#bubbles x hal

[look-at-the-starssss]

Angry Birds (Hal) brainrot is real!!!11! He's very special to me (ultimate comfort character)

[stephenstotchhh]

All random angry birds ships

[littlelambscandyland]

Four Versus One (Part One)

Platonic Yandere Rise Brothers x Fem!Reader

Warnings- Tv Self Awareness, Panic Attacks, Reader has siblings and a niece, Stalking (if you count watching someone thru a screen without their knowledge as stalking)

You lounged gingerly on the couch. Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles droning on as your niece starred in wonderment at the screen. You'd introduced her to the show as means to get her to stop making you watch (insert stupid show here). You told your sibling you'd watch over them the next few days as the birth of their second child happened. Today felt like it went on a bit longer. Tonight was the last night that your niece would be here.

 You couldn't say you didn't have fun. The show you stopped watching years ago was now, apparently, coming out with new episodes and you and your niece hyper fixated on it hard. With all that said, however, you were glad to get your space back. Glad to have your own little bubble of childishness without the responsibility of another human.

Deciding it was a calm enough scene not to be missed, you got up to get a well needed snack. 

Calling into your niece. "You want anything from the kitchen, chicken pop?"

She giggles at the odd, but well deserved nickname, and asks you for orange juice.

After pouring drinks and grabbing popcorn you made your way back to the living room. The scene had switched to Donatello's lab. They were making some sort of gun. Words like "portal" and "interdimensional travel" were being thrown around.

You wondered slightly as you laid the snacks out what this weapon had to do with anything. The episode didn't seem to call for it, but maybe you missed a more vital scene than you thought?

You thought a bit more as you watched the show how different it was from what you remembered. There were more fourth wall breaks and sometimes one of the turtles would randomly throw out compliments to the watcher.

Not that you minded the change. It was just different. Nice, but different.

~~~Time skip brought to you buy me writing this in my therapy waiting room~~~

You had successfully made the trade off of your niece, delivering her back into the hands of one of her parents. You'd cleaned up the house, and finally felt yourself relax.

You had turned the tv off for a little while. A part of your agreement with your niece to wait to watch the show again together. Obviously, that was a lie. You had turned the tv back on after cleaning. Ordering a pizza and deciding to have a "me night". 

There was something you noticed when you turned it back on though. The fourth wall breaks and the compliments happen more often. The plot seemed thrown out the window and everything seemed almost more mature than before. 

Because of all of this you made the executive decision to Google it. It'd been a while since you'd been a part of the fandom so you figured it'd be quicker just to get straight to the point.

You felt your heart drop from what you read. Confusion and honest panic grew in its place. There were only two seasons. That was impossible. There were obviously more. What had you been watching? 

"Uh ohhhhhh," You heard Leonardo's voice drone. "Hey guys, I thinks she's figured it out!" He calls his brothers.

Your eyes wide as the character seems to stare into your soul. The others gather into the screen. A mixture of smiles and anxiety are what stared back with animated eyes.

"I see. So she did... Ahem. Greetings, Darling!" Donatello says, clearly staving off his own anxiety.

"Hi..." You answer. You hoped this was a dream. Fear wrapped up into a ball in your gut. A feeling telling you to cut off the tv, to run far away and not look back ever again.

"Awww! She's so cute! Look at her eyes, they're so pretty!" Michaelangelo exclaims happily.

"We know dude. You're so cute doll. Really you are." Raphael addresses you with a nervous smile.

You look down in panic. The only logical thought is you had lost your mind. This is a dream, or you've snapped and this was a hallucination.

"What is happening?" You pant out. "This isn't happening. This cannot be happening..." Your breath ragged, and your voice hoarse. Tears gathering in your eyes.

They're faces shift in remorse and panic. Four animated eyes looking guiltily at you with frowns. Grimaces held by all as your body flies into a panic attack.

"Oh no, no. Don't cry, it's ok cariño. You're ok..." Leonardo coos at you in an attempt to calm you. 

The others gather in on the "comfort". They're words prove worthless as you spiral further. 

Finally gathering the courage you throw your phone at the tv in a frenzy. Perhaps not the best choice as the momentum and pressure crack your tv. Fizzles heard from inside the machine can be heard as the broken screen cuts off.

Sad for you, your nightmare doesn't end there.

[daisies-daydreams]

I’m craving angst!

could you possibly come up with something involving Ghost or König as a deadbeat father who regrets leaving and tries to come back into our lives?

One Step at a Time (Deadbeat!/Ex!König x F!Reader)

Pairing: Deadbeat!/Ex!König x F!Reader Category: Angst Warnings: Descriptions of Abandonment, Self-Deprecating Thoughts, Mention of Generational Trauma, Verbal Fighting, Swearing, Babies Word Count: 1.7k+

A/N: Bro my heart. 😭 I haven’t written much angst, so I apologize if it’s not great. Also, König's real name is "Mathias" in this story. I hope you enjoy!

Pt. 2

You rocked your one-year old baby girl, Emilie, in your arms as you hummed a soft tune. Her cute smile slowly softened as she drifted off to sleep.

“Goodnight, Emi,” you whispered, kissing the tuft of ginger hair on her head. "Mommy loves you so, so, so much," you smiled warmly. Your daughter stirred and yawned as you lowered her into her crib. A warm smile crossed your exhausted features as you admired her sleeping soundly.

To say it wasn't easy being a single mother would be an understatement. You were thankful to have a full-time job and a retired neighbor who watched her while you were gone. And yet...all the money you made never seemed to be enough. Bills would pile up, something would break down, groceries had to be bought on what felt like a daily basis. Everything for Emilie alone bit a huge chunk out of your wallet.

And yet…you adored the little infant bundled inside her crib. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, rubbing the patch of your tummy that still had some fluff to it. You winced as thoughts came bubbling up to the surface.

Thoughts about him.

How he told you he’d be “right back” before slamming the front door and taking off in his truck. That horrible sound always sent shivers down to spine. You sank down onto your bed as your heart sank into the pit of your stomach.

“It’s your fault he left,” a nasty voice inside your head hissed. You clutched your belly as you shook your head. “If you had just taken your birth control none of this would have ever happened,” it chided. You took a sharp breath, trying to ease your nerves until a sudden knock at your door stirred you from your thoughts. Your blood pressure spiked when you heard it:

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Three knocks…just like the way he would to do it. You glanced down at your sleeping daughter before slowly walking out into the hallway of your tiny apartment. Another round of knocks came from the door as you approached it, your hand shaking slightly as you slid it over the doorknob. Your eyes widened when you opened the door: the very man who broke your heart stood right in front of you.

“Hal-“ you slammed the door shut before he could even finish his greeting. “Maus, wait!” he called, frantically pounding on the door.

"Go away, Mathias!" you shouted, covering your hands over your ears. Eventually the loud knocking subsided, giving you hope that he left.

"(Y/N), I need to talk to you," his voice was muffled. You scowled.

"What could you possibly want to talk about!?” you yelled back. You heard him sigh from the other side of the door.

"Please? It's important...I promise," he begged, his voice cracking with every syllable. You bit your bottom lip so hard you tasted a hint of iron.

"Don't do it," the voice inside your head screamed. "He left you. What’s stopping him from doing it again?" it hissed. You swallowed a lump in your throat. Your shoulders slumped as you released your grip on your hair. You puffed out a breath of hot air before reluctantly shifting towards the door.

Mathias stood stiff as a board, his icy blue eyes wide as he shuffled awkwardly. You stretched your arms across the threshold as if protecting whatever home you had left.

"Hi," he said with a small wave. Your brows immediately furrowed as you scanned him up and down. His clothes were more put together, most of his lean frame now replaced with layers of muscle. His face was well-shaven, too, a rare sight when you were with him. You shook your head, fighting back the tears that threatened to burst from your eyes.

"If you're here for money, I can't give it to you," you said coldly as you crossed your arms over your chest. Your ex-lover blinked before he raised his hands up.

"Nein, that's...that's not what I'm here for," he said as he rubbed the back of his neck. Your nostrils flared as you scowled.

"Then just tell me what you want: the sooner you do, the sooner you'll leave and we’ll both be happier," you snapped. Mathias frowned as his hand fell back to his side.

"It's about the baby," he said. Your eyes flicked up to him as your arms tightened around yourself.

"Oh, so now you choose to care about our-no, my daughter?!" you hissed. Mathias winced slightly.

"Maus-"

"Don't call me that," you growled, your face growing hotter with every second he stood in front of you. “And by the way, the baby’s name is Emilie-not that you’d care,” you added with a deadly glare. Mathias paused before he cleared his throat.

"(Y/N)...I-I was wrong, leaving you to raise Emilie on your own," he swallowed. Your eyes widened slightly at his words, the grip on your arms loosening as you watched him take a step closer. But suddenly, the tears you were trying so desperately to hold back spilled down your cheeks.

"Yes, you were," you snapped, wiping your cheeks with the sleeves of your sweater. Mathias reached his hands out, only for you to take a few steps back. "Y-You literally disappeared right after I told you I was pregnant, Mathias!" you sobbed and shook, the everlasting ache in your chest growing wider and deeper. "How the fuck am I supposed to just let you come waltzing back here after that?!" you wailed. Emilie's cries suddenly tumbled from down the hall.

"Shit, I just put her to sleep," you cursed as you rushed down the hall. Emilie cried and thrashed around in her crib, throwing her tiny, curled up fists around as hot tears poured from her blue eyes. "Oh, Emi, I'm so sorry for waking you up," you gently whispered as you scooped her up into your arms. Her cries immediately softened as you began to gently bounce her, swaying your hips side to side as she gurgled. You flinched when you saw Mathias standing in the doorway to your bedroom. Before you raised your voice, he glanced down at the infant in your arms.

"She...she looks-"

"Just like you," you finished with a sharp tone, turning your head away from him and back to your daughter. Emilie yawned, her eyelids fluttering as she sniffled. You kissed her temple before resting her back in her crib, letting your hands linger on the edge of it. You slowly turned your head, Mathias still hovering in the threshold.

"I-I'm sorry," he swallowed.

"There's a lot of things for you to be sorry for," you said as you walked over towards him, eyes still red and puffy. "Why are you here, Mathias? Really?" you asked as you crossed your arms. He shuffled in placed before slipping his hands into one of his pockets. You blinked when he pulled an envelope out.

"Money...for child support. Or at least, what I estimated it would be," he clarified as he held it out to you. You hesitantly reached over and took it, the weight of it heavy in your hands. "It includes this month, too," Mathias added. You shakily opened it, gasping when you saw several dollar bills inside.

"H-How?" was all you could manage to utter. Mathias beamed as he straightened his posture.

"I decided to enter a program to become a welder," the man explained with a grin. Your throat became tight as you just stared at the money. You clenched your hands around the envelope as you took a deep breath.

"Mathias, this is..." you wiped your eyes again, your heart now tearing at the seams as a waves of emotion crashed over you. He took another step forward.

"I know this may sound crazy...but, I want to be a part of your life-lives, again," he said. Your eyes widened as your breath hitched.

"What?" you asked, your voice strained. Mathias rubbed his arm.

"I know that you and Emilie are going to need more than a paycheck every month," his eyes became glossy as he covered his mouth with his hand. "I-I was a coward," he choked, his fist shaking at his side. You felt like time slowed to a halt as you watched him crumble in front of you. "It was wrong of me to run away-from our relationship, from Emilie…from you," Mathias strained. He looked you in the eyes as he came closer, his body a mere foot from yours.

"(Y/N), I don't expect things to change over night. I know what I did can never be undone: all I ask is if there’s a chance where we can start over?" Mathias swallowed thickly. You glanced down at his hands, now rough and calloused. You sighed.

"Mathias...I-I don't know what to say," you confessed. He nodded.

"I know it's a lot for me to come in here, asking to be a part of your life again," he said. "But...I also want to change, (Y/N). I want to watch our baby girl grow up. I…I want to be the father I never had," his fists tightened. You bit the inside of your cheek as you looked between his flustered face and the envelope of money in your trembling hand.

He was right: the damage had already been done. There was no way to take back all those lonely nights filled with tears and the cold other half of the bed. Time stood still as you sorted through your thoughts, everything feeling so fast and slow at the same time. Anger still boiled beneath the surface…and yet…

"I'm willing to go one step at a time," you finally replied. His frown turned into a wobbly smile as he brushed his tears away with the hilt of his palm. “But I need to know if you’re willing to do that, too,” you said sternly. Mathias nodded.

"Yes, yes,” he said, his eyes lighting up with pure joy. “Thank you, Maus," he smiled. You flinched when he moved towards you with open arms, your face wrought with discomfort. “Sorry,” he sighed as he moved back. “One step at a time,” Mathias repeated your sentiment with a nervous chuckle. You smiled and nodded, a small ray of hope shining through the cracks of your broken heart.

Maybe it could be repaired…one step at a time.

----

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Taglist: @maybethatfanfictionwriter

[visceravalentines]

A Gun is a Lonesome Creature

Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

Drinking with Bo is a bad idea. He has a worse one.

Smut. Gun kink!! Forced masturbation. Heavy alcohol use by Bo and reader. Dirty talk, Daddy kink. Creampie. Horrible toxic Stockholm relationship dynamics as per usual.

You lost count around drink number four.

Hal Ketchum played a little too loud from the dusty stereo in the corner, and Bo was laughing.  Actually laughing – not the cold, cynical chuckle reserved for the damned.  And it made you laugh, the way the corners of his eyes crinkled, the way he wrinkled his nose. 

You couldn’t take your eyes off him.  He wrapped his lips around a beer bottle and you felt your pulse in your pants.  His jaw, his hair, the veins in his hands.  He was beautiful and terrible, and maybe you would do anything for him.  You sipped your whiskey Coke and giggled at his bad jokes, waiting desperately for the brunt of his full attention. 

And you got it.  You always did, sooner or later. 

The song changed while you were up grabbing him a new beer.  You started to dance, nothing fancy or coordinated, just a happy drunk hip sway to a song your parents used to play.  When you closed your eyes the lamplight made everything glow velvet ruby red. 

When you opened them again the room was tilting and the full force of his baby blues was fixed on you.  He took a healthy swig of his beer and set the bottle down hard on the coffee table.  You couldn’t feel your face. 

“C’mere, darlin’.”  He patted the couch beside him and you were over in an instant.  Always so eager to please.  At some point, it had become less about survival and more about wanting to impress him.  Life was strange. 

You sank down on the miserable couch and took a sip of your drink before setting it on the coffee table.  He wasted no time, reaching out to cup your jaw, pulling you in for a long kiss that tasted like beer bubbles. 

Your little heart fluttered, tongue searching his mouth like maybe the cure to your ailments was tucked behind his teeth.  You reached for him and he didn’t stop you, so you took hold of his shirt and pulled yourself into his lap, wrapping your arms around his chest, letting yourself believe for a moment that this was normal, that this was perfection, that this was –

He broke the kiss abruptly and you let loose an uninhibited sound of disappointment.  He scrutinized you intently, ran his thumb back and forth across your lower lip. 

“Hmm.” 

You sat at attention, waiting like a well-mannered pup for whatever request he was about to make.  You tried to read his expression but it was hard; you were drunk, and he was inscrutable.  You wanted – needed – to keep him happy, whatever it took.  You liked when he was happy. 

“How you feelin’, baby?”  Bo cocked his head.  “Y’feel good?” 

You smiled at him and nodded.  He was awfully nice to look at.  “Mmhm.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”  You nodded again, in case he missed it before. 

He leaned his head forward, his nose rubbing against yours.  His grip remained firm on your jaw.  “You want me, sugar?” 

Your hands rested on his thighs, fingers tingling.  You wished he wasn’t wearing jeans.  “Yeah…” you admitted shyly, like you had anything left to withhold.  “Yeah, I – I do.” 

He grunted thoughtfully and kissed you just long enough to leave you with your lips tingling and your heart pounding and your inhibitions forgotten.  He made you dizzy like the whiskey did.  Fuck, you were helpless. 

“I got an idea,” he slurred, and your stomach flipped.  A wave of nausea washed over you, a reflex.  From the whiskey.  “You trust me?” 

You met his gaze.  His pupils were blown wide and dark.  You could see yourself reflected in them, the blind, stupid look on your face.  Is that how he saw you?  Did he think you were pretty? 

You nodded again.  “Yeah.  I trust you.”  It sounded right.   

He broke into a smile that caught in your ribs like a bowie knife.  “That’s my girl,” he said, and you grinned back, proud and drunk.  He pushed you off his lap and you slumped against the back of the couch.  “Stay right there.” 

Bo stood up and staggered across the room.  You watched him with naked admiration.  It was so hard to hate him these days, especially now, when your blood was warm and fizzy. 

Your brain buzzed first with confusion as he took his daddy’s shotgun off the wall, and then fear as he took hold of it with both hands and stalked back towards you, eyes locked on your face, lips curved in a lopsided smirk. 

“Take your pants off, angel,” he said, his hand running down the barrel of the gun the same way he touched you sometimes when he didn’t think you were paying attention. 

You furrowed your brow, clasping your hands together.  He cocked his eyebrow at the delay in your obedience.  “You stupid or somethin’?” 

You shook your head.  “No…no.  Sorry.”  Rising from the couch, you unbuttoned your jeans and pushed them down your legs, wrestling them off around your feet.  When you looked up, his gaze was raking up and down the length of your bare skin.  You curled your toes into the filthy carpet, suddenly bashful. 

His fingers gripped the stock.  “C’mere, pretty thing.” 

You stepped towards him in a very straight line, doubt flitting through the fog of your brain like a bat.  Did you trust him?  You didn’t know the answer.  It sure seemed like you did. 

He chewed his cheek slowly, carefully, thoughtfully.  “Well go on, darlin’,” he said at last.  He tilted the barrel up and it pressed against the thin cotton of your panties.  “Show me how bad y’want me.” 

He angled the barrel of the gun, proffered it towards you with a look on his face like a starving dog.  You fussed with the waistband of your underwear and he licked his bottom lip, inclined his head.  You knew what he wanted. 

The spark in your eyes was matched by the darkness in his.  You felt the cold steel of the muzzle press against your thigh, push between your legs.  Your gaze never left his face. 

Eyes locked on his, hands splayed on your thighs, you began to grind against the cold length of the gun.  He braced it against his hip, his gaze flicking back and forth between your face and the thrust of your hips.  The heat of your body began to warm up the unyielding metal. 

Your clit fit neatly into the cleft between barrels and it felt good, it really did.  You wrapped your fingers around the shaft to hold it where you needed it and moaned, eyelids fluttering, free hand wandering up your front, over your stomach to cup your breasts.  The music pounded in the air, in your chest, in your veins.  You looked at him through your lashes.  He was transfixed. 

You liked it when you could see right through him.  For all he pretended to be so complicated, most times he wasn’t hard to figure out at all.  “Daddy…” you said softly. 

“Yeah, baby,” he mumbled. 

The corner of your mouth quirked in a bold whisper of a smile.  “I…I wish this was you.” 

He exhaled sharply.  “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”  You felt good.  The alcohol gave you a wonderful tolerance, made you just numb enough; you could do this forever.  “I want your cock.” 

His grip tightened on the gun.  “Do ya?” 

“Mmhm.”  You nodded, let your eyelids slip closed.  You felt weightless, grounded only by the weapon between your legs.  You remembered the last time you’d seen him use it.  Blood splatter on a brick wall.  It took you hours to clean it off. 

The instrument of your fascination was removed, abruptly, and you gasped, eyes flying open.  He was pointing it right at your gut, but you noticed with satisfaction that his finger rested only alongside the trigger.  He didn’t think you noticed little things like that, but you did.  You weren’t as stupid as he thought. 

He flicked the safety off with a quiet click and watched your face for a reaction.  You forgot you were supposed to be scared, smiled at him instead.  He was so pretty in the lamplight. 

“Get on your knees, baby.” 

You obliged, and the gun ended up pointed at the center of your chest.  You tipped forward so the muzzle pressed into your skin.  You weren’t afraid of him, not really, not anymore.  He would hurt you or he wouldn’t; he was just like that.  Shoot me, you thought.  Just like Cupid. 

He moved the gun from your chest and aimed it at your face and you began to salivate immediately.  You knew what he wanted.  You always did. 

“Open that pretty mouth,” he instructed.  The blood pounded between your legs.  You obeyed.  The gun moved towards your face, cold metal brushing your lips.  You stuck out your tongue.  “Atta girl,” he purred. 

You took the muzzle in your mouth, wrapped your lips around the barrel, eyes fixed on him.  Always on him.  There were bubbles in your blood and iron on your tongue and heat pooling fast and insistent in your loins.  You wanted him, wanted to please him, and that was your weakness, and he knew it – but he wanted to be wanted, needed it, craved it, and there was your edge. 

He moaned, watching you suck on his gun, lust blowing his pupils even wider.  “Fuck, baby.”  He licked his lips.  “You’re sick in the head, huh?” 

Maybe he would do it.  Maybe he’d pull the trigger, and your skull would shatter, and your brain would liquefy, and the last thing you would see would be his handsome face.  That wouldn’t be so bad.  You’d seen worse. 

“Like havin’ somethin’ in your mouth?” 

You nodded carefully, sucked the barrel in deeper.  It pressed at the curve of your palate.  You could take him further and he knew it.  Your teeth clicked against the metal. 

“Fuck.” 

He pulled the gun cautiously from your mouth, flipped the safety on, let the muzzle angle down towards the floor. He palmed at his erection. 

You tucked your thumbs into the waistband of your panties, tugged them down just a little.  Your head was spinning.  You needed him to touch you, needed him.  You put on your best broken-hearted expression.  He liked fixing things, so you’d had a lot of practice at being in pieces. 

“What’s wrong?” he mumbled.   

“I’m so empty,” you whined softly. 

He was breathing hard, tongue practically lolling out of his mouth.  “Yeah?” 

You nodded, almost on the verge of tears.  “Yeah.” 

He sank to his knees in front of you, set the gun down, searched your face with a greedy look in his eyes.  “Lemme make it better.”  You closed your eyes and whimpered.  “Lemme make it better, baby.” 

“Please, Daddy….” 

He groaned low in his throat and you felt the shadow of his hands on you just before they settled on your neck and your hip and you parted your lips just in time and then he was kissing you like he loved you with a mouth that only ever lied.  He tasted like the better part of a sixpack and maybe you could get drunk off his spit alone, the same way you got high off his hands. 

He toppled you backwards and fell on top of you, and you would’ve giggled, except he didn’t like to be laughed at, and anyway his tongue was in your throat.  His nails scraped your skin as he grabbed at the elastic of your panties.  You wouldn’t remember in the morning how you got those red lines, but you’d stopped worrying about that sort of thing a while back. 

His cock burrowed into you at the wrong angle, and it hurt.  You both gasped and groaned anyway because sometimes things just hurt.  He pinned down your hips and this time he slid home like a knife in the heart. 

He fucked you steady, teeth and hands all over.  Everything you had was his, anything he wanted, but he didn’t want you to give it to him.  He had to take it.  You clutched at him, scratched at him, like an animal so desperate to be held it forgets it has claws.  That’s how he liked it, and now you liked it too. 

Hold me so tight I can’t breathe.  Hate me so bad that you love me. 

“Bo,” you whispered, and he snarled against your skin.  “Please…please.”  You never remembered what you were asking him for, but he always seemed to know, and that comforted you. 

He pushed your face to the side so he could suck on your neck and you saw the gun there, cold and forgotten.  You’d never held it before, he never let you.  Was it heavy? 

You were twisting his shirt in your hands and it took several seconds to puzzle out how to let go with one of them.  Slow and steady, like a spider on a log, your fingers crept across the carpet. 

“Baby,” he growled, “sugar.”  His hand wrapped around your jaw, lips dragging up to your ear.  “Gonna cum in you…gonna cum for you, girl.” 

You made a strangled sound, pussy flexing around him, eyes drifting off course.  You wondered how he managed to make the room spin so fast.  The gun was six inches from the tip of your fingers. 

He was going to kill you with it, once. 

He turned your face back towards him and sealed his mouth over yours and you knew he was drunk because he whined like a dog as his hips bucked and he emptied himself into you, and he always forgot about that, he always forgot that even in the taking there is a giving, and that’s what love is. 

It’s alright if I die, so long as you kill me. 

Your hand closed around the barrel of the shotgun and you broke into a secret grin, pulled your fingers back like they'd been scalded, wrapped them in his hair.  That was enough for you, that little thing.  That you could, if you wanted to.

But you didn’t, did you? You'd never do that to him. It would break his heart, and it would break yours worse.

He blinked at you, looking a little lost. "What're you so happy about?" The words lacked venom, like he was really asking you for once.

He had faraway eyes as he propped himself up, backing out of you, adding his mess to the grime of the carpet. You squinted up at him, backlit like a saint, beautiful like an angel. He'd take you upstairs after this and make you pray, make you promise, make you swear devotion to him until you cried. You'd never believed in much before Ambrose, but he sure made you believe in him.

Sometimes, like now, sprawled half-naked on the floor too drunk to see straight, you felt lucky. Lucky to be here. Lucky to be his. Lucky to be the one who held him through his nightmares, folded his socks, filled up that sad sucking maw inside his chest for a few priceless minutes.

You shook your head and flexed your fingers, then sat up and touched his cheek with all the tenderness you could muster. The press of cold iron, the heat of his skin.

"Nothing."

You could lie too.

[bobathing]

🦕 — Pond Dino Cookie ID Pack

— Names

aktaios, atlantic, delmore, dimple, hydro, muir, okeanos, palmiro, pelagius, pepito, philemon, pompeo, pontius, poseidon, prospero, psamathe, seabert, seafowl, triton, wells, yam

alaska, almus, amphi, ceto, cherie, darya, eema, eione, ena, hydra, lily, marina, marisol, marvena, meri, mira, morti(mer), myriel, oumi, pamela, pandora, peony, pepita, piety, pomona

atlas, bubble, chao, elkhorn, eryl, hai, hals, kai, kipper, kyma, lian, lotus, lotusette, marine, navy, nerina, ocean, pondette, ren, rex, sacred, seashine, staghorn, starflower

— Pronouns

affe / affection, ba / baby, blu / blue, chat / chatter, coo / cooing, cor / coral, cu / cute, dada / dadada, dino / dinosaur, di / dive, flower / flowery, forget / me / not, fri / friends, glitter / glittery, joy / joyful, lot / lotus, love / lovely, para / paradise, pond / ponds, pur / purple, rip / ripple, splash / splashing, swim / swimmer, tea / teal, wa / water, won / wonder

🪸/🪸 s, 🦕/🦕s, 🪷/🪷s, 🌊/🌊s, 🩵/🩵s, 🐠/🐠s

— Titles

[x] who won't be forgotten, the kyute dino from the pond, fishy fishy, the treasure born from the depths, [x] born from the ashes of battle, the good of battle, [x] who lures cookies in with glittery eyes, the glittered dinosaur, the cacophony of giggles from a lotus paradise, the joys of discovery, [x] with a pudding-like tail, [x] from lotus paradise, the bundle of childlike wonder, the newborn flowery dino, the lotus-adorned smiler, [x] surrounded with friends, the worry-not child, [x] with a dislike of sadness, the never-wilting determination of a newborn, [x] with an unstoppable desire to spread joy, keeper of lotus paradise

— Genders

animagauditraitic, aquagender, aquatifungender, aquatix, cherishlexic, confettdinogender, corallexic, fishdigital, fishscrunklin, flowerpondmulviboard, gelatineux, glitterbombbrightic, hapjoyfulian, jollyfeelin', joybasis, joyousloveic, lotusfloatic, lovelyaltlexic, marijoy, petalfloatic, pondinocharic, reeflexic, schizzlio, sealexic, seamelogender, splashaudiomonic, sunsearayec, sweetstelic, telalen, whimisiaquata

— System Names

the riptides of childlike joy, the puddlejump collective, those born of bloomed lotuses, the joys of discovery, those who came from the pond, the inhabitants of a lotus paradise, the splashing of waves, the lilypad hoppers, those with hope for a better future, the underwater explorers, those who dance with marine life, the pond-dive collective

— Usernames

lotus-hopper, pond-dino, chirpjoy, lilypadlover, pondexplorer, smileykid, dinoworld, babypond, tinyjoy, wavesplasher, rippleplayer, pondthing, pondiea, lotuseater, kyutedino, bundleofdino, starflowersmoocher

— My other pond dino posts

buttons, dividers, pfp masks, post borders, rentry graphics, rentry template, replycons, stamps, tumblr layouts, userbars

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 19

Chapters: 19/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader  Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn’t utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

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

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

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

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

Important notice: I am aware of the current allegations against Neil Gaiman and made a statement here.

As the chaos in the Dreaming continued to escalate, you felt compelled to trust your instincts once again and embark on a solo journey to Georgia. If only you had known that you were on the verge of stepping into a living nightmare.

Immovable, you were tethered to the couch for a lengthy span of fifteen minutes, rhythmically shifting your leg in anxiety while your hand served as a shield for your mouth.

The Dream Beach was gone. The truth was difficult to accept, but you were certain that the imagery from your dream was not merely a subconscious invention. You noticed the fractures, experienced the desolation, and witnessed the unfolding destruction of the land. It was authentic, as tangible as the dreams you inhabited could possibly be.

The thought of you, or any other human, being cut off from the Dreaming because of the Vortex rupturing the barriers between your dimensions, was an absolute trauma for you. Morpheus radiated a sense of certainty that everything was well-managed. He staunchly believed that the circumstances involving Rose would stay steady and she posed no danger to his kingdom or the Waking World. Yet, the current truth stood in glaring opposition to that belief.

In light of the perilously rapid degradation occurring within the Dreaming, one couldn’t help but question if he could even remain unscathed.

So engrossed were you in your private bubble, that you barely registered Hal's approach towards the couch. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty! You're awake.”

The instant you turned to face him, your paleness immediately swept away his smile. "Oh God, are you okay?”

You swallowed, attempting to shrug off your worries with a laugh. "Yes, sorry. I just had a bad dream.”

Hal appeared to ease up, settling down next to you. "You wouldn't believe how strange my dreams have been lately. Did you ever stare at your own self taking the skin off their face?”

You arched an eyebrow. "That sounds like a scene straight out of a horror movie.”

"It certainly was. I don't ever want to look like that.”

You released a calming sigh. “That will never happen considering how cute you are.”

Taken aback by your unexpected compliment, Hal's eyes widened with surprise. His countenance immediately lit up, and he subtly adjusted his position, tilting sideways to prop his elbow on the back of the couch, cradling his face. "I am, right?”

With a chuckle, you replied, "Oh yeah. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Despite the pleasure you derived from his company and the comfort of his beautifully inviting home, your mind remained restless. You really coveted the blissful ignorance he seemed to possess, oblivious of the unseen perils lurking in the shadows.

Or rather, in his dreams.

"Hey, uhm, Is Rose still here?" you asked promptly.

"No, she left with Gilbert little less than an hour ago.”

Intriguing, you mused, that of all people, it was Gilbert who had chosen to accompany her.

“Someone called, they found Jed Walker.”

You gasped in surprise. "They did??”

"Yeah! Rose was ecstatic.”

Amidst the surrounding tragedies and perils, that was the best thing that could possibly happen. Why did you feel so nervous then, as if an impending disaster was on the horizon because of it?

"Do you have any idea where they went?”

Hal furrowed his brow in thought. "If I'm not mistaken, I believe Rose mentioned the Royal Empire Hotel in Georgia. I heard there's a convention happening there.”

How on earth did Jed manage to get that far from Cape Kennedy?

"What could he possibly be doing in Georgia? I find it hard to believe that he traveled there alone.”

Hal shrugged. "I have no idea. But in the end, does it really matter?”

You offered a smile. "I suppose not, as long as he's safe and sound.”

However, you found it hard to truly believe that.

As he got up from the couch, rolling up his sleeves to attend to more chores around the building, an internal voice was compelling you to leave. Even without understanding the reasons, you found yourself needing to locate Rose.

"Hal.. is there a bus route I could use to get there?”

"Why? Are you considering a trip to Georgia?”

For a fleeting moment, you thought about dismissing such an absurd idea Yet, an inexplicable intuition was insisting that you had to go.

And by that point, you knew all too well that your gut never led you astray.

"Well, I'm off work today. I might as well take any chance that comes my way to visit this Country.”

Hal appeared noticeably confused, but he didn't probe any further. In the end, he supplied a simple map outlining the bus route you needed to follow, indicating the precise stop where you should alight, along with a short walking path afterwards.

"Are you certain you want to go there alone? It will take you more than two hours. I’d come with you if I could, but…”

"No worries, I'll handle it.”

He nodded, albeit with concern, and pulled out what appeared to be a personal business card from a drawer. "You have the B&B's number, but this one is my personal line. Don't hesitate to call me if you need anything.”

Aw.

"Thanks, Hal. You're truly kind.”

He smiled, wishing you a safe trip to Georgia, before exiting the room to resume his duties. You remained there, scrutinizing the elaborate, business-like card, before tucking it securely into your wallet. You collected your bag from the hanger at the entrance, and with a few quick strides, you embarked on your journey down the deserted road towards the first bus stop that Hal had marked.

You must have been insane, setting off on such a reckless adventure in a foreign land, guided merely by a peculiar feeling gnawing at your gut. But as you tried to reconsider your decision, slackening your stride and turning around several times, it seemed as though an invisible force was propelling you onwards.

And so you waited, nervously pacing to and fro, until the bus finally arrived. It was already filled with passengers, each bound for their individual destinations, be they solo adventurers, couples, or families.

And thus began your voyage, heading directly to Georgia, in pursuit of something about which you had no real understanding.

More than an hour had elapsed, and as you gazed at the serene, green landscape through the window, you could sense your impatience intertwining with escalating concern. A child was singing and bouncing in his seat, despite his parents' futile attempts to calm him down. Others were engrossed in their private phone conversations, while the bus driver solely focused on the road ahead, barely blinking an eye.

You passed the time by scrolling through your emails, exchanging messages with Ella about the current project, and even succeeded in catching up with Hob, your father, as well as a few other colleagues who were intrigued about your experience in Florida. None of them seemed to be impacted by the happenings in the Dreaming, which could potentially be seen as a positive sign.

Unfortunately, the internal turmoil you were wrestling with told a completely different story.

Plugging in your earphones again, you selected your primary playlist and set it to shuffle. The first song that played was "Sweet Dreams" by Eurythmics, an ironic choice that made you chuckle to yourself.

Your head gently knocked against the window, as your eyes traced the rapidly passing scenery outside.

Sweet dreams are made of this

Who am I to disagree?

I've traveled the world and the seven seas

Everybody's lookin' for something

You observed the trees, the bushes, and the occasional bird soaring up into the sky. Your thoughts drifted to Rose, to the innate power she had held since birth, but which had only started to manifest recently. Such a formidable power, one that even the King of Dreams couldn't obstruct, unless it implied terminating the girl's life. A power that was currently devastating a significant portion of Morpheus' realm, a process you had seen unravel in merely three days.

Hold your head up

Keep your head up, movin' on

Hold your head up, movin' on

Keep your head up, movin' on

Hold your head up, movin' on

Keep your head up, movin' on

Hold your head up, movin' on

Keep your head up

Months of strenuous labor, of constant rebuilding and re-creation. Months of effort to mend what a century of human greed and selfishness had torn asunder.

The lyrics of the song playing in your ears receded, transforming into a distant echo, as your eyelids grew heavy due to the gentle jostling of the vehicle on the road.

To state that Morpheus was livid would be an understatement. Watching Rose Walker and Lyta Hall casually saunter towards the house that the woman's husband audaciously constructed in his realm, all while circumventing the space assigned to him, sparked not just a feeling of defiance but also a deep self-reproach.

How had he overlooked the presence of a specter within the Dreaming? How had he permitted a mortal to be in his realm as though she were conscious? The mere fact that Lyta was now expecting a child, conceived in his domain and far from a typical human being, was more than enough to stop the chaos instigated by the Vortex. The extensive crevice that had formed and was expanding unbeknownst to them, was something he could not permit to grow further.

He ought to have heeded Lucienne's advice. Your negative premonitions deserved more of his attention too.

“So, what do you think?” Matthew inquired.

Morpheus responded without any hesitation. “Tell Lucienne she was right about the source of the tremors. And that I am taking care of it.”

Matthew emitted a caw before unfurling his wings and soaring towards the castle of the Endless. Simultaneously, Morpheus set off for the house, making certain he reached there before the girls could.

He reprimanded the deceased, demanding his immediate departure to restore the equilibrium of his realm. The ghost wept, begged, and implored for another opportunity, but it was something Morpheus simply could not grant.

In the presence of Rose and his wife, he banished Hector Hall from the Dreaming, before any further harm could be inflicted to both of your dimensions.

Even though such an act was bound to lead to inevitable heartbreak.

You hadn't anticipated the lingering exhaustion from jet lag, even after surpassing 48 hours. But considering the restless night you had experienced earlier, the present need for your body to recover wasn't entirely surprising.

For a brief moment, you slept devoid of any dreams. Or more precisely, the only image you beheld was the boundless expanse of darkness, with a fog gradually enveloping you. The sounds from the bus, melding with the ongoing song, resonated in your mind until they faded into silence.

Then, the scene transitioned, akin to a cinematic sequence where the vignette slowly dissolves. You were standing in lush surroundings, serene and soothing, yet tainted by an eerie presence lurking nearby. You struggled to articulate it; nothing appeared amiss or displaced, but an unshakeable conviction told you something wasn't right. You ventured forth, surveying the unknown location with each step, until a large, white structure materialized in the distance.

What stood before you resembled a contemporary house, marked by perfect geometry and long rows of windows that would afford any dweller a magnificent view, while also revealing the interior to outside eyes. Though it may have appeared sterile, the minimalist design conveyed a sense of careful planning and construction. Encircling the house was a circular pond, brimming with crystal clear water.

It was a sight to behold, mirroring the picturesque scenery one might find on a postcard… were it not marred by the hideous fissure before you, threatening to cleave the ground in two.

Then it occurred once more, that dreadful earth tremor that caused the entire place to shudder violently, much like a blender, knocking you off balance and bringing you down to your knees. Your hands grazed the short grass, and the moment they did, you were gripped by an intense emotional pain that constricted your heart, hindering its normal rhythm.

As inconceivable as it may be, you could feel it; the Dreaming was suffering. It seemed as though it was actually crying.

As the earthquake subsided, you stood up and observed the house, which appeared impeccably untouched from your vantage point.

The urge to approach and inspect it was compelling. Yet, before you could take another step, a familiar voice halted you.

"I wouldn't go there if I were you.”

The deer from your previous dreams suddenly arrived at your side, as majestic and beautiful as ever, tracing your line of sight.

You smiled. "It's you again. How do you always manage to find me?”

"You're dreaming, Y/N. Does my presence bother you?”

Your eyes softened. "No, that's not what I was implying.”

"Good. Because right now, you might truly need my assistance.”

In all your encounters with the Dreaming, you had never met this articulate creature before. Could it be possible that Morpheus had purposefully dispatched it to you, to offer guidance in his absence during that particularly trying period?

"Why do you suggest I shouldn't approach that house? This is my dream, after all.”

The deer regarded you with what could be interpreted as a raised eyebrow. "Uhh… actually, it's not.”

“What…?”

He sighed. "That is the house that Lyta Hall's husband created, for the two of them.”

You blinked in confusion. "Wait, Lyta? Rose's friend?”

The deer nodded.

"But, if this is her dream, how have I ended up here?”

"The Vortex has diminished the barriers between dreams. Consequently, you can access regions of the Dreaming that would typically remain hidden from you.”

You narrowed your eyes, attempting to discern any presence within the house. From what you could observe, it was completely vacant.

"I presume she's awake now.”

"She is, as Lord Morpheus has taken measures to ensure her return to this place would not occur. Or at least, not to this house with that cheating ghost.”

You scratched your forehead. "Wait a minute. What is this all about? A ghost? Why is she prohibited from dreaming this?”

"Right, I should clarify.”

“Please do.”

“As you already know, when mortals die, they are escorted to the Sunless Lands. However, in this instance, Mr. Hall became ensnared in the Dreaming due to the influence of the Vortex.”

You listened intently, trying to assemble all the information together. "So, Lyta's husband didn't fully pass away, but rather remained in this realm?”

“Correct. The Vortex has empowered him to locate his wife, and as a result, to conceive a child with her.”

Your eyes widened in astonishment. "A child?! You mean… her dream actually made her pregnant?”

"Yes. That's why this place is currently in peril.”

Then it dawned on you. The fact that Lyta had been claiming to feel ill, even declining to open the door for others to see her.

"Is that possible?”

"It is not a common occurrence and typically involves special circumstances or intervention by powerful beings. So now, the child this woman carries? It's certainly not going to be an ordinary mortal.”

Your head was spinning, but whether it was due to your confusion or the dream's haziness, you couldn't really tell. "Because it was conceived within the Dreaming.”

"Yes. It will forever be tied to this place, regardless of her feelings on the matter.”

You positioned your hands on your hips, peering at the structure. "What about her husband?”

The deer stirred, ambling ahead of you. "Gone. Permanently. Lord Morpheus saw to it.”

The tragedy of such a situation could only be imagined - reuniting with a loved one in your dreams, only to endure the pain of their loss once again.

"Y/N, I know what you’re thinking. Trust me when I say that he really didn't have a choice. Lyta Hall was forsaking her life in the Waking World, believing she could reside here forever, with a man who was supposed to be gone a long time ago.”

You looked into the animal's glassy, dark eyes.

"Do you see the damage they've inflicted? The Dreaming is not a sanctuary for the dead to hide, nor a haven for mortals to escape their grief.”

You squatted down, bringing your face level with his. Your fingers tenderly cupped the deer’s face, caressing his short fur down his neck. "If you think that I'll harbor resentment towards Morpheus because of this, then don't.”

“You… you won’t…?”

"I don't question his actions or motives, because I understand. this place has been literally split in half, and my own Dream Land has completely vanished. If that is the fate all mortals will have to confront, if we must all lose our dreams due to the Vortex, then.... can I truly blame him for doing what was necessary?”

The deer stayed silent, assessing your expression and gently cocking his head to one side. It was quite amusing to see.

"…Oh.”

You gave his nose a light, affectionate tap. "I genuinely feel sorry for Lyta, don’t get me wrong. But even I understand that the notion of spending the rest of our lives in dreams is irrational.”

"I see why he is so fond of you," the deer stated. "You are certainly unique.”

You were on the verge of expressing your gratitude, but as soon as you parted your lips, another earthquake rippled through the Dreaming, broadening the chasm and sending you sprawling once more.

The roar was genuinely horrifying, sounding as if the entire realm was teetering on the edge of annihilation. Thankfully, calm was reinstated almost immediatly, and as you righted yourself, your heart hammered so violently you could sense it in your throat.

“Seems like these tremors will continue for a little while longer.”

"Morpheus....”

"He's fine. Well, as fine as one can be in a situation like this.”

"I need to see him. Where is he?”

The deer executed a gesture that any human would interpret as a shrug. "In the castle, of course. Attending to... well, matters.”

"How do I even get to the palace from here?"

"You're dreaming, remember? You can go anywhere you want.”

You examined your surroundings, studying the area from top to bottom, but despite your best efforts, you came to the realization that your skills were not as finely tuned as you had previously believed.

"Uhhh....”

He rolled his eyes. "Ugh. Why do I have to do everything around here?”

The deer retreated, assuming what resembled a hostile stance, positioning his antlers in a way that was far from comforting.

"Wait, what are you-”

He charged forward, and as you raised your hands in an attempt to halt him, panicking at the thought of being struck, he collided directly with your form.

The impact propelled you backward, and the scenery around you transformed entirely, substituted by the opulent castle bathed in the glow of candlelight, the soft blaze of torches, and the colorful stained glass windows. You let out a sigh of relief, examining yourself, but found no signs of injury or pain.

"Well, I suppose that worked," you muttered to yourself. "Though, a warning would have been appreciated.”

Leaving your current spot to weave your way through the maze of library shelves, you spotted numerous volumes scattered on the floor, and some of the windows displaying prominent cracks. Everything appeared as if it had been hit by a tornado, and as you advanced, you frequently had to scramble over shattered wooden fragments and debris.

You scrutinized every corner, hearing Lucienne's voice echoing from afar. But then you caught sight of the towering figure of the King of Dreams, of Lord Morpheus, of your wonderful, extraordinary boyfriend, diligently collecting some of the fallen items. He restored them to their rightful places, moving with the attitude of someone feeling overwhelmed by their task. You noted it in his lethargic movements, in his sluggish steps, and in the taut muscles of his neck.

And it totally devastated you. Observing him in such a condition - so solitary, so melancholic, after all that he had suffered and accomplished to return his castle to its former glory - provoked an urge to cry and yell with all your might.

Because it wasn't fair.

And so, you stepped out from the shadows, reaching out your arms and calling his name. “Morpheus!”

He scarcely had time to pivot before you collided with him, wrapping his shoulders in a firm hug while suppressing the tears that threatened to dampen his coat.

"My love," he murmured gently, his voice vibrating in his chest.

You drew back just enough to claim a kiss from him, one laden with desperation and longing. His hands found your back, humming in surprise against your lips, but slowly returning your gesture.

You loved him. You loved him far too much. At times, the depth of your feelings terrified you, but you couldn't envision a life devoid of them.

And you detested knowing he was in danger, feeling utterly powerless to assist him.

Upon breaking away from him, you instantly searched for his eyes. “Are you okay?”

His eyebrows knitted together. "I am.”

"I've seen so much destruction around here, I... I was concerned.”

He gazed at you tenderly, trailing his cool fingertips along the nape of your neck. "Your intuition was well founded, my love. I required Rose to guide me to my subjects, but in doing so, I failed to recognize there was something else. Something the Vortex had created.”

"Yes, I've been informed," you reassured him. "I know what happened with Lyta and her husband. And once again, allow me to stress that you couldn't have handled the situation any differently.”

He was momentarily at a loss for words, yet concurrently, the faint smile that emerged on his lips suggested that he anticipated that and much more from you.

"I only have one question.”

He nodded his head. “Go on.”

"What will become of their baby?”

His eyes darkened, and he grappled with finding the words to articulate the complex answer he needed to deliver.

"The child is bound to this realm," he explained as straightforwardly as he could. "It belongs here.”

You mulled over it, absorbing his words. "So, does that imply she can't keep the child?”

“She can, for now.”

She hadn't just lost her husband twice, but now even her baby, the only vestige of him and their love, was something she couldn't assert as entirely hers. How cruel could fate be?

"This is so messed up," you voiced. "Why is everyone suffering? Rose, Lyta, you?”

“Y/N…”

"I understand that no one is to blame. But believe me when I say that I wish someone was. So I could... I don't know, vent my frustration at them. At something.”

Seeing your indignation on his behalf, and for those humans you barely knew, yet still cherished and respected, caused Morpheus to let out a soft snicker through his nose.

But it was fleeting. Because when you turned, collecting a few books from the floor, he heard your sniffles and the expulsion of a shaky breath.

"My love.”

"Let me help you. Since I'm already here, it's the least I could do.”

You gathered a substantial stack, heavy, but barely acknowledging the weight, and positioned it on a nearby table cluttered with various volumes and scattered papers.

"Y/N, listen to me.”

"Where do these ones go?”

You sensed the rustling of his coat as he moved, positioning himself right behind you, his chest against your back. His hands slid along your arms, descending to your wrists, and finally to your palms.

"Leave them," he murmured in your ear. "Tell me what's troubling you.”

Your fingers slackened their hold on the books, falling weakly as Morpheus took them into his possession. You leaned into him, savoring the feeling of the side of his face touching yours.

"I just... I can't bear it. Rose has been searching for her brother for so many years, lost her mother not long ago, and now that she's finally found him, her own life hangs in the balance because of her Vortex abilities.”

He breathed in and out at a soothing pace, not daring to interrupt you.

"Those same abilities that are tearing this place apart. That enabled Lyta to find her lost love, conceive a child, only to relinquish everything. Right after you labored so relentlessly to fix this place, to give back our dreams to us humans.”

Dreams that were now disintegrating once more.

"I'm sorry. I realize I'm not being very helpful.”

His hold on you weakened, but only to enable you to swivel in his arms, so that he could gaze at you.

"No, my love. Your compassion is the most notable quality that I have always admired in you.”

"Really…? Doesn't that render me weak?”

"Y/N, you are the exact antithesis of weak.”

His thumb tenderly stroked your cheekbone, and your smile finally resurfaced. Old habits die hard, and at times, being overly self-critical was something you couldn't evade.

However, the actuality of the situation couldn't be altered.

"Morpheus, the beach has been entirely erased.”

His expression changed, twisting into one of shock, anger, and disappointment. “Is it gone?”

“You didn’t know?”

His tone became grave, dropping lower. “I do now.”

It was fascinating to see how he shifted from being the one offering solace to the one requiring it. Even though that plot of land held more significance to you than it did to him, he comprehended your attachment to it, as it mirrored a segment of your subconscious. Beyond that, it was the spot where the two of you had finally connected outside of that dreadful glass prison for the first time, a critical experience that shaped your unbreakable bond.

You gently caught a few strands of hair that were falling on his forehead between your fingers, tenderly sweeping them aside, before caressing his face with your knuckles. "What are you going to do?”

"I promise to return it to you," he assured.

"Morpheus, as much as I’d love that, your primary responsibility now is to look after yourself and your realm," you expressed earnestly.

"Your dream is a component of my realm."

"Yes, but it's not an immediate necessity. After all, my greatest concern is you," you clarified. "Once everything settles down, regardless of how it ends, we can consider it. Right now, being here in the Dreaming, with you, is all that truly matters to me."

He was about to speak, but before he could articulate a response, another tremor sent the entire castle into a state of vibrations and shakes. Morpheus instinctively wrapped you in his arms, holding you securely against his body in a protective stance. You nestled into him, your hands tightly clutching the back of his coat.

Additional debris rained down from the ceiling, causing more books to crash onto the floor. The unsettling sound of cracking glass and shelves being torn from their spots filled the air.

You held your breath, anticipating the end of the earthquake. Once it finally ceased, it took a moment for you to disengage from Morpheus' hold.

"Why is this continuing?" you questioned. "Wasn’t Lyta’s dream causing it?”

"These are merely the aftershocks. They will eventually subside.”

Now, more than ever, you were profoundly aware of the delicate and fragile balance that the universe precariously upheld. Constructing things in alignment with it demanded colossal effort, yet it was remarkably easy for humans to disrupt it, whether intentionally or unintentionally.

And now that you were contemplating and discussing the creation of things, another, distinct question began to take shape in your mind.

"Morpheus, do you have any knowledge about a certain chatterbox deer? Or is it simply a figment of my imagination?”

A hint of a smile played at the corner of his lips. “It is not. I crafted it for you.”

“For me…?”

"To serve as your guide during times when I cannot stand beside you.”

Your assumption wasn't that far off in the end. His gestures never ceased to amaze you.

“You gifted me a familiar?”

"Do you not wish to keep it?"

"Are you kidding?” You blurted out with a radiant smile. “I love it already!”

"In that case, perhaps you would like to give it a name.”

Among all the gifts you had ever received, a talking deer was certainly the last thing you would have expected. It was magical, spiritual, and incredibly fulfilling.

Another reason to treasure the Dreaming, with all of its contained wonders.

“Can I?”

"It is yours, after all.”

You looped your arms around his neck, reclining against the table. "Then, how about another kiss as a form of compensation?”

There was no need for you to reiterate, because Morpheus was already bringing his lips to yours. As you kissed again, you infused all your love into it, discharging the pent-up frustration and fear you had harbored for three days. Your heart pounded in your chest as his touch sparked the customary fire in you, his lips dancing with yours in a rhythm that pulsed with passion and yearning. His hands naturally found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as if seeking to merge your bodies into one. The sheer intensity of the moment was overpowering, leaving you with no option but to surrender to the tumult of emotions coursing through your veins.

He craved that connection just as deeply as you did.

The world around you blurred into insignificance as you lost yourself in the depth of his eyes, feeling a sense of belonging previously unknown to you. His touch, his taste, his scent, everything about him was intoxicating, pulling you into a world where only the two of you existed.

Although it was a dream, it was undeniably one of the most vivid you'd ever received.

Until it was all over and you returned to your own reality.

The bus jostled on the road, its wheels bouncing, abruptly wrenching you away from the Lord of dreams. Your eyes snapped open, feeling dry, and you had to shake your head a few times to completely emerge from the drowsiness.

You could still savor him on your lips, his fragrance seemed to cling to you, making it feel as though he was still nearby.

A quick glance around revealed that most of the passengers had left, the vehicle gradually emptying with each stop it made. You sighed, gazing out the window once more, aware of a dull ache in your backside from the slightly uncomfortable seat.

The drive to the hotel in Georgia took another forty minutes. Only four individuals remained onboard - three men and a woman, all possessing an uncanny vibe that you couldn't exactly define.

With your shoulder bag securely in place, you disembarked the bus, noticing the descending sun outside. The hotel was situated at the far end of the road, and in just over ten minutes, you stood before its grand entrance.

Upon arrival, you saw the large sign, "Royal Empire Hotel", followed by a sizeable banner proclaiming "Welcome! Cereal Convention". Hal had mentioned some event taking place, but you never anticipated it to be a convention about that.

Given Jed's tender age, it made sense that whoever found him opted to take him there. While it didn't entirely justify the need to traverse such a considerable distance, it offered a plausible explanation for bringing him to Georgia.

Still, there was an underlying sense of disquiet, a feeling of something being tremendously off, which had had brought you to that same place.

And naturally, you should have anticipated that things wouldn't get any simpler. The moment you stepped into the hotel, you discovered that only convention attendees were granted access inside. Worse still, without a specific invitation, you couldn't even pay and check-in. Those stringent rules seemed oddly excessive for what was supposed to be a convention aimed at youngsters.

But as you delved deeper into observing the main hall, you noticed with a start that there were no children in sight. It was solely populated by adults dressed impeccably in elegant suits, save for a handful of people who preferred a more relaxed, everyday attire.

Deep regret washed over you for not securing Rose's phone number earlier. Had you possessed it, arranging a meeting outside the hotel would have been a simple task. As things stood, your only course of action was to linger hopefully at the entrance, straining your eyes to identify either her or Gilbert amid the attendees.

But really, what was the purpose of your presence if all you could do was to stand idle, only to depart without achieving anything?

No, your journey couldn't be in vain. Moreover, there was something unsettlingly sinister about that hotel, something that stirred your curiosity and convinced you to investigate. You knew it was foolhardy on your part, but the more you tried to rationalize it in your head, the stronger your intuition urged you to act.

For that reason, you probably made the most unwise decision of your life.

A woman paused before the reception desk, smoothing out her jacket as she chatted with a friend about topics that could effortlessly be construed as a TV show plot. Nevertheless, their efforts to obscure specific words while emphasizing others did not slip past your keen observation.

As she walked away, her badge detached from her jacket and dropped to the floor, going completely unnoticed. You stared at it for a solid minute, and with no one else around, you took advantage of the prevailing silence and distraction. You stooped down, masquerading the act as an adjustment to your boot, ensuring to adequately conceal the badge. Then, you casually grabbed it and slid it into your sleeve, rising back up and turning around while discreetly attaching it to your shirt.

You strolled past the momentarily unattended check-in table to make your way into the corridor, capitalizing on the perfect moment as the receptionist appeared engrossed, her gaze firmly attached to the monitor before her.

It might have been a thrilling adventure, had you known the complexity of the situation you were immersing yourself in.

You wandered aimlessly for half an hour, attempting to blend in. The conversations you unintentionally overheard served as further evidence that the event drastically differed from its advertisement. Initially, you tried to reassure yourself that the attendees were merely discussing fictitious plots, but the moment someone vividly described the disfigurement of their victim, any residual doubt evaporated.

The realization was slowly setting in that you might have inadvertently stumbled into a congregation of serial killers, confirming your earlier suspicions. The so-called 'cereal' convention was actually a cleverly disguised ruse. Cereal = Serial. It was anything but amusing.

Although you theoretically possessed some form of protection, it did little to alleviate your anxiety. Matters turned grimmer when a man in his forties approached you at the bar, trying to pique your interest by boasting about his gruesome murder cases in a misguided bid at flirting.

When he noticed the name on your badge, "The Midnight Sculptor," he naturally inquired about its significance and your particular expertise. Using all your improvisational skills, you spun a tale of being a woman who relished hunting men in the darkness and using their bodies as personal home decorations. The very thought of it made you want to retch on the spot, but somehow, you managed to keep your composure, which seemed to intrigue him to a certain extent.

Extricating yourself from that situation necessitated some cleverness and further fabrications, but eventually, the man permitted you to leave without any form of insistence.

Despite your thorough exploration, there was no sign of Rose and the others in the hotel. There was only one section you had not examined - the upper floor with all the reserved rooms. It was just a conjecture, but perhaps, after such a long journey, they had chosen to book one for themselves to recuperate and continue their travel back to Cape Kennedy the following day.

Regrettably, pinpointing the right rooms among the numerous ones wasn't going to be a straightforward endeavor. You couldn't seek assistance at the reception due to the pilfered ID and the potential risk of being caught at the check-in counter. This left you with no choice but to depend on chance and hope to bump into them accidentally.

You ascended the stairs at a lethargic pace, briefly contemplating the idea of turning back and heading home. What did you even expect to find there, besides the risks associated with such a large assembly of murderers?

Furthermore, you didn't have much time to spare considering there was only one bus available for you to catch for the day.

You paced back and forth, scrutinizing the various doors, looking for any hint that Rose or Gilbert might be there. But you were at a dead end, unable to conjure up a viable solution.

Just when you were about to surrender, ready to throw in the towel and abandon that dreadful place for good, a voice you recognized came straight from the main corridor.

And it made your blood turn icy, caused your knees to buckle, and your heart to pound erratically.

“Uh, how did it go with Philip Sitz?”

Just then, in that distinct hotel, you caught sight of none other than the Corinthian himself.

“It went well,” a woman responded. "You were missed.”

You remained a few steps back, being careful not to attract attention, as hidden as possible from their eyes.

“Did you find the boy?” She asked.

“I did. We talked.”

The boy...? Why did that evoke a sense of connection with Jed Walker…?

“He saw some grown-up things downstairs that he didn’t understand, but I explained it to him.”

Your heart continued thumping so hard that it almost left you winded.

“He won’t be a problem?”

“Nothing I can’t handle. I’ll see you downstairs.”

You heard the sound of footsteps and a door opening, only for him to just disappear behind it as the woman left. You could hear him conversing with someone inside the room, but from your location, his voice was barely audible and muffled.

You stood frozen, attentive, meticulously listening. When the door opened and closed once more, your hands clenched into fists at your sides.

Morpheus had directed you to alert him if there were any further incidents. You knew you had to do it, to call him. The timing couldn't have been more perfect, with the woman disappearing for whatever function they had planned on the ground floor, and the Corinthian walking past you with his disconcerting demeanor. He was solitary, with no other people around.

However, something caused you to halt in your tracks.

You were at a safe distance, he hadn't even noticed you. There was no need for you to add fuel to the fire. So why, oh why couldn't you just stay put? Why did you let your fury get the better of you, practically propelling you in his direction?

You couldn't pinpoint the answer, and in that moment, you didn't even care. All you were focused on was stopping him before he could vanish, go down the stairs, and get swarmed by those maniacs.

You closed in on him, quickening your steps until you were within arm's reach. Mustering all the strength you could, you grabbed his wrist and flung him against the wall. The impact drew a soft grunt from him, but you knew that was insignificant for a Nightmare of his caliber.

Subconsciously, you even persuaded yourself that he was merely acting, fully aware of your presence all along.

Nevertheless, you had him right where you wanted, gripping his collar and glaring at his face like a provoked animal. Except, the real monster was the one standing right in front of you.

The Corinthian's lips curled into a smirk, a laugh rumbling from his chest. He looked down at you with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. "Fancy meeting you again, ’Midnight Sculptor’,” he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery as he read the name printed on your badge.

"What have you done to Rose and her brother? Where are they?" you demanded, your voice steady despite the chaos in your mind.

The Corinthian tilted his head, the evil grin never leaving his face. "Why so concerned? They were never your responsibility.”

Your eyes blazed with fury. "Tell me where they are, or I swear I'll—”

"You'll what?" he interrupted, leaning closer, his breath hot against your ear. "You think you can stop me?" He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "I must say, I do appreciate your spirit.”

you fought to maintain your composure, refusing to back down. "I told you, didn’t I? I won't let you hurt any of them.”

The Corinthian gave a theatrical sigh, ultimately pushing you back with ease. And just a moment later, you were the one cornered against the wall. It occurred so rapidly that you didn't have time to process what he was doing, and contrary to your action, the Nightmare was intentionally exerting pressure, as if aiming to inflict pain.

His lips were now perilously close to yours, his nose inhaling your scent, and his left hand tightly clutching your jaw. "Very well, I'll tell you.”

The pendant had not yet activated, but you could see a subtle glow beginning to emanate from your collarbones.

"They're safe... for now. But if you interfere with my plans, that could change very quickly.”

Your eyes narrowed. "You and I both know that you need Rose to be alive.”

"Perhaps I do. But her brother isn't necessary in the grand scheme.”

You swallowed hard, immobilized, watching as he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket. All the alarm bells in your head rang out as he pulled out a knife, its length and sharpness enough to make your heart stop.

“Rremember this: you're in my world now. Play by my rules, or don't play at all.”

You turned your face to the side, as far as his grip would allow. "I hate to rain on your parade, asshole, but this world will never belong to you. You’re a Nightmare, you should only ever exist in our dreams.”

His grip tightened even more, his smile fading as your sentence evidently struck a nerve. "Bold words for someone so helpless," he hissed, his voice laced with menace.

Summoning every ounce of courage, you locked eyes with him. That is, assuming he actually had them, considering he was donning those thick glasses even indoors. "And yet, here I am, standing up to you.”

"Who’s playing a dangerous game now?" he rectified, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper.

"Better to play than to cower in fear," you rebutted, feeling the pendant's energy coursing through you.

His expression became solemn, but the threatening grin soon returned. You felt the chill of the knife grazing your cheek, its tip lightly pricking the skin just beneath your left eye.

“Oh, it would be such a pleasure to collect these beautiful eyes of yours. To have a taste of your humanity, of all the little secrets they contain.”

You were filled with terror, paralyzed with fear for your life. Yet once again, you couldn't hold your tongue. “Then I'm sure you're in for a severe case of indigestion.”

You wrapped your fingers around his wrist, attempting to extricate yourself from the makeshift cage he had formed with his body. He was as sturdy and strong as the wall pressing into your back, and as you continued to struggle, the Moonstone's glow intensified. The Corinthian didn't move, but you could see his skin suddenly darkening, with markings akin to decaying veins appearing on his hand and extending to his neck.

He did his best to resist, but with Morpheus' power emanating from the Dreamstone, the Corinthian had no choice but to release you, retreating a significant step back, panting, as he rapidly returned to his normal hue.

Oh, the sense of gratification was tremendous. The victorious smile you bestowed upon him was beyond description.

The annoyance was visible on his face, but it didn't last. Shortly after, he put the knife away, smiling at you with a mysterious air. "Yeah, such a great pleasure.”

That was a promise, a pledge for something he was eager to resume at a later date.

He was anticipating the defeat of Morpheus, the total eradication of his essence. Not even the smallest trace of him in your pendant was meant to be spared.

The light from the Moonstone began to dim, and the crystal reverted to its original white color and natural shimmer.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a crowd waiting for my speech.”

You gritted your teeth. "Savor it while it lasts.”

Your retort only amplified his amusement, and as he walked off, you knew that was far from over.

What would have transpired had you not had the Dreamstone with you? Would he have gouged your eyes out, as he had implied? Upon reflection, you recalled reading in the news about a specific killer who liked extracting the eyes of their victims. You never really enjoyed dwelling on such articles for too long, as you didn't want to saturate your mind with horrifying images and spark paranoia every time you left your house.

But now, speculation was inevitable as to whether he was the one perpetrating those atrocious deeds. Given the duration he had spent in your world, it was a distinct possibility.

At least for the moment, you were granted a temporary respite, coupled with a rekindled determination to locate Rose, Jed, and also Gilbert. Pursuing him would be futile, as you alone would not be able to obtain anything useful from him or the psychopaths downstairs.

With any luck, the Corinthian's reign of terror would soon come to an end. There was no need for you to persistently challenge your security measures and gamble with your well-being.

You let out a sigh and instinctively touched your face to check for any visible damage, While there was none, the throbbing in your jaw was a stark reminder of the Nightmare's force.

Before you could pry yourself from the wall, a thunderous voice echoed in the corridor. It was bleak, gloomy, and positively disconcerting. The instant it addressed you, you knew you were in for a stern reprimend.

"Y/N.”

You saw the Endless standing a few steps away, clad in his usual modern, black, short coat - his preferred attire for the Waking World. His eyes were deep, as sharp as the Corinthian's dagger. He was clearly angry, unmistakably so, with his irritation perceivable in the air.

But in that instance, you dared say it was entirely warranted, seeing as you had indeed gone and done it.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 20 ->

[zeroducks-2]

Hey what do you think of rarepair Brubarry (Batman x Flash)? Too wholesome? Both bottoms? Might actually work if they can find a stud?

hahaha dude I love how you phrased this. To be fair, I tend to see everybody and their cousins as switches (or anyway if they're top/bottom/dom/sub/all of the above changes according to the ship and the situation), mostly because I don't like to limit myself by picturing them just one way that is Set In Stone.

I admit that with some of them it's harder. Like I appreciate bottom!Slade content but I don't think I'd be able to write him bottoming, for example. But with Bruce it comes kind of natural - whereas I see him bottoming with a lot of people I ship him with (Clark, Bane, Jason sometimes, Diana, Slade), I also imagine him topping with a lot of people I ship him with (Dick, Tim, Eddie, Joker, Hal sometimes). But I digress!

The answer is yes, even if it's too wholesome and they might need a stud at times to spice up things,

I ship it! (lowkey though)

What made you ship it? I mentioned that I ship Bruce with half of his rogue gallery, right? Well, I also ship him with half of the Justice League :) Also I'm a sucker for rarepairs.

What are your favorite things about the ship? Actually, how cute and wholesome it can get (I do like wholesome shit lol I appreciate both the extremes depending on how I wake up on any given day). I think Barry might be good for Bruce especially when he's written like a bubbly ray of sunshine, but also a reckless bouncy ball of energy. With how protective Bruce can get, cute shenanigans are bound to happen. I don't really see them as long-term or very romantic, more like a consensual workplace relationship lmao, something bound to pass at some point. But this doesn't mean they can't keep meeting to blow off some steam (saving the world can be stressing yk), especially if some other leaguers are involved.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship? I have no idea what would even classify as a popular opinion for this ship tbh

Ask game found here!

[rainypixarcinemahorse]

Angrybirds x fairy tail resemblance

Here is my crossover and resemblance of fairy tail and angrybirds

Red-Natsu

Stella-Lucy

Luca-Happy

Gray-Bomb

Erza-Gale

Wendy-The blues

Carla-ruby

Juvia-Matilda

Gildarts-Terrence

Cana-Dahlia

Levy-Willow

Silver-Gajeel

Judge peckinah-Makarov dreyar

Mirajane- Poppy

Sting-chuck

Lector-Bubbles

Minerva-Zeta

Frosch-Zoey

Rogue-Hal

And that's it let met know if you have any ideas for more characters resembling to angrybirds

[tired-inyxe]

WIP - Batfam/Dc Tag Masterlist

This is ridiculously long so m putting it under cut, m gonna add more (YES MORE. THERES A LOTTA CHARACTERS OK???) tags when I feel like it but I wanna finalize my main master post later

#bat anatomy -batfam masterpost (and everything else dc)

#going batty -batfam analysis (typically angry)

#mailing pipe bombs -enraged at dc's writers

#honey im taking the kids -stuff about dc's poor treatment of the batkids (they're mine now fuck u)

#the bat -abt batman in all its forms (persona not a specific character)

#the bird -abt robin in all its forms (ditto)

#the shadows -abt every other persona in all their forms(because normal ppl dont know em)

#bernards pegboard -crack headcanons

#sandbox -headcanons

#my story now -my personal batfam timeline/story (because dc sucks at writing

#shoved in mahogany 6 feet under -wasted potential of any/all characters

#revived wings -my view of a bat characters true potential

#case files -panels/pages that I use for evidence abt canon

#bamboozled -fun canon comic panels that make me laugh

#goth cake -batfam art

#dysfunctional worms -batfam writing

#cave screeches -rambles, usually angry

#bats and birds -any and all posts that contain any of em

#batcape -anything Bruce

#disco girl -anything Dick

#pride and prejudice -anything Jason

#skateboards and spite -anything Tim

#kittens and knives -anything Damian

#dayshift -anything Duke

#potato waffles -anything Steph

#ballet shoes -anything Cass

#spot of tea -anything Alfred

#all seeing snark -anything Babs

#handmade guns and gender envy -anything Harper

#jaded red -anything Kate

#lack the worms dc edition -any character i dont know/care about enough to make a custom tag for (m sorry)

#revolving door -Rogues gallery

#REFORM THE DAMN JUSTICE SYSTEM YOU BILLIONAIRE -me complaining about dc's inability to make Bruce use his fuckin money and power to change the city, also any arkham/blackgate rants

#i stabbed him hes dead -anything joker

#bats and hounds -anything Harley

#eco friendly -anything Ivy

#shot him he's dead too -anything Black Mask

#strawman argument -anything Scarecrow

#your wife is dead -anything Mr Freeze (sorry not sorry)

#bipolar ableism but gay -anything Harvey

#scared of seals -anything Penguin

#neon green twink -anything Riddler

#broke b's spine -anything Bane

#leather catgirl -anything Selina

#back in the cell -every other rogue I don't care about

#god forbid a woman have hobbies -anything Thalia

#withering gamer -anything Ra's

#magic mountain dew -Lazarus pit

#assassin gamers -League of Assasins

#competent idiots -Justice League

#its just an s -anything Clark

#unbreakable porcelain -anything Diana

#retired at the speed of light -anything Barry

#zooming with the big leagues now -anything Wally

#h in adhd -anything the Flash persona

#neon green with a ring -anything Hal

#weak to yellow -anything Green lantern persona

#blowing bubbles -anything Arthur

#he stole the braincell -anything Jhon (theres an accent mark somewhere in there ill fix it later)

#batson but not yet adopted -anything Billy

#cigarette ash -anything Constantine

#fics favorite magician -anything Zatanna

#hijacked the mainframe -anything Cyborg

#signature chili -anything Ollie

#screech metal -anything Black Canary

#under the roundtable -everyone else in the Justice League

#every band eventually -og Teen Titans (they broke up)

#saltwater bubble blower -anything Garth

#tectonic shifter -anything Terra

#red threads and all -anything Red X

#i exploded him yw -anything Slade

#stronger than steel -anything Donna (might change)

#shapeshifting greenbean -anything Gar

#goth girls inspiration -anything Raven

#international incidents the team -Young Justice

#test tube baby -Anything Kon

#meep meep -anything Bart

#girlbossed zeus -anything Cassie

#rags to the grave -anything Greta

#arrows notched red -anything Cissie

#mosh pit winner -anything Anita

#panic at the disco -anything Slobo

again, theres still more. dc is an 80 year long series theres so many guys. also not sold on some of these so various tags may be subject to change

[dreadfutures]

10. What scares them about entering a relationship? For Hal x Mor 🥺

In the most general way, Hal was never afraid of a relationship. Someday it would happen, and he would have a child, and he would teach them to hunt and sing songs and tell them stories. Hal was taking life at an easy pace and was unafraid of the passage of time or milestones or what might come.

Hal is afraid of Morrigan from the get go. He is afraid of her scorn. He is afraid of slipping up and revealing some weakness to her and earning her mockery, when she is the only kindred spirit he has anymore. Separated from his clan and his way of life and the hope of ever having a normal life, and given this strange destiny instead, and being thrust into the world of the shems--she is so important to him as a companion and he is so afraid of losing this one person who understands how strange the world is to him.

Entering into a relationship is almost accidental. He was just playing her game, speaking her language, hiding behind a sarcastic facade, when suddenly he realizes maybe they've been flirting this whole time? And he thinks backing away will be a show of weakness but also he doesn't want to back away, but also she makes it so clear that if he insinuates he wants this for any reason beyond the superficial, he's a fool and she'll scorn him.

Hal is afraid of these unspoken rules, the changing goal posts, and of losing his one tether to his reality outside of this shem bubble.

And the goal posts change. And she does leave. And Hal is alone after all.

Like he was always afraid of.

[look-at-the-starssss]

Hal and Bubbles,, again<3333

Here's the OG sketch!! Ehehehehh they're cute together I think,,,

[thehyperrequiem]

The Angry Robots movie Duology (Angry Birds Movie Parody) cast

The Angry Robots Movie 1: "When an island populated by happy, robots is visited by mysterious techno-organics, it's up to three unlikely outcasts - Ratchet, Aviator and Fireman - to figure out what the techno-organics are up to."

The Angry Robots Movie 2: "After saving Robot Island from an all-out techno-organic invasion, the isle's always cranky local hero, Ratchet, still finds himself doing battle with Predacon Island. As the prank war between techno-organics and robots is raging, massive plant projectiles coming from the Scarlet Witchcraft tyrant Spike Rosered's overgrown Maverick Island threaten the security of both havens, unless Ratchet and Cyborg Cookie agree to form a difficult but honest truce. Now, Ratchet, Fireman, Blast Hornet, Aviator, and his brilliant sister, Arcee, have to join forces with Cyborg Cookie's mighty techno-organic team to thwart the megalomaniac Spike Rosered's bold schemes for world domination. However, is Ratchet capable of change?"

Ratchet (Transformers Animated) as Red

Aviator (Mighty No. 9) as Chuck

Fireman (Megaman 1) as Bomb

Blast Hornet (Megaman X3) as Mighty Eagle

Cyborg Cookie (Cookie Run) as King Leonard

Waspinator (Beast Wars) as Ross

Aquaman (Megaman 8) as Matilda

Neptune (Megaman V) as Terence

Splashwoman (Megaman 9) as Stella

Knightman (Megaman 6) as Judge Peckinpah

Bubbleman (Megaman 2) as Cyrus

Scrapper (Transformers animated) as Hal

Mixmaster (Transformers animated) as Bubbles

Sheepman (Megaman 10) as Old Lady Bird

Clownman (Megaman 8) as Mime Bird

Various Robots as Various Birds

Woodman (Megaman 2) as the Hug Trader

Predacons (Beast Wars) as The Pigs

Quickstrike (Beast Wars) as Earl

Wheelie (Transformers), Kikmee and Burgertron (Transformers Botbots) as Jay, Jake, and Jim

Arcee (Transformers Animated) as Silver

Spike Rosered (Megaman X5) as Zeta

Lilybell Cookie (Cookie Run) as Debbie

Blackarachnia (Transformers Animated) as Courtney

Dinobot (Beast Wars) as Garry

Flame Stag (Megaman X2) and Blaze Heatnix (Megaman X6) as Jerry and Carl

Infinity Mijinion (Megaman X6) as Glenn

Overdrive Ostrich (Megaman X2) as Axel

Cryosphere (Mighty No. 9), Ion Cookie Robot (Cookie Run), and Iceman (Megaman 1) as The Hatchlings

Strongarm (Transformers Robots in Disguise) as Pinky

Windblade (Transformers Cyberverse) as Ella

Mavericks (Megaman X series) as Eagles

[lemonandomurice]

sweets

—DRAMAtical Murder fanfiction; Trip x Seragaki Aoba —Written in Bahasa Indonesia —Alternate Reality; if Virus and Trip weren’t Morphine’s leaders, might be OOC tho —DRAMAtical Murder © Nitro+Chiral. Fanfiksi ini ditulis hanya demi menambah asupan ToriAo kapal karam problematik kesayangan ini. Saya tidak bermaksud untuk mengambil keuntungan materiil apapun.

Terkadang Aoba mempertanyakan obsesi Trip terhadap makanan manis, serta seberapa besar kapasitas perutnya itu.

Badan Trip besar dan mungkin saja ia memiliki perut karet.

Trip suka cake, lolipop, crepe, es krim—intinya makanan manis atau dessert. Setiap kali mereka—Aoba dan Trip—menghabiskan waktu di kafe, Trip selalu memesan cake dan hidangan lainnya dengan jumlah dua kali lipat, sedangkan Aoba hanya memesan sepiring donat dan secangkir teh hangat. Dengan pesanan berikut saja Aoba sudah merasa kenyang, berbeda dengan Trip yang meski sudah makan dua kali, namun terkadang masih tersisa rasa lapar di perutnya.

Aoba takjub dengan Trip dan nafsu makannya yang luar biasa. Aoba penasaran mengapa Trip suka makanan manis. Apa lidahnya tidak mati rasa akibat terus-menerus mencicipi gula dan bahan makanan manis lainnya?

“Trip, kenapa kau suka makanan manis?”

Trip berhenti meneguk bubble tea yang ia pesan, menatap Aoba yang memasang tatapan penuh rasa ingin tahu.

“Hmm… Aoba mau tahu?”

Aoba mengangguk.

“Iya. Apa lidahmu tidak mati rasa setiap hari makanan manis? Nanti gula darahmu bisa naik lho.”

Trip meneguk bubble tea-nya hingga tidak tersisa. Senyuman miring dan usil tersampir di wajahnya.

“Hmm… Aoba khawatir padaku?”

Dengan semburat merah yang menghiasi wajah, Aoba hanya bisa pasrah—mengingat Trip yang memang suka menggodanya sedari dulu.

“Tentu saja! Nafsu makanmu luar biasa hebat dan makanan yang kau pesan setiap hari adalah cake dan makanan manis lainnya. Kalau kau memesan kopi, kau juga menambah terlalu banyak gula. Bisa-bisa nanti kau diabetes!”

Trip terkekeh mendengarnya. Aoba mendecih kesal, ingin menghajar kekeras kepalaan sosok yang duduk di hadapannya ini. Sudah baik hati Aoba memedulikannya, mengingatkannya akan bahaya makanan dan minuman manis dan Trip hanya tersenyum mengejek—lebih tepatnya tersenyum usil.

“Tapi gitu-gitu badanku tetap bagus.”

Terkutuklah Trip dan segala kenarsisannya.

“Ini bukan masalah bagus atau tidaknya bentuk badanmu. Aku hanya ingin kau menjaga kesehatanmu. Karena aku khawatir dengan kebiasaanmu itu…”

Trip tersenyum puas, merasa senang dengan pengakuan Aoba. Tidak sering Aoba jujur dengan perasaannya dan mengekspresikan bentuk rasa khawatirnya. Aoba itu kalau digoda terkadang susah jujurnya, makanya sisi Aoba hari ini sangat jarang.

“Aoba sangat manis kalau lagi khawatir.”

Aoba menatap Trip tajam. Trip tidak menggubrisnya dan mendekatkan wajahnya hingga bibirnya menyentuh bibir milik Aoba. Trip tidak takut dengan ekspresi kesal Aoba—malahan baginya Aoba yang seperti ini terlihat sangat manis dan imut.

Menggunakan kesempatan, Trip merasakan rongga-rongga dan gusi, merasakan seluruh bagian dalam mulut Aoba. Sensasinya menggiurkan dan adiktif, salah satu hal yang Trip suka dari Seragaki Aoba.

Ketika tautan mereka terlepas, Trip menjilat sisa-sisa saliva yang masih bertengger di bibirnya. Ada rasa manis yang masih terkecap.

Trip menyukainya.

“Aoba manis.”

Rona merah kembali menghinggapi kedua pipi Aoba, menjalar sampai ke telinga. Ini benar-benar memalukan; Trip dan segala aksi spontannya itu. Ia hanya bisa menunduk dan diam termangu, tidak sanggup menatap pria itu setelah ia menciumnya. Ah, benar-benar…

Trip menyeringai kecil, tidak menunjukkan rasa bersalah setelah dengan sengaja meraup bibir Aoba dan membuat pemuda itu gugup setengah mati.

“Mungkin kalau aku bisa merasakan bibirmu setiap hari, aku akan berhenti memakan banyak makanan manis, Aoooba.”

finish (Senin, 24 Juli 2017)

[lovedumbs]

FORM EVERY NYAOI

PERHATIKAN BEBERAPA HAL YANG PERLU DIKETAHUI SEBELUM MEMESAN LAYOUT INI ❗❗❗

1. baca lagi dengan cermat tnc yang sudah tertera pada bagian kolom tnc yang sudah diposting

2. katalog ini memerlukan 3-4 gambar dalam pembuatannya.

3. foto half body dianjurkan untuk pemesanan layout ini.

4. untuk replacement text diharap sesuai dengan foto katalog yang tertera (tidak lebih atau tidak kurang)

5. diperbolehkan untuk konsultasi foto sebelum melakukan pemesanan.

(FORM PEMESANAN)

code : every nyaoi

username :

backup acc : (x/telegram)

jumlah pesanan :

payment : QRIS

link google drive :

recolor : yes (+2K) / no

add to result : yes / no

(REPLACEMENT TEXT)

(HEADER)

lorem ipsum dolor sit ame cont- :

jang :

forever young :

bubbly wonyours :

(AVA)

opsional :

[dprhouse]

Spill or Drink

1. Spill nick oc lengkapmu.

2. Ada artinya ga nickmu yg ga seberapa itu?

3. Desc tentang Yogi ganteng.

4. Sebutkan pembukaan UUD 45.

5. Spill pacar/doi/crush

6. Desc xegav.

7. Kenapa lu brengsek di cerita orang lain?

8. Kenapa bisa seyakin itu kalo lu bahagia?

9. Hidup itu pilihan kan(?) Jadi pilih jadi anime atau batu, kasih alasan.

10. Pilih Satoru atau suguru, alasannya apa?

11. Tag anak DPR yang mau lu ajak kenalan.

12. Kalau di dunia sisa 2 orang ini, lu pilih Lucinta luna apa ivan gunawan?

13. Spill mantan lu yang cakep itu.

14. Jumlah mantan di 2023.

15. Cintamu di obok-obok atau di sayang?

16. Spill anak DPR yang mau kmu ajak pacaran 🗿

17. Bila x = 34, y = 88 jadi berapa nomor sempakmu?

18. Ceritakan kisah tentang pilot dan pramugari.

19. Deskripsikan cara memusnahkan pelakor.

20. Ceritakan asal usul pelakor dalam bentuk gambar.

21. Spill fwb/hts kalian.

22. Tag teman yang sering diajak curhat.

23. Tag first love lu di Rp.

24. Tag orang @ 3 dan kirim meme andalanmu.

25. Kalian kenapa jomblo?

26. Kenapa memilih taken?

27. Alasan putus dengan mantan terakhir.

28. Chara ternyaman selama nge-rp.

29. Kapan pertama kali bikin akun rp dan dimana pertama kali nge rp?

30. Dry text tapi cepet balasnya atau balas satu persatu bubble tapi selesainya 3 hari?

31. Hal yang bikin kamu kesal dengan teman?

32. Sebutkan ciri-ciri orang yang gak bisa kamu maafkan.

34. username based on chara or mulchar?

35. first impression dan kesan pesan setelah masuk gdm DPR