#echo!tko

[emmy-the-dragoness]

The eyes from Echo!TKO was... interesting to try and figure out, but I think I managed okay! Never done an AU KO/TKO that's partially alien for an artfight attack, so this is very cool for me! 😊

Background credit over here

This TKO belongs to @here-to-cause-suffering / @aus-full-of-suffering

[aus-full-of-suffering]

so anyway. them. my children

[here-to-cause-suffering]

Thinking about him again.

He's so close to the stars.. Yet he'll never get to see them.

[echo-ko]

Indeed. There's a big problem. But Dendy seems to be ready and willing to do whatever she can. Though before proceeding I feel we should mention that it SHOULD NOT mean her being the one to give anything and everything instead because that's just the same problem again with different roles.

*He grumbles something, grabbing a pillow and biting it. It takes him a few minutes to properly respond.* Just because she's decided she's ready now doesn't mean I have to accept her sorry.

[mamirhodessxox]

One request. 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Angry black suit cody. 😍😍😍

That's all.🙃🙃🙃

Ask and you shall recieve shnookum 🤓☝️

Settle Down

Cody Rhodes x Fem!Reader

Desc: Cody fires himself up during his Monday Night Raw promo which results into Y/N having to help calm him down backstage.

Contents: Fluff, Cussing, Y/N being a sweetie, angry cody 🤗‼️ (No smut in this one since next oneshot will include smut)

🏷️ list: @alyyaanna @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @agent-dessis-posts @adollonyourshelf @mini-rhodes @southerngirl41 @harmshake @femdisa

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) likes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

“The Rock, took to instagram last week following up with a very entertaining rock concert, too bad he didn’t wanna be here tonight..” the crowd booed “Rock referred to himself as our favorite heel..?” Cody’s voice echoed throughout the arena talking & saying “The nature boy rick flair was a heel. Rock..I don’t think you’re a heel I think you’re an asshole..” Cody scowled directly into the Camera while standing inside the ring as if you two were making eye contact despite the fact you were backstage watching this all go down on the tv that laid against the wall of his dressing room.

“Haven’t you been crying behind the scenes this whole time? I mean once that hashtag came out once they started chanting something else, you went and CRIED to your buddies on the TKO board ‘HEY HEY! This is gonna be some good pr for the rock I need to save wwe’ god knows look at thise house we sure needed saving right?! He said it’s gonna be this great pr for the rock until it wasn’t..” Cody ranted while circling around staring directly at the live camera & you immediately noticed that he was beginning to fire himself up the more he spoke.

“Rock, the TKO folks said to you oh my gosh yes rock yes put on your gucci shirt your muscles will look so big YES YES YES YES! The reason they said it is because they are YES people they are enablers they don’t tell you like it is, so I’m going to.” Cody scoffed as he went on another tangent on how he could admit many things on the Rock but then he pissed himself off so much to the point where he started becoming more verbally agressive “Rock you are also a terrible Salesman a carny succubus and for those who don’t know what that means..Your a whiney BITCH.” He snapped.

Y/N sat in the dressing room staring directly into the fury of his eyes right through the television screen, all this talk about the rock had genuinely started becoming angering to him & bothersome that he somehow managed to upset himself the more he spoke. “You haven’t been in the ring in real time action in YEARS! And April 6th the BELL is gonna ring! What happens rock when it rings? Are you gonna have all that Big Dwayne Energy or LDS?! Little. DICK. Syndrome!” He shouted while all of the fans within the arena started Chanting, Cheering, Shouting waving around their signs while even the announcers chuckled to themselves.

For the rest of his promo he continued ranting, shouting & even going as far as making a sudden deal with The Wiseman Paul Heyman, threatening to pull a Homelander & rip out his throat if he didn’t get to the point which left Paul a little shocked. Once his promo for the night was finished You immediately left the dressing room just as he rushed his way backstage huffing and puffing mumbling with Jey & then approaching you hut you held up your hands that lightly knocked against his chest about to speak but you shook your head

“Cody I can tell you’re pissed off, You upset your own self just by talking about Dwayne alone & before You do anything like take off the suit, get comfortable, go to the bus I need you to grab some water & take a breath.” You spoke softly as you noticed his hands were shaking in irritation and inner rage before he took a deep breath & exhaled while nodding.

“Good. Now let’s get you out of that suit & into the bus before Pharaoh looses his mind..” you pat his shoulder while you two went to the dressing room. You helped him get undressed and for a moment he just legit stood there with boxers on ranting his heart out “Had the nerve on him to mention MY mother y/n and complain about me shedding ONE tear ONE SINGULAR TEAR but this entire time he’s bitching and WHINING to TKO” he started shouting a bit while you folded his suit & packed it away. You turned around & started shushing him softly and pat his chest “Baby your yelling, Settle down okay? I know your pissed hell I would be do if someone talked about my parents like that. But I need you to lower your voice, your throats gonna go raw. Like Monday.”

Cody chuckled at the corny joke you had made to help cheer him up while pulling him into a warm hug as you practiced deep breathes with him “Thank you sweetheart I don’t know what i’d do without you.” You smiled shrugging “I don’t know either.” He snorted and pressed a kiss against your lips “alright now pipe down a bit.” You laughed before giving him one more kiss.

Cody was not an easily angered man, until things like his parents or loved ones getting mentioned but when he had You around? He was going to go a long way when you knew how to calm down in the right ways.

xtripleiiix’s Masterlist

[crissiebaby]

Million Diaper Baby: Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: This story contains diaper usage, humiliation, domination, sissification, chastity, masturbation/diaper sex, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

Commissioned By: Gun1242

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In 2025, an up-and-coming Middleweight boxer named Blake “The Bullet” Rodgers stepped into the ring for his chance at a title belt. The event that occurred three rounds into his boxing match would forever change the sport as The Bullet delivered a nasty blow to his opponent’s lower gut, triggering a messy accident in the heart of Madison Square Garden. With his rival unable to continue, the fight concluded in an unprecedented TKO victory for The Bullet, and his legendary punch from that day became known as The Hollow Point.

Many of Blake’s fellow boxers would soon strive to emulate his signature move to achieve quick TKOs, and the sport of boxing became inundated with muddy undies before the year was out. The prospect of banning hits to the lower midsection was a bridge too far for the vast majority of athletes and spectators, leaving the International Boxing Federation to make the only plausible decision they could. Henceforth, diapers became a uniform requirement for boxers at all levels…

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*DING! DING!*

Thumping his gloves together fiercely, it was safe to say Matthew Armstrong was having an off day. Sweat dripped from the ends of his spiky hair as he danced his way toward the center of the ring for the eighth round of his sparring match. His opponent was someone he had bested on numerous occasions, emphasizing to anyone watching that he was not performing at 100 percent mentally. Adding to his frustration, the feisty Welterweight knew the reason for his poor performance was entirely petty. This pushed him to become more reckless as he proceeded to take his anger out on his hapless competitor with a series of wild punches.

“It’s here!”

Suddenly, a female voice echoed from across the gym, distracting Matthew at the worst possible moment. His opponent’s glove made contact with the side of his jaw, resulting in an unintentional sucker punch that put the frazzled fighter on his obnoxiously crinkly ass. It wasn’t even a particularly hard hit, making the fact that it unbalanced him even more aggravating. Pushing himself off the canvas floor, he didn’t even wait for the bell to ring as he exited the ring in a huff.

“G-Good match,” called out Matthew’s opponent, his voice brimming with clumsy anxiety.

Matthew paid no mind to his sparring partner as he beelined to the other side of the boxing gym without a word of comradery. Instead, his focus was locked on a group of fellow boxers who were standing in a semi-circle around a large cardboard box. Dawning a sour expression, he folded his arms over his chest defensively and joined the crowd of onlookers.

“Eeee! I’m so excited! It feels like Christmas!” said the girl tearing into the well-sealed box with a pair of safety scissors. Dreaming of this moment since she was old enough to walk, Lightweight brawler, Amy Stone, tore open the parcel and proudly unveiled her big sponsor to her fellow competitors, “Heh! I think I’m gonna be covered on boxing diapers for the foreseeable future.” Her small gathering clapped and chuckled lightheartedly as she held up a package of plain white diapers with a giant CrissBaby Diaper Company logo boldly located on the rear of the padding. Years of intensive training and dedication had finally been worth it, and now, she was ready to leave her mark on the sport. She hugged the diaper pack to her chest, fighting back tears of joy.

*Scoff!*

Amy’s smile briefly faltered as Matthew’s breathy dejection snagged her ear. Her gaze narrowed playfully as she turned to see him sulking as he sauntered away from the group.

“Stupid CrissBaby,” muttered Matthew, failing to mask his seething jealousy. There was little doubt pertaining to who the best boxer in the gym unequivocally was. At only 26, his professional record stood at an awe-inspiring 19-0-2, and he’d bested damn near every local guy in his weight class multiple times over. And yet, despite his obvious prowess, he had yet to accrue any sponsorships to help take him to the next level, leaving him to scrounge for any cheap fight he could get his gloves on. He didn’t want to be bitter, especially toward Amy of all people, but he couldn’t deny that he was feeling raw about the whole situation.

*POW!*

Receiving a light punch to the shoulder from behind, Matthew narrowly avoided a trip to the ground as he stumbled forward. “Who the fu-” he shouted, ready to lay the smack down on whoever had the gall to hit him when his back was turned. His rage faltered as he turned around to see Amy smirking at him. He exhaled forcefully through his nose like a bull attempting to mind its manners in a china shop, “Oh…it’s just you.”

“Hehe! You looked so mad, bro. I must’ve really pissed you off for you to go straight to your corkscrew,” teased Amy, who was able to tell what punch Matthew was going throw based on his stance alone. After two decades of fighting alongside each other, she could read Matthew like a book and knew precisely how to poke at his most hair-triggered buttons. Unfortunately, while Matthew had always been highly competitive, envy was one of his rarer emotions, leading to a gross miscalculation as she carried on with her heedless taunts, “Oh, c’mon, Matti. Lighten up, will ya! Just because we have to wear diapers doesn’t mean you gotta act like a party pooper.” She reached forward to place a hand on Matthew’s shoulder, only for him to brush her away.

A small line of pink formed along the bridge of Matthew’s nose. “I told you never to call me that here,” he said in a hushed volume, referring to Amy’s incessant need to feminize his name at all times. He allowed her to get away with it when they were alone but that was only because of the massive crush he had on her. His eyes shifted to the handful of onlookers who had previously been present for Amy’s unboxing, praying that none of them overheard his embarrassing nickname, “And lay off the diaper jokes, will ya? Not all of us are so privileged to have CrissBaby pay for ours.”

Matthew’s pointed comment struck a nerve within Amy, who wasn’t looking to have her success ridiculed over nothing more than a harmless goof in her eyes. “Oh, is that what this is about? I thought you were slinking away cuz you just got put on your ass by a rookie. Not sure that’s the kind of performance CrissBaby would be interested in,” she shot back vengefully, displaying her own brand of brash egoism. Several more fighters bunched in around the bickering besties, amused by the verbal onslaught that was rapidly ramping up.

“19 wins and zero losses, bitch. Records speak for themselves. Tell me, what was yours again? 13-3? 4? You’ll have to forgive me for forgetting since I only have to keep track of one number,” said Matthew, earning a chorus of “oohs” from the male spectators.

“Okay, asshole, for the record, it’s 14 and 2,” clapped back Amy, who wasn’t about to let her win-loss count be downplayed, “And don’t act like your record isn’t inflated with amateurs and journeymen. I take my losses on the chin cuz those were hard fucking fights. I bet your pansy ass is gonna ball like a baby the day you get laid out.”

With no regard for his short-tempered retort from moments prior, Matthew was high on the belief that he had Amy right where he wanted her if she was already cussing. He rolled his eyes, knowing of how much that imprudent gesture ground her gears. “Too bad you’re never gonna find out. Sorry, Ames, but I don’t plan on losing any time soon,” he said, utilizing the three inches of height he had over Amy to look down on her.

“Wanna put those words to the test?” asked Amy, her tone deadly serious as she stepped forward and got up in Matthew’s face. In the back of her mind, she knew this was possibly one of the dumbest things she could do. Even if she were to completely erase the annoying gender divide, she easily weighed 20 pounds less than Matthew, giving him a significant upper hand from a sheer power standpoint. That being said, Matthew had talked far too much shit to not put his money where his mouth is. If anyone was going to knock him down a peg, it was going to be her.

Caught off guard by Amy’s impromptu challenge, Matthew found himself atop a very awkward hot seat. He had sparred with Amy countless times when they were growing up but he hadn’t faced off against his childhood friend since middle school. Cornered by his arrogance, he knew this was a lose-lose situation. “Sorry, I don’t fight girls,” he replied, his cheering section quickly turning on him as the “oohs” swapped to “awws” within seconds of his answer, “Shut the fuck up! I don’t see you pussies going toe-to-toe with any of the girls here.”

“Yeah, that’s because they’re smart enough not to run their mouths around me. Maybe take a page from their book if you’re gonna chicken out,” heckled Amy, twisting the knife for presumably the final time given Matthew’s cowardly rebuttal.

However, Amy never could’ve predicted the kind of fire her needling statement would spark behind Matthew’s eyes. Balling his fists, his knuckles crackled like a fuse being ignited. He still had no intention of fighting her but he wasn’t about to announce that to the whole gym after such blatant indignation. Letting his male fragility take the wheel, he knew exactly what to say to get Amy to balk. “Fine but if I win, you have to go on a date with me,” he said, a wicked grin forming on his mug, “And you have to dress up nice, too. No sweatpants allowed.” The “oohs” returned in his favor.

Amy’s smug visage shattered nigh instantaneously as Matthew’s shocking stipulation sank in. She wished she could say this was a first but Matthew had been coming onto her since the two of them were old enough to tell the difference between guys and girls. Despite being keenly aware of Matthew’s gushy feelings, she never reciprocated. She’d been around enough macho airheads to know that type of guy wasn’t her type. And yet, Matthew still harbored a deep affection for her, forcing her to constantly find new ways to let him down easily for the sanctity of their friendship. This was clearly a face-saving move to get her to back down, and she had to admit it was surprisingly effective. Had it been any other muscle-clad douchebag pulling a stunt like this, she would’ve decked him right then and there, but this was Matthew she was dealing with. If he wanted to up the ante to this extent, she was determined to make him regret it, “Fine, but if I win, you have to do whatever I say for an entire week. No ifs, ands, or buts. No backing out.” She extended her hand toward Matthew whilst maintaining a withering glare and refusing to so much as blink. “So, Matti, do we have a deal?”

Glancing at the now gym-wide audience encircling Amy and him, Matt knew any chance of this argument ending civilly was long gone. Their brawl seemed almost inevitable at this point. His fingers curled around Amy’s hand viciously, showcasing his superior grip strength. “You’re on,” he said starkly, oblivious to the blushy fate that lay ahead of him.

Matching the intensity of her opponent’s grip, Amy squared up with Matthew. Permitting her devious mind to wander as she looked him up and down, she could already feel the horns growing out of her head. She would certainly make him pay in more ways than one if she wound up stuck on a crappy date with him. But should she happen to pull off an upset, he was going to be in for a world of humiliation unlike anything he’s ever experienced.

TO BE CONTINUED…

NEXT »

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SubscribeStar: subscribestar.adult/crissiebaby pixivFANBOX: crissiebaby.fanbox.cc All CB Links: linktr.ee/crissiebaby

Edited by AllySmolShork

Special Thanks to Our CrissBaby Diaper Company Investors: BlushyBen DD JFN Nike PrincessKittenLizzi SissyDina Strawberry Sweetsamantharebecca & One Anonymous Investor

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Okay, now I’m on a Benkei roll 🫢 what would he be like taming a s/o that’s younger than him?

*ooooooooooooh boy*

This is my thing; this is my thing! If y'all want more, I WILL GIVE YOU MORE OF THIS

TKO: Keizo Arashi x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.4k

tw: JUST FLUFF

masterlist

Keizo's fingers scroll up and down the trackpad, his eyes looking through the various pictures of women. He grimaces. Is this what his life has come to? Scrolling on an escort page in the middle of the night?

Wakasa had mentioned it as an option for companionship, but...

Is he really that desperate?

Keizo sighs and closes the browser. There's no fucking way he would give in to something like that, not now. An escort would be his last option; one he would take on his deathbed.

"You find someone?" Waka wonders in the morning, his face full of curiosity as Keizo stacks the weights on the machine.

"Fuck no," he grunts, pulling the bar down to his chest. "I'm forty-two, not dying for affection."

"Senju would disagree," Takeomi grumbles, poking his head out from the gym's office. "She says you look unhappy. And hungry."

"I'm fine." Keizo frowns even deeper, pressing his arms back up. "I don't need companionship right now. The gym's doing better than ever and--" The bell to the gym's front door rings loudly, and Senju comes in, her face full of excitement.

"How are my three favorite elders doing?" she beams with her arms flung wide.

"Just fine." Takeomi hugs his younger sister. "To what do we owe the pleasure of you stopping by?"

"Well," Senju begins, fishing her phone from her purse. "I wanted to stop by and say that I think I've found someone for our grumpy giant." Waka finds himself practically floating over to Senju, his eyes scanning her phone immediately.

"Hmm."

"She's cute," Takeomi mutters, leaning over the phone. He gives a low whistle and then turns around, shaking his head. "Didn't know they still made them like that."

"Not interested," Keizo calls out, still pressing the bar up and down. "Waka, you're supposed to be spotting me!"

"You should probably get up and spot this." Waka's quip makes Keizo huff, but he doesn't get up. I don't need another distraction.

"She's coming by the gym in like... ten minutes. So we need to--"

Waka slaps Keizo on the abs and watches his friend turn a deep shade of red. "She's coming in less than ten minutes," he echoes. "You might want to get up and -I don't know - wipe that scowl off your face."

The bar clatters back into place, and Keizo sighs deeply. "What part of not interested did you not understand?"

"You will be when she walks through that door," Takeomi shouts from the office.

"Stay out of this! You're all married; why am I--"

"Precisely why you should be listening to us," Senju advises, extending a hand to help Keizo up. "Listen, she's definitely your type. You'll get along great. I wouldn't bring her here if I didn't think you two would mesh."

"And how do you know what my type is?" Keizo wonders, wiping his forehead with a towel. "You've never met any of the girls I've dated."

"You mean the girl you dated." Waka takes the towel from his hands and tosses it into the laundry bin. "You don't have a lot of experience and--"

"And we don't have a lot of time and--" Senju adds, pushing Keizo toward a mirror.

"And we really want you to be happy, big fella." Takeomi finishes, shutting the office door. He takes his backpack and thumbs his way toward the door. "I'm heading out for breakfast. Y'all want anything?"

Various calls for food echo in the gym, but Takeomi waves them away. "Nevermind, I don't know why I asked. I'm broke." Just as he opens the door, there's a soft "oh" from the other side. Takeomi murmurs a "hel-lo" and then watches the woman walk in with wide eyes.

"That's her!" he mouths, pointing at you feverishly. Waka calmly walks around a shell-shocked Keizo, whose eyes are stuck on you.

"Oh my gosh, y/n!" Senju hugs you as well, taking in your training clothes with awe. "You look so fashionable - where'd you get these leggings?"

"The bargain bin," you tease, smirking. "Basically, a steal. So I stole them!" Senju laughs at your joke, placing her arm on yours before turning to Keizo.

"Y/n, this is the guy I told you about, Keizo Arashi." You smile and stick your hand out, gripping his for a firm handshake. He instantly notices how small it is and shudders. Size kink acting up, Keizo thinks quickly, clearing his throat and putting the thought out of his mind.

"I heard you own this gym," you begin, looking around. "Is it true South Terano trains here when he's in town?"

"Co-owns," Waka shouts from the laundry room.

"Y-yeah, he does," Keizo replies, unsure what to do with his hands now that they're not holding yours. "Comes here all the time." You nod, looking at Senju briefly.

"Well, we better get to it." Keizo frowns, and Senju gives a short "uh", looking between you.

"You're supposed to be training today. You know, on the mat." Senju thumbs toward the ring, and you head in that direction, taking off your jacket. Keizo gives Senju a brief stare, and she mutters,

"I told her you would train her! I'll pay you for the session; just go." Keizo slips between the ropes, placing his gloves on his hands. You approach confidently, ducking to enter the ring and standing opposite him.

"You ever boxed before?" Keizo wonders, offering a small smile.

"Briefly," you answer, cracking your neck and rolling your shoulders. Senju tosses you a pair of gloves, and you take them gratefully, slipping them onto your hands. "Tell me when you're ready."

"Ready," Keizo answers, taking his stance.

"No... He wasn't ready..." Waka looks down at his partner with a face full of shame.

"She said 'briefly,' Waka..."

"I heard her."

"She said briefly..." You hover over Keizo with a towel full of ice. He takes it slowly, hands shaking as he places it on his jaw.

"Sorry about that," you whisper softly, cringing. "I went a little too hard, didn't I?"

"Nope," Keizo croaks. "You did great." Your smile is worth the pain.

"I'll treat you to lunch if you want. I owe you for the knockout."

"That sounds great," Senju pipes up. "All this fighting has made me hungry."

Keizo can barely swallow the miso soup. Each movement of his jaw makes him wince, but he'd suffer it all over again with gladness if it meant you were sitting across from him and telling a horrible joke. Senju and Waka had ghosted off somewhere, leaving the two of you alone in the restaurant's corner booth.

"Listen," you muse after you'd finished off your punch line. "I know you're established, but I've had a good time getting to know you. Even if that meant my foot got to know your jaw better than most."

"I've enjoyed our time, too." Keizo tries to offer you a genuine smile that isn't marked by his wincing.

"And you know how old I am, right?" Keizo pauses.

"Senju never said."

"I'm twenty-seven." Keizo wants to fall out of his seat. No wonder you were so spry and full of life. You were a full fifteen years younger than him! "I know you're in your early forties, even though you don't look it. I just wanted to ensure you were okay with the age gap."

"I-I-I'm fine with it," Keizo states, placing a hand on his chest. "I don't see any issues with that."

"Great!" You pick up a piece of shrimp tempura. "Because I would be slightly upset if you ran off there!" You giggle, assuring you were kidding, and Keizo laughs with you.

It's almost two p.m. when Keizo walks you back to the gym. "Will I see you in the gym anytime soon?" he wonders, taking his keys out and unlocking the door.

"I think I have a standing appointment to kick your ass every Monday and Wednesday morning."

"Then I'll make sure you're on the books to render first aid for an hour afterward."

"It's a date," you grin, raising up on your tiptoes. You kiss his cheek and wish him a good afternoon, waltzing off into the crisp fall day with your hands in your pockets. Keizo watches you disappear and smiles to himself as he pulls the doors open. He almost misses how all three of his companions are mushed up against the front windows, faces making smudge marks on the glass.

"Hey," he begins in a warning tone, but Waka gives Senju 1000 yen, and Takeomi does the same. Keizo straightens up. "What was that?"

"Just a bet," Senju replies, smirking and pocketing her earnings. "You and I still got it," she adds, pointing finger guns at him. "Still got it."

[aresgodofwar23]

Rko vs Ko and tko

Rko or AnarchyRage ko

**Samurai jack:** "Stay calm, K.O. We'll find a way out of this, like always."

Ko didn't want the samurai going through torture to stop ko from having to deal with it. Ko decided he want the do it first. Jack was shocked as ko wanted to handle the experiments.

"I'll do it pick me first ."

**Jack:** "K.O., no! We'll find another way. You're brave, but let's think this through."

sorry but  I got do this. What ever to by time. The black hole is a swirling vortex of darkness, with intense gravitational forces pulling at its center. K.O. is bravely enduring, surrounded by a shimmering aura of energy as he resists its pull.

Ko started shifting to tko as he changes back and fourth Tko power was being divided as well. Inside Kos brain.

K.O.: "TKO, we can't keep fighting each other, it's causing too much trouble."

TKO: "Yeah, I know, but it's hard to hold back sometimes."

K.O.: "We need to focus. We can use our combined strength when it really matters."

TKO: "True. If we work together, we can be a powerful force."

K.O.: "Exactly! Let's

Tko: hold that thought!!

Tko and Ko was losing control. Ko : sense something do you feel that. Tko:yeh what is going on out there?! They looked and saw a door that was chained with locks as it was force open. It shows red eyes in the dark.

The door to the arena slams open with a resounding echo. A shadow looms, and then those piercing red eyes with yellow circles blaze through the gloom, locking onto the crowd with a predatory gaze. His hair is like a mane of red flames, wild and untamed, flickering with each calculated step he takes.

His appearance is nothing short of anarchic—a chaotic blend of danger and allure. The red heart, a stark contrast to his dark attire, beats with a murderous intent, while the yellow headband is a crown of chaos atop his head. Spiked bracelets clink with the promise of violence as he moves.

This third ego of K.O. is the embodiment of anarchy—unpredictable, eccentric, and completely unhinged. He's the kind of character that doesn't just embrace chaos; he revels in it, leaving a trail of mayhem in his wake. His presence alone sends a thrill of fear and excitement through the area.

: "Well, well, if it isn't T.K.O. and K.O., the yin and yang of power. Ready to dance with a real storm or the devil ?

I'm here to cause chaos."Let me consume you I need your power!! I'm hear to see the world burn. "He smiled with his sharp teeth.

RKO's red aura growing bigger as he blitzed and tackled K.O. and T.K.O., knocking them out with a powerful punch to the stomach. And then trapping them in a cage?

The scene is charged with tension. As Ko struggles within the powerful grip of the black hole, there's a sense of desperation. But then, with a defiant yell, Ko taps into a deep reserve of strength, resisting the black hole's crushing force. The transformation into Rko is dramatic—his hair flares into a vivid red, and his eyes ignite with a fierce yellow and red glow, a stark contrast to his previous appearance. The air around him crackles with a malevolent energy, and Jack ?witnessing the change, feels a cold unease. The aura that now surrounds Ko is dark and foreboding, a clear sign that the power taking hold is something far from benevolent. It's a pivotal moment where the boundary between hero and something else entirely blurs ominously.

Rko is born from the experiments of the blackjole that divides the mind.

Gravitox: "Welcome to the Syndicate, Ko. The name's Rko..."

Hmmm what ever you are ordered to kill the heroes and find the remaining shards and this world will fall .

Rko: *laughs menacingly* "Now why would I possibly take orders from you, you piece of inferior robotic junk?"

Gravitox: "You dare to defy me?!"

Rko: "Defy this!" *Rko strides up to Gravitox and slaps him hard, causing a hole in the wall, which creates layers of destruction*

I'm going to destroy everything!!!! HAAAHAHAHAHAHAAAHAHAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAH!!! Ko are you there ! "Never better, it's Rko," he says, but then—bam!—shoots the cuffs, not Jack. Jack's gut must be twisting with that eerie feeling of evil close by

There was a henchman who walked in the room and aimed a weapon at rko Jack was planning to prevent any killing to save the henchmen.Rko then starts to use pyrokenisis and lit the area in flames. He then uses laser vision to incinerate the henchmen as left no trace. The remains of minions decide to scatter he chases them and luanched a red destructo disc and it chases and manage to cut them in half. He began launching destruction in the area. Jack don't know what to do.

Jack:stop this madness we need to get out of here!!

Jack: "Hey, stop this madness! We need to get out of here, now!"

Rko with evil grin : "Madness? This is freedom, my friend. Why flee when I can unleash my true power?"

Jack, resolute: "There's a line we shouldn't cross. Whatever you're going through, this destruction isn't the answer."

You think you can convince me oh please

Jack: ", this isn't you! You've got to fight the rage

Rko, smirking: "Fight it? Oh, Jack, you don't get it. This chaos is who I am! Why run when I can watch it all burn?"

Jack, determined: "Because it's not just about you! There's more at stake, and I know there's good in you, Rko. Don't let this be your legacy."

Rko, with a flicker of conflict in his eyes: "Legacy, huh? You always know what to say, Jack. But can you really stop me, or will you just become part of the destruction?"

  Gravitox use times 10-50gravity weighing down The room but Rko was sighing and wasn't even phase . " yawn I'm bored  ." He flew up to him in speed and punched  him in a speed of sound punched him rapidly  in a blink of an eye but each more forceful . Gravitox uses his  force sheild  to get away from his range .

It was Gravitox vs Rko .

Back with the battle of KOs

Rko tries to get rid of rebellious Tko and Ko.

KO, grappling with his inner turmoil, faces off with TKO and RKO, his eyes burning with determination.

KO: "We can't keep doing this! We're the same person, and we're tearing ourselves apart!"

TKO, snarling with a wild energy: "No, KO! I'm the strength you're too scared to embrace. Without me, you're weak!"

RKO, with a voice like thunder, echoes through the space: "Strength? You're both just holding me back. I am power unchained!"

As they clash, energy crackles in the air, each blow a testament to their internal struggle. It's not just a battle of fists but of wills, as they fight for control.

KO, ducking another lightning-fast strike from RKO, turns to TKO with a desperate plan.

KO: "TKO, listen! We're stronger together. Help me out, and we can take RKO down!"

TKO, hesitates, then nods, a rare moment of agreement flashing in his eyes: "Alright, KO. Let's show him what we've got."

They stand side by side, KO's imagination sparking to life, crafting weapons and shields out of sheer willpower., they turn to face RKO's relentless assault, ready to combine their strength and creativity to overcome the chaos within.

KO's mind whirls, conjuring a colossal gauntlet, each finger weighing as much as a mountain. With a grunt, he swings it towards RKO, the air itself groaning under its weight.

TKO smirks, his own hands now sheathed in glowing knuckle brass. "Let's dance," he growls, launching a flurry of punches, each one booming like thunder.

As their battle rages, KO focuses, a net of pure imagination sprawling out to ensnare RKO, followed by a cube that morphs into a cage, aiming to contain the unbridled power of their adversary. The clash is epic, their wills colliding like titans.

TKO and KO, now allies, face the towering might of RKO. TKO's raw power and KO's boundless imagination are their greatest advantages in this clash of titans.

TKO, muscles bulging with untamed energy, launches a barrage of blows with his knuckle brass, each hit resonating with the force of a cannon. His relentless aggression keeps RKO off balance, creating openings for KO.

KO, fueled by creativity, imagine impossible weapons, each more inventive and heavy-hitting than the last. His million-pound gauntlet swings with the force of a meteor, while the imagined net and cage work to entrap RKO, restricting the unstable force's movements.

Together, they fight with a blend of brute strength and clever tactics, their combined might slowly tipping the scales in their favor against the seemingly invincible RKO.

KO's energy surged, a voice guiding him, amplifying his power to overshadow RKO's menacing presence. Together, KO and TKO, with their combined force, forged a chain, each link a testament to their resolve, and declared it a harbinger of peril.

With a synchronized effort, they channeled their energies, mending the tear in reality that RKO sought to exploit. Sealing him away in the recesses of their shared consciousness, they locked away the threat.

RKO's defiant vow echoed, "I'll break out of this; you two will pay for this." But for now, he was contained, his strength matched by the unity of KO and TKO's unyielding spirit.

KO's eyes fluttered open to the sight of shackles binding him, Shadowstrike's orders were clear: recovery and containment. Minions swarmed, ensuring his powers remained dormant.

Power

[cattotasticsmirk]

" Every little lie gives me Butterflies... "

WHAT IF I CRIED I love @tko-draws 's OCS SO MUCH YOU HAVE NO IDEAA. You KNOW echo is on the list of being drawn ♡

I had so much fun drawing this! Expect more of Slug and my oc Medduth (one on the right), I can't stop thinking about them

[kydrogendragon]

Febuwhump - "Why Won't It Stop?"

Pairing: None Words: 747 Warnings: None, but TKO spoilers Ao3 Link Here

Pain is the first thing Daniel feels.

Then he hears screaming.

His body is no longer his own. Where his head should be is the tops of a mountain, cracking, breaking, weathered down by wind and rain. His chest a castle, his ribs the spires, his heart the throne. It quakes with each breath he takes. His hands stretch out across vast plains of fire and ruin, his arms soaked in blood both his now, but not. His fingers dip into a vast ether than feels as if it stretches on for miles and miles and even trying to think about it hurts his mind. His legs and feet are earth and sea, diving to the furthest depths, beyond the great trenches of Earth, down, down, down into an abyss.

He breathes in and his lungs burn with ash. He breathes out and with it winds howl across this plane, across him now, he realizes. He can feel the weight of the soil on top of him but he also the soil and he is also the small insects that dream within the soil and the rocks and seeds that compose the soil and, and, and, and—

He is bleeding. Black ichor drips from him in places he can no longer recognize as his own nor name. It seems out of him, oozing onto his skin onto the landscape, onto the world and he wants it to stop and it should. Somewhere in him, he knows it should stop and yet it does not and he should be concerned. Why should he be concerned? Wounds require kisses to make it better. They requires band-aids and Mom’s love and—

Daniel can hear words. He knows the words, but he could not say which language they were. They sound different than he was used to hearing. The words cry out, they scream, they shriek, they howl. He tries to cover his ears what are ears in this body? Does he have ears still? There are hands on something, he should feel it. He does and does not. but the scream continue on and on and on and on. They echo through his chest, through his mind. They course through his veins and his nerves. The screams are his and he is the screams.

They cry out, begging for the nightmare to be over. He cries out, begging for the nightmare to be over. The world cries out, begging for the nightmare to be over.

Why won’t it stop?

Silence.

There is nothing.

He sees nothing.

He feels nothing.

The quiet hurts. Why does the quiet hurt?

He stands. He was sitting? No, lying? No, floating? He is tall. His limbs are limbs as he knows them, but not. He knows his hands are called hands, despite how long and slender they have become. He knows his tummy belly, stomach, core and he knows his noggin head, brain. Daniel opens his eyes and the world is new familiar, home, my Realm but colorful and bright, if damaged. The emerald he holds in his hand, given to him earlier hums in his palm. He knows, somewhere inside him, what shape it is to be. Not ruby, not again, but similar. He knows it should be a necklace and so it is. He drapes the chain over his neck, the weighty gem resting on his chest. It feels right.

Daniel Dream can still feel the pain creations, killed ruthlessly, without cause of the creatures in this place. He does not quite understand why my Realm, the Dreaming, we are one but he feels he should repair it nonetheless. And he knows that he can. Curious, that.

He steps forward, into the throne room the windows are cracked, the castle is damaged and familiar faces greet him. They bow, they call him their lord their king, their creator and it feels odd right but he nods to them. He raises his hand and with it, power reaches out from inside him. The stones lift from the floor and float back to their original places. It is like lifting a finger—a habit, a muscle memory. It feels as natural as breathing. Or as natural as breathing was. He no longer needs to breathe. Strange, that.

He sees his mother’s face not mother, not anymore. She reaches out and calls to him. Dream blinks. Then, he speaks.

“No. Not Daniel. Not anymore, not in the way you once knew me. Now, I am Dream.”

[nualaofthefaerie]

Lilies in the Shadows

Ship: Sandflower

Genre: Angst, Fluff, some suggestive scenes

Word count: 10.2k

Type: One-Shot

Summary: Morpheus lives after TKO AU

Tags: Morpheus is both a wet weep cat and a an absolute king of teases, Nuala is staggering gentle and beautiful

“And do you think love a trinket, Nuala?! That it is something I have at my disposal and could just give to you?!” his own voice echoed from the not-so-distant past.

“Then why do you treat mine as such? Is my love worth less than a trinket to you? Have I been too insignificant to be noticed, my Lord?” Her eyes, glistening with tears of disappointment paired with the inevitable realisation of impending heartbreak, expected no response. She straightened her back, excused herself and without sparing him a second glance retreated into the depths of the castle.

For better or worse, soon after the Faiths attested to being fickle. They sought payment for the family blood he had spilt. In his mind, occupied by the weight of the universe, he forgot her, her hazel eyes and her pain-filled words.

The Dreaming no longer bore joy and excitement, the smell of death and ruin ran thick through the air. Despair had seen it all through her mirrors. Her brother’s reflection had never been so clear. His complexion grew paler by the day, his sighs – deeper and his eyes, black obsidians decorated with burning stars, had lost their flame, leaving nothing but dull, pitch void. And Despair couldn’t handle it, she cried.

And Desire, triumphant as they should’ve been, had gone silent. Hidden at the very core of the Threshold, Desire looked into the distance, reminiscing about themselves for the mischievous Endless knew what they had done. Desire could feel their brothers’ longing now. And they hated it as that should’ve never been the outcome, it should’ve been nothing but a lesson. But nothing would ever cause them to admit so.

And Dream, proud and arrogant Dream of the Endless, claimed he will protect his realm to the best of his abilities, that he had given himself to the fight, yet he left. He left to see Lyta Hall. No, that would be a lie. He left to see a love that had cut him so deep he promised he would never love again.

And she told him, that past love, with her venomous tongue about who he was. And he listened. And his feet sinking into the depths of the sands of torment, only sunk faster.

It would be a wretched lie to claim Morpheus ever attempted to protect the Dreaming. The Dreaming was at the end him. And he had no will or reason to fight for himself anymore. The Stained King of Dreams and Nightmares had convinced himself that the only way to atone for what he had done was to pay with the blood of his existence.

And Death, for reasons beyond any beings' understanding, had refused to share her gift with her brother. And when this universe got locked away and the next one came and went and even after that, Death would not tell what she had told the Faiths. Whatever it was, it had proved enough for them to leave the Dreaming for good. It was only for her to know. For Death’s love and bias could never be fully understood by anyone but herself.

“You want to atone?” she squeezed her little brothers’ shoulders. “Live then. Atone through life. I am, as someone dear to us once said, a coward’s game. I do not take you for a coward, little brother.” And she handed him back his throne, his realm, his bloody crown before leaving him alone, with only the sound of the waves hitting the rocks for company.

And Destiny, deep in his gardens, was watching the scene play out on the distant shores of the Dreaming. He was in his own right indifferent to his younger brothers’ life and death. He only ever did whatever the Book told him. In it, in black cursive ink, Death’s words appeared on the page, concluding this whole debacle. It was not Dream’s time yet. One day perhaps, but not that day. The Book was closed and the world spun as it usually did, in an Endless aimless circle.

Except that the Dreaming was left in ruin once more. The damage was certainly not as nearly as devastating as it had been when Robert Burgees had imprisoned him, but even so, it was not all that better. Lucienne knew that the rebuilding will prove much more strenuous this time in comparison. Back then he hadn’t abandoned the Dreaming, he was forced out of it. This time she wasn’t sure if he had the will to move on. The King’s feet would drag on the floor, carrying shackles made of guilt and anguish, his shape became shaky, smeared to the eye of the beholder. Morpheus raised his hands sluggishly. With no more than four gestures he brought those that had lost their lives. He spoke not. Not to Lucienne, not to those who inhaled for the first time again. Only Fiddler’s Green demanded to be left alone in the dead. Morpheus, tired and empty, did not protest, he only wished Fiddler’s Green peace.

“Your lives are no longer in danger. They shall not return. Everything will return to the way it was.” He waved dismissively in a weak attempt to offer his subjects some sense of security. With one final drag through the throne room, Dream secluded himself deep into his personal quarters.

The constant feeling of Damocles's sword hanging over all of their heads did not leave them, some only felt it swinging closer.

“Why don’t I believe him?” Mervyn scuffed, picking up his tools scattered on the ground.

“Because he is lying.” Lucienne sighed, clutching her books closer to her chest. “Come on. We need to start fixing this castle from somewhere.”

Lucienne only looked up to the skies and hid some hope that something, even someone will bring their King back to them.

And in a long forgotten by its creator corner of the Dreaming, away from all the well-established Dreaming realms, so far you can’t see it from the castle unless you squint your eyes, was a forest. It was an evergreen forest once, home to the dream of hunting. In the dawn of the Middle Ages, men would close their eyes and dream of bird songs and prey in abundance. Humanity had long abandoned that dream. The leaves dried and fell lifelessly on the ground, rocks broke in twos and waters became muddy. The animal inhabitants disappeared and the forest dreams left, their powers diminishing alongside the greenery. Long before the Kindly Ones wreaked havoc on the Dreaming, the forest was destroyed, tucked away as nothing more than a nightmare-infested domain.

In the heart of the ruins, someone sang. An airy, rosy tune of anticipation and unbreaking spirit filled the abyss.

Nuala of the Faerie held her pendant close to her chest. She could feel his pain. She always did. But the right to hold him in her arms, share his sorrow, it was not hers. A bribe, a trinket, that’s all she was. Her head had made amends with that. And yet her heart stubborn and unwavering cried, the tears silently soaking the dead dirt.

Lucienne found no pleasure in visiting the forest. It reminded her of the way they were all forgettable and replaceable in the end. She had little choice; a calculation of the damages was in order. Just as ever she stepped inside, calling out to any inhabitant that might have found a home here. Dream’s creations, especially the nightmares, had peculiar living preferences.

She was getting close to giving up and returning when a familiar melody emerged from the core accompanied by pauses of laughter. Armed with the determined pace of any self-respecting librarian she reached the heart of the forest, halting abruptly in shock. The desolate rocks and mud were nowhere to be found. In their place, tall grass in bright green and fluffy moss covered the ground. She couldn’t remember the last time yellow-breasted chats and song sparrows decorated the branches, their jingles jumping on the winds. White daisies swayed from side to side, the breeze swirling around them.

“What did you do?” muttered Lucienne, her eyes fixed on her surroundings.

Nuala’s song faded at once and with it, the birds stopped chirping. The fairy turned carefully, holding two baby bunnies in her hands. Her eyes trembled, her eyebrows furrowed and her stance resembled one of a criminal caught in the most heinous of acts. Nuala was afraid.

“No one comes here.” She spoke. Mainly to herself.

“Did you do this?” Lucienne finally stepped closer, her boots sinking into the grass field. The fairy nodded backing away, her arms holding onto the babies tighter. “How…”

“I suppose abandoned things find each other.” She whispered just loud enough for the librarian to make out.

Lucienne stopped there. She rarely made visible her distaste for the way Morpheus had handled Nuala’s delicate feelings. She remembered then his cruel shout, his nightmarish eyes. They never spoke about it, but even then he already knew he had caused irreparable damage.

“Nuala…” the librarian wished to apologise, to defend her Lord in any capacity, but it was of no use. In the end, it would be a lie and they both knew that. She couldn’t do this to the fairy. It was rare that someone cared so openly for everybody around them, so lying to her would be vile.

“Don’t. I…I am not a selfish being. I understand. I do not blame him. I simply wish I had never said anything, maybe then it would hurt less.” The fairy put down her jumpy friends, inspecting their home before dusting her clothes off. “Do you want to see the rest?” She smiled from ear to ear.

It was hard not to notice at times the stark contrast between them. She shined bright for those around her on all and any occasions even in her heartache. His darkness was vast, smothering and dragging down with him any light too bright for his liking.

“The rest? There is more?” Lucienne’s face lit up in anticipation. Oh, how long it had been since she felt the surroundings of life.

“Come on.” Nuala bent down, picking up her pink shoes from a trunk covered in dusty green moss. Lucienne noticed then the thin vines wrapped around the length of her legs. “I will tell you everything on the way.”

Nuala led the librarian through paths and caves, ponds and hidden passages, and fields of lavender and pink wild roses.

“This place has been dead for centuries, Nuala. I watched it decay.”

“I know.” The fairy confirmed walking forward. “It didn’t wish to exist.”

“I still don’t understand how-”

“It’s a dream, Lucienne. All you need is someone to believe in it and it has the potential to do anything.”

“Who would believe in a hunting forest?” the librarian adjusted her glasses against the warm sun.

“I did.” She smiled, picking up wildflowers in the middle of the lavender field. “Heartbreak is discouraging, you know. The forest embraced me, it recognized my pain and let me in. The rest was easy.”

“Nuala” Lucienne couldn’t handle it. “Why did you stay?”

The question seemed to not bother her in the slightest, a light smile gracing her features.

“Wouldn’t you?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think my heart could’ve handled it.”

“I see. Lucienne, can I ask you something?” Nuala walked around, picking up a bouquet of daisies and other small wildflowers. “Am I blonde or am I brunette? Am I tall or am I short? Am I the Ice Maiden or am I simply…this? Am I beautiful to the point where men would kill themselves for me or am I so insignificant that he compared my love to a trinket?” her fingers played around with the petals of the flowers. “I do not know who I am. I stayed because at least here I don’t have to pretend to know. To smile when I’m given away as a gift, a bribe. To thank a queen that despised me so deeply she saw fit to get rid of me like this. What is a bit of a heartbreak to the probability of being someone who I know I am not? I know I just asked all these questions and I may not know who I am, but at least I know who I’m not.” For a moment in her hazel eyes, Lucienne saw a sea of sadness concealed by layers of pretend happiness. The moment ended and Nuala turned her back once more, marching ahead. “Besides, this place would’ve died without me.” She mentioned.

“I understand.” Lucienne was rarely left speechless. She thought herself capable of deciphering even the most complex of beings. They often came easy to her; she had after all spent what equates to an eternity with Morpheus. And even then, with all of this experience, Nuala of the Faerie was a creature that perplexed the librarian. She spoke her mind quietly but surely. Her words and messages were clear without an ounce of malice, no matter how broken she felt inside.  

They walked in silence.

“Nuala, he is this place, you know that right? This tempering, he could feel it.” her fingers were so accustomed to the heavy leathers of the books and the dust from the shelves ran up and down the rough bark of the tree. It had been so long since she had breathed in the fresh air, felt the different textures, and seen the colours of nature. It felt tranquil, yet undeserved like she was walking inside the most vulnerable places of Nuala’s mind.

“He is severed from it.” her voice announced in a particularly nonchalant manner.

“He is Dream of the Endless; the Dreaming is him.” The correction came naturally to Lucienne.

“Do you know he cuts ties with things rather easily?” the bitter note didn’t escape either of them. “He allowed this place to fall into ruin because he didn’t care about it and even the most endless of beings has limited capacity to overlook their realm, so…he cut ties when people stopped believing in it. So, this place is it is own. Like Fiddler’s Green used to be.”

The thought of Fiddler’s Green brought grief. He was a dear friend, a welcomed presence in any conversation. Nuala always found safety in his valleys. For Lucienne, he was the oldest dream she ever called a friend. She missed his company, the shade under his oaks, and his ability to lead the most profound and simultaneously silly conversations imaginable.

Lost in thoughts, Lucienne had stopped walking, frustrated tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She wiped them off quickly with the back of her shirt, cursing herself quietly for crying. It didn’t matter now. He was gone. Her pace picked up, her footsteps echoed through the leaves.

“Are you alright?” the fairy inquired tactfully.

“I believe so.”

“Then there is one more place I want to show you. But Lucienne?”

“Yes.”

“No one could ever know.”

Uncertain, Lucienne followed. The moon had long settled on the Dreaming by the time the librarian returned to her chambers. She had been bestowed a secret so delightful, she almost wished it would remain a secret forever. Then, it would be safe from Morpheus’s peculiar moods.

But in the end, when was anything safe from Morpheus’ moods?

The King of Dreams and by extension the Dreaming remained distant and dull for years after that. Lucienne had assumed a good portion of his responsibilities. In time the secret of the forest had spread through the close circle of the Dreaming residents. The brothers, Cain and Abel, gifted Nuala seeds of talking flowers, where they had gotten them remained a mystery. Mervyn looked after the construction of the forest, made sure its boundaries were firmly set and no wandering dreamer could jump from one reality to the other. This was especially important for children.

“The little buggers,” he would say, “they don’t have the tolerance for the trip. They get scared, you see.”

Eve blessed the ground with fertility and Matthew gave some much-needed guidance on the mundane aspects of ‘attractive nature’. He held pride in his contribution to the cause. Lucienne did all within her power to restore the living ecosystem beyond small rabbits and birds. And Nuala? She found and brought each of the lost forest, wind and river dreams and nightmares back to their home. It was by the fifth year after the devastation of the Kindly Ones that the entire forest blossomed to its fullest for the very first time.

It was no longer after the first summer nights of that same year that Morpheus showed himself for the first time. His scruffy look had made it obvious he felt no responsibility to take care of himself. It had come as no surprise to Lucienne. She had been the only one permitted into his personal space for all this time. That made little difference to the operating of the realm, but at the very least she knew he was still with them.

“I will walk around.” He had announced, leaning on the bookshelf.

“My Lord.” Her eyes barely raised from the page at his announcement. Her lips pursed into a line indicating a pause. She continued, unsure of how to thread around the line of appropriateness. “Perhaps you might want to tidy yourself a bit.” She said in the end. “A lot of your enemies would rejoice at even the tiniest sniff of your misery.”

Morpheus let out a light sound in acknowledgement moving away, his barely perceivable hands rotating in circles altering his appearance. During the time he had spent cloistered from everything, his form had become barely recognizable, shadows and lines of darkness with no face to accompany them or body to get a hold of, just dark smoke and ominous shadows.

He now resembled himself much more clearly. Tall, with skin as pale as bone and hair as dark as night, he moved around the realm, taking on a more detailed form. His star-filled eyes shaped last, the light radiating out of them bitter cold.

He went on a walk.

In the dream of an impressionable single woman from a metropolis, he took the place of a bartender at a nightclub, inquiring about the happiness of being alone. She whispered words with no meaning into his ear.

In the dream of an old wise man, Morpheus asked about the fulfilment of a long life. The man had shouted mortal tales of Gods and Heavens. Nothing of substance.

In the dream of a motivated young man, the King of Dreams was a stockholder. The young man shared enthusiastic fantasies of greatness and potential that could reach the sky. Tale-tales.

There was no meaning. No one had meaning.

Jumping from dream to dream, through bridges and trains, Morpheus of the Endless found himself in a forest. It was no place of his creation; he recognized no trees and he knew nothing of where the paths would take him. It was undeniably beautiful, however. It was alive as well. Not the way Fiddler’s Green had been, although one could get easily mistaken. This place lived through the organisms living in it, it was no organism on its own. He could hear a thousand heartbeats pumping in unison. Deers and wolves, hares and foxes, all cohabited in this place together. It was a domain of their dreams, where they found no reason to harm each other. Flowers of the rare and extinct kinds bloomed in bright rainbow colours. The moss was as soft as cotton, covering the stones from end to end.

For the first time, Dream was curious. He slowed down, walking carefully through the greenery. It was overwhelming, how every thought that entered his mind was one of peace. He hadn’t felt peace, not for a long time. He approached a doe resting on a bed of flowers.

“What are you doing here, little thing?” he asked, the back of his hand gently stroking its head.

“Dreaming.” It answered.

“Are you at peace?” he continued.

“I am.” It responded.

It was then, deeply immersed in the Elysium of his surroundings, that the King of Dream heard the faint laughter coming from the depths of the forest.

“What is there?” he asked the doe.

“Love.” It responded for the last time before taking its leave.

Morpheus got up, following the sounds. The closer he got to the centre of this evergreen maze of passages, the more voices he could make out. Chirpy, deep, shouting at top of their lungs, spewing enthusiastic gibberish, laughing as loud as their voices could carry, crying quietly, he could now make out a harmony of voices.

At the end of the forest, only a shadow away from where he was standing, it all became as clear as day. An infinite sunny field of corn poppies, sweet alyssums, cornflowers and blue flax had hugged tightly in their embrace new residents of the Dreaming. All that cacophonic noise was simply children. Cohorts of them, not one familiar with the others, yet they all played together. They sipped tea and chased after each in ill-fitting nightgowns and pants. Wearing ties around their heads, wooden swords, fairy wings and eye-patches made of plastic, and feathery shawls from craft stores, they connected with old forest dreams of various shapes and sizes. Bunnies and puppies ran alongside them. It was like nothing Morpheus had seen in millennia. It was nothing he had created in millennia. He never quite got the eye for innocence.

His eyes fixed on Lucienne, easily distinguishable among the new guests. It had been long since Dream had heard the librarian laugh out of joy. It dawned on him that perhaps he had never heard her laugh, to begin with.

As he prepared to step into the sun, he heard Nuala’s laughter fill the space. She was still here? He had thought she left for her realm the night they fought. It had been years since he last heard her voice. Would she even look into his eyes? Why would she? All the cruel things he said come back in waves. Shame trickled down his spine, dragging him back into the shadows.

When had she changed so much? Her dress, no longer short, raggedy and pink, was now dragging behind her in the colour of freshly fallen snow. Her fringed bob had gone past the small of her back in heavy brown waves. Her hair was held by a multitude of tiny chrysanthemums and a single deeply purple iris flower right in the centre. And her body, covered in freckles, ever so deity, now stood proud. She looked happy.

She was crouching next to Lucienne braiding flowers into a dreamer's hair. Impatient, the kid ran off, holding the hand of a river spirit. Before the fairy ever got the chance to finish the braid all the flowers dropped to the ground. Unbothered in the slightest, she picked them back up.

“Maybe later.” He heard her mutter.

Mervyn, Nuala, Lucienne, and Matthew resting on Eve’s shoulder and the brothers, all stood quiet afterwards. It was rare that the residents of the Dreaming created something of their own. They were all perfectly content with providing Morpheus with their assistance. But this one tiny corner of infinity had their name on it, so they held onto it tightly, letting the sounds of happiness wash over them.

“Do you think he will destroy it?” Nuala’s voice ran quiet, scared even, that perhaps she might disrupt the moment, breaking the utopia.

Lucienne’s lips, curled into a mysterious smile. It’s been too long since Lucienne had known her boss. She needed no assistance spotting him in every corner of the Dreaming and right that moment, he was not doing a particularly clean job at hiding. Without averting her gaze from the field she spoke, voice clear and loud:

“He may not be a consistent being by nature, but if he sees what we see, I see no reason for fear.”

Morpheus was a being in possession of a lot of flaws, imperfections and peculiarities, but perhaps the one he truly desired he could get rid of was his inability to control his heart. Whether now, or at the very beginning of the universe, Morpheus fell in love miraculously easily. So he heard nothing of what his most trusted advisor had tried to hint his way. No. He was too busy trailing after Nuala beaming with excited pupils. They followed every single child, all with the same passion, not skipping a beat. When had she grown to be so beautiful? So passionate? Had he been gone for so long that the world around him changed so drastically? Or maybe she had always been there, right before his eyes.

“Have I been too insignificant to notice, my Lord?” her tear-stricken face appeared before his eyes. Maybe he was so blinded by his own blusterous nature that he had found her presence nothing but a nuisance. Looking at the field, seeing them all together like that, maybe the nuisance was him.

Perhaps the one who always needed to change was him.

Morpheus moved back and away into his castle. His body dissolved into its molecules, reconstructing itself at the steps of his throne room. He sat down, head solemnly hanging. His chest, uncomfortably tightening with an emotion he was well acquainted with.

“You left before you could say hello, my Lord.”

She had followed him suit.

“Lucienne.”

“You should’ve come to greet the rest.”

“I wished not to scare the children.” He blabbered. An excuse so transparent even he saw was useless.

“I understand.” She bowed her head lightly, covering a smile. “How was your walk?”

“Eventful.” He got up. There was a sense of unfamiliar determination brewing at his core. “What else had I missed besides an entirely new realm, made not by me.”

“It’s an old, forgotten realm. Lady Nuala discovered it when…” she hesitated. “well, discovered a long time ago.”

“Did the Lady Nuala rebuild it?” he pressed.

“She revived it for the most part, yes.”

“Fascinating little thing.” He thought to himself.

“My Lord?” Lucienne looked up at the mural. “May I speak bluntly?”

“Go ahead.”

“You have been gone for five years. I would like to assure you things are as you left them, but they have all adapted to fit the tiring times and have therefore been hard on all of us. I have always told you I never doubted you and I shall not doubt you until the day when you no longer have service of me and that continues to stand true, however, I must ask. Why now?”

“I am afraid the nature of the question escapes me, Lucienne.”

“Why did you show yourself now?” her lips formed a line, afraid she might have overstepped her boundaries.

“Because I have responsibilities.”

“Your responsibilities did not disappear, you abandoned them.” Her voice, timid by nature, had risen. Her emotions had for a moment escaped her iron clutch. “We all needed-”

“You are right. I am sorry.”

Three simple words caused Lucienne to go into a stupor, blank eyes staring at him in disbelief.

“What?”

“I apologize for failing to be there for you all. You are right. I did abandon you, but I shall do that no longer. So, I apologize.”

“My Lord…”

“Come walk with me. We have lots of work to attend to, I believe.”

This much he was sure of. If he poured his soul back into his work, he would forget about his tightening chest, shame-ridden thoughts and the fairy’s warm smile and welcoming eyes.

The impending option was to stall time, pondering on Nuala’s last words to him, cursing himself for his blindness until the realization hits that the fairy had perhaps forever escaped his grasp and there was no one to blame but him. That was no option he could afford.

They walked down the long corridors of the library, catching on all that had happened between her reports in the last years.

 “My Lord, may I ask what you would do with the forest?” Lucienne’s voice shook. Morpheus flashed her a soft smile. Lucienne had already started pleading a case Morpheus had not considered to begin with.

“Do I strike you as cruel? That I will take something so beautiful away from dreamers?” Lucienne prepared to answer. “Do not answer. I see your point. To assure you plainly, I shall not touch that place.” His words were targeted to Lucienne, yet his thoughts ran towards the fairy, her sparkling eyes and “You did a spectacular job there.”

“We only helped. It was her belief that revived it.”

Morpheus remained silent.

“My Lord, you need not worry about Lady Nuala. She bears no ill feelings towards you. She has moved on.”

She loved him no more. The difficult truth that those eyes once shined for him the same, flooded him with guilt and frustration. Where had he been looking so intently that her heart had seemed so negligible? Now that he was ready to see her, the way she was, her heart was somewhere else. Maybe even belonging to someone else. Is that what mortals called justice? It felt heavy, difficult to endure.

“Of course.” His voice remained calm in the storm of his feelings. “That is good to know. Does she intend to remain with us in the Dreaming?”

“Yes. She has no intention of leaving the realm.”

“Good. In that case, I would entrust her to know what she is doing over there. Please, inform her of my decision. I do not wish for her to worry needlessly.”

“At once, my Lord.” The librarian prepared to take her leave.

“Lucienne?”

“Yes, my Lord?”

“Do you think I could face her ever again?” Honesty seeped into his words.

“I find you are capable of a great many things, my lord if you put your mind to them. I would not say your pride will easily allow you to reach out to her. You just came back to us. Take it slow.”

The next few days Morpheus took to clean his home. He first gathered his closest advisors, offering them an apology, nothing more, they were frankly already puzzled to receive that much. He gave those that have passed and refused to come back, the proper send off. The second Corinthian roamed around in his new glory, fully aware of his purpose this time. Cain and Abel were given new contracts that ensured that Abel’s death belonged only and exclusively to Cain. Eve desired nothing more than what she had already possessed. Matthew was just happy to be back to his duties. He would gladly fly from the waking world and back a thousand times if it meant Dream would never leave him in the dust again. Without rest the Prince of Stories caught up on all humanity had created in his absence. On the last of the cleaning days, Morpheus breathed life into entirely new dreams and nightmares, sending them into the universe.

There was comfort in the new monotonous day-to-day. A lot of the realm he previously found daunting had now taken on a new perspective. Morpheus had found himself content with his existence. For the most part.

Day after day, month after month since he had seen Nuala in the forest, the fairy found her way around the castle swift like a mouse. Her abilities to hide from Morpheus were on such a masterful level, he could easily compare her to a cloud – clearly visible, yet practically untouchable. It seemed she had no issues communicating with all other residents, yet as soon as her eyes would notice him approaching her way, she would disappear into the crowd. No matter what, the fairy would not spare the king a glance. At most, her head would bow in his direction, she would mutter some honorific and that would be it. He believed at first he could handle the rejection, but soon he felt his old self nagging at him, frustrated, entitled to receive the attention he thought he deserved. It wasn’t long after he found himself following her around more than he would like to admit.

It was after all easy to be invisible in the shadows. Nightmares all were. They resembled their creator in that sense. And Morpheus more than anyone was a nightmare. He could skulk at the edge of someone’s silhouette and you shall never know he was there unless his presence was made known. It was even easier with her.  

Nuala of the Faerie never doubted what might lurk around. She naively believed all nightmares were nothing more than wounded dreams. She felt no fear in their presence. Her hands never strayed from the Corinthian’s face who had started following her around at some point and simply never left her side. She also had the strength to not only indulge in conversations with the ancient mara and alps but would tell them off for overstepping their boundaries with the visitors of the forest. Nuala was simply an iridescent bubble of amusing contradictions.

It had started timidly. He’ll check up on her, make sure she handled everything at a satisfactory for his standards degree. ‘That was all’ he told himself so many times, the excuse wore thin. Still day after day whatever time the Dream Lord didn’t spend on the strengthening of his realm, he spent in the shadows of the trees, watching over her through the silhouettes of unsuspecting animals, dreaming their way through the forest.

It was once that she walked through the library at the same time as him. Impatient he followed suit, walking through the bookshelves upon bookshelves of novels and poems. The Story Lord had rehearsed a whole speech in his head, he was incapable of going through the turmoil of her evident rejection anymore. As he called out to her, the Corinthian appeared as if out of thin air.

“Lala, I found it!”

“You did?” hesitant notes coloured her voice.

“Botanical Magic, there. Written in cursive even.” The nightmare had spent a great deal of time with the fairy. Morpheus’s guess as to why was as good as any. Nightmares were unpredictable by nature.

“Cori, this is a cooking recipe book.” She laughed wholeheartedly.

“But it’s magic.”

“In the cooking perhaps.”

“Lucienne found it for me. Thank you though.” She squeezed his arm.

“Didn’t she say she lost it?” the nightmare adjusted his sunglasses. He preferred ones with a wider frame nowadays, fewer chances of the kids snatching them off his face.

“I was certain she did.”

“So now we got everything we need then?”

“Yep.” Morpheus could almost swear she turned her head on her way out, staring right back at him, hiding behind the ‘stories never told’ section. “We are done here.”

A mischievous smirk graced Morpheus’s face. So, she knew. She let him follow her like this.

“When did you become such a brave little thing? Very well, then, Nuala of the Faerie. Be it as you wish.”  Nothing riled up a nightmare like feeling challenged after all. And he was the King of them all.

When her Lord did return to the patiently awaiting Lucienne, the flames in his eyes had been ignited. The corners of her lips curved upwards.

“The Lady Nuala seemed to have asked for a book?” he inquired.

“She did.”

“You lost it I understand?”

“Did I?” her brow raised gracefully. “Must have been a mistake. Nothing is ever lost in my library.”

“Curious. I have the same observations.” His eyes shined vividly in her direction.

“Truly a mystery.” They didn’t have to talk about it. They had spent eons together at this point, highs and lows, wherever Morpheus went Lucienne was sure to follow. She was just glad to see him feel something again. “I missed the spark in your eyes, my Lord. It’s good to have you back.”

 “It is good to be back.”

“Can I have your undivided attention now?”

“For now.”

“Allow me to rephrase, my lord. The quicker we deal with the situations that require your attention, the quicker you could go back to your new…hobby.”

“Do not make fun of me.” His head fell in his hands, embarrassed blush colouring his ears.

“I have no recollection of what you are referring to, my Lord.”

Morpheus let out a deep laugh. Life flowed through his veins, warming his body. In the end, the profound meaning he was searching so intensely for was right at his feet. Desire and its stupid love. He could never escape its clutches.

Desire had nothing to do with this. The younger Endless zesty thick scent usually lingered long after they were done messing up whatever they were playing around with. No, this was simply life.

“Live.” Death’s words echoed in his mind.

On that day, the sun rose high and the breeze was warm in the Dreaming. The residents all noticed each in their corner. Their King had returned.

Nuala looked up to the sky, hand clutching the diamond tear-shaped pendant.

“He’s back.” She whispered.

Nuala never considered herself important. At least not after everything that had happened between them. Her confidence made of glass had shattered the moment Morpheus had gripped her chin for the very first time, taking off her glamour. By any account, The Lord Shaper was no gentle creature, but love didn’t ask, it only ever took whatever it wanted. And Nuala foolishly gave all of herself to its demands. When Thessaly gripped onto his arm, Nuala grit her teeth and endured for she knew her place, she knew she held no importance to him. She couldn’t offer him much but herself and that could never be enough for someone like him.

Even now, after all, she had done for the realm, at the very least she hoped he’d visit her, look at her, tell her he sees her. It was foolish, especially after the way they fought the last time. It was sick to say she felt the pleasure of at least knowing she mattered enough to cause him anger, but it was true. Perhaps she had hoped to anger him enough just once more, to make sure he really didn’t care for her.

No. He mattered little to her. Yes, he mattered so very little. She lived for herself now, for her realm. The Lord of Dreams had no importance to her anymore. Nothing connected them. She ought to remember that stolen love was worth half a life and she no longer could afford stealing her own time.

Nuala ran. She ran through the fields until her legs couldn’t carry her anymore. She stumbled, fell, got up and continued to run. Her white dress now coloured with the shades of the earth, hid her knees, all bruised up. It all hurt, but she stopped thinking about him. For now, that was more than he could say about her.

“The Lady Nuala is not in her quarters.”

“What a surprise, my Lord. I am on my way to rest.”

“She is not in the forest.”

Lucienne sighed deeply, fingers massaging the sides of her temple. It had been a positively exhausting day. An old quarrel with Hell took the entirety of the day. It took them so long to not only resolve it but make sure it doesn’t happen again.

“She is.” The librarian cut him off impatiently. “She is probably hiding in the lagoon of the lilies.”

By the time she realised Nuala’s most sacred secret was out, it was too late. Lucienne covered her mouth in surprise at her own slip-up.

“Where.”

“I’ve said too much. I bid you good rest, my Lord.”

“Lucienne.”

“I can’t. If I tell you she will never forgive me.”

“If you do not tell me immediately, you will be out of a job for hiding crucial information from your ruler.”

“Don’t twist my hands.” She took off her glasses.

“Do not force me then.”

Lucienne leaned on a near wall.

“Okay, fine. The lagoon of the lilies is the heart of the forest. It’s a small lake hidden behind a bunch of vines at the Ventlita Waterfall.”

“I bid you goodnight, my precious librarian.” His kiss on her hand was playful.

Morpheus was in the end an entitled being. He could humble himself only so much before taking matters into his own hands.

On the other hand, perhaps it was the entitlement that led him to this very moment. Perhaps he should’ve followed his instincts while there was still time and did the sensible thing of leaving as soon as he had heard her voice coming from inside the lagoon. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been walking around her forest like this. Perhaps. But here he was, clad in the shadows once more.

He wanted to make her aware of his presence, yet the very thought of her running away from him once more filled him with delusional certainty about his decision to lurk in her private time like this. He was Morpheus, King of Dreams and Nightmares, one of the most powerful beings in existence and he was pathetically longing after a fairy, the most deceiving of all creatures.

But not her. He knew her more than she perhaps knew herself at this point. She was diligent, surprisingly honest and naively excited for even the most unimpressionable of events. She would help a dream and a nightmare without discriminating. She never raised her voice, even when she was visibly frustrated. She took pride in her creations, defending them with surprising for her size bravery.

Nuala of the Faerie made no sense and it drove Morpheus to the very brink of sanity. She could recognize this now. Whenever he fell in love, his partners were never less than he was, some of them carried even more power than he did. Even his short but steamy fling with the Queen of the Faerie was at its roots a power struggle. Morpheus found immense pleasure at being challenged simply on the metric of simple brute force. From Titania, Morpheus learned fairies were devious, falsely idolized creatures, arrogant to no end and stabbing with their words regardless at who they were pointed at.

Yet Nuala, a mere subject of Titania, a bribe given with no little amount of venomous intentions, adapted and bloomed without taking away from those around her. She remained kind without fail. In contrast, he had without a doubt been arrogant and dismissive towards her, cocky that his love is more important than any being. His was a gift bestowed only to those worthy of his attention. But in the end, so was hers. That was by default what love was. A vulnerable piece of someone’s soul held in the embrace of another. And what had he done with hers? Thrown it to the side until it shattered to mere salt.

She was standing right in the middle of the lake, most of her body covered in the water. The moon in the Dreaming had risen high in the sky, showering her glistening naked body in light. Morpheus didn’t miss a single droplet rolling from her fingers as she stretched lightly. They fell down her delicate wrists, the sides of her breasts and back into the luminous water of the lagoon. With every sway of her body, the water lilies danced up and down.

Her voice, humming alluring melodies, called to him, like a siren to a starved sailor, letting his imagination run wild – her small waist easily fitting in his grasp, her fragile body breaking under the weight of his want, her voice cracking in pleading cries.

It was feasible that under different circumstances his arrogance wouldn’t have stifled the protests of his decency. But his mind was far gone. He was here and she had nowhere to run anymore. If it was not now, then he would have to admit defeat. A King rarely found pleasure in doing so.

“So you’ve hidden a piece of Heaven away from me, I suppose?” his voice came out hoarse from constraint. Holding onto his lust now proved awfully difficult.

Her song snapped in half morphing into a surprised yelp. Nuala hid her body in the water as much as possible, her head going underwater for a good second.

“My Lord! What are you doing here?!” she emerged back up, voice shaking.

“I could ask you the same. I was walking around when I heard your song and just came this way to make sure it is you.” Liar. “Usually my guests and residents are asleep at this hour, Nuala.”

“I…no one comes around here! No one knows about this place except for…” she found no reason to finish the sentence. By the smug look on his face, the fairy knew the effort to hide anything from him was in vain.

“Did you really think anything could escape me, little one? Is this not my realm?”

“The forest exists-”

“Is that what the forest told you?” he reached for a nearby vine swirling it around his finger, the same all-knowing smile made her feel shrink in her place. “It does not matter actually.” The vine swung back and forth for a while after he let it go. “Is the water warm?”

“Uhm, it is nice, yeah.” She replied stiffly.

“Would you mind if I joined you? I promise not to bother you.” He wasn’t even trying to cover for his lies, they just came out of his mouth as natural as breathing. He wanted to bother her, grab her hair, gather the droplets off her body, kiss her cherry coloured lips, mess them so much they get the hue of dark maroon.

The fairy had moved so far back from the shore, she could hide behind the rocks steadily poking in the corners of the lagoon. Perhaps she was too flustered to do so, instead grabbing a water lily, hiding behind it to the best of her abilities.

“I can…leave and leave you to your devices, my Lord. I wish not to intrude on your leisure.”

“That will not be necessary. Please, do not let me disturb your peace. I will take the other corner. Right there.” He pointed to the opposite part of the shore, closer to where he was standing. “As I said, I do not wish to bother you in your sacred place.” Slowly. Like cornering a frightened rabbit.

“As…as you wish.” Her fingers gripped onto the flower tighter.

The light of the moon, full and brilliant, deepened the shadows on his milky white naked skin empathizing every muscle. The fairy caught herself peeking at him, following every contraction of his muscles as he reached for his belt. The blush quickly creeped all the ways to her ears. Swiftly her back turned to him. It was not the bare skin that caused such a bashful reaction. No, she came from the Court of Faeries where lust and naked skin reigned supreme. It was him, in his dark certainty that enthralled her like this, like a moth to a flame, Nuala could not help but be simultaneously afraid and attracted to him.

She only heard the cackling of the metal and felt the shift of the water once he entered the lake. Nuala did not dare to turn around, her fingers playing with the lily petals, nervously fumbling them across her fingers. She just hoped he couldn’t hear the sound of her madly beating heart.

She had been doing so good until now, bolting at the very sight of him. For months, she had manoeuvred her way through the castle through every hidden passage and secret entrance she knew. Nuala wished for his attention, that much was undeniable. And yet she did not have the guts to look in his eyes. The words that hung between them were too heavy for her to pretend nothing had happened. When she claimed selfishly her heart desired for his attention even if it meant his wrath, she was lying. He may have been ever so handsome in his anger but what use was his gaze to be on her if there was not a sliver of care in it? No, this was all in vain. The Lord Shaper had made it clear numerous times he didn’t see her as a woman, but rather a gift, who had made itself useful enough to stay. She knew her place. She was as important to him as the lilies in this lake.

“You do not bother me.” She gathered the strength to respond. Even if she couldn't face him, Nuala had grown during his absence.

“Excuse me?” his voice came distant.

“If…” she cleared her throat. “If you are indeed connected to this place, it is all yours then. Only I can bother you.” She tried to clarify.

“I am connected to it all, Nuala. Even if I let it all dry and go to waste again, this is still a part of me. However, curiously this domain recognizes you as its ruler so my powers are limited.” He didn’t sound angry. Lucienne had told her the Lord Shaper was not dissatisfied with her about the reconstruction, yet she found it rather hard to believe. “I suppose I am at your mercy here.”

“I doubt that, your Grace.” Nuala was too flustered to even recognize the wickedly delightful notes in his voice.

“Only royals wear iris flowers in their hair. Is that not a fairy tradition? It did suit you.”

“Iris means hope, my Lord.” It took a minute for her to decipher his message properly. “You’ve come to the fields?!” At once her posture straightened, her ears perked.

“I have.”

“When?”

“I will tell you if you turn around and look at me.”

“I’m afraid that is indecent of me, my Lord.”

“I do not know your kind to be so modest, my Lady.”

“We are not.”

“Is it royal treatment then?”

“You are an Endless, my Lord. It would be rude of me to intrude on your vulnerable state.”

“I am afraid then I cannot answer your question.”

“If there is something else you wish for.”

Shameless, naïve, provocative little creature.

“Very well, then. Nuala, how did a little fairy guest stole a part of my realm, of my being and made it her own? Intruders have been killed for much less.” His voice echoed through the lagoon, mischievous words flowing through the distance between them.

“I did not steal, my Lord!” Nuala turned around abruptly and there he was, his face mere inches away from her own, smirking down triumphantly at her. She hid her own startled features behind the half destroyed flower. Only her hazel dilated pupils now gazed up at his obsidian ones. “I mean…it was just a forgotten forest…and it reminded me of home, my Lord.” She confessed.

“I am not your Lord here Nuala.” His body radiated chilliness, the distance shrinking with every raise of their chests. “If anything, I am powerless here, a mere servant in your domain. So tell me my Lady, has the King of Dreams not been hospitable to you? What kind of a foolish king would not treat you with dignity?” he whispered, hands stretching to grip onto the rock behind her.

“Nothing of the sort! You have been very kind to me, Lord Shaper!” she squeaked.

“I’m very glad to hear that, Nuala. I was starting to get the impression you are running away from me.” Due to the pure pressure of the stone hitting her back and his body pressing dangerously close to her own, Nuala averted her eyes, instead opting to gaze at the flickering lights of the night flowers. “You run even now. Do I intimidate you?”

He was teasing her exceedingly. He found it amusing how innocence could never prevail over lust for even the most decorous of beings. That was something Dream could never deny Desire. Their ability to captivate, hook and addict every being to lust. Even the Endless as proved by the case.

Morpheus had been a nightmare much longer than he was a dream for dreams came scarcely to him. He wouldn’t admit it but he did find a certain high at the display of his power. There was a sense of comfort in the sheer force of his existence. Yes, he loved pushing against the grandness of his partners, gods and royals alike, but it never once crossed his mind that a pair of dilated hazel pupils could make his aether purr with delight.

“I promise, I mean you no harm, flower. You can answer me honestly.”

“You…do. You confuse me.” It slipped her lips before she could think it through. Her hands flew to her mouth, the flower falling between their naked bodies.

“I confuse you?” he cocked an intrigued brow. “How so?” Morpheus leaned in, further cornering the fairy like a rabbit caught by a starving wolf.

Nuala shook her head, refusing to answer. She had said too much. A little closer and he was going to not only hear her mad heart but see her shivering with crude anticipation body.

His cocky smirk extended into a halfway mad grin, his head dipping into her shoulder, nose pressed to the nape of her neck. She smelled of fresh water, soap and her usual lingering of thousand flowers.

“Answer me, Nuala. How do I confuse you?” She had completely frozen at that point. “You confuse me more than I could possibly confuse you, I will confess as much. You run away from me, rile me up and then look me in the eyes and tell me you are done with me. Are you? Done with me?”

“This is it.” Her voice was silent, hushed, almost like it came out against her will, but it was firm, sure. “You confuse me, you make me think I don’t matter, you shouted at me, threw me aside, but then you look at me like that. From the very beginning. You have always looked at me like that.”

And she did look at him finally again with those eyes of hers. Those eyes that have driven men mad, to death even. How could any of them understand Morpheus? They all knew the Ice Maiden, they had died for her. No. They couldn’t. They had never seen her hazel eyes. Morpheus knew Nuala, his desire was Nuala.

“You didn’t answer your humble servant, my lady. Are you done with him? Will you throw this stained heart he is giving you?” his lips glazed over the delicate skin of her neck. He peppered it with kisses, freckle after freckle. They both knew the thread of control was running on borrowed time at that point.

“I do not know.” Her answer broke in a moan. Wherever his lips touched, it stung with pleasure.

“Are you this cruel, my lady? An Ice Maiden indeed. How can a humble servant help you decide?” He laughed against her skin.

“My, Lord, stop…”

“I am no Lord to you.” The whisper tingled down her back, the breeze blew, her senses peaked. Nuala pushed against Morpheus's chest, pulling him just far enough for her to speak.

“Morpheus, stop! I do not wish to be a marionette. I can’t do this anymore. What is that you want from me? How long should I run from you? How can I free myself from you? Tell me.” There were no tears in her eyes this time. She spoke calmly, yet her hands shook violently against his chest. “I do not wish to be something you’ll grow tired of and throw aside. I saw you do it once, you love the game and get bored as soon as you win. I was foolish, hell, I’m still a fool, I still love you. I still carry the stupid boon with me. For what?! To be an insignificant toy you can throw around for your pleasure! Did you hear nothing of what I told you before? If you think I will just play this game with you, find someone else. I just healed from you, so please…ah!” his teeth sunk into the soft flesh of her neck, sucking into it until maroon love roses bloomed on her body.

Her hands wrapped around his neck, reaching for her mouth to cover the painful shout.

“The day when the children first entered the realm.” He kissed around the newly formed marks.

“What?”

“I was there when the children first entered the forest. You were there and Lucienne was there alongside everyone else. You couldn’t finish the braid of the child and all the flowers fell on the ground. The day after that you went around counting the animals. The one after that you picked the berries and made pies for everyone. Or perhaps the one when Corinthian latched himself onto you and never left your side. Or the evening when you sang alone in the stars. Or do you wish to hear about the library and your cold eyes? Which of your days do you wish to hear about? I was there the entire time. You wish to talk about pathetic? Am I not the most pathetic being for following you in shadows day in and day out? I close my eyes and you are there, I open them and I don’t see you. Is that not torture?”

Shock painted her features, she stopped fighting him, eyes locked in his.

“I was the fool. I was the fool the entire time. So tell me, your humble lovestruck servant,” his hands wrapped around her waist, as he fell on his knees biting his way down her collarbones and the sides of her ribs. “how can I apologize in the stead of a foolish king who was blind to your love?”

Small, lewd noises escaped her lips.

“Tell me. I’m at your mercy.”

Her fingers tangled his jet-black locks pulling him back up.

“I don’t believe you.” She whispered.

“I do not blame you.”

“What can you give me that I don’t already have?” their breaths coloured each others faces.

“Realms of your own, the finest of silks, anything you wish for.”

“Give me your heart.” She challenged.

“I gave you my heart a long time ago.” His fingers reached for the diamond pendant.

“The pendant belonged to Thessaly, Morpheus.”

“Does it matter if it found its rightful owner in the end?”

“And if you grow tired of me?"

“Kill me.”

Nuala had kissed her suiters before, not once, their kisses all felt stiff and hostile. His lips melted through the core of her being, sensual, demanding. Her breath ran raggedy, their bodies searching madly for each other. Her hands in his hair, his pressing her chest as close as possible without crushing her delicate body.

Her hair ran in all directions. Without looking Morpheus’s hands waved dismissively, flowers and vines wrapped themselves around Nuala, braiding her hair away from her face. She bit down on his neck, lightly scratching the milky white skin of the Endless.

Picking her with ease, Dream’s back hit the rocks switching their places. It changed under his silent command, re-shaping itself into a comfortable settle for him to rest upon. Her body laid on top of his, nails digging into his back.

Instantly his mouth attached itself to hers once more, afraid that if he turned his head even for a moment, she’ll disappear into dust once more. She followed his lead timidly, letting him pick up and slow the pace to his liking. Previously convinced, he would despise it, Morpheus found himself enjoying the control.

Nuala’s mind ran to the very corners of her sanity, the words convinced she wished to speak out, smothered in condensed thrill. She only pushed his chest once more to breath in, her face bright red. The back of his hand connected with her cheek.

“Breathe, flower. Breathe.”

“Don’t tease me.” she leaned into his touch, smiling to herself.

“I am not.” His eyes answered her gentle gaze rendering her speechless. She had never seen him like this. Vulnerable, present.

“I will really kill you, Dream of the Endless. Break me again and I will kill you.”

“And if my heart is earnest and transparent to you?”

“Then I will tend to your pain, your sorrow, your happiness. I don’t have much, but I will love you, Morpheus.”

“Good. I do not ask for more.”

They stayed like this, intertwined in pleasure until the first rays of sun peeked through the top of the lagoon. At some point, in the silence of the thousand unspoken promises, she fell asleep, cuddled on his chest. He dared not to move, not to disturb her peace. On the back of her neck, a dark mark bloomed, a little four-pointed star.

And Morpheus thought. About life, meaning and love. About his siblings, about tomorrow.

Death’s senses tingled deep in the concrete jungle of New York.

“My Lady Death,” the Grim Reaper, protector of Death’s scrolls, appeared in the tiny two-bedroom apartment. “I have come with news.”

“I felt it.” she smiled, tightening the laces of her boots.

“What should I do with the record?” the skeleton figure inquired.

“The Dreaming has a bride. She belongs to me no more.” Death shrugged. “Oh, actually Reaper!”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Burn it.”

“As you command, my Lady.”

Death’s love and bias could never be understood by a simple soul. She kept to herself. Still, a little smile creeped on her face.

Death was content.

[ok-au-tournament]

SUBMITTED BY: @here-to-cause-suffering

Time for an Echo!AU ramble (Part One)

So overall it does follow the shows plot for the most part, diverging at certain parts (such as the episode TKO— where the transformation itself is very different. It was very painful! TKO's wings alone were enough to tear the body's back up, along with the brutal forming of a tail, claws and extra large, sharp teeth and even their eyeballs changed. (I will not get into the graphic details however.)

Of course, unbeknownst to them there was the Mega Darrell attack still happening. And honestly, TKO had no idea what was happening in all of this— he couldn't even see the figure standing in front of him as he formed, let alone the Mega Darrell about to destroy the plaza.

In fact, TKO can't see at all. He's blind, but that doesn't really bother him that much. He— along with Shadowy Figure— uses a form of echolocation to be aware of his surroundings and get around. It's not perfect by any means, and he's very easily overwhelmed, but it works. All of his senses are incredibly sensitive, which really adds to that. Because of this he's actually often quiet, to avoid hurting his ears, and rarely yells.

The Mega Darrell is dealt with, and everyone gets to meet TKO! This goes on pretty much the same way as it does in canon, except instead of actually kind of working like he does in the episode, he kinda just flops down in the break room and raids the fridge for ice packs. Everyone allows this because what the FUCK that kid is clearly in pain. He's a little more willing to do things the next day, but generally still has a hard time. When he does attack them it's more of a mixture of things, most notably: pain, sensory overload, being overwhelmed in general, and being called cute definitely doesn't help that either (/hj)

He gets put in the cage in the mind, which doesn't quite fit. His tail hangs out between some of the bars, he can't really stretch his wings, it's overall not very comfortable. Meanwhile, KO is in control of the body again and it takes him several days to recover physically from the first transformation. He doesn't have TKO's wings, just the tail�� albeit a different color, and some of the splotches. His eyesight has worsened and his other senses are a bit stronger, but not to the level of TKO's. (A rough example of the approximate size of the cage and TKO)

KO doesn't show up to work, or school, for a few days as he recovers physically and gets used to his new tail. Things generally continue the same way after this for a bit, though he is noticeably more hesitant to let TKO out then he would be in canon because doing so physically HURTS. Because of this he's a LOT more hesitant in Mystery Science Fair 201X— though Dendy does still get to meet TKO, and he does still destroy her lab, but that goes a bit differently as well. (I haven't really worked that out exactly, but on the ask blog you can see them hanging out a bit with the anons and TKO still actively expresses his dislike towards Dendy.)

When you're in control happens, KO is again more hesitant to allow TKO to come out to fight Boxman Jr. but is aware that it's really the only option he has. During the conversation they have he realizes that TKO is surprisingly pretty calm when not overwhelmed, overstimulated and in pain— and being treated like a human being and not some thing in his head. The situation is dealt with, and TKO is given his little house in the mind, though it's quite a bit different then it is in canon with a lot of accomodations for him.

[aus-full-of-suffering]

Main blog: @here-to-cause-suffering !!

I talk a lot about my aus so I figured I could put them on their own blog so people can ignore (most of) my rambling if they wish because I. I do ramble quite a bit!

I currently have three aus!

OK K-0 — My robot sons, also my oldest au

—>TAGS: #ok k-0 #k-0 #tk-0

Echo!AU — my fluffy boys, inspired by one of @bubbleberryuniverse 's Shiny noncanons

—>TAGS: #echo!au #echo!TKO #echo!ko #echo!shadowy figure

Grounded!AU — an au based off Grounded and OK KO !

—>TAGS: #grounded!au #grounded!ko #grounded!tko #grounded!enid #grounded!rad #grounded!dendy #grounded!foxtail #grounded!elodie

You can find brief descriptions, content warnings and lists of common, potentially triggering, themes discussed in the respective aus here!

Potentially triggering content will be tagged as such, such as #mild body horror for grounded!tko, or #self harm for echo!tko/ko and so forth!

[here-to-cause-suffering]

him :)

[echo-ko]

Time to unwind then

I wish.

[technicalknockout]

Yes!!!!!!!! it reveals so much to show what ko DOESNT let himself feel and its like. how tko is quite literally canonically ko's biggest fear. i dont think thats Literal though, considering ko didnt know of tko as a person beforehand and his answer to enid questioning if thats his biggest fear being "i don't know, i guess so." but hes at the very least representative of it. or metaphorically it.

and i think this shows Why ko does these things. Projection. and to that idea, some degree of hating himself for having those kind of feelings. another note being the fact that ko also doesnt Really see tko as a person. lftte to the end IS bad. but "even when i accepted you as part of me i treated you as this angry thing" really does show something important in why ko treats tko like that.

and its like. part of the reason WHY "tko and ko being the same person" (put in quotes because they arent) feels so unsatisfying as a conclusion is because it literally does not address the elephant in the room of WHY ko is like this and how people treated tko (even BEFORE they actually believed tko to at least have a will separate to tko). because even if we have no fucking idea what caused ko to be like that originally... i dont think you develop that kind of issue just by yourself, and that kind of fear was very much reinforced by what everyone did with tko.

likeee tko rules is so interesting! ko LIES to carol about him breaking the rule, because he KNOWS itd be worse to admit he let out tko willingly and its just aagh. along with how others treating tko having a very major effect on how tko sees the world and acts. did you know tko calls ko a weirdo twice. once for the. sync machine in tkos house and again in tko rules for cleaning his room. this implies tko might think of ko as a weirdo for caring about him. :)

AAAGHHGGHGGGGGG EXACTLY excuse me while i die on the floor

the tko being ko's biggest fear bit might be related to how open tko is about his feelings, and how often it echoes ko's own. because he doesnt like facing that those ARE his emotions. In lftte it looks like ko at least accepts that, but like you said it feels kind of unresolved because (aside from the entire merge thing) we dont know where the repression originated, and if you cant find the cause of the problem it might happen again. tko sometimes acts out how ko wants to act, and while it's not really a good thing (he lacks self control and hurts a lot of people) the people around him disregard his feelings and simply view him as evil. what lesson does THAT teach ko. repress your negative emotions and dont express them ever which ko, viewing tko as negative emotions itself, does to tko.. so i think theres definitely something external in there. conclusion: AHHDJSBJFJSNFJSKNFMSMFKSKDN