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dreadheadmadi · 10 months ago

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- I’M GONNA CLAW THOSE PRETTY LITTLE EYES OUT: Prologue

Pairing: The Prowler (Aaron Davis) x Black Cat Variant! OC

TW: murder, blood, graphic descriptions, cursing, gore, death, strong language

A/N: Please note that all my OCs are Black; of course, this doesn't mean that if you aren't Black, you can't read it. Just please be respectful. If you enjoyed this chapter, let me know by reblogging or just dm me! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! I hope you have a wonderful day or night; bye, angel!

BLACKWOOD MANOR loomed on the outskirts of New York like a gothic monolith, its sprawling grounds shrouded in mist and mystery; its imposing design was a testament to the wealth and power of its enigmatic owner, the elusive billionaire Alexander Blackwood. The grandeur of the mansion enveloped the night like a cloak of decadence, its opulence a stark contrast to the darkness that seeped through its polished corridors.

Usually, the manor would lay dormant and dark, with no sounds or persons going in or out. However, tonight was a special night, a masquerade-themed birthday, of whom it belonged to but none other than Alexander Blackwood's spouse. She was different from her loner husband - a city girl and an active member of New York's rich folk. Such a figure would earn as many friends and connections as possible - and she invited them all. Within the manor's walls, the wealthy elite danced and revealed, their laughter echoing against the marble floors as they indulged in the spoils of their privilege.

Among them, Alexander's favorite niece, Sofia Blackwood, navigated the sea of masked faces, her steps hesitant as she struggled to mask her discomfort beneath a façade of poise and grace. That night, she mustered the courage to ask her uncle to fund her college education, considering that her parents disapproved of her choice of study and promised to cut ties if she pursued it.

The air was heavy with the scent of expensive perfumes and the sickly sweetness of excess, but beneath it, a palpable tension lurked—a sense of impending doom that clung to the shadows like a vengeful specter. As the night wore on and inhibitions faded, Sofia was drawn to a secluded balcony overlooking the sprawling gardens below. She needed a moment to think, to gather herself before locating her uncle. Taking deep breaths, Sofia closed her eyes before looking at the scenery. A small smile appeared as she reminisced about when her uncle would play tag with her in the garden - tiny Sofia would run around the hedges, past the fountain, and up the staircase leading back to the manor as Alexander chased her. As her eyes followed the path, her smile quickly dropped as a cold chill shot through her blood.

There, amidst the ivy-covered trellises and moonlit fountains, she stumbled upon a sight that would forever haunt her nightmares. A figure lay sprawled across the cold stone tiles—a man, his once-immaculate tuxedo now stained with the crimson evidence of his demise. His eyes, wide with terror, stared unseeing into the night while multiple grotesque gashes marred his throat, the blood still warm and viscous against his pallid skin.

Sofia recoiled in horror, bile rising in her throat as she struggled to comprehend the brutality of the scene before her. The metallic tang of blood filled her nostrils, and she fought to suppress the urge to hurl as the reality of the situation washed over her in sickening waves. Instead of vomit coming out of her mouth, a guttural, heart-wrenching shriek replaced it. Multiple footsteps rush towards her before halting abruptly, filling the evening atmosphere with their wails. Around her, the party descended into chaos, the revelry shattered by the specter of death that now loomed over them all. Sofia was grabbed by her mother and father and ushered into an enclosed room where she finally regurgitated her evening meal onto the pristine marble floors.

Guests screamed and fled in panic, their masks slipping in their haste to escape the scene of the carnage unfolding before their eyes. All but one remained rooted to the spot, their gaze fixed on the lifeless form before them. Taking off their mask reveals a Black man with a scowl so deep in hatred that one would have thought he was the one who committed the murder. His dark brown eyes glower down at the body before being covered by the full face mask again. Quickly, he returned to the building, stomping down the velvet-covered stairs and pushing his way to the front of the small crowd around the crime scene.

As the crowd prayed, cried, and cursed the murderer to hell, the man's eyes focused on the wound on his neck. The gashes weren't a nice clean slice as if it were with a standard knife; they were thinner, deeper, and jagged with bits of flesh dangling and sticking out on the sides. No, a knife hadn't done this, but a set of claws-

"It was the Prowler!" a voice declared, "Look at the claw marks! That fucking bastard killed Alex!"

"I heard he's working with Fisk now. That fucking mammoth hated Alexander," another voice added, "He probably put a hit out."

"But on his wife's birthday? At a big event like this when we're all here?" A third chimed in. The second shook his head while pointing to Alexander's dead body.

"You don't know those men like I do; Alex was his number one enemy. When Fisk's family died, he asked Alex to help with some investments on some secret project; the hell if I know what it is. Alex said the fucker went batshit crazy when he lost his wife and was all over the news saying it too. It was supposed to be a wake-up call, but Fisk took that as disrespect and has been an enemy to the Blackwood family ever since. Dropping sponsorships, buying out companies, blocking his political power, I know that son of a bitch got something to do with this!"

The first voice suddenly reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a gun. "Fuck," he spat, "Fuck, fuck! To fucking hell with Fisk! I was THIS close to buying off those fucking votes! All that money gone to shit - where the FUCK is that purple bastard?! I'm putting a bullet through his head and then into Fisk's next!" With the sudden uproar, the first voice stormed back into the manor, which prompted others to do the same, all looking for the Prowler. He was already gone, however - he snuck out of the manor and into the thicket surrounding the manor, climbing onto his motorcycle and speeding off towards Brooklin. As he blares down the road, he tears off his mask again - brown eyes darkened as a single thought runs through his head.

That bitch stole my fucking kill.

Aaron swore to his momma that he’d never hit a girl, but this bitch was asking for it. It wasn’t the first time Black Cat had killed someone on his list; no, it’s been months since their first encounter. But for how long will this keep happening? The year is almost over, and he’s only been responsible for the deaths of four unlucky souls. Four, while she had six. Five of which were stolen right from his grasp. To say he was upset is an understatement. Annoyed? Oh, that’s long gone. Pissed? Maybe two months ago. Enraged? Closer, but not quite.

It’s gotten to the point where his work has become sloppy - disregarding his usual planned and strategic approach for a quicker and easier route just in case she was around. One time he even took a gunshot to his shoulder because of his blatant tunnel vision - Fisk gave him shit for it and benched him for a few weeks to heal before shoving him back into work. Aaron figures he’s going to be hooked on painkillers for a long while.

Speaking of the Kingpin, Aaron wasn’t sure how to explain what happened tonight, hell he doesn’t even know what happened tonight. All he knew was that he had only been at the party for around fifteen to twenty minutes before Sophia’s screams were heard. The party had only been going on for about ten minutes before he arrived, so within that thirty-minute window, Black Cat had arrived at the party, isolated Alexander, and killed him.

Based on his wounds, Aaron deduced that they weren’t deep enough to make a swift and easy kill. As he studied the evidence photos of Alexander after he hacked into the BPD police files, he zoomed in closely on the gashes. While it did look like claw marks, they were uneven and choppy. It wasn’t a clean strike either - it was slanted and angled more vertically than anything. A clear indication of a height difference, Aaron noted.

Alexander was six feet tall exactly; if Black Cat had struggled to get to his neck, she’d be closer to five feet in height, five feet and five inches at max. Aaron paused and wondered if she were wearing heels or platforms that night - it would make sense, considering she’d have to blend into a masquerade-styled party. That would put her shorter than five feet and five inches, the average height for women in Brooklyn. He wrote that down on a notepad and kept examining the photos.

The pieces of flesh that stuck out kept drawing his attention. It looked like the results of his prototype claw gauntlets. They were made of random and uncut metals that weren't accurately measured or maintained. The metal would often be too sharp or dull and get stuck underneath the victim’s skin due to the curvature of the claws. Once he drew back his hand, he would quite literally rip out the area of flesh he had made contact with. While it got the job done, it was a messy and loud kill, prompting him to update his weapon.

It was evident to Aaron that Black Cat’s weapon was similar to his prototype; however, one thing still bothered him - it was a silent kill. The initial contact had been on the side of his neck, still leaving enough airway to scream out for help or in pain. No one heard anything, and according to the witness statements, no one had noticed that Alexander was not present at the party. Aaron frowned at that detail - Alexander Blackwood wasn’t stupid. Someone, be it a guard or even his wife, had to have known he was separating himself from the partygoers. A man who has many enemies wouldn’t dare leave without alerting someone.

Another thing that bothered him was that Alexander wasn’t some snobby old rich guy. Blackwood was a black belt in his youth; he competed in and eventually founded various boxing matches and fight clubs across the United States. He was highly trained in artillery and probably would have been a military commander by now if he wasn’t in control of New York’s corrupt legal system. Simply put, Alexander Blackwood was a force to be reckoned with, just to be cut down by some female in a black leather jumpsuit. It just didn’t make sense.

All of Black Cat’s six kills before Alexander Blackwood had been young men and women of minor importance—quick money, as Aaron called it. The targets Fisk had assigned to the Prowler were gang leaders, drug dealers, and old henchmen whom Fisk no longer needed. This jump from stepping on an ant to straight-up maiming a lion was highly unusual for some uptown thief in a bodysuit. A whole year with little to no gains was starting to get to the mercenary; he needed to get to the bottom of this shit and quickly.

Aaron rubbed his hand across his face and turned towards another monitor, clicking on Google and searching up “Black Cat Brooklin.” He was hoping something new would pop up, but all he found were a few articles and stories he’d already researched.

There was a video that had gone viral a month ago; it was the CCTV footage of a jewelry store that the villainess had broken into. She wore her classic attire, mask, and a white straightened angled bob. Strolling around the store, she opened the displays and bagged all the merchandise, even trying on some and posing in a mirror hanging on the wall. Afterward, she shouldered the duffel bag, blew a kiss at the camera, and left out of the vent system she had used to get into the building. The uproar on memes and parodies of the event were all over Aaron’s feed for days. Women were gushing over her bad bitch aura, creating fan pages, and even going out and buying white wigs, dyes, and bundles just to look like her. And, of course, the men were practically fapping their dicks, saying how she was too delicate to go to prison, how they too would steal some shit in this economy; they were lowkey gassing her up more than the women did.

Aaron didn’t care enough to have an opinion; at that time, she was just some thief. But it’s different now, he thought, she’s more than a thief, she’s a killer. This year was the first year of her dipping her toes into homicide, and from Aaron’s knowledge, she hadn’t even been caught yet. Aaron wondered if those men and women would still support her after it’s exposed that she killed six people in over a year, but he figured they probably still would - the world is fucking crazy nowadays.

Right now at the moment, he was just mindlessly scrolling, clicking on the fan pages and profiles for any information he could gain on her. And then, after refreshing for the tenth time, a new video popped up titled “BLACK CAT HAS A NEW WEAPON (and it reminds me of someone 🤔) | New Look, New Tactics.” Aaron immediately clicked on the video and recognized the person in the commentary as an influencer who was one of the ones who made the robbing video famous by creating a whole trend based on it. The video started with random filler topics, which Aaron graciously skipped through before getting down to the central part of the video.

“Okay, guys, so let’s get to the tea; last night, Black Cat was seen scaling buildings and rooftops downtown with a new look, baby! Let’s look at what Miss Cat got going on for us,” the influencer starts, clicking on a Twitter thread showing a few off-guard pictures and videos of the thief.

“Oh, my God, you guys! Look at that fur, okay, hold on, I’m getting ahead of myself,” she laughed before viewing the first picture and zooming in. “Okay, first thing’s first, that hair, baby! Miss Cat said new hair, new me, and rocking this new do! Gone is her angled bob, replaced with these cute goddess passion twists; I love this! Of course, it’s colored in her signature platinum. Is it platinum? Platinum feels more yellow to me, maybe just plain white? Or maybe more like a frosty white, you know? Yeah, let’s go with that, haha! Edges are laid to perfection, makeup always looking fresh, ugh I’m telling all of you Miss Cat needs to open up shop cause I would pay-“

Aaron skipped ahead a little more; it’s nothing new that Black Cat constantly changed up her hairstyle and makeup looks. It's a smart move, considering how easy it is to track someone nowadays. Her indecisiveness is the sole reason no one has found out who she is; by the time they get comfortable with one look, it’s on to the next.

“Alright, so let’s talk about this new suit. So, I do get why most people say this isn’t a new suit. I mean, it is just the same suit with more fur, probably to keep warm since we are in winter, but I like to call it a new suit solely for these!” The influencer moves to the following picture, a close-up of Black Cat’s arms - which had two slender gauntlets with claw-like attachments. Aaron sat up and leaned towards the screen. Those looked familiar - real fucking familiar.

“That’s right, guys, Black Cat has a new weapon! This kitty has claws, and she is not afraid to use them! Many people say they love it; it’s on brand with the whole cat thing and a way better choice than the staff she used. I love the claws; they bring her a new, dangerous vibe. Like, before, she was just this common thief we all made jokes about, but now it’s like, damn, she's pretty serious about this. Miss Cat said to put some respect on her name; she isn’t any weak runt of the litter; she is THE Black Cat. Quit playing with her; this is serious business! Now, next, we have a quick little video of this new weapon in action, but before that, a quick word from our sponsor-“

Yeah, no, fuck that. Aaron skips again to where the video starts, and his leg bounces. There’s no way, there’s no fucking way, right? Right?

The video in the thread plays, and it shows Black Cat using the claws to climb up a brick wall, leaving significant scratch marks and puncture holes etched into the concrete. Then, once on top of the roof, she raises her hand and flexes it, which seems to trigger some mechanism as the claw part of the gauntlet shoots out and attaches itself to the edge of another roof two buildings across. Black Cat then runs and jumps off the roof she was currently on and uses the rope-like connection lodged between the claw part and the rest of the gauntlet. She swings towards the building, and on the video, the connection shortens, creating a grappling hook. The video shows her safely landing and repeating the action for another building before it ends.

The video cuts back to the influencer as she comments, “So, as we can see, it’s like a grappling hook, kind of? That’s cool; I wish I had a grappling hook. Then I could properly get to work on time when there’s traffic-“

Aaron exits the video before finding the Twitter thread and checking the comments. There are screenshots of the gauntlet from different angles and a few claims that it had sometimes glowed purple. After reading more and more comments about the description of the gauntlet, Aaron leans back in his chair and blinks.

That’s my gauntlet, he thinks; that’s my prototype.

Immediately, he calls Fisk - the one person Aaron trusted enough to leave the prototype with due to his high-security level warehouses and marked a sign of mutual trust between the two business partners. After quickly catching Fisk up to date, Fisk left to check the warehouse himself before confirming that the prototype was indeed missing - stating that they had numerous techs slowly disappear since the end of the previous year but couldn’t pin who it was or how they broke in.

The whole reason he wanted Alexander dead was because he was the only other person who knew where Fisk’s warehouses were, so the Kingpin thought he was the one who did it. Regardless, Fisk seemed intrigued that Aaron had made the connection to Black Cat, but Aaron was too busy breathing fire to even tune in on what the Kingpin was saying, causing him to drop the line altogether.

Aaron could feel the uncomfortable heat of anger creeping up his spine and seeping into his brain, as he returned to the thread and checked the new comments.

It didn't take long before the public started to bring up the Prowler’s weapon and their similarities. After rewatching the video five more times, Aaron noticed the prototype was tampered with. Every major flaw Aaron had trouble with had been fixed to a degree. Aaron closed his eyes and leaned back, his leg bouncing rapidly before suddenly stopping.

“It’s my prototype, he mumbles, “And she fixed it. She took my shit and made it better.” He slowly opens his eyes; green envy returns to his dark brown eyes. “First, she steals my kills, and now she steals my tech,” he chuckles before laughing and slamming his palm down onto his desk. “I am,” he laughs, “I am going to fucking end this bitch.”

Tag list: @mordeiswrld @arielpanda1 @young-dc @fossilizedbeetle @super-nova-2006 @chelsea-xxx2003 @fandom-multiamory @leahnicole1219

#black tumblr #across the spiderverse #aaron davis #the prowler x black cat #x black oc #into the spider verse #madiwrites #aaron davis x oc #the prowler x oc #x oc #x female oc #spiderverse x oc #IGCYEO

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 2 years ago

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Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 7

Chapters: 7/? 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

Note: I included a couple of sentences from the show in a dialogue to better explain what the Dreaming is about and how i tworks.

It was finally time for you to learn more about Morpheus. He allowed you to walk beside him into the Dreaming and learn about his family.

Chapter 7

You sit there in complete shock, staring at the bird in front of you with an unblinking expression. For a moment, you felt like a female version of Doctor Dolittle, understanding the language of animals that nobody else could hear beyond the noises they originally produced.

You had met the God-like entity that you had admired as a child, someone you thought only belonged to a bedtime fairytale. Encountering a talking bird was just as unexpected, and yet there it was, staring at you with its black eyes while its shiny feathers reflected the colors of the sunset.

All the things you thought never existed were manifesting before your very eyes.

And so you asked, "Who are you?"

The raven opened its wings in reverance. "I am Matthew. At your service."

After a moment of disorientation, and with your chest still burning from the coughing fit, you smiled wholeheartedly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Matthew. Though I don't understand what is even going on here.”

Matthew nodded. "I mean, a talking bird like me is not something you see happening every day, is it?”

“No,” you chuckled. “Not at all.”

"Sorry for the jumpscare. Are you feeling better now?”

Not only did he sound human, he was even considerate with you.

"Apart from my throat on fire, it's all good.”

He sighed. "I should have considered the consequences when the boss sent me here.”

You immediately sit up straight, fully attentive. “Your boss? Are you talking about Morpheus, by any chance?”

"Well, that didn't take long to figure out.”

Knowing that Morpheus didn't actually disappear immediately put you at ease. "It’s not like I have other options to pick,” you said with a wide grin. “I don't know anyone else who would send me a raven, of all things.”

“Fair point.”

You looked at Matthew, and the memories of the other bird lying motionless in a pool of blood on the basement floor came back to you like a stab. In your book, there was a phrase that evidently justified his presence by Morpheus's side:

"Observe, child: Dream of The Endless has a longtime ally and trusted companion, a raven that travels between realms as The Sandman's faithful messenger.”

You asked yourself if a new raven automatically took over once the previous one was gone.

Matthew tilted his head to the side and asked, "Are you sure you're okay?"

You snapped out of your pensive state. "I am, sorry. I was lost in thought."

"I suppose this is quite confusing for you.”

"It is. Not in a bad way, I promise. May I ask why he sent you here, Matthew?”

The raven took a step closer, looking up at you. "Actually, I don't know much about it myself. The boss told me to look out for you and report back that nothing is out of the ordinary." He clicked his tongue. "Sometimes I can feel him on the back of my head, you know, watching through me.”

You raised an eyebrow. "Is he watching right now?”

A part of you wished he was.

"Not at this time."

Oh, well.

The thought of him checking on you during his absence made your heart flutter once again. As time went on, you began to realize that your idealized vision of the perfect relationship was not a realistic expectation. You accepted that a man could go radio silent for days or weeks, shamefully cheat on you with a random woman, or simply show interest only when his testosterone was driving him crazy.

Despite that awful acceptance, you found yourself in a new situation with Morpheus - not even a mortal man, someone you barely knew and couldn't yet define. He sent a raven all the way to the human world so that he could observe you, leaving you with a mixture of emotions: happiness and wholeness, but also uncertainty and confusion.

You were left wondering how to categorize Morpheus in your life. Was he your boyfriend now? Would you get the chance to be intimate with him again, or was it a one-time occurrence that he had no intention of repeating? The way he made you feel the previous night was indescribable. You still shook in excitement whenever you remembered how his lips felt against yours, the way he touched your skin and pleasured your senses, making you drawing out your deepest desires. Your body was still tingling and your mind was consumed with thoughts of him all day. If you closed your eyes, you could breathe in his lingering scent of sand, of the sea, of a forest in winter, of a sweet incense.

Morpheus was literally a dream come to life.

You smiled at Matthew as you laid comfortably against the soft pillow of the chair. “I haven’t introduced myself to you, have I?”

You could see the top of his folded wings raise and lower, almost as if he were shrugging. “I already know who you are, Y/N.”

The question that popped into your head immediately escaped your lips. "Did he say anything about me?”

"It seemed like he preferred to keep it all to himself. So, no, not really. Just… uhhh…. bits, here and there.” he replied.

“But why send you here? What is it that shouldn’t look out of the ordinary?”

“He didn’t say. Something was clearly on his mind though. He seemed... worried.”

Although you couldn't discern what was troubling him so deeply, his care and concern were more than welcome. The fact that he still cared for you, even from afar, and offered some form of companionship while being away was enough to make you feel gratified.

And so, you decided to satisfy some of your growing curiosity. "How long have you been with him?”

"Only for a few days. Lucienne sort of 'hired' me for the job," he explained.

"Lucienne..." you trailed off, thinking about the woman you had spoken to in your dream.

“You know her?”

You pondered over what answer to give before saying, "Vaguely. I met her once, but my memories of the Dreaming are still a little fuzzy.”

Matthew hummed in thought, turning his little head to the setting sun. "You know, I used to like this time of day when I was human," he said, reminiscing.

"You were human?!" you asked, seeking clarification.

"Oh, I was. Just maybe not the best one," he replied with a hint of sadness.

“How did you-”

“-End up becoming a raven? That’s a good question, which I unfortunately can’t answer. Magic? All I know is that I was in my bed, then all of a sudden, poof! I had wings and feathers and a sharp beak in place of a mouth,” he explained with humor in his voice.

"In other words, you died?”

“Seems like it.”

“That's quite mind-blowing."

"Tell me about it. So now I am a messenger working for Dream of The Endless, whether he likes it or not."

You took hold of your mug again, despite the tea having gone completely cold. You drank the last drops of it in order to not let it go to waste. "Why, is he against the idea of having you by his side?”

"Let's just say he's not over Jessamy yet.”

“Who’s Jessamy?”

“Oh… she was the other raven. You know, the one before me.”

‘So her name was Jessamy…’

"But he sent you here," you pointed out, "You must be rather important if he asked you to find me.”

"That's the perk of being a raven, I guess," he said. "I can easily travel between realms without using any sand or crossing portals. But enough about me. How are you doing? Is your human life proceeding well? Anything weird or scary to report?”

"Not really. I'm doing quite well over here, better than ever, in fact."

You were pretty sure that you saw Matthew smile.

"You know, I don’t think I have any food suitable for a bird, but... would you like to come in?"

"No worries, I don't need to eat. But I accept your invitation. I've got nothing else to do right now, anyway,”

You stood from the chair, keeping the empty mug in one hand and opening the window to let him in. Matthew jumped off the table, walked in front of you and took a look inside.

"Nice house," he remarked.

You laughed to yourself. The scene could definitely look comical with you warmly welcoming a bird into your home and gesturing to it like it was a human guest.

Watching Matthew fly over the couch to test its comfortable cushions was odd, but his company was already bringing you joy. Maybe it was the fact that he sounded like a comedian, providing comfort with his reassuring voice.

Or maybe it was due to Morpheus's hidden presence within him, which you could somehow feel all around you as you walked into the kitchen.

When Morpheus decided to find you in the Waking World, he didn't plan to get carried away in such a manner. He had finally retrieved the tools that were stolen after his capture, but the quest had turned out to be slightly more complicated than he had foreseen. He felt satisfied and more powerful than ever before now that the Dreaming was almost fully restored, but the Endless was also left with a sense of emptiness. After a century of holding a grudge and wanting nothing more than freedom and revenge, he found himself with nothing else to strive for.

However, there was just one thing he still needed to do: establish a proper conversation with you without holding back anymore. Morpheus was prideful, but the affection he felt for you was incredibly genuine. It started as a curiosity he wanted to satisfy, and he didn't think too much of it until he noticed how persistent you were in wanting to see him. The way you spoke and gestured conveyed all your kindness and sincerity, a rarity among humans that he wasn't accustomed to.

The connection that developed between the two of you didn't go unnoticed. Morpheus could feel it to the bone in a way that even he, as an Endless, found difficult to describe. He couldn't stop thinking about your smile, the sound of your voice, the light that sparked in your eyes whenever you visited him. At that point, he knew he should have pushed you away for your sake and his own, pretended that you were nothing more than a mere burden, allowing you to follow your own path without giving his fate too much thought. But the more he saw you in the basement, the more his need for you thrived. The moments he listened to you in silence were the only times he could forget about being sealed away from his realm and contained in a cage like a miserable insect.

He wished he could talk to you, touch you. The indirect connections he established with you through the glass were potent enough to make him explore your depth and feel you in his core, but it only resulted in a devastating eagerness he didn't know how to control or fulfill.

Morpheus knew the rules. A relationship between a human and an Endless was strictly forbidden, and he had witnessed the terrible consequences of such a mistake firsthand. His love and obsession for the girl he once fell for had mattered more to him than the tragedies she was forced to endure because of their choices. His selfishness had led to her complete downfall and his inevitable heartbreak.

For this reason alone, he had no intention of crossing that line again and causing you the same harm.

Morpheus found you through your dream, smelling the salt in the air and hearing the sound of the ocean moving peacefully back and forth with gentle waves. You were as beautiful as an angel, with the breeze blowing through your hair and your dress flowing around your body. He wanted to call your name, to let you know that he was free and right by your side, but he was so mesmerized by the way you walked to the shore that he wanted to imprint such a piece of art into his memory for eternity.

When your eyes met, Morpheus realized that even if he wanted to, he wouldn't be able to escape from your grasp. He had been in love so many times he lost count, but none of those feelings could compare to the spiritual link he had formed with you. It was different, it was new, it was unique.

He wondered why you were so special, how a simple human could be as gentle and compassionate as a Goddess. Morpheus asked himself over and over again why he couldn't let you be, forgetting about ever meeting you, as his realm needed to be rebuilt in the process.

No, he had absolutely no intention of touching you the way he did, kissing you, caressing you, and pleasuring your body over and over again through the night. However, his resistance crumbled when he felt the warmth of your body pressing against him, inebriated by the sweetness of your loving strokes along his face. He needed to reward you and a simple kiss would be enough for him. Just a quick, small, innocent kiss before taking his leave of you.

But then he wanted more. More than he could ever offer anyone else, more than he could ever ask to receive. Your boldness caught him off guard as you crashed your lips against his the moment he reluctantly released you, invading his mouth in search of his tongue and desperately seeking his closeness. Morpheus always wanted to be in control, but with you, he felt like he could let you do anything you wanted, and he would be the happiest living creature in the entire universe.

Morpheus wasn't one to have sex without being emotionally involved, so the physical intimacy he shared with you left a permanent mark on his heart. The fact that you wanted to see him again, not only in your dreams but also in the Waking World, was a big red flag he knew he couldn't just avoid. He needed to keep you safe, and the only way to grant you a good life would be to get out of it.

Unfortunately, just like in the past, he failed to find the will to do so.

As soon as he sent Matthew your way, Morpheus almost expected to find your dead body lying on the ground. He could barely contain the relief that washed over him when he saw you sitting on that bench, more radiant than ever, with the most beautiful smile he could witness. He stared at your image carved perfectly by the galactic spiral onto the starry ceiling above him, every curve of your body beautifully shaped.

You were a dream, his dream, one he didn't want to ever lose. So he had instructed Matthew to follow you in the Waking World, to observe everything around you and keep him informed of the slightest change when he couldn't take a look himself. Maybe it was too soon for the consequences of his mistake to befall on you, or maybe, after 10,000 years, the universe had finally decided to put that clause aside.

Didn't he deserve to be happy at least for once in his eternal existence? Couldn't he be free to fall in love without bringing death and sorrow to the one he cared about?

Something told him that things with you were about to take a different turn, one he had never seen before. Was he brave enough to risk it again, when the solution to the problem would be just so easy? All it took was an action, one that he didn't really want to take, and that would shatter two hearts at the same time.

Morpheus walked back to the throne room with that thought in mind as the images from your night together continuously played before his eyes. The King of Dreams and Nightmares was literally daydreaming about the human he had fallen in love with, fighting the rising urge to bring you to his castle and ravage your delicious body again without any inhibition left.

He watched you from afar as you moved about the kitchen, gathering the mugs and dishes together from the table. Your voice echoed in the room, distant but clear, and your melodic laugh brought a tiny smile to his pouty expression. The nebula followed your movements, highlighting your contours whenever you stopped and occasionally turned towards him - Matthew - to let him catch a glimpse of the mundane yet stunning display.

Morpheus couldn't help but feel a sense of longing as he watched you, and for a moment, he forgot about the responsibilities that came with his position. He wanted nothing more than to be by your side, to see your smile up close and to hear your laughter fill the air.

"My Lord," Lucienne called for Morpheus' attention as she entered the room.

"What is it, Lucienne?" He asked, turning to the librarian.

"It is about the woman, sir. The human you are watching."

"What about her?"

He could spot the hesitation in her eyes. "There is something you should know. Something I haven't told you before."

Morpheus felt the uneasiness forming in his stomach. "Go on,” he urged her.

Lucienne raised her hands and gestured as she spoke. "She was here. I found her in this room not long ago, when you were still imprisoned."

"What?" Morpheus exclaimed in shock. "How is that possible?”

"I do not know, my Lord," Lucienne replied, looking troubled. "But I saw her with my own eyes. She was standing right where you are now.”

Morpheus felt a chill run down his spine. He already knew that you had established a sudden connection with his realm as you struggled to remember the things you had witnessed in your newly discovered dreams. But how could you even reach his castle uninvited, with the Dreaming completely torn apart without his lead?

"I must warn you. There is something about her that seems... different.”

"Different?" Morpheus repeated, his curiosity piqued. "How?"

"I am not sure, sir," Lucienne admitted. "But her presence here felt almost otherworldly. Not dangerously so, just unlike any other human I have ever seen in this realm."

Morpheus fell silent, lost in thought. He shifted his gaze back to your image in the galaxy and couldn't shake the feeling that there was indeed more to you than met the eye.

It seemed like he had found something out of the ordinary in the end, and that something was you; an intricate mystery that he intended to investigate.

You didn't even realize how quickly time was passing. The hours flew by as you laughed, talked, and enjoyed yourself without a care in the world. Matthew left at night, fluttering his wings before leaping from the dining table to the open window. You watched him fly into the clouds until he was nothing more than a distant dot fading away.

As your eyes started to droop, you suppressed a yawn and began to clean out the kitchen, stretching your legs to get some blood flowing. Finally, when your back hit the mattress of your bed, exhaustion made its way through your body. That day you had walked for so long that the soft, welcoming covers felt amazing under your feet.

You rubbed your wrist with slow circles, pressing your thumb over the nerves that no longer hurt as much as before, but still made you flinch after a wrong movement. When you massaged your upper arms in a soothing manner, you could feel the skin around the healed cuts lightly scraping your palms. The three months you had spent working at Fawney Rig now felt like a distant memory, as if it had happened in another life.

You breathed in and out slowly, relaxing your senses and listening to the chatterings outside, the cars moving, the doors in your building opening and closing with people coming and going.

And then, those common, urban noises molded into something else, as the familiar sound of waves hitting the shore started to fill your ears.

When you opened your eyes, you were standing on the same beach you had dreamed about the previous night, looking exactly as you remembered it. You could even spot the crystallized shell a few feet away, sparkling and calling out to you, umoved.

And so you reached it again, brushing your fingers over the hard surface, sliding over each little crystal and strong ridge. A part of you wished you could keep it, placing it on your bedside table to admire it before going to sleep and waking up in the morning. At that moment, the colors transitioned in a gradient loop from pink to purple to light blue, resembling the color scheme of an LED lamp, except that the natural masterpiece in your hands held no artificiality.

You admired it one last time and placed it back into the sand. Your gaze then shifted to the calm ocean and the sky above, which blended into a carpet of stars and nebulas. It was as if the sun was setting behind the sea line, yet the time of day remained frozen in a permanent spectacle, combining day and night into one.

(Image generated with leonardo.ai)

As you stood up, you sensed someone approaching, and a pair of black shoes advanced into the golden grains. Your own boots partially sank into the ground with every step, and the new gown you were wearing danced around your legs with the wind blowing through the fabric.

The beach seemed to come alive at his arrival, the sand parting and forming a path for him to walk on. You watched in awe as Morpheus stopped in front of you, confident and proud, his eyes never leaving yours. He had a little smile on his lips, his presence commanding and powerful.

You looked up at him, feeling small and insignificant in his shadow, but at the same time, you felt a sense of comfort and familiarity.

"Hey stranger," you said fondly, bringing a hand over his chest and curling your fingers around the soft material of his coat. It was a repeated gesture that made you feel even more connected to his heart.

As he leaned close to you, his eyes sparkled in the starlight. "Hello," he answered, his voice shaking you in excitement like the first time you heard him speak.

"This place is so beautiful. There's still so much I don't know about the Dreaming or dreams themselves.”

Morpheus looked around, taking in the sights and sounds of the land. "Sleep brings you here to find freedom and adventure. My kingdom is a world of imagination, with dreams and nightmares that I create.”

“It all feels so real.”

"It is. There is another life which awaits you when you close your eyes and enter my realm.”

"I want to see more," you declared. "I've been wondering what dreaming felt like my entire life, now I don't want to miss any of it.”

You yearned to explore, experience and be inspired, to discover what laid beyond the corner of paradise you had found for yourself - a quiet place that seemed to be reserved just for you.

Morpheus interlaced his fingers with your hand, while it still clung onto his coat. He looked into your eyes, observing the anticipation growing on your face.

You waited for him to lead you, to guide you through his realm. The King of Dreams and Nightmares removed your hand from his chest, firmly enclosing it within his grasp.

"Follow me," he said.

"Where to?"

“Anywhere you wish to go."

In that moment, you realized that Morpheus was granting you the freedom to choose, allowing your imagination and desires to run wild.

You had barely begun to test the limits of your subconscious mind when the wind picked up and the world around you started to shift, reshaping your surroundings into something else.

What you saw was even better than the image that had crossed your mind. You were standing in a forest with the tallest trees you had ever seen in the Waking World, the green color of the leaves and bushes was incredibly beautiful, creating a vivid tone that went from dark to light. Sun rays passed through them and touched your faces gently, highlighting the contours of Morpheus’s jaw and giving his eyes an ethereal glow.

As you beheld the Endless being in front of you, you were struck silent, completely lost in his perfection. Hesitating momentarily, Morpheus gently brushed his fingers over the strand of hair that had fallen on your cheek, moving it out of the way to have a clear view of your features.

It felt like a scene straight out of a movie, and the urge to kiss him was building up inside you. Although you knew you were asleep, the dream felt way more realistic than any other fantasy you could remember. Despite a distant sense of confusion that threatened to cloud your mind, you managed to stay focused on the man you loved and chased it away, maintaining full control over a dream that would otherwise spiral into strange and confusing events.

You wanted to embrace him, to press your lips against his and relax in his arms, but the fear of being too clingy prevented you from taking the initiative. Since your relationship with Morpheus was yet to be defined, you didn't want to complicate things and ruin the moment with awkwardness. Instead, you held his hand tightly, savoring the warmth and comfort it brought you.

For a moment, you had the impression that the flowers at your feet were talking, whispering and giggling at the romantic display they were spectating, like an echo in the wind.

Reluctantly, you released his hand and took a step back, inspecting your new surroundings with curiosity. A massive, shiny rock was emerging from the ground next to you, with a few ivory white Moonstone crystals mounted on its surface. Each gemstone was a different size, with a magical blue flash of light that was twirling around in harmony. As you moved your fingers over the rock and followed the edges of the Moonstones, like you did with the shell, you felt their coldness beneath your touch.The energy they contained was so strong that you could feel the tingles on the back of your neck just by grazing their rough material. It was as if they held a secret, a powerful force that could unlock something from deep within you.

And so, you found yourself thinking out loud, "If someone had told me this was possible just a few months ago, I would have found it hard to believe.”

Morpheus came to your side, and as he did, the magical glow of the Moonstones immediately intensified, illuminating the surrounding area with a soft blue light.

"You were always connected to this place," he stated. "But without my guidance, the Dreaming stopped flourishing a century ago.”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks, and you looked at him with guilt for what he had to endure.

"That's horrible. To think that something so beautiful has been shattered to pieces by humanity’s greed. History never taught us a damn thing," you blurted out in frustration.

Morpheus looked down, concealing the affliction of his captivity. “Mortals need this realm to face their fears and fantasies,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I agree, but that doesn’t excuse their actions. Roderick Burgess was a terrible person even before your imprisonment. He showed no mercy or compassion, not even to his own son. He only brought more corruption to a world that has been stained with arrogance and ignorance for as long as I can remember.”

Despite all the advancements that humans had made, there was still so much cruelty and injustice. Morpheus's misadventure with them was a reminder of that, and it made you question whether progress was even possible when the same mistakes were made time and time again.

Maybe humans truly needed a place to confront their deepest fears and desires, a space where they could learn from their blunders and strive towards a better future. Unfortunately, history books may have taught you otherwise, portraying the world as an unforgiving place with people that were inherently flawed.

"Perhaps," he replied. "But not all of you are Roderick Burgess.”

You let out a sigh. "There are still far too many like him out there, though. I do wonder what their dreams even look like.”

“They are haunted by their sins, trapped by their fear, and tormented by the nightmares that dwell within the blackest reaches of their hearts. Their dreams are filled with torment, with the twisted imaginings of twisted minds.”

Despite the somber subject matter, his eloquent explanation brought an unexpected smile to your face. As you gazed at him, you couldn't help but think that there was something undeniably attractive about the way he spoke. His voice was deep and resonant, with a hint of gravel that shook you from head to toe. It was a voice that commanded attention, that drew you in and held you captive.

"It was a rhetorical question, but I like the way you tell things.”

Morpheus smiled slightly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It is rare for mortals to come to me seeking knowledge, rather than mere amusement. And it is indeed a most welcome change.”

“It’s not only knowledge that I am seeking. Like I said last night, I genuinely want to know more about you.”

Morpheus regarded you for a moment, his expression inscrutable. "There is much that I could tell you," he said at last. "But I fear that some of it might be beyond mortal comprehension.”

“I don't expect to understand all of it, but I want to at least learn what I can.”

Morpheus smiled again, this time with a hint of warmth. "Very well," he said. "Ask your first question.”

Your mind was brimming with questions, forming more and more the closer you got to him and farther into his realm. You wanted to choose them carefully because, no matter how intimate you might have grown, he remained a powerful being deserving of respect.

When you finally did, you formulated one. “I want to know what makes you who you are and what drives you forward.”

"What makes me who I am is a question that has troubled even the wisest of mortals. I am a being of many faces, many forms, and as you know, many names.” He paused, his gaze turning inward. "As for what drives me forward, it is my duty as the King of Dreams and Nightmares. The responsibility to maintain the delicate balance between the Waking World and the realm of dreams.”

"That sounds like a heavy burden."

Morpheus nodded, his expression somber. "It is one that I have carried for eons, and I will continue to bear it for as long as I am needed,” he replied.

"Have you been around for that long?"

"Yes. I have existed since the dawn of time, since the first stars shone in the night sky. I was there at the beginning of all things, and I shall be there at the end. I am a timeless force, a manifestation of the universe's infinite mysteries, a guardian of all that is, and all that may be."

It was indeed hard to comprehend the vastness of his existence and the scope of his power.

"I have seen the rise and fall of countless civilizations, the ebb and flow of time itself. And yet, there is always more to learn, more to discover,” Morpheus said.

You leaned forward. "Can you give me an example?”

"The mysteries of the human mind. But beyond that, I have also learned that even the most powerful beings are not immune to pain and suffering. As guardians of the universe, it is our duty to ease that suffering wherever we can.”

In that poignant moment, the tidal wave of understanding washed over you. The torment he went through for an entire century was something he had never experienced before, something that had left him completely destroyed, empty, and drained of all he was.

The memory of the desperation you had seen etched on his face that first night at Fawney Rig was still fresh in your mind. You would never forget it.

"You deserved better than that," you said softly, your heart breaking at the memory. You reached out to take his hand again, offering what little comfort you could give him. Your touch was gentle, like that of a butterfly's wings, but it carried with it a weight of empathy that only comes from knowing the depths of another's suffering. “You deserve everything.”

Morpheus swallowed heavily, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he tried to find the words to respond. His eyes glistened in the blue glow that pulsed from the Moonstones.

He moved another stray hair away from your eyes, lowering his forehead over yours with disarming tenderness. "I am Dream of The Endless, Y/N. I already have the universe."

You chuckled, feeling his breath on your skin. "Then you deserve something even greater, how about that," you said, your voice filled with conviction.

Morpheus smiled at your exclamation. "Your words honor and humble me.”

“I mean it.”

Morpheus bent his head down, and his lips gently brushed against yours in a kiss that neither of you could resist sharing. As soon as your mouths touched, the Moonstones reacted with an explosion of light, illuminating the space around you in a dazzling array of colors. Another rush of wind pushed you even closer to his chest, as if the Dreaming was trying to keep you united, granting you its blessing.

Time seemed to stand still. The only thing that mattered was the feel of his soft lips on yours, the warmth of his embrace and the beat of your hearts.

When the kiss ended, you struggled to restrain yourself from moving things forward a second time, wanting to stay lost in the moment with Morpheus forever. You allowed him to detach from you without trying to stop him, and with your hand still linked to his, he resumed the previous conversation naturally. "Ask your second question," his voice calm and steady.

You took a deep breath, trying to focus your mind on something other than the intensity of your connection with the Endless. “‘It is our duty as guardians’, you said. You’re not the only Endless being, are you?”

"No,” he confirmed. “I have siblings, each of them with a kingdom of their own and a role to fulfill.”

“Can you tell me more?”

He nodded. "There is Death, my sister. She is the one who greets the souls of the departed and guides them on their journey to The Sunless Lands. There is Desire, who shapes the passions and deepest needs of mortals. There is Delirium, who embodies the wild, unpredictable nature of madness. There is Destiny, who holds the Book of Fate and knows the path that every living being will take. There is Despair, who feeds on the pain and suffering of others. And then there is me, Dream of the Endless, ruler of the Dreaming.”

You listened with lit up interest as Morpheus spoke of his family, a group of eternal and immortal beings with immense power and influence. Each one was unique, with their own personalities and domains to control.

But there was something off about such family story that made you feel unsure and extremely bewildered.

"Wait. Why didn't any of your siblings ever come to your rescue, then?" you asked.

As Morpheus pondered your question, you could see a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. "We do not leave our kingdoms unattended unless it is strictly necessary," he explained.

“You were imprisoned. That is strictly necessary to me.”

His discomfort became more apparent. Nevertheless, he continued to speak. "It was not their burden to take. It was mine alone.”

Although the family of the Endless was not as typical as a human group, it was difficult to understand how a sibling could abandon any of them like they did with Morpheus. Despite knowing very little about the Endless, it was clear that their lack of intervention had left him feeling lonely and afflicted.

You were not looking forward to seeing him upset. You wanted him to smile, to feel loved, supported and appreciated for what he did. You had no intention of rubbing salt into a fresh wound.

And so, you felt the need to express your utmost apology. "I'm really sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Please, do not apologize. Your concern flatters me,” he replied. “My siblings and I… we have not always seen eye to eye. But I have learned to accept their ways, as I do have mine.”

You pressed your lips together, savoring his taste that lingered on your mouth. Your hand slipped away, sweetly closing around two of his cold fingers.

"Okay. I might have a third question. Will you answer it?"

He responded without any hesitation. "Yes.”

"How does it work when I dream? Do I just come up with a visualization, and it automatically materializes itself?"

"Dreams are a complex creation of the subconscious mind, and they can take on various forms and meanings. While some humans may have the capability of shaping their dreams as they please, maintaining this level of control requires a certain power that only I possess.”

You grinned. "So if I think about something, can you create it for me?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Creating dreams and nightmares is my calling. What is it that you wish to receive?”

Although you were an adult now, the inner child within you still sparkled, perpetually tied to a creative imagination that had kept you safe during the hardest times of your life.

You thought that what you were about to say might be seen as ridiculous, something that even he could consider futile and nonsensical. But the moment that thought formed perfectly in your head, Morpheus smiled proudly and lifted his gaze to the sky, without needing your verbal explanation.

A gust of wind burst around you, and you turned on your heels to check the source of such a brutal force. You were left speechless as you stared at the giant figure landing on the ground, spreading its wide wings and almost darkening the sky above. The scales were a mix of green and gold, refracting the sunlight and shimmering like precious jewels. The neck was long, and the head looked as big as half of your body.

You were in shock, slowly walking towards the dragon, carefully placing one foot in front of the other to test its reaction. The creature didn't seem to have bad intentions. If anything, it bowed its head as if it was kneeling in your presence.

You continued to advance until you got close enough to feel its hot breath against you, carefully lifting one hand to touch its muzzle. The skin felt incredibly warm and much softer than you had anticipated. The dragon closed its golden eyes at the contact, which gave you a very content smile.

You looked at Morpheus, who was standing with his hands crossed in front of him a few steps away. The little curve of his lips betrayed satisfaction for a job well done.

"Now you're flexing," you stated with a smirk. He only responded with a chuckle through his nose.

As you kept moving your hand on the dragon’s head, you could feel your heart beating ever faster from the amount of wonder shaking your entire form. It was something that exceeded the simple fantasy of a child coming true, an old dream that you once had with open eyes.

No, it was far more than that. It was the realization of Dream's power, the things he did for humanity despite how unkind your race had been in his presence.

Waking up feeling like something was amiss, facing darkness whenever you closed your eyes at night, a world without dreams was a condemnation you had gone through first-hand. You never lost your sense of justice and the kindness your father had taught you, but it still plagued the unlucky ones and continued to spread through generations for over 100 years.

Standing there before a dragon that you could touch and physically perceive, you let your emotions flow all at once: happiness, relief and completion.

Morpheus came to your side, and as soon as you moved away from the creature, the majestic animal took flight again, lifting up into the vastness of the dream world with a booming roar.

When you faced the Endless once more, you were overcome by that familiar, strong impulse that forced you onto your toes. You planted a kiss on his cheek and curled into him, wrapping your arms strongly around his neck, as if you were afraid to see him disappear.

“Thank you,” you whispered in his ear. “Thank you for existing, Morpheus.”

Those moments with him were fleeting, and soon you would be back in the Waking World all by yourself. You didn't want to let him go.

Morpheus didn't speak, but after a moment of surprise and indecision, he brought his hands to your waist and held you gently.

The words 'I love you' were on the tip of your tongue and you wanted him to hear them. "What am I to you?" you wished you could ask. "What are we?”

In the end, you chose not to reveal your true feelings just yet. Although he may have already known, you needed it to unfold without turning the gears in a way that could simply backfire.

His touch on you was shy, fingers drawing little patterns on the fabric of your dress without even moving from their position. The subtle movement of his fingertips against your covered skin was enough to send new electric shocks along your form.

And then you let your arms fall down as your hands followed the line of his shoulders and traveled along his biceps. There was something incredibly soothing in the way he seemed to relax as you touched him.

However, that didn’t last.

"Y/N."

"Mh?"

"Lucienne informed me about your visit to my castle.”

The way his voice sounded was so suddenly serious that for a moment, you thought he wasn't happy about it. Did he feel like you invaded his space, which was even reduced to a pile of crumbles at the time? The magical sparks between you started to dissipate, and the mere idea of him being resentful with you had your stomach twisting into a tight knot.

"About that. I still don't know how I did it.”

Morpheus considered your answer, but when he said nothing, the need to justify yourself painfully nagged at you. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to intrude. I couldn’t even tell where I was until she told me.”

“You misunderstand me. I am not accusing you of such a thing.”

Morpheus's statement was like a soothing balm, relieving your worries and easing your nervousness. You released a deep sigh, and in response, you managed a timid "Oh.”

“I suspect that our… indisputable connection might have granted you access to places that are normally out of reach for most mortals.”

Your mind went back to the basement when your hands indirectly touched through the glass for the first time. Your dreams had started after that specific moment, leaving you with distant fragments that could barely be remembered upon waking up, until he was finally released.

“I suppose that makes sense,” you replied.

“Yes. And I believe that Lucienne is not the only subject you have encountered.”

You nodded in agreement. “Able and Cain.”

“Correct.”

“Does it bother you? That I have explored parts of your realm when I was not supposed to?”

You tried to decipher Morpheus's expression, but after a moment of consideration, he shook his head slightly. "It is not ideal for mortals to roam the Dreaming in my absence. But, I do not hold it against you.”

"I would never want to disrespect you," you said softly, offering him a small smile.

(Gif from Tumblr, found via Pinterest. If you happen to be the owner, or you know who made it, please notify me.)

Morpheus returned it, his eyes warm and reassuring. "It is my duty to guide and protect you in the Dreaming, and I will continue to do so to the best of my abilities."

While you knew that others could also enter Morpheus's realm and see him appear in a dream, you couldn't help but feel possessive when he spoke to you with such a glint in his eyes. You also understood that you could not keep him all to yourself, as all of humanity was under his care from the beginning of time. His touch made you feel special and grounded, but you were aware that Morpheus had influenced countless minds throughout the ages, and you certainly wouldn't be his last conquest.

Even though it may sound selfish and immature, you found it a little difficult to accept.

You gently took one of his hands from your waist, bringing it up to your lips to kiss his cool knuckles. As you released him from your grasp and resisted the urge to cling to him, you lifted your dress from the ground to walk more easily. "Would you care to take a stroll with me, Your Majesty?"

Morpheus’s smile grew wider than ever before. "It would be my pleasure," he answered, extending his arm out for you to take.

As you accepted his offer, he led you through the wonders of the dreamworld, passing through the vastness and magic of its many pathways. You saw the most unique flowers and creatures you could ever imagine in your waking life, as well as trees with all kinds of shapes and shades. You walked for so long that you couldn't tell how much time had passed since you fell asleep in your bed, but the longer you stayed in the Dreaming, the more you felt like you belonged.

Morpheus had told you different stories about his adventures, and you couldn't hide your surprise when you found out that William Shakespeare himself became the greatest playwright in history solely because of the inspiration he received from the King of Dreams. You were passionate about his tales and eager for more, wondering how many important individuals he had come across before you were even born.

Eventually, you asked him about Matthew, specifically avoiding mentioning Jessamy for the sake of his mood. He appeared to be quite reluctant to tell you the reason behind the raven’s appearance in the Waking World, only mentioning that it would be a story for another night. His reaction seemed strange to you, but you decided not to pry and dropped the subject altogether. You were learning to know him just as you wanted, and it was easy for you to declare that Morpheus was the most enigmatic man (well, creature) you had ever set your eyes upon.

It didn't really bother you. In fact, his mysterious demeanor only served to add to his allure and attracted you more and more with each passing moment. In the presence of Morpheus, you didn't feel unsure or doubtful about what was to come, but the battle between your gut instincts and your restless heart was keeping you on edge.

You couldn't help but wonder what secrets Morpheus was keeping from you, but for the time being, you were content to bask in the thrill of the unknown and his presence by your side.

The sky began to shift to a darker color until the light of the sun gave way to a sea of stars and northern lights. You walked along a bridge large enough for the two of you to walk side by side, while the surrounding waters enchanted you with the sound of calm waves rolling back and forth.

The stars above shone like diamonds in the night sky, while the lights roiled around in a mesmerizing display of colors. But despite the enchanting scenery you were stepping in, your attention was still drawn to Morpheus and the way he moved with otherworldly grace. You studied him closely, taking note of every detail - the way his hair caught the light, how his eyes sparkled with an inner fire, and how his voice carried a hint of magic.

As the bridge came to an end, Morpheus paused, gazing out at the infinite expanse of water before you. You unlinked your arm from his, taking a few steps forward to watch the distance. A thick layer of fog obscured whatever was lying ahead, leaving you feeling excited and apprehensive.

"Where are we?" you asked him, kneeling on the wooden planks and carefully touching the water surface with your fingertips. To your surprise, you felt the water respond, moving around your hand and seeming to enjoy the contact.

"This place is yet another aspect of the Dreaming," he replied cryptically. "It exists between your world and mine, where the boundaries of dreams and reality are blurred.”

As you looked into the waters, you could see a few distant images playing in sequence, like another world set in motion at the other side of a mirror. It was both beautiful and eerie.

"Those are dreams of other mortals," Morpheus explained. "We are at a crossroad.”

Suddenly, a fuzzy feeling began to creep into your mind, intensifying as you tried to shake it off. You knew very well what it was, and you didn’t like it one bit.

"You are waking up," Morpheus stated matter-of-factly.

You stood back on your feet, your hand instantly drying. "I don't want to leave just yet.”

"Do not resist, Y/N. I will see you again.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

As he lightly pushed you to the front of the bridge, the waters in front of it parted like the Red Sea with Moses, forming a flight of stairs that he started to descend. Seeing your uncertainty, Morpheus reassured you with a light squeeze around your shoulder. "Fear not, you are safe with me.”

After a moment of disorientation, you nodded your head and followed him down the dark road that had formed. The freshness of the water around you sent chills down your back, but at the same time, it felt invigorating against your skin. As you reached the bottom, Morpheus stopped next to you, turning you around to meet your eyes one last time. You had so much you wanted to tell him, but you felt yourself fading away the more you tried to talk, and the waters started to close around you. You could barely register his lips brushing against your cheek before he moved his hand in front of you, waving it slowly from your right to your left.

"This dream is over.”

The morning sun hit your face with its warmth and brightness. You squinted and covered your face with the back of your arm, breathing in and out a few times to steady yourself and fully recover from your sleepiness. A deep yawn escaped you, and you shifted around a few times, enjoying the softness of the mattress and pillows beneath you.

You let your mind wander back to the dream world, to every single detail of what you had experienced with Morpheus, the things he showed you, and what you had learned about him and his family. To you, it seemed like you had been away for a long time, and returning to your regular life was almost unnatural. Dreams were complex and ever-changing things, offering a window into the subconscious and a gateway to escape. The Dreaming was a place where time had no meaning, and in which those lost in sleep could find peace and salvation from their waking nightmares through infinite possibilities.

You stretched your limbs and pushed up into a sitting position. You massaged your neck, eyelids, temples, and lower back to soothe the aching of stiff muscles, your eyes finally adjusting to the light.

You noticed something unusual on your nightstand — a big, sparkling object that surely wasn't there before. When you turned to take a better look at it, your breath caught in your throat at what you saw. You blinked a few times, and in disbelief, you pinched yourself to ensure that you weren't still asleep.

The shell from your dream was right there, glittering under the sun's rays, as if it had always been a part of your home decor. For a closer inspection, you took it between your hands and felt its weight, the coldness of the surface as real as ever against your palms.

You turned it around, just like you did on the dream seashore, outlining each detail with fascination and astonishment. You had believed that everything encountered in a dream would remain just that, unable to cross between the worlds. But now that Morpheus was becoming less of a mystery and more of a certainty, you could tell that with the ruler of the Dreaming, anything impossible could become possible.

You laughed to yourself in utter delight, placing the shell back onto the nightstand and staring at it for a long time before getting out of bed. As you prepared a quick breakfast, turned on the radio, and resumed your morning routine, you didn't realize that something equally remarkable had happened the moment you woke up. It took you about an hour to notice that something about you had changed, and the moment you looked at your own image in the bathroom mirror, your eyes widened in shock at what it was reflecting back at you.

The scars on your arms had completely disappeared.

You had to look down at your skin, touching it a few times, to understand that it wasn't just your mind playing tricks on you. You reached for your upper back and moved your fingers where the glass piece had previously pierced you, but even there, your body was immaculate.

And then you rotated your wrist, once, twice, over and over again, bending and pulling it to test its resistance. Nothing. No pain, no tingling sensation, no funny feeling. Just a completely healed, perfectly healthy wrist.

A part of you wanted to cry for how absolutely incredible you felt about it all. Morpheus had given you so many gifts that you didn't know how you could even repay him. As a human, you didn't really have much to offer him. An endless being who owned the entire universe could never ask for anything, but there was still a hint of loneliness in him that you desperately wanted to alleviate.

You loved him, but you weren't sure if he felt the same way about you. He was an eternal being with countless ages ahead, and the time spent with you would just be a tiny fragment in the vast expanse of his infinite existence.

And yet, a voice in your head kept telling you to persist, to be there for him because he needed you more than anything else. Relationships had never worked out in your favor, but maybe that was for a reason. Perhaps you were meant for something greater, for someone better. A man who could offer you more than an entire world and treat you like a queen in two different dimensions.

You felt a little ashamed thinking about it. How could you expect a literal God, the King of Dreams, to choose a mere mortal from the Waking World, when he could easily pick any Goddess of equal power?

You told that to yourself as your heart betrayed you, whispering from the depths of your soul and pleading for you to stop. Coincidentally, the next song that played on the radio as you put on your makeup and prepared for the day was "Que Sera, Sera" by Doris Day. They say that the universe may speak to you through subliminal messages or hints that you need to interpret. Whatever it was trying to tell you in that moment, you decided to accept the advice and put your overthinking aside, allowing the natural course of things to continue without any interference.

You smiled at your reflection with that thought in mind, grabbed your bag, and turned the key into the door's lock.

Visiting the Dreaming served to raise the bar of your inspiration even higher. It was hard to tell whether it was Morpheus's influence or the dreamworld alone that was responsible. But as you sat at the New Inn, you let your hand move uninterrupted on your sketchbook.

You had invited Hob out for brunch, but he was completely swamped with work and had to politely decline. At that point, the owner knew you so well that nobody paid any mind to you occupying a table indefinitely. As a regular customer, you always made sure to order something every now and then during your stay, and the workers there had started showing interest in your drawings, which only served to boost your confidence. You had been building your portfolio like a madwoman, always using every bit of free time to complete new projects and bring your ideas to life, no matter if it meant breaking away from the original consistency. You had decided to overcome your boundaries and allowed your creativity to spring free.

In the afternoon, you left the inn to visit your father a few blocks away, relieved to be able to walk there instead of taking a cab and traveling for miles.

Your pace increased as you stared at your wristwatch and crossed the various sidewalks. The streets were particularly lively with the sunny weather, so you had to carefully avoid bumping into the many passersby along the way.

Unfortunately, you didn’t notice the man that was pacing in your direction and appeared in front of you, crashing against his chest and stumbling backward as your bag flew to the ground. The closed zipper prevented it from spilling out all the contents inside, but you had to pray that the screen of your phone didn't crack.

A hand pressed on your lower back, steadying you the moment you faltered on your feet. When you looked up, you noticed a pair of round and black eyeglasses covering the man’s eyes, with the thickest lenses you had ever seen anyone carrying around. His hair was blond, much shorter on the sides and perfectly combed to the back on top. He wore a light grey jacket, a white button-up shirt with a high collar, and a pair of black trousers matched with dark polished shoes.

His expression was blank, difficult to decipher. But then his lips curved into a mischievous smile, one that paralyzed you on the spot.

"I'm sorry," you said nervously. "I should pay more attention to where I’m walking.”

One could say that a man like him was the apotheosis of sexiness, with such a striking elegance and a smile to die for. But to you, things felt suddenly out of place, and you could sense that there was an uncommon aura emanating from him.

"It's alright," he answered, helping you to your feet and removing his hand so slowly that you had the impression he was trying to feel you. "The important thing is that you are okay. You didn't get hurt, did you?”

His voice was coarse and slightly deep with a note of allure. At the same time, it served to make you even more anxious in his presence.

“I’m fine,” you replied. “Are you?”

The corners of his lips raised up even more, and you could see his perfectly white teeth gleaming under the sunlight.

“I am,” he nodded. “But please, let me help you.”

The man bent down to grab your bag from the asphalt, blowing some dirt off of it and carefully brushing the leather with the back of his hand. There was a strange sense of familiarity, as the same energy that generally came from Morpheus was spreading in the air around you. But it was a lot darker and way more negative, making you feel extremely cold inside.

When he was done, he gave you the bag back, scrutinizing your face from behind his glasses.

"Thank you," you said, taking your bag and hastily securing it over your shoulder. "And again, I'm really sorry for bumping into you, sir."

Casting your eyes to the ground, you stepped forward and past him without waiting for his reply. However, to your dismay, his strong hand stopped you before you could cross the street. He kept you in place by the arm, his breath on your hair.

Was he actually smelling you, or were you imagining things…?

"No need to rush away," he told you, his grip on your arm loosening. "After all, I am the one who should apologize. Allow me to make up for it with a drink. Do you like Whisky?”

There was definitely something off about that man, but you were unsure if he was being nastily flirty or if there was something much worse going on that couldn't be spotted by the naked eye.

You forced a smile, trying to get out of that awkward situation in the most peaceful and polite way possible.

“I appreciate the gesture, but I’m really in a rush right now,” you said.

You hoped that would be enough to convince him, but instead, he brought his face even closer to yours. “I insist,” he murmured in your ear.

Irritation and impatience started to build up inside of you. "Look, I don't want to be rude, but I am expected in a few minutes. So, if you'll excuse me.”

While you couldn't see his eyes, which somehow you were afraid to look at, you held the stare as he processed your rejection. You could see that he wasn't pleased, breathing in through his nose and pressing his lips together. Finally, he let go of your arm completely, took a step back, and raised his hands in surrender. "Don't let me keep you, then. Maybe another time.”

The man stayed there, but you didn't want to wait for his next move. With a final, very tight smile, you turned on your heels and went down your path, crossing the street as fast as you could and disappearing into the crowd on the other side.

You didn't see the Nightmare biting his lower lip, smirking in satisfaction, and nodding his head in silence.

Author's notes:

• I generally do not stand for AI generators, as they take away the work from real artists (either with the generations themselves that take bits from existing artworks, or people selling AI art without any efforts). However, I think it can be useful for personal purposes and I like to play around with it to make quick concepts that might help me better showcase what I'm writing about.

• The importance of the phrase "You are not all Roderick Burgess" is there to capture the development that Morpheus is already going through in this initial phase. As we all know, in episode 3 he was about to leave Rachel to her consumption, to a slow suffering and upcoming death. He decided to help her because Johanna reminded him of his intention to save humanity, and that means he should also be a little more compassionate since his own sand put the girl into that state. When Morpheus told Johanna "You are not Roderick Burgess", he clearly wanted to let her know that he learned the lesson and that he shouldn't consider all humans the same. For this reason, I wanted Morpheus to tell this to the Reader as well, also as a reminder to himself.

• Morpheus has a lot of secrets, and right now Reader doesn't know half of the things he's done and went through. In the next chapter she will definitely learn about Nada, but most likely, he will also confess what happened with Calliope and Orpheus. One way or another, every single lover has left him, so let's see if Reader will be an exception... 👀

• In the comics, the Corinthian is 100% homosexual. In the TV show, Gaiman apparently stated that the character is pansexual, although it is clear that he still has a preference for men. At the end of this chapter, he wasn't really trying to get laid with the Reader, but he is known to use his charm and sex appeal to draw his victims in to get what he wants (he just seems rather flirty by nature; even with The Good Doctor, he always had that charming attitude and he tried to use the same tricks with Miss Rubio to locate Jed). Also, I see him smelling Reader's hair as a way to taste her fear. He's a nightmare after all, one that likes to toy with his victims. However, he may have found quite a challenging human this time around. Oops, sorry Cory.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 8 ->

Read on AO3!

Ko-Fi

#the sandman #the sandman morpheus #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #the sandman morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #story: let your dreams be your wings #the sandman fic

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barrenclan · 2 years ago

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Hey Raz- as someone working on my own battle cats comic, I have to ask

How do you go about portraying dark topics in the comic? Like- The Defiance’s cult, Thrasher’s abuse towards Cormorantpaw, and Blacknose’s dementia.

My biggest fear is that the topic I want to cover in my comic will end up being handled/received poorly and I don’t want to offend or upset anyone. So any tips? Or websites you used for research?

That's a very good question. I suppose it's a combination of thinking very hard about the topic, asking other people for their opinion, and research if it's necessary. It can depend on the subject, and some things require a lot more technical care than others. Not everything needs the same amount of attention. In fact, the examples you gave are perfect for describing some basic levels of my process:

For Thrasher being an abusive husband/father, I didn't have to do any "research" for this. Nowadays, it's generally known how abusive partners and parents will act, especially if they are as straight-forward and physical as Thrasher. That's not to say I was flippant, because I put a lot of thought into how Thrasher would act, why he acts this way, and what kind of an effect it would have on his family. I also made sure to consider how much of this I wanted to show to the reader. A conscious decision is required to determine if I wanted to be more graphic, if I wanted to depict actual violence from Thrasher or just mention it in words, how severe should I get considering that people in my audience might have suffered abuse and whether that worth someone like me, who hasn't, showing it severely.

For the Defiance cult, I have a passing interest in cults and so have already done the research, so to speak, by watching videos, reading books, and so on in the past. I already have a small knowledge base on this, so that factored into how I designed Defiance.

For Blacknose's dementia, this is something I did actual, categorical research into. Degenerative memory diseases are real medical conditions that have specific, non-abstract effects, so I need to actually get those right (or as right as they need to be in a fan-Warriors story). My research for something small like this really just consists of Googling various terms and finding legitimate websites, or blog posts if I want a personalized account. If I'm researching something more serious, like for a future comic of mine, I'll check out relevant books from the library, go onto an academic paper site, or watch a documentary about my topic.

In the end, I think what matters most is showing genuine effort and thought put into whatever topic you're talking about. You need to know that you're not always going to get everything right, especially if you're not part of the affected base of your subject. But doing your best to educate yourself and form a knowledgeable opinion is much better than just assuming you know what things mean. And asking people's opinions never hurts.

#ask #advice #hope that helps!

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usafphantom2 · 3 months ago

Text

The only Blackbird Mach 3+ spy plane hit by a SAM and why the HABU was not 100% invulnerable to Surface to Air Missiles

The SR-71 spy plane

The iconic SR-71 Blackbird [dubbed Habu because it resembled the Habu indigenous snake on Okinawa, Japan] spy plane is known for being the official record holder for the fastest jet-powered, piloted aircraft of all time.

T-shirts Habubrats 2

CLICK HERE to see The Aviation Geek Club contributor Linda Sheffield’s T-shirt designs! Linda has a personal relationship with the SR-71 because her father Butch Sheffield flew the Blackbird from test flight in 1965 until 1973. Butch’s Granddaughter’s Lisa Burroughs and Susan Miller are graphic designers. They designed most of the merchandise that is for sale on Threadless. A percentage of the profits go to Flight Test Museum at Edwards Air Force Base. This nonprofit charity is personal to the Sheffield family because they are raising money to house SR-71, #955. This was the first Blackbird that Butch Sheffield flew on Oct. 4, 1965.

The SR-71 was based on another Mach 3, high altitude reconnaissance aircraft, the A-12 Oxcart.

Another Blackbird, the YF-12 high-altitude, Mach 3 interceptor was developed from the A-12 to defend against supersonic bombers. The YF-12 was never adopted by the military as an operational aircraft. The YF-12 too was, however, a precursor to the SR-71 Blackbird reconnaissance plane.

No reconnaissance aircraft in history has operated in more hostile airspace or with such complete impunity than the SR-71 Blackbird. It is the fastest aircraft propelled by air-breathing engines. The Blackbird’s performance and operational achievements placed it at the pinnacle of aviation technology developments during the Cold War.

Now when talking about Blackbird family on of the most frequently asked Blackbird questions is – has it ever been hit by the enemy during spy missions? How close did it ever come to being shot down?

The only Blackbird hit by a SAM

Jim Goodall, former Master Sergeant at U.S. Air Force and author of the book Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird: The Illustrated History of America’s Legendary Mach 3 Spy Plane, explains;

‘To my knowledge, only one Blackbird, a CIA A-12 Blackbird was hit with shrapnel on Oct. 30, 1967 while on the CIA’s third pass over Hanoi in three days. The crews protested flying the same route three days in a row, but they were out-ranked.

‘Denny Sullivan [Dennis B. Sullivan retired as an Air Force Brigadier General and passed away in 2020. Sullivan was one of only 6 A-12 mission pilots, known as “Drivers”, his call-sign was Dutch 23] ran into some debris from part of the fusing components of a Soviet-built SA-2 as he was leaving the area [over Vietnam, during Operation Black Shield (as the A-12 deployment at Kadena Air Base was codenamed), where he survived multiple SAM missile attacks on his Oxcart while he was cruising at altitudes in excess of 82,000 feet]. The damage was found on a post-flight inspection and the composite inboard leading edge had something wedged in it, and the CIA identified it as part of the fusing mechanism of the SA-2.’

Today the damaged part of the SR-71 Sullivan he was flying on that mission is in the CIA museum at Langley, Virginia. Denny Sullivan went on to work with the SR-71s as operations officer.

Different SAM scenarios feared

Frank Huddleston, former USAF ELINT analyst and SR-71 mission planner (1975-1978) in the 9SRW, adds some interesting info;

‘This is why we never assumed 100% invulnerability to SAM’s, at least during my time. Known SAM sites and MiG-25 bases were always considered during mission planning and sensor targeting.

‘There is an opinion that the speed and altitude made the aircraft “bulletproof’ and missile threats were sloughed off with a “you can’t touch this” mindset. We feared different SAM scenarios like salvo launches, while understanding the enemy missile defense systems had to be ready, coordinated and authorized to launch.

‘My four years in [the SR-71 program], I drew in both SA-2 and SA-5 threat radars on or along the mission flight paths. And I pointed every camera on them as well as turned on the ELINT system. I surely can’t speak for the crews, but we surely took the threats to the aircraft deadly serious during planning.’

Be sure to check out Linda Sheffield Miller (Col Richard (Butch) Sheffield’s daughter, Col. Sheffield was an SR-71 Reconnaissance Systems Officer) Twitter X Page Habubrats SR-71, Instagram Page SR71Habubrats and Facebook Page Born into the Wilde Blue Yonder Habubrats for awesome Blackbird’s photos and stories.

Photo credit: Dru Blair via www.drublair.com, U.S. Air Force, CIA and Hoangprs5 Own work via Wikipedia

Linda Sheffield Miller

Grew up at Beale Air Force Base, California. I am a Habubrat. Graduated from North Dakota State University. Former Public School Substitute Teacher, (all subjects all grades). Member of the DAR (Daughters of the Revolutionary War). I am interested in History, especially the history of SR-71. Married, Mother of three wonderful daughters and four extremely handsome grandsons. I live near Washington, DC.

@Habubrats71 via X

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fishymom-art · 6 months ago

Text

So I wanna talk about my experience with the game “8:11”

OBVIOUSLY SPOILERS!

TW: Panic Attack, Health Issues

I want to immediately say that I absolutely loved playing this game. The art style is an absolute delight, the sound design and the music are great, and the characters are very unique and beautiful, and I love all of them. All the designs of other characters are wonderful and never seen before. All in all I think this game is fantastic, especially considering that it’s an indi-game.

But there are two things I want to mention.

First of all, the reason why there’s a trigger warning. While playing this game, my heart went ballistic. First two times it was just a horrible pain in the chest, probably caused by stress. But yesterday I had a panic attack while playing it. I was visibly shaking for at least 5 minutes after that. Despite me being almost done (yes, I continued playing despite everything, because I didn’t know the pain was caused by the game), after yesterday, I decided not to finish the game. It was just not worth risking my own health.

Now, I want to say that this is just one instance. I’m known for having problems with stress. But I’ve never had a panic attack, heightened heart beat and visible shaking due to one game. On one hand, good job, you managed to make a very disturbing game. One the other, it is literally dangerous to one’s health.

I know that in the beginning they ask if you want to see a graphic depiction of Leon’s death, but there was nothing about depiction or mention of anything else later on in the game.

So that’s one thing. The other is that the game is very overwhelming (which could also be the reason for the panic attack).

The story follows a non-binary priest Ryker who goes to a cursed, abandoned Basilica to investigate the death of their friend/father figure Leon, and hoping to avenge him. Sounds simple enough, right? Well, I really hoped it was.

But sadly, the story was… well, too much. In the sense, that there were a lot of things that were slightly unnecessary, and made the plot confusing, because at some point the main story is lost behind all the additional things.

For example, there is a romantic line with another character by the name of Accardi and a few other romantic lines between other characters (f.e Accardi and Juliek). I found it slightly unnecessary because it deviated from the main plot soooo much. I would’ve understood if it was somehow connected, but that story was completely out of place. A nice change of pace in some places, but still out of place.

The other big thing was the complicated story behind the past of the Basilica. Basically, the priests acted as surgeons too, practicing some unorthodox methods on the deceased, forming their own ways to revive or pass them on to the afterlife. There is also a thing called Generations, connected to it. I assume it’s just what the people are called after they die? A new generation of their life begins? I dunno. Again, very confusing.

This is all started with the return of a character Gabriel who in the beginning of the game died by his head being blown up because he looked into a cursed book. Which I think was awesome. It was a great way to show what this book is capable of. But bringing him back in the middle of the game for him to die soon anyway and thus beginning a different part of lore (aka Basilica’s curse)? It was confusing. I think the whole thing with generations, surgeons, and Gabriel could’ve been taken out and maybe put into a sequel. Then the characters could’ve concentrated more on the original story about grief and loss. But because of that new supernatural cultist thing, the story gets lost by the end of the game and it becomes confusing.

There is also just a lot of moments that are, again, unnecessary. A lot of Ryker’s dream sequences made the story confusing. Some of the flashbacks with Leon were unnecessary (except the one where they met and the one in the tent, because it shows the reason why Ryker became a priest. I think those were very important and interesting).

Also, God, the Basilica itself is just so incredibly confusing. I know it has something to do with the curse, but I think if you wanted to make it giant, you could’ve executed it in a slightly different way. Maybe make it giant, but do a little nudge nudge wink wink to the reason (maybe through hidden books or Easter eggs) and the curse, but talk about it in the sequel more, so the player can concentrate on Leon.

The supernatural, the talking to the dead, and all of that is very cool. I think adding the thing that Ryker is special in some way is very cool and could be done in a fantastic way, but it’s confusing in the end, because you don’t exactly understand what makes them so special.

And then there’s Vittorino. I have mixed feelings about him. He does carry most of the story and most of the best scenes in the game, but god I wish there was a bit more to his character. If you want to make him a semi bad guy, then commit to it. When he just appeared, it was clear who he is and how, but then he gets lost in his madness and his motivation becomes unclear and repetitive. Also there are scenes of him being blind??? But then he’s not????? And there’s a semi-secret door where he is a literal monster?????????? Huh??????

Also all the dream sequences get mixed with reality and you just don’t understand what is what at some point.

ALSO ALSO. THE BEETLE??? What was his purpose??? God, I loved his character and to be honest, I think his design is my favourite, but like. He’s supposed to be Ryker’s guardian angel but then bashes their head against the sink just for the Hell if it??? Make up your mind, man, you confuse me.

And don’t even get me started on Dante’s story. I was okay with it completely the whole time, but by the end it all turns on its head and like. Huh? What? Was he a human or not??? Huh???

Yeah, anyway. The game is great, but the writing seems more like a draft. There are wonderful and great ideas that were executed poorly. It has great potential and it is legit scary and I hope to see more. The characters feel loved by the creator and this is what I adore about this game. It feels loved. But then again, this post exists. Thank you!

#8:11 game #8:11 #panic attack #health issues #tw panic attack #tw health issues #8:11 vittorino #8:11 ryker #8:11 accardi #8:11 leon #8:11 dante #8:11 gabriel #8:11 beetle #8:11 juliek #game review

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1-800-helltalia · 10 months ago

Note

If it’s alright to ask can I know more about your OC?

OMG of course!

My OC is the personification of the Grand Duchy of Draostein, a fictional country I created just for the sole purpose of making a Hetalia OC.

Draostein is a small island nation a few miles off of Germany’s northern coast, near Denmark. I don’t have much else when it comes to the geography of the country yet, but I’m open for suggestions!

Anyway, Draostein’s human name is Remismund Bruns, formerly Beilschmidt— he informally changed his surname in the early 1950s.

Draostein was a state of the German Empire up until the November Revolution; a year after, in 1919, he declared independence. Remi spent his early life living with Germany, who’s technically his father. In any case, though, he looked up to Ludwig a lot. He honestly put this man on a pedestal, so he was heartbroken after WW2. (Feel free to correct me if I have any historical inaccuracies here btw, I did my research but I’m not perfect)

This is the design I have for his flag, I’m not exactly a graphic designer so it’s just a recolored, slightly edited Wirmer flag:

Personality-wise, Remi’s an oujidere. On first impression, he’s a stuck-up, snooty asshole. On second impression… nothing really changes, actually. He’s impatient, rather childish, and will say anything to save face. This holier-than-thou attitude stems from the betrayal and heartbreak he felt back during WW2 and the subsequent development of a superiority complex. He looks down on the other nations (especially Germany), even though he doesn’t have the room to. The only exception to this is Luxembourg, whom he considers an equal due to his status as a grand duchy.

Remi is also… painfully out of touch with the world, despite being a younger nation. He considers himself to be "too good for the Internet” and is so unwilling to learn how to use technology that he's managed to lock himself out of his own cellphone for the next century. Outside of world meetings, the only ways other nations can contact him are via snail mail or telegram.

A few other things about him:

His birthday is October 13.

His favorite foods are schnitzel and chocolate. He also loves French fries, but only enjoys them in private, as he thinks potatoes are “peasant food.”

His favorite drink is seltzer water. Red flag.

He’s embarrassed himself during world meetings on multiple occasions, but refuses to admit it.

Physically, he’s 17-18 years old and 5’8”.

Aside from a concept design that I made in a dollmaker, I don’t have any colored art of him yet. I do have a few doodles of him though! (plus a bonus America and Iceland)

That’s all I got of him for now, thank you so much for asking anon!

#hetalia world stars #hetalia #hetalia axis powers #hetalia oc #hetalia original character #oc: grand duchy of draostein #he’s so *puts him in a cauldron and stirs him around*#guys he’s a real country i prommy :(#my scrimbly #cw war mention

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yomogi-mogi-mochi · 2 years ago

Text

Spolia (II)

Parings: Malleus/(Light Fae) MC // Slight Rook/Vil // MC (Parental)

Summary: You wondered why you ever got accepted into NRC but never bothered to look back when the infamous black carriage whisked you away from a place you could never call home. Having been handed an opportunity of freedom, of solitude, of hope- how come you're paralyzed with fear rather than excitement? Your sunny plein air sessions and nightly walks contemplating this has attracted a certain dragon fae with an affinity for your nimble gargoyle sketches and magnificent paintings.

Notes: Comments and feedback always appreciated! Also don’t know if I mentioned but English is not my native language so please bear with me I’m translating everything from my native tongue to English

CW: Physical/Verbal Abuse, panic attack, dissociation

AO3 Link Here

Part 1 // Part 2 (Here) // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7

Masterlist

———————————————————

Though you only had a bit of experience in graphic design, the poster seemed to be coming along well. The weekend allowed for some extra time, so all that was left was to hand it off to either Rook or Vil, and considering your family’s relationship with Vil’s own, you decided to find the Vice Dorm leader to lessen your future anxiety for the day.

Blowing off the loose specks of gold leaf from the poster, you carefully slipped your poster into a portfolio folder.

Ah can’t forget…

Opening a small chest on top of your dresser, you revealed a bottle of dark, viscous liquid. Already feeling a phantom bitterness on your tongue, you prepared yourself for the daily dose of the tincture that sealed your identity away from the world‒ far far away from the oh so brilliant reputation of the D’aramitz name. After dropping a bit onto your tongue, you nearly jumped at the cup or water sitting on your nightstand, forcing down the searing pain with it. Your wings drooped down a bit, the color from your cheeks fading along with the little energy you had this morning.

Squeezing your hands and digging your nails into your flesh palms, breathe, breathe, breathe , you repeated in your head, choking down the heaviness that the potion usually weighed you down with. Your hands automatically began to work in trained movements from wig, hood, and headphones, before dragging on a pair of your painting pants and apron to head out to the alchemy lab where the science club had their meetings. The sooner you got this done, the sooner you could work on the gargoyle piece that you had started the underpainting for.

———————————————————

“Ah (Name) good to see you, what brings you here?”

The Science club seemed busy as usual, each student focused on their own individual experiments, from agriculture, alchemy, to more explosive projects‒ the room was bustling with magical energy. Professor Crewel stood, greeting you with a pleasant smile, next to Professor Trein.

“H-hello Professor Crewel, Professor Trein” you bowed lightly “I was wondering if you knew where Rook was? I need to hand him off something…”

“L’artiste en folie! A pleasure to see you as always. What can I do for you?” Your Vice Dorm leader seemed to pop out of nowhere, raising his safety goggles smeared with what appeared to be smog or dirt of some sort.

Right on cue as always.

“I came to hand you‒“

Your phone rang obnoxiously throughout the lab. Cursing internally, you gave a quick apology and turned away from the three, your stomach sinking at the sight of the contact that appeared on the screen. What a week you were having. Maybe you needed to be checked for curses or something.

“Hello mother. How are you?”

“You have an offer for a magazine cover featuring a new skincare company Father and I have been discussing purchasing. I’m sending you the date and time. You will be picked up from school .”

Ah no I’m doing absolutely great thanks for asking. No, please make this conversation more pleasant than it already is

“Of course. Thanks mother.” You said curtly, hoping it would shorten this already unbearable interaction. Before you could finish however, your mother interrupted you.

“How many times do I have to tell you to be attentive in your word choice?! It’s ‘thank you’!! Thank you, mother!! “

“Yes mother. Thank you, mother.”

“I did not raise such an insolent child! You better not be behaving so nonsensically at that school, child. Otherwise you know what you’re bringing onto yourself .”

“Yes mother.”

That cold, dark room. Nothing, nothing, nothing. The darkness that swallowed your arms, your legs, your voice, your chest, your eyes. In that inky abyss, you were merely a pile of nerves ‒ maybe even less‒ threatening to disappear. You wish you could, but the thought of being eaten whole by that darkness with no remnants of yourself left in the world often confirmed that you did have a beating heart‒ thump thump thump fluttering against your empty chest. Perhaps it was instinctual for a light fae. But most conscious beings feared death. Being forgotten, forever.

“Tainting the D’aramitz name, spouting such idiocy. When will you stop behaving this way?! Has the devil possessed you to act so foolishly?! Do you understand what is at stake here??”

“Yes mother.”

“You behave as I taught you? Understood?”

“Yes mother.”

“Oh, and (Name)?”

Great seven what else is there??

You could feel the bile burning the back of your throat, as your trained senses immediately numbed your body to the venom spat at you. A muddy stillness spread from your heaving chest, to your shoulders, head, arms, and then to the tips of your shaking hands. You noticed you had been gripping your portfolio, bending the plastic which formed to your clenching fist. With the numbness finally rushing to the palms of your hands, you let the portfolio drop, feeling the eyes behind you turn to your back when it slumped over with a thud.

“Yes mother?”

“Don’t be late. And make sure to secure a meeting with them for us. God knows you need a reminder.”

Before you could answer her, she hung up. You stared at the reflection on your blank screen, gazing far into your eyes to look for a semblance of a real person within them. Remaining frozen for a second, you wondered what sort of face you should pull your muscles into for the three behind you.

Your phone vibrated, showing a text from your mother.

"October 20. 3pm. Don't be late ."

Ah great of course the day of the culture festival. Yup that's fine. Totally fine with that, absolutely. Just have to rearrange my entire schedule for that day, no big deal! Not like I'm the president of a club or anything! Or that I promised the Diasmonia dorm leader, literal heir to the throne, I would visit his booth on that day. No this is fine, totally fine.

Definitely needed to be checked for curses.

“Apologies. Vice Dorm leader, I’ve just come to pass this onto you. Sorry for the dent. The contents inside are okay though.” You peered inside the portfolio, confirming that your poster was okay.

Rook raised his hand to pause you mid sentence. The sudden movement made you heart jump out of your chest, and you tried your hardest to maintain your expression as your shoulders twitched slightly. From your peripherals, you observed your professors, seeing if they noticed. You internally cringed at Trein’s unreadable expression .

At least Crewel seemed unbothered

“No apologies needed L’artiste en folie! Thank you for your time. I won’t keep you here now, I’m sure you have important things to do.” Rook hummed excitedly as he turned to return to his project. You were glad he was such an easy going person.

“I-I’m going to excuse myself now. Have a good day, Professor Trein, Professor Crewel.” You bowed again, grabbing the rest of your supplies before darting to the exit.

“You too puppy.”

“You as well, Mx.D’aramitz… be safe. ”

You’ve never dreaded such kind words from your professor.

———————————————————

Malleus sat at his desk once more, reading over and over the intricate annotations left in the chapter of this book. Since his encounter with the book, he had taken several trips to the library, checking out some readings on the same topic, holding a sliver of hope that it would encounter the same dainty handwriting written in crimson ink.

He wondered if he could use these during his presentation for the cultural festival. Or even buy the sketches off of them. But to do that he had to hunt down this mystery person first.

Maybe he could ask that president…

Deciding to get some fresh air after being cooped up in his room reading all day, he slipped the book into the inner pocket of his uniform- the closest one to his heart- heading out for his daily walk. The sun was beginning to set soon, staining the dusty blue sky with a vibrant orange. Surely there would be less students out late on a day before school began again.

The cool October wind felt good in his lungs. He strolled to the side of the Diasmonia dormitory, holding up the sketches in the book to find its similar match to identify the type of gargoyle. He had found one, tucked on top of the column of the clerestory*. Holding the sketch up to the statue, he imagined a rainy day, water sprouting from its mouth like in the sketch. Satisfied, he placed the drawing back carefully into its original page, walking further to see if he could spot the second one this different sketch depicted, however, he was met with the sight of a body curled on the lawn near the dorm at the foot of an easel holding a canvas with a cloth draped on top of it. Cautiously walking up to the form, he noticed that he recognized the figure sprawled out on the grass.

What a troublesome president…

He peered at your face, checking to see if you were awake. Not yet. His gaze was pulled to the stained drapery hanging on the giant canvas. keeping his viridian hues fixed on the covered artwork, his hand slowly reached to uncover what was beneath. Though he felt the muscles of his arms stretch to drift his hand closer and closer to the drapery, Malleus could not break away from the phantom force that sucked his body towards the uncovered painting.

He rolled the rough fabric between his fingers. The steady drumming of his heart slowed as he let a ghostly breath out from his lips.

“Mn…? Did I fall asleep again..?”

He jerked away from the canvas as if it had scorched his fingertips, and quickly turned to see you rising from your position, resuming a calm expression. You rubbed your eyes with your paint stained fingers, letting out a yawn while stretching your arms into the air, rolling the ache from your neck.

“I see that you were awake.”

Your eyes shot up to him.

“Oh! I’m sorry, just give me a second to gather my things and I’ll leave. Sorry for falling asleep on your lawn. The sun just felt so nice today.” You pushed yourself up with your knee, ignoring the purple splotches in your vision as the blood rushed to your head and gathering your supplies in your leather bag.

“It’s not a problem, child of man. I appreciate you attempting to capture the beauty of our dormitory. It’s quite a masterpiece I would say, I’m quite fond of it myself.” The radiant smile on his lips brought the same warmth to your cheeks.

“I agree! It’s a shame that the students here don’t appreciate it enough! I constantly tell my fellow club members to come here for plein air sessions!”

“Plein…air?”

“Ah! S-sorry. It’s just a fancy way of saying sketching or painting outside.”

He definitely thinks you’re pretentious now

“That’s interesting. I’ve never heard of that term before.” Malleus picked up your canvas and easel that you were struggling to balance in your arms. His expression urged you to go on further. Though you were surprised, excitement hummed in your bones.

“Ah! Thank you, you don’t have to…but the term was coined in the 19th century during the impressionist movement. Monet, Cezzanne, Renoir, Cassat…Any of those artists who paint in thick, noticeable strokes. Colorful too.”

“Impressionist..Hm. The only name that comes to mind is Van Gogh.”

“You’re right! But he belongs more to the symbolist or post impressionist movement! More religious, and metaphorical, the impressionists before that actually appealed to a frivolous higher class, despite the way people depict it. Impressionism is all about frivolity. I prefer the post impressionists. Van Gogh was actually a very spiritual man."

A beat. Maybe I've said too much-

“Hm intriguing, child of man. Tell me more.”

You felt your wings tucked inside your jacket flutter a bit at his words. Side by side, you continued your walk back to your dorm.

———————————————————

Your friendship with the Diasmonia dorm leader developed during your nightly walks back to your dorm. He insisted on escorting you every time, because it was “dangerous for a child of man such as yourself.”

You felt the guilt settle in your stomach every time he laughed at something you said, urged you to continue dumping information onto him, or simply smiled when greeting you. He even got you a tamagotchi to match with his, just because it had come up in conversation that you had never had a chance to keep one, because your older sibling had taken it away from you. He was so gentle, so kind, and you were lying to his face while having the audacity to indulge in his attention, his words, his warmth. This feeling accumulated as you remembered you still had not shown him any of your paintings, despite his continued interest.

“I actually suck at painting, haha. It’s not anything worth looking at.”

Every time he had asked about seeing you work, you dismissed it with that. Seeing his dejected expression after you had distanced him with just two sentences, a knot tangled itself in your chest. It was confusing, feeling a sting of pain every time he smiled, but also feeling a similar ache when you attempted to ease that guilt that weighed itself on your heart and watched his face fall into a disappointed expression.

This is what you want, right? Keeping him at a safe distance, away from your lies. Then why, why, does it hurt? Why ?

I don’t understand

It never hurt with mother, nor did it hurt with your father, or elder sibling. You kept the shameful parts of your identity far, far, away from them. What’s wrong with you? Why did it hurt so much with Malleus? What was so special about him? Was it because he was fae too? Were you feeling some sort of kinship with him because of your species? Perhaps it was worth looking into on your nightly walk after the cultural festival ends.

You turned to your suitcase, full of various potions, vials or skincare, and make up and wardrobe items.

Vil would definitely be proud.

The clock read 2:30. Might as well head early to avoid a scolding from your mother.

Heaving your suitcase out of your room and down the stairs, You headed towards the hall of mirrors where your mother had promised to pick you up personally. How touching.

You really wished you had paid more attention in your practical magic class. You thought as you dragged your suitcase through the hallway.

But then, you wouldn’t have met Malleus. A rush of endorphins tingled your spine. You weren’t sure if it was anxiety, or something else.

I don’t understand.

“Mx.D’aramitz? Shouldn’t you be preparing for your club activities for the cultural festival?”

You jumped at the steely voice behind you. “P-professor Trein! I was just…I have permission from Headmage Crowley because I have…uh…family business I must attend to. My club members are sufficient enough to set up the rest of the gallery for today…I left notes just in case…”

“I see. In that case I’ll help you at least carry this. You’re in the art club?” Trein levitated the suitcase with ease, holding the door for you before entering on his own.

“Ah, yes. I’m actually the president, so if possible I wouldn’t leave at a time like this…”

Malleus’ disappointed face appeared in your head. He would surely be, after you made a promise to visit his club…Perhaps if you weren’t too tired tomorrow you would stop by.

“…however when family duty calls, I can’t refuse.”

Trein fixed a softened gaze towards you.

Pity.

You could feel it swimming in his eyes.

Please don’t look at me. Stop, stop, stop

You shifted your eyes to the ground, a heaviness swirling in your chest.

“That’s very honorable of you, Mx. D’aramitz. However, working too hard is not good for your body. I can’t have my favorite student burning out just yet.”

Huh?

Ah, you definitely did not expect that. Your eyes widened, and your nose flared slightly at Trein’s gentle smiling you’ve been seeing more of lately. Perhaps it was a smile born out of pity. However, you heart still stuttered a bit at the words: “ favorite” “student” . You had never been someone’s favorite anything before. A genuine smile graced your lips.

“Thank you professor. No need to worry so much, I can’t have my favorite professor being accused of favoritism.”

Trein lets out a hearty laugh you feel proud of. “Rest assured Mx. D’aramitz, I would never let myself play favorites in the academic sense. I merely admire your passion when it comes to the subject of art. I should have expected a student like you would be the president of the Art Club. Ah, also,” Trein pulled out a book from his inner pocket “I was actually on my way to pass this onto you.”

Power of Artistic Appropriation: Postwar Victory of Gothic Fae Architecture

“Ah! I was looking for this! I couldn’t find it anywhere in the library!” You were already flipping through the pages, excited to devour the contents of the book.

“I thought so. One of my students had it checked out for a while and I happened to see him finish it. I asked if I could borrow it from him for you, I know how quickly you finish books, so it won’t be an issue to bring it back to me in a few days, yes?”

“Thank you professor! I’ve actually been wondering about something regarding one of the readings you suggested last time…”

“Oh? What could that be?”

“The shift from functional gargoyles to decorative ones was indicated first from the spolia of one of the triumphal arches from Briar Valley, would you say this was a symbolic, or better put, psychological attempt in humiliating the human race and their innovations of the Gothic Era?” Excitement simmered at the tips of your fingers at the thought of discussing, no, even merely thinking about one of your favorite subjects. You could barely contain yourself.

You continued, “Since in the human realm, gothic structures during the later eras had begun to rise as both a symbol of the powerful political and religious influence of Royal families, would it make sense to argue that the Fae‒ considering their history in belittling humans especially as negative sentiments grew during the war‒“

“(Name).”

The bubbling passion you radiated swiftly rushed out of your body like the warm blood. You stilled your breath, careful not to tremble as Trein’s eyes remained fixed on your expression.

“Mother.” That word felt like fire on your tongue.

“Who is this gentleman?” She gestured to Trein.

“This is Professor Trein, the head of the history department here.”

“Oh, excuse my manners professor! It’s nice to meet you, my name is Anastasia D’aramitz, owner to the D’aramitz skincare and potions company. I hope that my child here has not caused you too much trouble.”

She flickered a fiery look at you for a split second, before returning to her smiley facade.

“Not at all Lady D’aramitz, it’s always a pleasure having Mx.D’aramitz both in and out of class.” Trein bowed politely, plastering a curt smile. “I’ll be on my way now, Lady D’aramitz, Mx.D’aramitz. Take care.”

You quietly bowed, your voice lodged at the back of your throat, constricted from the muscles in your shoulder tensing at your mother’s cold touch.

“You do the same as well, Dr.Trein.”

———————————————————

You did not successfully evade that scolding. Under your left hand, you held your shaking right, digging your nails into the freshly made scabs on your palms, as you held and released your trained breath in slow counts.

1…2…3…4…

“You insolent child! What sort of nonsense were you talking about with the head of the history department of all people?! Do you know what you cost me when you act like a bumbling idiot like that?!”

1…2…3…4…

“Yes mother, I apologize mother.”

1…2…3…4…

“ Devil child! Cease with that attitude. What do you think we send you to that school for?! Have you forgotten where you were raised, you no good fairy ?!”

1…2…3…4…

“Yes, mother, I apologize‒“

A harsh slap burned your cheeks. She grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked you right into her face. Tears burned at the corner of your eyes.

1…2…3…4…

“I said cease with that disgusting attitude of yours! Do you have no respect, no thanks for the people who raised you?! We could have thrown you out that day we found you instead of our child, but we took you in. Do you have no shame?! Acting in such a way after all we’ve done for you!"

1…2…3…4…

“I am…sorry for my attitude, mother. It won’t happen again. I am eternally grateful for all you’ve done.”

1…2…3…4…

She released the searing grip from your white hair, throwing you back to the seat of the car.

1…2…3…4…

“We’re here. You’re disgusting. Clean yourself up before you come in.”

She threw a pink vial at your lap.

“Best rejuvenation in all of Twisted Wonderland! Approved by fae!” It was labeled in gold ink. A small picture of your face‒ the model one with your fae features showing, an image constructed by your mother‒ framed by a heart shape sat next to the lettering. You ripped off your wig, throwing it across the car. Gripping the prissy pink vial in your hand, you prepared to throw it out the window. You paused when you saw your reflection in the window, a dark red splotch staining your cheek.

Tears burned at the back of your throat as you lowered your hand. Shaky hands struggled to pop the cork off, before throwing back the contents of the vial in one thick gulp, and slamming it onto the seat. You dug your hands into your arms squeezing your body that no one else would hold.

1…2…3…4…

———————————————————

Malleus gazed at the poster in front of him. As remarkable as the design was, he felt a sense of familiarity in the swirling golden calligraphy.

Oh .

He reached quickly for the book kept in his inner pocket, tucked near his quickening heart. Carefully peeling off the precious note, he held it up next to the lettering.

A match !

Warmth rose to his cheeks along with effervescent delight that made his hands shake. No signature, again. It seemed that his mystery person was serious about privacy, however the pretty curls of each letter were unmistakably the same written in crimson ink.

“Roi des Dragons!”

Malleus had to rip his gaze from the poster to return to the present world, met with a gathering of students carrying lights, wood panels, and several cases of…apple juice? Ah and of course the obnoxious feathered vice dorm leader right in his face.

“What has entranced you so intently that you’re blocking the path for our backstage friends?” Malleus wanted to slap that coy smile off that face.

“I was merely admiring the poster. I apologize for blocking your path.” He said curtly, regaining his usual steely expression on his face.

“Non non, no issue, Roi des Dragons. I do not blame you, this magnifique work of art can be quite bewitching. More so because I happen to know L’artiste en folie who completed the piece.”

His ears twitched at that. “Oh?” A baited breath.

“Who?”

Rook shook his head,. “Alas, I cannot reveal. C’est un secret…The artist asked me specifically not to say.” He pressed a finger to his lips, leading the students on their merry way.

Malleus chewed the side of his mouth at that. So close. But hope was not lost. He had planned to ask you about the sketches today at your gallery. Tucking the book back into his pocket, he headed over to the art classroom where you mentioned your club would be displaying their artwork and pieces for purchase.

———————————————————

“Ah.”

The moment he stepped into the classroom, he was ensnared. He couldn’t help but to let out an audible sound in awe.

A gargoyle loomed from above, painted in brilliant hues of orange, violet, lavender, and cornish blue. Though the expression of the looming gargoyle remained true to its real counterpart, quite scary at that, there was an incredible softness, almost an iridescent glow to the painting as he approached closer, closer, closer to the canvas.

Such life, such tenderness, such softness. Was this really on a two dimensional surface? The heavenly glow of the painting seeped deeply into his bones, instilling a blazing adoration to them.

This is how you see the world, mystery artist.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. His heart erupted in warmth that he wanted to share with the world. Otherwise he felt like his body would explode.

“You’re interested in purchasing that piece?”

He attempted to slow the erratic thumping of his heart that pounded a deep drumming in his ears. He couldn’t.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

“Yes, I do."

“We can set you up over here by the counter. We have an option to leave a message for the artist, would you like to?”

“Yes, yes I would. Can I ask who the artist is?”

Thump, thump, thump.

“Ah, unfortunately I can’t say unless our artists explicitly give permission too…But I’ll make sure to pass the message on.”

Thump, thump, thump

The pen shook slightly in his hand. What should he write? What could possibly explain the situation he was in without sounding like an absolute creep? This was one of the rare instances where Malleus’ head was filled with absolute panic.

He remembered the title of the book filled with pretty red cursive. Spolia, Appropriation, and Victory: Decorative Statues Throughout the Ages. A number appeared in his head, 1001, October 1st, the day he encountered that red ink.

“I wish to find you.

“Spolia, page 1001”

He paused before signing his name. It was only fair he leave this mystery artist in suspense after they had done to him for so long. He was feeling a bit mean, too.

“Please leave my name anonymous from any documents the artist may receive.”

After paying the amount and handling the canvas with precious, precious movements, he scrawled something in red ink before slipping it in Spolia, Appropriation, and Victory , page 1001. He headed to the library to leave the book in its place.

———————————————————

Notes:

Clerestory: I realized that I mentioned this in the previous chapter but failed to address it. It’s basically one of those defined levels of the walls I talked about earlier in my explanation. Usually it’s the level where the stained windows are since it’s usually the highest level of the wall, which is why said widows can be called clerestory windows sometimes. It can also be made up of fake windows (basically just a window made of stone) in older buildings since welding/glass/architectural technology was not yet advanced enough to hold the weight of the building with giant glass windows without collapsing.

The introduction of strong metal and metal structures for the widows, flying buttresses, ribbed vaulting, and the pointed arch that allowed for more of the weight to be distributed in other places besides the wall enabled for the brilliant rose windows and entire walls covered in stained glass windows that’s colloquially considered “gothic”. This was later in the medieval era, and France in particular saw a huge explosion of these buildings, leading to the infamous Notre Dame Cathedrals all over the country. So for the Diasmonia dorm, I imagine it would be modeled after these older gothic buildings especially looking at the height of the dorm interior. With each Cathedral being built, each sought to be higher and higher‒ “suspended from heaven itself”. We don’t see much height in the Diasmonia dorm, but we do still see that ribbed vaulting and pointed arches, so a clerestory isn’t out of the question. I hope we’ll see something with higher ceilings like the Hunchback Disney movie represented in Rollo’s dorm. (This is a threat, Disney. Give me flying buttresses, NOW)

I’m trying to be as precarious as possible adding irl artist names lol. But for the sake of conversation/development I decided I would add them in moderation. Trying not to think too hard about the implications of Van Gogh and the other impressionist artists existing in the Twisted Wonderland world lol just cause I think it would be just a bit difficult to do world building for in-universe artists that resemble irl artists. Also because I’m lazy

Also, going for a parental relationship with Trein

The gargoyle painting is heavily inspired by Monet’s Rouen Cathedral, West Facade (1894). It’s a beautiful morning piece, I thought the color palette makes it look sublime, which is what I was going for since I wanted the painting to sort of reflect the character’s perception of Malleus. Soft, gentle, and beautiful in its labor of love for gothic buildings. Though they can appear scary, they are actually meant to ward off evil. As I develop the story, I want Malleus to take this role as rock and protector of the character

LMK what you think :)

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