did. Besides, I’d like to get this over with, and get a few answers.”

She seemed to understand as she looked down at my clothes. “Well, if you intend to travel to Hell, you may want to change into more appropriate attire.”

I laughed, nodding. “True.”

For the first time since the hotel I felt the surge of power that normally would have been Dream, but it was different. It wasn’t as strong as his, not by a long shot, but it was more than I’d felt before. I lifted my hands and ran them down the length of my body, watching as my clothes changed into light and breathable but strong material. The long sleeves were dark lines of multicolored thread glistened when I moved. The chest piece was golden armor with a half cloak of starlight pinned with Destiny's brooch. My daggers were secured to either side of my belt that snuggly accentuated my waist where the gown flared out and cascaded down my legs like a dark night sky.

Matthew let out a loud noise. “Damn Penny! That’s impressive!”

“You look amazing, my lady!”

“Kids got more talent with gowns than wood, that’s for sure,” Merv teased, bumping my shoulder.

“Hell appropriate?” I asked.

“Very much so.” She said as the doors to the library opened and the familiar light footsteps of Dream echoed through the library as he moved with haste.

Dream’s mouth opened, ready to call out to Lucienne no doubt, but he quickly shifted into a sigh as his eyes met mine and he swept towards us. Merv and the dream quietly excused themselves from the library, as Matthew and Lucienne moved to the corner. "There you are. You should be in bed."

"I have work to do," I answered, awkwardly fixing the fastenings of my newly made gown.

I could feel his eyes look me up and down, admiring either the gown or my figure beneath it. "And what work takes precedence over your health?"

Here we go. "I have to take these back to Hell."

I could feel that hum of his resistance roll through me. "No."

"Dream," I sighed. My side burned as I turned to look up at him. "You of all people can understand that this is important. It's my job, just as ruling over the collective unconscious of this world is yours. I have to do this and you have to let me."

"The Morningstar will be looking to ensnare you again." He warned. "Not only for your association to me, but because of your power and because you've killed one of their more powerful demons."

"I know." I touched the brooch. "Destiny has asked me to do this. As an emissary I should be free to come and go."

Dream still wasn't convinced. "Should be, but they will try to trick you or bend the rules."

"If worse comes to worse I'll just teleport out. They won't be able to hold me for long."

"I'm coming with you." He decided.

"No. If you set one foot in Hell they will either lock you up or kill you."

I was right and he knew it. "Take Matthew then."

With a sigh and a smile I shook my head. "Matthew hates Hell."

Dark and strong clouds took shape beside us as Storm bowed. "My lord, my lady. I wish to accompany you."

“I would gladly welcome your company, Storm,” I said, relieved that they were willing to join me. Having a friend at my back, especially one as intimidating as them would hopefully help calm my nerves and keep Lucifer from trying anything.

Dream acknowledged Storm with a polite nod and then looked at me one last time. It was obvious he didn't want me to go, but unlike all the times before he seemed softer as he agreed. "Be careful. You are still injured and they will see it as weakness."

"Thank you," I said, my hand brushing against his.

"I have one condition."

"Dream…"

He lifted his hands, a brilliant and gleaming circlet crown with a vibrant blue gem in the center of two butterflies sitting against his palms. "Wear this. That it may remind any that sees it of your status in our realm."

Without a word he set it on my head, wearing my hair around it and gently holding my face in his hands. "Thank you, Morpheus."

"Do not thank me for giving you what's rightfully yours." He pressed a kiss to my hand and squeezed it. "You will return once you've finished, won't you?"

"Of course I will." I answered. It was awkward between us, the things left unsaid and unacknowledged festing between us as we interacted with one another. "We have a lot to talk about."

Guilt and sorrow flared in his chest as he nodded. "We do, but later."

I smiled a bit and nodded. "Later."

"Yes," he replied fondly.

Lifting myself up on the tips of my toes I pressed a kiss to his cheek, hoping the simple act could convey my sincerity, and turned to Storm. "Ready?"

They bowed again. “I am beside you, my lady.”

I secured the head onto my belt and grabbed the book, sparing one last look at Dream as black sand swirled around Storm and I, engulfing us in it and then fading away to reveal the charred bodies that lined the gates of Hell.

“There’s one at the door,” a heavy breathy voice followed. “At the gate of damnation. Is thief, thug or whore?” At the end of the burnt hallway of mangled bodies behind the twisted gate I could make out the tall and burly figure of the demon as he stood, waiting. “There’s one at the door. And there’s room for one more till the end of creation.”

The gates of Hell were less grand than I’d imagined and clearly geared toward terrifying anyone stupid enough to find themselves here. I walked forward with my head held high, I would not meet the Devil as a scared sniveling girl again. “Hello, Demon. I’ve come to speak with the Morningstar.”

The demon chuckled. “And who are you?”

“I am the Fate Weaver and Lady of The Dreaming.” 

“Do all queens have such small crowns? Or is it just you?” 

Thunder clapped behind me, a cold wind swirling in the air. “You can either open the gate or I can tear it open. The choice is yours, but either way I’ll be seeing your master.”

A smaller figure, gleaming in silver, stepped to the side of the demon guarding the gate. “Move, Squaterbloat. They’re expecting this one.”

“Mazikeen,” I said softly, nodding at her as the gates opened. “Thank you.”

She bowed her head to me. “Apologies, my lady, for the rudeness of our gatekeeper.”

I gave the demon a side glance as I walked through, looking at the dimly lit sky raining with fire ash. “It’s fine, one doesn’t expect courtesy in Hell.”

The path ahead was lined with demons, each holding a blazing brazier, the smell of their burnt flesh wafting towards me as Mazikeen gestured forward. “Our ruler awaits you in the palace and has prepared all of Hell to entertain you during your stay.”

“I have no need for entertainment,” I answered, holding the book tightly in my hand. 

“Our master insisted. They said you will be staying for quite some time.”

“I’ve come to return something of your sovergines, as well as receive answers.” As we passed each demon, thunder echoed behind me and dark clouds plumed at my back. I smiled at the theatrics of my companion. It appeared I would be entering Hell with wings of my own. "I won't be staying long."

Mazikeen led me the whole way to the palace, across the steep winding bridge and through the large stone gates back into the familiar dark stone of the devil's palace. She bowed to Lucifer, moving into the shadows of the room as I stepped up the stairs. Their great wings tucked into their back as they turned to me with a smile. Their eyes looked at the wings Storm had given me with a chuckle. “Quite the entrance you make, Lady of The Dreaming.”

“I figured Hell would be the appropriate place for such theatrics,” I said, bowing my head. “I assume you know why I’m here.”

“You’ve come to return something of mine, I hope.” They looked at the book and then the head that hung around my belt.

I set the book on the table between us, then I unbound the head and set it beside it. The words Destiny had prepared for me rolled off my tongue. “Lucifer, honorable Ruler of Hell, I come to you with a proposition from Destiny of the Endless. I offer you the effects of the slain demon Mephistopheles in return for the previous Fate Weavers artifacts.” Their eyes lit up as I spoke, delighted to hear such a formal message. “As well as safe passage through Hell and an undelayed departure. Do this and Destiny promises there will be no need for war between Hell and the Endless.”

They waved their hand, a box being brought out by another demon and set on the table. “We were prepared for such a trade. You do surprise me though, dear one. Not so long ago you were shaking and fearful in this very room. And now, you stand before me again, tall and steady.”

“I’ve been through a lot in the past few months,” I said. “A meeting with the devil isn’t exactly surprising anymore.”

“There’s something else you want,” they said confidently. “Ask it, and perhaps I will grant it to you.”

I took a deep breath. The questions I had weren’t ones Lucifer could answer. Only one person could answer them. “I want to speak with Nada.”

Their smile grew wider as they moved around the table to stand in front of me, eyes piercing my soul. “Nada? Now why would the Lady of The Dreaming wish to speak with one their king has condemned to Hell?”

“She can answer some of the questions I have.” I said plainly.

Lucifer tilted their head to the side and thought for a moment. “Why should I let you speak to her?”

“Me asking is a courtesy,” I answered. “We both know I could just teleport to her if I wanted to. But, I wish to respect your authority in your realm, so please, allow me to speak with her and then I will leave.”

They chuckled. “Another question, why should I let you go? You are Dreams beloved and he would surely come to save you, should you be trapped. It would be quite a brilliant lure.”

“It would. But, it would also bring Destiny to retrieve me, and with him Death and Delirium.” Fire burned in their eyes. “I am a Fate Weaver and the Endless have made it known that they respect my position enough to defend me if need be. Is war what you seek?”

“It would make God quite angry with me.” They smiled, but their fire in their eyes faltered.

“It wouldn’t last long enough for him to notice. The Endless united would destroy you.” My words swam in their eyes as they regarded me with a look I’d almost consider admiration.

Lucifer stood up straight and gestured toward  the windows of their palace. “You are free to seek out Nada, Lady of The Dreaming, I’ll allow you a short amount of time and then you will leave. Should you refuse to go, you will remain here.”

I bowed my head again, retrieving the box from the table. “Thank you, your majesty.”

With Storm at my back one of the demons had escorted me to the tall winding tower and up the steps to the thorned gates of the cell that housed the woman Dream had once loved. She was beautiful, even in the distressed state that Hell had driven her to. Her skin glistened in the dull firelight as she turned, shimmering brown eyes wide and hopeful. “Kai'ckul?”

Our eyes locked and a wave of confusion washed over her before understanding sparked. “Hello, Nada. Forgive me, if my presence has brought you more distress. I just wanted to speak with you.”

“He spoke true then?” She said quietly. “He has found another… His queen.”

I shook my head. “I’m not a queen. I’m just… Just me.”

Nada stood, moving to meet me at the gate, her hands curling around the thorns. “Yet a crown he's given you, small but more significant than you could ever realize. What is it you seek?”

“I…” Maybe this was a mistake. What would my questions accomplish? “I just wanted to know what he was like, when you knew him.”

“He was magnificent,” she said, eyes drifting off into the distance, some part of her finding a moment of release in the memories. “Beautiful and powerful… Being loved by him was consuming. Kai'ckul loves deeply and holds onto that which he loves with a grip like chains. We were never meant to be eternal, but I knew it was what he wished of me, and perhaps before the destruction of my home… perhaps things could have been different.”

She was kind, such a beautiful soul. “I am sorry about what happened to your people, and to you.” I looked around at the small space that was her prison. “You don’t deserve to be here.”

Nadas' eyes returned to mine. “You cannot free me.”

“No,” I answered solemnly. “But I will try to convince him to return for your freedom.”

“Kai'ckul will not listen to you,” she said. “He listens to none but himself, for he is a proud king above all. I could feel how deeply he loves you when I saw him last, and I can see how deeply you love him. But he is Endless, his pride will never bend to anyone. One day he will cast you aside for duty and if you gain his ire he will cast you from his side… perhaps even to a prison like my own.” 

Had I not already done that? Had I not questioned him and insulted him and gained his anger more than once? I shook my head. “That is not the man I know. He is stubborn and can be unmovable at times, quick to anger and prideful yes, but he’s never once threatened to cast me aside and when I have gone he has always come looking for me.”

Nada took in my words and smiled softly. “You think he has changed?”

“I know he has,” I said. “I’ve seen it.”

The demon that escorted me shifted, my time was running out. Nada took my hand in hers and pressed a kiss to it. “Lady of The Dreaming, I wish you luck in your endeavors. And… And I humbly ask that you not forget me. If anyone can convince him to free me, it is you.”

“I won’t forget.” I promised. “And the next time you see me, you’ll be free. I know it.”

The demon moved forward but Storm and I were gone, back in the library. I set the box down on the table and asked Lucienne to watch over it and went to find Dream. I expected him to be in the throne room, but he wasn’t. As I opened the door to the bedroom I didn’t see him at first, but when I turned to leave he emerged from the balcony. “You’ve returned.”

I could see the worry in his face melt away as he stood on the opposite side of the room. “Of course I did. We need to talk.”

“Indeed.” He sighed. “I thought you were trapped… You were gone longer than I expected.”

“I was safe,” I assured him, picking at my fingers. “I… I spoke with Nada.”

Dreams face fell again, dark and sad as he took on the weight of my words. “I see.”

“Does that upset you?”

“Only because I know what she will have said about me.” He admitted. “And I fear that it will change how you see me.”

“Nothing could change how I see you,” I said, just as he had to me all those months ago. “What you did to Nada was wrong, but you’ve already admitted that you know that.”

He studied my face closely. “Then why did you go to her?”

I shrugged. “I needed to know if the person I spent the last few months feuding with at every turn was the person your other lovers knew.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve seen the change in you. You are not that man anymore. After… After Roderick and the years we spent apart, you’ve changed Morpheus. I know that you don’t like to think you have, but you have.”

For a moment I thought he would insist he hadn’t changed, like all the times we’d spoken about it before, but instead he nodded. “I know.”

“What?”

“I know that I have changed,” he breathed out. “It was… unexpected and difficult to come to terms with, but… I am glad that I did. It puts many things into a different perspective.”

I took a step forward. “Like what?”

His starry eyes met mine as he moved closer to me. “I have treated you poorly… Have wronged you and denied you that which is your right and I have done it all to satisfy my own pride. Asking you to halt your duties as Lady of The Dreaming was my first mistake, one I regret more than words can express. Growing angry with you for doing that which is merely your nature to, was my second. You have helped this realm far more than anyone since you came here. You have brought hope and laughter back to The Dreaming in a way I never could have accomplished. But what I regret most deeply, is how I spoke to you the night you left. You were right. Gault did not deserve the punishment I gave her, nor did Nada. You were right to question my judgment and I… I am sorry that my words, my actions forced you to leave and placed you at the hands of my sibling.”

I stiffened at the mention of Desire, tears filling my eyes as I looked away from him. “That night… I kissed them. But I didn’t…” God I was so stupid. “I thought they were you. They looked like you and then I saw you in the mirror…”

“I know,” he said, reaching out to press a gentle hand to my arm. “I know what they did to you and I am sorry I did not get there sooner. I looked… I spent all night looking for you, I even asked Hob Gadling for help.”

I smiled a little. “I knew you were looking for me.”

“How?”

“I spoke to your sister. Despair first,” I admitted. “I kind of fell into her realm. But when I came back De… Delirium saved me from falling off a roof.” I smiled, only now remembering the way her eyes were the same color, blue just like Dreams. “She and I have known each other for a while though… From the asylum. She tried to get me to wait for you, but… I was scared.”

Dream stiffened, and even through the barrier still between us I could feel the hurt in him. “You were afraid I would hurt you?”

“No!” I said quickly, my eyes meeting his again as I grabbed his hand to keep him from retreating. “No, Dream… I wasn’t scared of you. I was scared you’d see me and it would just confirm that I was nothing more than a mortal. That I wasn’t worthy of being your equal. So, I left and then things started to get… worse. I’d only felt that out of control when I was back at the asylum and it.... I went to a bridge and, uh, almost jumped.” I could see the fear in his eyes grow. “Death brought Pierre to me and they stayed with me until Johanna picked me up.”

“I am so sorry that my sibling drove you to such a dark place,” he said. “You did not deserve that, none of it.” His eyes sparkled. “I am not worthy to have you as an equal… You are far more wise and loving and strong than I could ever hope to be, my love. You deserve my power.”

I shook my head, laughing softly. “You’re an idiot. I never wanted your power Dream. I just wanted you.”

He smiled, his hand stroking my cheek. “I see that now. I know that the trust that was broken between us will take time to heal. Words are not enough to make up for all the months I’ve mistreated you, but I wish to show you now… in our room, what you mean to me, if you’ll allow me.”

I lifted my lips to his, just a breath away from touching. “Pierre asked me to make you work for my forgiveness.”

Dream smirked. “Did he?”

“Oh yes, I believe the exact word he used was grovel.”

“I will,” he said seriously. “If it’s what you wish I, Morpheus, King of Dreams will grovel before my lady.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want you to grovel, but I am going to make you work for it. You can start by kissing me.”

He needed no further instruction, hands wrapping around my waist and pulling me into him, his head ducking down to press his cold, silken lips to mine. Chills ran all over me as the barrier between us fell apart and both of us were overcome with everything we'd been holding back. For a minute all we could do was breathe against one another as everything settled between us. It would take time to sift through everything, but we had it.

Dream closed his eyes, holding me tightly. "It's good to feel you again. I've missed your heart bearing beside mine."

"As have I," I replied. "No more barriers."

"No more." He agreed, pulling me into another kiss.

It had only been a few days, but so much had happened it felt like a lifetime had passed since we last touched each other like this. He waved away our clothes, both of us moaning at the feel of each other's skin, as he moved us to the bed. His mouth was on my neck the second my back hit the silk sheets, biting and sucking and kissing down my body. He lavished each breast before moving lower, pulling my legs over his shoulders and burying his face between them.

My hands fisted in his hair, pulling at the roots as his tongue lapped at my core, twirling around my clit and plunging as deep inside me as he could make it. My moans and mewls filled the room as the stained glass glowed brighter, casting Dream in a heavenly glow as he looked up at me from between my thighs. "God you're pretty."

He hummed against me, nearly bringing me to climax. He pulled his mouth away for a moment, chills breath fanning across my wet skin. "You are divine, in every way. Your body, your voice, your scent… The way you taste. I could spend hours feasting on you."

I moaned, tossing my head back with a breath. "I don't doubt it."

With a gentle chuckle he returned his mouth to me, moving in the way he knew drove me mad. I came, breathlessly against his tongue. He would have kept going, but I had other plans. I tugged at his hair until he rose from the floor, kissing up my chest until he reached my lips. Pulling him to me I kissed him desperately until his body relaxed on top of me. I flipped us over, hovering over him with a smile. "My turn, Dream Lord."

Unlike the few times before Dream relaxed into the bed, spreading his arms out, relinquishing full control to me. "I am yours, my love."

I returned the favor, sucking marks into his neck, kissing each one and moving down the length of his body until I reached his hard cock. Stroking it slowly in my hand I listened to every soft sigh and strained moan that spilled from his lips. Morpheus was never very loud in bed, but god the noises he did make were heavenly, or sinful perhaps.

I kissed his hips before moving my lips to pepper his cock with the feather light kisses and licks. His hands fisted in the sheets. "Penelope," he gasped. "Don't play games with me."

"I would never, my king," I answered, licking slowly up the length of him and swirling my tongue over the tip. My lips wrapped around him, slowly moving until the majority of him was in my mouth, my hand pumping what remained as I settled into a steady rhythm.

One of his hands fisted into my hair, not pushing me further down or pulling me away, just grounding himself as worked. I didn't know how long it took for him to take hold of my head and lift his hips eagerly into my mouth, his moans growing louder and louder until he pulled me off him and dragged me up to straddle his waist. I'd expected him to flip us over and retake control, but he didn't. 

Morpheus looked into my eyes as he guided me down onto him, just like at the lake but this time his hands were soft against my skin. He let me move, set the pace and simply ran his hands along my skin, closing his eyes to savor the feel of us both moving against each other. He finally surrendered control and that fact drove me to move faster, to kiss him harder, to pour every ounce of love and admiration I held for him into this moment. Forgiveness, full and complete forgiveness, would take us both time, but in this moment there was no doubt in my mind that he was the man I knew him to be.

I came and he followed, but he continued to fuck me all through the afternoon, by the end of it both of us were spent and breathing against one another as we lay tangled in the sheets. "Was that satisfactory work for you, my love?"

With a smile I kissed him again. "It was a very satisfying start."

"Cruel thing," he teased, his hand resting on his chest where his ruby would have sat, reminding me of my own gem sitting in my drawer.

"Would a cruel thing have a present for you?" I asked moving to my desk and taking the necklace out, hiding it in my palm.

I returned to my place by his side. "A gift?"

"The project you were so curious about. It was this," I opened my palm and dangled the necklace in front of him. "It just seemed like you missed having one, so I made this."

Dream sat up and ran his fingers along the jewel with a soft smile. "It is magnificent."

I watched him slide it over his head and admired it against his bare chest. He lifted my head and kissed me deeply. "I shall have to make you a gift."

"You don't have to do anything," I assured him. "Just lay with me."

"Always."

As we lay together we caught each other up on all the details of the last few days. Both of us were content for the first time in a long time.

“Matthew said The Dreaming wasn’t doing so well after I left. I’m sorry if I caused any problems,” I said tracing shapes into his chest. “I didn’t think it would be that bad.”

“You didn’t cause most of the damage,” Dream admitted. “It was Rose Walker and her friend, Lyta Hall.”

“What did they do?”

Dream sighed. “Rose weakened the barrier between dreams and reality, giving her friend an opportunity to live out a life with her dead husband, who had been using dreams to avoid his fate. I had to step in. Her husband is now at the place appointed for him and Lyta Hall and her baby are within my sight.”

“Baby?” I sat up a bit. “She had a baby in The Dreaming?”

“The child was conceived in The Dreaming,” he clarified. “When he grows I will have to make certain he’s safe.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Did you tell her that? Should we be checking in on them?”

He chuckled a little, shaking his head. “Oh I doubt she would be happy to see me again.”

“I mean you took her husband from her, but that wasn’t really up to you. You just did what you had to.” I answered, examining the look on his face. “What else did you do?”

“I may have… rushed through the process and… perhaps… insinuated I would take her child.”

My mouth fell open as I glared down at him. “Tell me exactly what you said.”

He sighed. “I informed her that the child was conceived in The Dreaming and told her I would come for it.”

“Dream!” I slapped his arm. “You cannot just tell people you’re going to steal their kids!”

“I’ve no intention of stealing the child!” He argued. “He has power, and such can be used against us should another being learn of his existence. He will need to be watched over and taught how to harness his abilities eventually.”

“I understand that,” I said sternly. “Lyta Hall does not! She’s just a human that thinks some god is coming after her kid.”

I stood up and started getting dressed. “What are you doing?”

“WE are going to apologize to Lyta Hall and assure her that her kid isn’t getting stolen.” I waved my hand to him. “Get up, baby stealer, let's go.”

Dream complied with a heavy sigh. “I forgot how demanding you can be.”

With a smirk I pulled myself into his chest. “I can be very convincing too.”

“I am aware,” he said, kissing my lips gently. “You’ll be showing me after we return from this endeavor.”

“Will I?” “I too can be very convincing, my lady.”

***

We stood awkwardly in their living room, everyone staring us down but none more than Lyta. She blocked the path between us and Daniel with a glare that spoke the words she did not. I turned and glanced back at Dream, who met her glare with one of his own. “Could you just try to not look so… you?”

He practically rolled his eyes as he looked over at me. “This was your idea.”

“You need to apologize,” I said quietly as I elbowed him. “You promised!”

Dream sighed heavily, stepping forward a bit and addressing Lyta. "I am sorry for insinuating that I would steal your baby."

"The gift too."

A quiet groan. "Here is a gift, to show our good will."

He held the onesie out to Rose, who took one look at it and chuckled. “My little Dreamer?” She asked looking up at Morpheus who looked back at me with a glare when my giggling grew too loud.

“If I recall, you are the one that chose this gift,” he practically growled.

“I did! It was just too funny.” Rose laughed with me as Dream and Lyta continued their glaring. Rose turned to her friend, showing her the soft fabric and though her anger and near hatred remained prominent I could see a glimmer of something in her eyes. I stepped around Dream and held the basket out to her. “There’s also these.”

Lyta looked at the basket and then up at me. “Why are you doing this?”

I smiled. “Because I can only imagine how terrible it must have been for you to lose your husband again and then have to fear losing your baby too. Dream is….” I shook my head and shrugged. “He’s an idiot. But, I can assure you he has no intention of stealing your baby.”

“How can we know that?” She demanded. “He’s some kind of god, isn’t he? What’s to stop him from just doing what he wants?”

“Me.” I answered without hesitation. “If he tried to take your child I would stop him.”

Dream's hand on my back was comforting as he replied, “It will not come to such. I give you my word that I will never seek to part you from your son, Lyta.”

She didn’t look convinced, but when Rose grabbed her hand and nodded she softened a bit. “Alright, well what do you want?”

“To offer my protection, to both of you,” Dream said. “He was born of a dream and as such he was born with power. One day I fear there will be those that seek to use him for their own gain.”

Seeing the renewed fear in her eyes I stepped forward and smiled. “Don’t worry, between the two of us he’ll be safer than the pope.”

She laughed a little and took hold of my hand. “Why does it feel like I can trust you?”

“Because you can,” I answered. “You might not know me, but I’d never let anyone hurt a child. Nor would I attempt to steal one from its mother.” I sent Dream a glare over my shoulder. “I’m sorry about the misunderstanding and no doubt fear it’s placed into your life unnecessarily.”

Rose lifted the basket up. “I mean if the amount of gifts they brought means anything I’d say they’re telling the truth.”

I took the soft raven plushie off the top of the pile and showed it to Rose. “Matthew’s contribution. May I?”

Lyta stiffened for a second, fear and anxiety plaguing her as she shifted to the side, letting me move toward Daniel. “Yeah.”

He was laying in his crib, oblivious to anything other than the small winding mobile hanging over him. When I bent over the side his eyes slid up to mine and a wide smile spread on his chubby cheeks as I held the raven out to him. His tiny hands took hold of it, “Jessamy.”

I smiled, tears swelling in my eyes as I studied the plushie. “It does look more like her, doesn’t it?”

Lyta and Rose came rushing to him, praising him for the word, quite possibly his first, as I looked back at Dream who smiled at the sight. It was awkward and full of tension, but it was a start. Dream rarely came with me when I visited Rose and Daniel and Lyta, but that was more to ease Lytas mind. He sent gifts with me, clothes and toys, books from Lucienne dedicated to recording Daniels first within The Dreaming. She had gushed over it for hours, pointing out how magnificent of a dreamer Daniel was.

The last time I visited them everything was the same as it always was, but this time when Daniel fell asleep with his plush raven I noticed a tiny name tag around its neck that read Jessamy. I smiled to myself at the thoughtfulness of it. Dream may not have visited often, but when he did he made sure he always left something behind for the growing boy.

***

The months that followed were hard, but unlike before it felt like Dream and I were a team. We solved problems together, he came to me for my council and considered my opinion before making any decisions. He even started delegating some of his work to me, teaching me how to do things around The Dreaming and trusting me to do what I felt was best. He even let me help him in designing new dreams and nightmares.

The residents of The Dreaming were glad to have me around and it seemed like they valued my contributions to their world. It took a while before they began to see the change in Dream, but once they did the change was almost instant. They were always happy to see him as he walked through the town, it was no longer simply respect that they showed him but also the love he had longed for from them. Dream would spend some time among them every day, creating things, conversing, listening to their complaints or criticisms and taking it into account. If there were changes that he could make, he would.

It was good to finally see him receiving the adoration he deserved. He still had moments of forgetfulness, but The Dreaming and its residents were far more understanding of it now that they understood. He was trying his best, and everyone saw it. Accepting that he had changed was difficult for him, but now that he was here he seemed far more willing to not only accept it but embrace it. Things between us only grew stronger as the days passed, and if possible I’d fallen even more in love with him.

I walked along the beach, toward the distant figure of Lucienne and Dream. This was where he liked to work, far from the noise of The Dreaming and somewhere open enough for him to create freely. The closer I got the more visible the new dream became and a smile pulled at my lips. “You look gorgeous, Gault.”

She laughed, the cosmic color of her dark skin lighting up and her wings flaring out proudly as she examined herself. “Thank you, Lucienne.” She smiled up at Dream. “May I ask what made you change your mind about me, sir?”

“I have no right returning here after over a century expecting everything to be just as I left it. Lucienne tried to tell me that, so did you. But now I’m listening, or trying to.” He sent Lucienne a smile. “New dreams. New nightmares. A new age.”

“Thank you, sir.”

I moved closer with a bright smile. “Stealing my ideas now, Dream Lord?”

He chuckled. “You hardly invented butterfly wings, my lady.”

“They suit you, Gault.” I said to her, “You make a beautiful dream.”

“Thank you, my lady.” She bowed her head to me and then turned to Dream and bowed. “Thank you, my lord.”

She flew up into the sky, the blues and purples of her wings glittering in the sunlight. “I may be here a while. Would you mind taking care of things while I work?” He asked Lucienne.

“With pleasure, sir.” She answered happily as she bowed to us both and turned back towards The Dreaming.

Dream watched Gault fly into the clouds a moment before looking at me. “I believe there was another nightmare you wished to change.”

I nearly cried as I nodded. “Are you alright with that?”

“I am.” He said, and I could feel how deeply he meant it. “They have served you well in the past months, and they deserve to be what they wish.”

Holding the vial of storms in my hands I summoned the dark clouds and lightning. Storm looked around, confused for a moment before bowing. “My lord, my lady. Do you have need of me?”

“You once told me you wished to be a dream,” I started. “Do you still?”

They looked at Dream but nodded. “Yes.”

I placed the vial in their forming hands and held them tightly in my own, feeling the darkness and the cold winds between my palms. I focused on white clouds and calm seas, the sky as the sun rose and filled it with light and warmth. The vial shattered and wind swirled around us for a moment before light spread up Storms form, dark clouds shifting and changing color until they stood in front of me, calm puffy white clouds with hues of orange and purple, warm and filled with joy. “Then a dream you are, my friend.”

They looked at themselves, bright sunny eyes looking up at me with joy. “Thank you, my lady.”

“No, thank you. If not for you… your loyalty and friendship, well I wouldn’t be here.”

Dream stood beside me, a hand on my back. “I thank you, dream, for being there for my lady when I could not.”

They bowed. “It was my honor. But… Now I will not be able to serve you, my lady.”

“You don’t need to,” I answered. “Go, be a dream my friend. Feel the sun.”

“I need a new name,” they said. “Would you give me one, my lady?”

“What about Cloud Shaper?” I asked.

The clouds puffed up happily and the light hues shined brighter. “Cloud Shaper. You honor me, my lady.”

I watched them spread out over the sky, filling it with various shapes and hues of color, leaning into Dreams' side. “Thank you.” “I did nothing,” he insisted. “Now, I must return to my work, but I will join you later, my love.”

I pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’ve got to get back to work too. I’ll find you when I’m done?”

Dream pressed his head to mine for a moment. “I would like that.”

After I finished my duties I went to the library to spend some time with Lucienne while I waited for Dream to finish his work, but to my surprise he was already there. He and Lucienne spoke softly to one another. What was he planning? I asked myself as I walked closer, nearly tripping when three loud caws echoed in the room. Matthew was perched on the shelves between me and them, standing guard. They turned to me and smiled, ceasing their conversation as I moved closer. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” Dream asked. Was he nervous?

I tilted my head. “You’re up to something.”

“Perhaps. But it’s nothing you need to worry yourself with.”

Lucienne smiled wider. “You’re not going to tell me either?”

She laughed. “No, my lady, I fear I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”

“What about you Smokey?” I asked Matthew.

“Not a chance Penny.”

Dream held his hand out toward me with a smile. “Will you join me for a walk?”

I tapped my foot, pretending to think it through, before smiling up at him and taking his hand. “I suppose I could make time for you.”

“Busy are you?”

“Very!” I insisted. “I am Lady of the Dreaming, you know. It’s a very demanding position.”

“Oh I’m certain it is.”

He offered me his arm and I took it without question. We made our way through The Dreaming, greeting everyone we passed and the whole walk all I could feel was Dreams joy. He was happier than I’d ever seen him and in turn it made me feel even more joyful. At last, he was finding the balance between his duty and his people and I was proud of him. He’d come a long way. We walked down a new path, filled with tall trees and wildflowers swarmed with butterflies, it felt familiar the longer we walked. “What is this place?”

“Fiddlers Green,” he answered.

“The last of your missing Arcana?”

“Yes,” he said. “And somewhere you have wished to see for a long while.”

The path opened up to a field of wildflowers, in the distance a waterfall of crystal clear water roared to life, pouring into a lake that sparkled in the rising moonlight. It looked just like I imagined it would, no, how I pictured it could never do it justice. "It's beautiful."

"The sandman never forgets a dreamer," he said beside me.

With teary eyes I smiled up at him. "Thank you."

"After all you endured because of me," he paused, cold fingers gliding over the scars on my collarbone. "I owed you this at the very least."

"You're Dream of the Endless, you owe nothing to anyone, least of all me."

"I owe you everything, Penelope." It wasn't said out of obligation, but instead he said it like it was a simple fact. Nervousness tingled up my spine as he breathed out a breath. "None of this would have been possible without you."

"You would have done alright on your own," I assured him.

He swallowed thickly. "Perhaps, but it would not have been the same. You have reminded me of so much that I once thought lost, so much that I'd never thought I would want again. My subjects love, one to share my burdens with… A family." Turning toward me he smiled. "Penelope, I would give you anything you wished for and I promised you once that I would make you a queen if you wished it." 

"Morpheus," I whispered. "You are all I want, whether or not the title comes with it I don't care as long as I have you."

"Would you wish to become my Queen and bind yourself to me?" He suddenly asked, eyes shining.

I smirked. "Pretty sure we're already bound together. But yes, I would."

He lifted his hand, opening his palm to reveal a new moonstone ring, more beautiful and extravagant than the last. Two butterflies held up the gleaming stone set in a silver band of starlight. "Will you marry me, Penelope Barlow, Fate Weaver?"

Happy tears filled my eyes as I nodded. "Yes. I will marry you, Morpheus, Dream of the Endless." Once he slid the ring on my finger I grabbed his gem necklace and pulled his lips to mine. The Sandman never forgets a dreamer indeed. I thought, making him smile against my lips.

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[thaliasandy]

SMUTTY (NC-17? rated) HellCheer headcanon

It's october 31st 1986, Chrissy took her little brother trick or treating earlier and is still dressed in her angel costume, a delicate white dress with tiny buttons in the front and little white wings on her back, she's wearing her hair down but wears a thin golden hairband that looks like a halo.

Eddie picks her up at 11:30pm in front of her house.

Corroded Coffin played a gig at a bar one town over from Hawkins, not much bigger than the Hideout but with a bigger, more enthusiastic crowd.

He gets out of the car to greet her, she squeaks when he wraps her in his arms and kisses her.

They stopped giving a shit what her nosy neighbors or her parents think about their relationship a while ago.

He's dressed in all black, his pants are shiny black leather, he's wearing a black shirt and his leather jacket, his usually chocolate brown eyes completely black, he's wearing black make up around his eyes and has two demonic looking horns glued to his forehead that are peeking through his bangs.

He looks downright terrifying.

"Oh my god, you look so scary! How did you do that with your eyes!?" She breathes, gently cupping his face in her hands and staring at him.

"Contact lenses, I can take them out if it's scaring you."

"No, I like it. You look dangerous..."she giggles.

"Mhhh freaky" He chuckles against her neck, where he's planting open-mouthed kisses and gentle love bites, not hard enough to leave a mark.

"And you ...look absolutely gorgeous, my innocent little Angel" He takes her hand and makes her spin around so he can get a good look at her costume.

They decide to go to lovers lake, their go-to place to get high and make out.

She looks perfect, laying underneath him, on his black blanket with a white pentagram in the middle, like a virgin sacrifice to Satan, he thinks to himself and it makes him chuckle that that must literally be what people like Jason and Chrissy's mother think he's doing with Chrissy. They're bathed in a soft orange glow from the battery powered string of lights he put on the car ceiling for some 'romantic atmosphere'.

She's flushed and breathing heavy, the buttons of her dress undone almost all the way down, the skirt pushed up to her hips while Eddie gently strokes her through the thin lace fabric of her panties.

When he slips his hand under the waistband her fingers dig into the skin of his naked back, his shirt and jacket were gone pretty much the moment they climbed in the back of his car.

"Too much, princess?" He murmurs against her lips.

"No! ...Maybe it's not enough?..."

She stares up at him expectantly biting her lip.

"You mean...?!Are you sure?"

"Only if you want to..."

He grimaces like she just said the most ridiculous thing.

"...if I want to!? Jesus Christ, I dream about this every night!! ... you're okay with me looking like this?" He motions to his eyes and the horns on his forehead.

"Yes...Take me, my big bad demon boyfriend...Make me yours."

She's giggling, teasing him, her voice sounding even sweeter than usual and he feels like his brain is short-circuiting.

"Or do you want me to call you Dungeon Master?" she laughs, wriggling out of her dress until she's left only in her matching white lace panties and bralette.

He startles her when he grabs her wrists and pins them down above her head, using the full lenght of his body to press her flat on her back.

He captures her mouth in a kiss, ever so slowly grinding his hips against her and is rewarded with the sexiest sound he's ever heard when Chrissy moans into his mouth, loud and uninhibited.

"Look at you, angel, getting ravished by the satanic freak and loving every second of it..."

He trails kisses down the side of her neck, down her chest, inbetween her breasts, letting go of her wrists so he can slide his fingers down the soft skin of her arms and under her bra.

"Can I take this off?"

She nods breathlessly and lifts her upper body up a bit letting him peel the bra from her.

He'd caressed her breasts underneath her clothes before and she enjoyed that a lot but with him looking at her so intensely she feels extremely exposed and insecure and wants to cover herself up with her arms.

He backs up a little, her bra still nervously clutched in his hand, his brow furrowed,

"Did you change your mind, Princess?...We don't have to do this tonight, we can just keep making out...um...If thats okay with you..."

She's amazed and can't help but smile at how fast he went from the bad boy pinning her down and grinding his impressively big erection against her and telling her he's going to ravish her, to the blushing, shy boy, nervously rambling, with shaking hands, all while looking absolutely demonic.

"No! I want this! I meant what I said, I...I want you to make me yours...I'm just nervous..."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You tell me if you want to stop, alright... Or if I do something that doesn't feel good..."

She nods again and pulls him back down on top of her.

"Mhhh you're so fucking beautiful"

He growls, cupping her breasts with both his hands, his thumbs drawing gentle circles around her nipples.

He looks at her through his bangs, letting his lips barely touch the incredibly soft skin on the underside of her breast.

"Can I kiss you here?"

Another nod.

He flashes her a devious grin before sticking his tongue out and gliding it almost painfully slow over her skin until he can flick it over her taut nipple.

Her gasp only spurs him on so he moves over to her other breast but instead of just flicking it he closes his mouth around her rosy nipple and sucks.

"Eddie!!!" 

She squeals and tightens her thighs around his hips.

His mouth makes an almost obscenely wet popping sound when he lets go of her.

"You don't like that?"

"...No! Its not that...it felt really good...actually...I think I felt that in my...um..."

She's bright red now, having trouble keeping up eye contact.

"Hmmm?" He chuckles and lowers his mouth back onto her breast, suckling hard again, making her desperately roll her hips up against his, craving some friction.

"Tell me, princess, where do you feel it?"

He doesn't expect her to grab his right hand and guide it right into her panties.

He gently runs his middle finger along her slit, not dipping inside yet, just stroking her, teasing her, eliciting the cutest little mewling sounds from her.

"Please..."

She's so warm and wet, his thumb glides easily through her folds, seeking out that little nub that he knows will make her feel good. He's made her come with his fingers before, through her panties, but she's so much more responsive like this, her hips buck against his hand, one of her hands holding on to his wrist, the other gripping the blanket she's lying on.

Her eyes fly open when his middle finger carefully pushes against her opening.

"Alright?"

"Yes."

Her answer turns into a gasp when Eddie sinks his finger into her, he can feel her clenching tightly around his digit and he stills all movement, she'd told him how weird and uncomfortable it was when Jason tried to get her off.

"Don't stop, please. It feels good, I'm just not used to...having someone elses fingers there."

He starts moving his finger in a slow rhythm, his thumb circling her clit again.

"Do you think you can take another one, sweetheart?"

Chrissy nods again, chewing on her bottom lip, trying not to moan when he slides two fingers into her. She's pleasantly surprised when it doesn't hurt.

"Relax, you're so tense I can hardly move my fingers."

He murmurs against her neck where he started kissing her again.

He hears her inhale and exhale slowly and feels the muscles inside of her unclench.

"Mhmh, just like that. You're doing so good..."

The needy little whimpers and the way her hips move faster against his hand make him wonder if he's just great at what he's doing or if he discovered a kink of hers.

"You're going to come all over my hand, princess? Gotta make sure you're ready for my dick."

He sucks her nipple into his hot, wet mouth again and suddenly she arches her back, crying out his name.

He smirks at her when she opens her eyes again, not quite expecting her to cover her face with her hands.

"Sorry...I didn't mean to be so loud..."

He slowly pulls his fingers from her wondering for a moment if it would freak her out too much if he licked them clean.

"Hey, it's alright, no one's out here, it's just you and me...and besides...it sounded like I did something right..."

"Oh, I think you did EVERYTHING right!"

She giggles, still a bit out of breath.

"Always at your service, princess"

"Aren't you supposed to be a mean and scary monster?"

He groans when she caresses him through his pants and starts undoing his belt.

"Aren't you supposed to be an angel? Rubbing my dick isn't very angelic of you" He laughs, followed by a deep, breathless: "Mhhh Fuck, Chrissy..."

when she opens his pants and wraps her slender fingers around his painfully hard length. He can't help but buck his hips into her hand.

"Hold on..."

He moves away from her touch and grabs his leather jacket from the front seat, rummaging through the pockets until he finds one of little foil packets he made sure to take with him when he was in his room earlier...just in case.

"You're still sure about this?"

"Eddie, please don't make me wait."

He moves back between her splayed thighs.

"Alright, alright...lift your cute little ass up for me, princess."

He slides her panties off before pulling his own pants down his legs, delighted at the gasp that leaves her lips when she sees him in all his glory for the first time.

"Like what you see?"

She quickly looks back up into his eyes, slightly embarrassed that he caught her staring.

"I...I do! It's just a little bit intimidating."

"Don't worry, I know how to operate this thing."

He flashes her a grin, wrapping his fingers around his cock, pumping up and down just once, before ripping open the condom package and rolling it on.

He places his hands on her knees, encouraging her to spread them for him.

"Come here."

She whispers and motions for him to come closer.

Chrissy feels awkward showing herself to him like that but the feeling disappears once he crawls over her and covers her body with his, holding himself up on his forearms, trying not to put too much of his weight on her.

He's lean but a lot taller than her and towering over her, yet she's never felt safer than right now with Eddie Munson about to take her virginity.

(I was going to post that yesterday on Halloween but I was too busy 🙈

Idk if sclera contact lenses were something you could just buy in the 80s or if they were just used in movie and stuff...but I couldnt get that mental image of Eddie looking like a demon (but not actually being one) making love to angel Chrissy, out of my head...in fact I love that so much I might draw it at some point...)

Also, I had actually already written some of the actual love making but it wasn't good at all...sorry for just stopping there 😉)