#its an endless paradox i say...

[soggyyycereal]

hOW DO PEOPLE SOCIALIZE ONLINE!!!! rAAAHH!!! I want friends but I'm too chicken to talk first 😔‼️

[margaretkart]

The Age of Information and Selective Ignorance

The internet has given us access to a treasure trove of knowledge, yet we often encounter posts like the one in question. Ever since a famous director Nolan, announces his next project being the Odyssey, it's like the Pandora's box opened and many start saying nonsense online.

1. "So what if people don’t know what it is?"

It’s fair to acknowledge that no one can know everything—life is busy, and there’s an endless stream of content to consume. But when it comes to The Odyssey, one of the foundational texts of global literature, ignorance hits a bit differently. It's not just a random book; it's a cultural artifact that has shaped storytelling for thousands of years.

If you're on the internet (which you clearly are) and see discussions surrounding a classic like this, why not spend five minutes Googling it? We’re living in an age where knowledge is literally a click away.

2. "Are people supposed to be aware of every single piece of literature?"

No, but some pieces of literature are universal touchstones. The Odyssey and The Iliad aren’t just books—they’re cornerstones of civilization, referenced in movies, music, and art across cultures. It’s not about reading every classic but recognizing those works that have had a global impact.

3. "Schools teach different things, right?"

Sure, curriculums vary. However, many schools worldwide at least introduce Homeric epics as part of history or literature classes. Even if your school didn’t cover The Odyssey, you’ve likely been exposed to its themes or characters indirectly. Odysseus’ archetypal journey influences countless modern heroes, from Frodo to Katniss Everdeen.

4. The Internet Paradox

The ironic part of this post is the medium it was shared on. If you can rant about people discussing The Odyssey online, why not research what it is first? You can’t criticize others for knowing it while proudly broadcasting your ignorance.

Even a basic search would tell you The Odyssey is an ancient Greek epic, not a modern novel with "random sea god Poseidon" on the cover.

5. Why Does This Matter?

This post embodies a broader issue: the normalization of selective ignorance. When people proudly dismiss foundational knowledge, it signals a troubling cultural shift. The classics, whether you’ve read them or not, are bridges between past and present. They remind us where we’ve been and help us make sense of where we’re going.

To dismiss a text like The Odyssey, isn’t just about not knowing who Odysseus is—it’s a failure to appreciate the interconnectedness of history, literature, and culture.

- Conclusion:

Rather than defensively justifying ignorance, why not lean into curiosity? No one is born knowing everything, but the beauty of living in an information-rich era is the ability to learn. If a Nolan movie announcement sparks discussions about The Odyssey, see it as an opportunity to dive into one of the greatest stories ever told.

Instead of asking, “Why do people expect me to know this?” try asking, “What can I learn from this?”

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Day seventeen: Darling being sacrificed to Deity!Chrollo

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: Only thing I have to say is 🥺💕💕💕, I love him

The air was thick with incense and the soft murmurs of the cultists, their chants rising and falling like a tide all around you. The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows across the chamber walls, and despite the warmth of the room, a chill settled deep into your bones.

You were bound to an altar of cold stone, unable to move, fear coursing through your veins. They had called it a “gift,” this sacrifice they were making, but all you felt was the dread creeping up your spine.

“Great Chrollo,” One of them intoned louder this time, bowing so low that her forehead brushed the ground. “We offer this sacrifice in exchange for your infinite wisdom. Please, hear our plea, benevolent God and if were worthy, grace us with your presence.”

You wanted to scream at them, to swear at their existence but they put a gag over your lips so you couldn't interrumpt their prayers and summoning.

If you died, you wanted to return as a ghost, the most violent one, just so you could haunt them to the point that not even their god could help them.

There was a moment of stillness, and then, the very air seemed to bend, a presence sliding into existence as if it had always been there. Chrollo emerged from the darkness, his form solidifying from the shadows, and you felt a shiver run through you at the sight of him. He was unnaturally beautiful, a figure that radiated both menace and an inexplicable calm. The cultists remained praying and thanking him.

His eyes, dark as ink, met yours as soon as he appeared, and there was something ancient within them, something that spoke of endless years spent peering into the abyss.

“You summon me, as you always do,” Chrollo said, his voice soft, almost contemplative, its tone and syllables made you stop trembling as an unexplainable calm washed over you. “And as always, you ask for answers.”

He took a step forward, gaze drifting over you with a detached curiosity, as if studying a painting in a gallery. “You desire knowledge, yet you fear the cost. Isn’t that the paradox of humanity?”

One of the cultists dared to speak, voice trembling with reverence. “We understand the price, Great Chrollo. For each answer, a life must be given.”

Chrollo chuckled, a sound that was more thoughtful than amused. “Ah, but do you truly understand?” He turned his back on them, walking around you, his steps slow and deliberate. “Knowledge is a burden, not a gift. Every answer begets more questions, and every revelation strips away the comfort of ignorance. You offer a life for what? A fleeting moment of clarity in an endless sea of uncertainty?”

His fingers brushed against your cheek, and you flinched, the touch cold as ice. He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly and then he smiled, but it was a distant, melancholic thing, as if he were reminiscing about something long lost.

“And yet,” Chrollo murmured, “here you are, placed on this altar, offered up as if you were nothing more than a token in a game they scarcely understand. How do you feel?”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to find your voice as he took out the gag from your lips. “I didn’t… I didn’t ask for this,” you whispered, the words trembling on your lips. “I don’t want to die.”

Chrollo’s eyes softened and for a moment, there was something almost kind in his expression. “Few do,” He replied, “but that’s the nature of sacrifice, isn’t it? It’s rarely a choice. It’s something taken, something demanded, without regard for the will of the one who must pay the price.”

He tilted his head, considering you as if you were a riddle he was trying to solve. “Tell me, do you believe in fate? In the idea that some are destined to be pawns, while others move the pieces?”

You stared at him, struggling to understand his words. “I… I don’t know.”

“An honest answer,” Chrollo mused, a faint smile touching his lips. “How rare. Most people spend their lives pretending they have all the answers when, in truth, they’re adrift, terrified of the great unknown.” He looked back at the cultists, who were still kneeling, waiting for their moment of enlightenment.

“You seek knowledge,” He said to them, his tone gentle but laced with an unspoken warning. “But knowledge is not a gift freely given. It is something that devours, something that demands its pound of flesh.”

“Please, Great Chrollo,” one of them pleaded, “grant us the wisdom we seek!”

He sighed, almost as if he were disappointed, and then, with a wave of his hand, the room erupted into darkness. When the shadows receded, the cultists were gone, their bodies erased from existence, leaving only you and Chrollo standing in the silence.

You stared at him, heart pounding in your chest. “What… what did you do?”

“I gave them their answer,” He replied simply, turning his gaze back to you. “And in doing so, I took what was owed. That is the way of all things — equilibrium. For every truth, there must be a consequence.”

“Then… why am I still here?” you asked, voice barely more than a whisper. "Wasn’t I your sacrifice?"

Chrollo’s smile returned, softer this time, tinged with an unspoken sadness. “Because you,” He said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face, “are a question I have yet to answer. You are an enigma, a puzzle placed before me and I am nothing if not curious, as you're so alike my past lover.”

"Whatever do you mean by that?" You asked, your eyes searching for something inside of his. But you were answered only with a simple smile of his, for a god of knowledge, Chrollo was fond of not giving any answer at all.

Instead, he leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin and you could feel the weight of his presence enveloping you like a mantle. “It means what it means, dear Y/n. Until my curiosity is satisfied, you will remain mine.”

He pulled back, his expression thoughtful, almost serene as he worked to free your limbs from the ropes and caressed your skin softly.

“You see,” Chrollo continued, as if explaining something to his favorite student. Even if you were nothing but uncomfortable with the whole situation, it didn'tmatter in his opinion. “there’s a beauty in the unknown, in the spaces between questions and answers. That’s where the most profound truths lie. And you, in your fear and defiance… you are the embodiment of that mystery.”

You trembled under his gaze and Chrollo chuckled softly, an echo of amusement rippling through the still air as he pulled you closer. “Don’t worry,” He murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I have no intention to hurt you but I also can't let you go, you're rightfully mine, my sweet sacrifice.”

And as the darkness crept closer, swallowing the light, you realized that you had become another question in Chrollo’s infinite search for knowledge — a mystery bound to him, and him alone, until the day he decided that your answer was worth the price.

[imaginariumwanderer]

Hello!

Under a post about fanfiction for Sdvn you mentioned a blind man's bluff au from biscuitlaybrinth maybe? and echo paradox. I, for the love of me can not find any mention of it on ao3, is it on fanfiction.net or wattpad? Even googling keywords provide nothing. I am on my hands and knees begging for a link. Some sort of direction, Please.

I also want to apologize for having such an ask on your inbox. I wanted to add something like, "I've seen your art around and enjoy seeing the silly cookies and am so happy to see you in the tags giving interesting recommendations!" But it felt half-assed as if I'm trying to sweeten a deal or something but I don't wanna be rude walking in demanding for things. |T^T)

I at least hope you're having a good day and enjoying the recent update (;-;)

HELLOOOO NO NEED TO APOLOGIZE AT ALL I'M ALWAYS GLAD TO SPREAD THE GOSPEL TO WIDER FANS! Ehem, yes unfortunately biscuit's works aren't located in ao3 or anywhere on the internet but HERE! That's right folks RIGHT HERE ON TUMBLR!

Anyways here's their tumblr @thebiscuitlabryinth

Here's our holy bible- I mean Echo Paradox: https://www.tumblr.com/thebiscuitlabryinth/tagged/echo%20paradox%20au

Here's biscuit's Blind Man's Bluff AU: https://www.tumblr.com/thebiscuitlabryinth/tagged/blind%20man's%20bluff%20au

For a short history lesson, Echo Paradox was one of the first shadowvanilla fanfic ever to be written, the first part of the series was posted way back in 28th of February 2024. To be fair, I know us old shadvani fans have hyped this fanfic to hell n back calling it the shadvani bible and such. It's mind-blowing (for me) and many others, it's one of the reason that propelled me into shipping shadowvanilla last year, but it might just be ok or average to you. Still, there's something to say about how the author managed to capture their dynamic so well without the help of ep 7-8 which, of course, didn't exist back then. So much to say in fact I once wrote a mini essay about the AU that's still sitting in my files today. Thebiscuitlabryinth is and will forever be my favorite shadvani author EVER. I strongly recommend you take a look through their library and check out their various other shadvani oneshot too♥ To close off, here's some of my favorite excerpts from the Echo Paradox AU. Which, yeah I saved on my computers, I just love the fic a lot.... Please skip if you don't want any spoilers: "[Pure Vanilla] thinks of sharp, painted eyes and countless conversations on studies, research, literature, philosophy. He thinks of claustrophobic madness and the endless hunger of the scholar and pity, pity, pity."

-

" "Dark Moon Magic is forbidden too, so there aren't many detailed sources left on it. I want to know more about its founding." I want to know more about you." -

"In the dim, still moment that follows, stretching long and precious, Pure Vanilla doesn't see the Beast of Deceit before him. He doesn't even see the brilliant scholar, the Virtue of Knowledge, not quite. What he sees is a Cookie, whole and complex and alive and beautiful, and his heart pangs, softly." -

Have a good day, and yes I am enjoying the latest update :> I'm waiting for eternal sugar to come home haha

[multidimensionalguidance]

The Martian Women: A Warrior's Heart

Now more than ever we see questioned the humanity and dignity of women who do not fit the stereotype of what they are supposed to be, look, sound, or act like. Such cases like Imane Khelif are heartbreaking to witness, specially considering the way these false allegations overshadow the efforts and hard work behind her skills, even more so now as an Olympian.

Imane has her Moon and Mars in Sidereal Scorpio, and the themes of others trying to take control of the narrative of her life and existence is ridiculous and overwhelming. On top of it, her Mercury and Jupiter are both in Aries. She is a huge embodiment of how the Martian experience tends to play out.

They are the individuals who deal with the consequences of being "too much" simply by not being afraid of voicing their opinions, of their appearance, or any other aspect regardless of how conflictive it might be. They have and endless source of power to pursuit their passions, and they often achieve as long as they their ego on check.

Childhood years consisted of a push and pull between not being enough of any of the polarities. Often, attracting unwanted attention and different degrees of aggressive/hostile behaviors (spoken, actions, etc). They learn to project outwardly the results of withstanding all of those experiences, and paradoxically are blamed for having a natural hostile response to a hostile environment or actions.

After being forced to repress their hurt, anger, and valid emotions they learn to channel it towards a goal because their nature (Aries and Scorpio) is to plan, analyze, execute, and repeat all over again. They are the Valkyries, Amazonians, etc who learn collectively how to fend for themselves in all aspects outside of patriarchal laws or standards.

From a historic and folklore perspective, Valkyries were associated and often accompanied by ravens or horses which matches perfectly the nature of Ashwini (horses) and Bharani (crows are similar to ravens) which are both in Aries. These mythical warriors guided souls to their depiction of heaven, and Krittika is ruled by the Sun + has a priestly caste. On different levels of humanity we've always had women who take their necessary place with violent, aggressive, and chaotic driven actions as much as men, yet its forced to suppression the most.

In terms of contemporary entertainment, many other concepts of female warrior or heroic/strong/independent female characters from all eras have Martian placements. This is not to say that Mars is the only representation for these arechetypes, but in terms of characters who have a really grim and/or dark past, it fits very well. Other planets (Sun, Moon, Venus, Jupiter) also have their own depiction of cunning female led roles but their background, characteristic, etc are all different. I will expand with other planets on a different post.

Brigitte Nielsen who was the main character in Red Sonja has her Moon in Aries (Ashwini).

Uma Thurman has her Sun in Aries (Bharani).

Summer Glau from the Firefly series and its continuation movie Serenity has her Moon in Aries (Ashwini).

Saoirse Ronan has her Moon and Venus in Aries (Bharani).

Gal Gadot as Wonder Women has her Sun in Aries (Bharani)

Lucy Liu (Sun in Scorpio (Anuradha/Jyestha) and Moon in Aries (Bharani), Cameron Diaz (Moon in Aries, within Krittika) from Charlie's Angels.

Scarlett Johansson as Black Widow has her Sun in Scorpio (Anuradha)

Peta Wilson in La Femme Nikita with Sun in Scorpio (Vishakha)

They function perfectly well alone and also within a group as as long as there is mutual respect. Society doesn't seem to know yet how to properly behave and treat individuals like them. Martian handle themselves in such a raw and powerful form that those who have weak morals, will power, inner strength, courage, or self expression regardless of gender might feel as if they are being personally attacked.

Now, it is good to keep in mind the distinction between deliberate attack or self defense. Due to previous trauma related with heavy power struggles they can easily feel wounded, and will could show an exaggerated or uncontrolled form of aggression.

It could also simply be intentional because both signs (Aries & Scorpio) tend to become more resentful or comfortable using violence if they understand is fair or justified. They LOVE "female rage". Every film, piece of literature, song, or form of art related to anger, disconformity, sadness, rage, wickedness, and other chaotic expressions connect with their suppressed darkness.

It allows them to fantasize of a world where women are able to demonstrate their anger freely without judgement, specially when justified and valid. They understand other women beyond the nature of their caged self under patriarchal standards, but the downside is that others do not connect easily with them.

This is why despite being the real underdogs of many empowering movements they are often lonely, alienated, punished, and treated poorly. It’s the most noticeable with Scorpio rashi, specifically Jyestha where they naturally attract envy, jealousy, and ill wishes the most. They are the ruthless Scorpios who don't really care about turning off their moral compass if it means achieving their goals. They are often only loyal to their vision and those who fit in it.

It is essential for Martian women to maintain a healthy management of their anger and learn how to release it in meaningful ways. Any type of exercise (gym, cardio, pilates, yoga, etc) or sports can become one of the most common channels to fuel their bodies and release heavy emotional overloads. Staying in touch with their root and sacral points by doing activities that promote you to feel safe, nurtured, grounded, creative, sensual, etc will also be optimal.

Protect your energy in all forms, and stay away from individuals who constantly trigger your fight or flight. The ones who make you feel constantly drained and tired. It can be easy for others to syphon your energy because you always have an abundant amount, so be mindful of the people you entertain, engage, and interact with frequently.

Ensure to maintain a good balance between mind and heart as well. Allow yourself to be vulnerable with others. Prioritize feeling safe and comfortable around others. Learning to control your impulses if you're an Aries, or letting go of control if you're a Scorpio. Protect yourself, but don't shut down completely.

[olive-treeeee]

Like it never existed - 11th Doctor x reader

Howdy! This lovely fic was requested by the coolest @ding-dong-big-schlong who asked: “Hi! So I recently rewatched the episode Flesh and Stone, and that part where the doctor said something along the lines of “it’ll be like you never existed” to Amy about the crack, aw man it just hit me like a tonne of bricks

So I guess my request is, would it be possible for you to write about that episode (or directly after), where the reader suffers from severe lifelong depression and suicidal thoughts, and having to choose between walking through the crack or meeting back with the Doctor? And I guess the grief that comes along with having to choose to live when all you want and every fibre in your being is telling you to choose the other option. And the Doctor being proud of the reader for choosing life when it was the last thing they’ve ever wanted”

I got a bit carried away with this one, I hope you like it!

I would also deffo recommend watching or familiarising yourself with the episode because I’m not tooooo sure if I explained everything well. But this fic takes place right after the events of the episode.

Word count: 2182 words

Warnings: Talks of Suicide, death and mental health issues.

As always, requests are open!

The crack hums in the air, soft and bright and terrifying.

It splits the wall in two like a wound torn through reality itself, and the light spilling from it is wrong. Too clean, too sharp, like the world itself is bleeding out.

You can feel it.

Not just hear it or see it, but feel it, humming through the floor, thrumming in your bones. A pull as real and relentless as gravity, as if the earth itself is reaching up, clawing, begging you to fall in.

Behind you, the Doctor’s voice floats through the air, talking quickly, urgently. You catch only bits and pieces, something about timelines, paradoxes, memory. About how dangerous the crack is.

How final it is.

Amy says something, her voice shaking, but you don’t turn to listen.

You stand frozen, your eyes locked on the tear in the wall, every breath shallow and sharp.

He’s too busy to notice you standing there.

Too busy to see the way your hands are trembling, your whole body locked in a battle so old it feels carved into your bones.

“It’ll be like you never existed,” the Doctor had said earlier. A warning, thrown over his shoulder, almost casual in its delivery.

Like it was something terrible.

Something to fear.

But for you, the words had sunk deep. They had found the cracks already spiderwebbing through you and burrowed in.

They had hit you like a promise.

Because for as long as you could remember, existing had been exhausting.

A heavy, endless thing.

A marathon with no finish line and no chance to stop.

It sat on your shoulders, clawed at your chest, gnawed at the edges of your mind.

You had fought so hard for so long—

To get out of bed, to pretend to laugh, to survive minute after aching minute.

To breathe when every breath felt like breathing underwater.

To smile when it cracked your face apart inside.

And now, here it was.

A way out.

An escape so clean it would erase not just you, but every battle you had ever fought.

No more pretending.

No more hurting.

No more heavy, grinding, relentless being.

No more you.

Your feet move before you even realize it.

A step closer to the crack.

The light seems to brighten, sharpening at the edges, and the pull strengthens, wrapping around your ribs and spine, sinking its claws into you with desperate tenderness.

Your heart is hammering.

Your throat tightens painfully.

Your vision swims, the edges blurring.

Every instinct you have is screaming to move forward.

To let go.

To finally, finally rest.

“Hey!”

The Doctor’s voice cuts through the haze like a lash.

Sharp. Panicked. Real.

You flinch violently as a hand closes around your wrist, anchoring you, pulling you back from the brink.

Your breath catches in your throat as you stumble, crashing back into reality.

The Doctor’s eyes meet yours—and for once, the usual quicksilver mischief is gone.

No jokes.

No clever quips.

All that’s left is fear. Real, raw fear.

“What are you doing?” he asks, voice low and rough.

Not angry. Not accusatory.

Soft.

Almost broken.

Like he already knows.

You try to pull away.

You don’t want this.

You don’t want to be seen like this, weak and small and unraveling.

You don’t want pity.

You don’t deserve pity.

But he doesn’t let go.

His grip is firm but not cruel. Steady.

He just stands there, holding you, waiting.

Like he has all the time in the universe to spare.

And something inside you shatters.

“I’m tired,” you whisper, voice splintering in the cold air.

It’s pathetic.

It’s everything you’ve fought to keep hidden, wrapped up in armor and sarcasm and long, exhausted silences.

But now it pours out, unstoppable. Raw and aching.

“I’m tired of fighting to be here.

It never gets better.

It just… it just gets heavier.

And I thought maybe…”

Your throat closes, the words scraping out of you like broken glass.

“Maybe this was the way it ends.

Quiet.

Clean.

Like it was never supposed to happen in the first place.”

The crack flares behind you, casting long shadows across the ruined ship corridors.

The air smells of dust and electricity and something faintly metallic, like the memory of blood.

Time itself feels thinner here, trembling at the edges.

Like you could step forward, and simply unmake yourself.

You can’t look at him.

You can’t bear it.

So you stare at the floor, breathing hard, every nerve in your body sparking with shame and grief and hollow, aching emptiness.

The Doctor says nothing for a long, unbearable moment.

When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, almost shaking.

“You’re not supposed to disappear,” he says.

“You’re supposed to live.”

He says it like it’s simple.

But there’s no condescension in his voice.

Only a terrible, aching honesty.

“I know,” he says, softer now. “God, I know, it hurts sometimes. It hurts so much you can’t breathe. But you’re here. You’re real. And that matters.”

His hand is still on your wrist, grounding you, tethering you to the moment.

A lifeline in a world that feels ready to tear itself apart.

“I’m proud of you,” he says simply.

“For staying.

For choosing to stay, even when every fiber of you is begging you to let go.”

The first tear slips free before you even realize you’re crying.

Your whole body trembles. Not from fear, but from the terrible, unbearable weight of choosing to live when every cell inside you is screaming for release.

The Doctor doesn’t rush you.

He doesn’t try to patch you up with pretty words or promises he can’t make.

He just stays there, steady and silent, holding on like he believes you’re worth the effort.

Like you are enough, just as you are.

And somehow, impossibly, heartbreakingly–

you stay.

The Doctor simply put a hand on your shoulder. “It’s over now, come with me.”

***

You both step into the TARDIS. The doors slam shut behind you with a final, heavy thud. The ship hums quietly under your feet, the console lights pulsing dimly, almost like it’s holding its breath.

The Doctor turns to face you, his expression dark…darker than you’ve ever seen it. All the usual energy, the flapping hands, the quick-fire words, they’re gone.

He stands still. Still.

And it’s terrifying.

“When we travel together,” he says, voice low and tight, “I need to know that the people I take with me are being honest with me.” His tone. It’s that voice he uses when he’s laying down the law to monsters. To enemies. You’re not used to hearing it pointed at you. “You have not been honest with me.”

Each word is a blow, cold and deliberate.

“Doctor—” you start, panic rising, but he cuts you off with a sharp gesture.

He steps closer. Close enough that you can see the fury blazing behind his eyes, but it’s not real anger, not really.

It’s fear. A huge, clumsy, roaring fear.

“I need you to talk to me,” he says, every syllable vibrating with the effort it’s taking him to stay calm.

“What happened back there? How did you feel?”

He doesn’t move any closer. Like he’s afraid if he pushes too hard, you’ll bolt. Or worse. You’ll shut down completely, right in front of him. You feel the weight of his gaze pinning you in place. You feel small. Cornered.

And suddenly, it burns.

“I don’t think you have the right to ask me that,” you snap, the words tearing out of you like broken glass. Your struggles were yours. Your pain was yours. He had no right to drag it into the light like this.

Something in the Doctor’s face twists. His fists clench at his sides.

For a moment, he’s a storm barely contained inside a ragged tweed jacket. “I always have the right to know!” The shout bursts out of him like a thunderclap, echoing through the TARDIS. The walls seem to vibrate with the force of it.

You flinch as if struck.

Tears spring to your eyes, hot and immediate, the way they did when you were young and someone raised their voice just a little too loud.

The way they do when someone touches a wound you thought you had hidden well enough.

“You can’t put this on me!” you sob, voice breaking apart in your chest.

“You can’t– you can’t make me tell you–”

He takes a shaky step toward you, then stops himself, running a hand through his hair, pulling at it in frustration. “I’m not—” he starts, then cuts himself off, pacing in a tight, angry circle.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he says finally, voice cracking around the words. “I just–” He throws his hands out, helpless, desperate. “I saw you, standing at that crack, ready to step into it like you were, like you wanted it to take you!” His voice breaks entirely on the last word, thick with horror he can’t mask. “I can fight monsters,” he says, quieter now, bitter, almost broken. “I can fight Daleks and Cybermen and Time tearing itself apart, but I can’t fight you if you decide you don’t want to stay.”

The confession sits there between you like a live wire, crackling. The TARDIS hums softly under your feet again, almost mournful. You stand there, gasping, tears streaking your face, your chest aching with every ragged breath.

And for a long, agonizing moment, neither of you moves. Just two broken things, too scared of each other’s truths to know how to fix it.

And then that’s it, you begin to cry. It comes out in harsh, broken sobs you can’t control, your chest heaving with the force of it. All the hurt, all the fear, all the shame you’d been holding back crashes over you like a tidal wave. You try to turn away, to hide, but before you can, the Doctor is there, moving faster than you thought he could, reaching out. He catches you by the wrist, his grip gentle but firm, and then—

he pulls you into him. The hug is sudden, overwhelming. He wraps you up like he’s afraid the universe might try to snatch you away if he doesn’t hold you tight enough. His arms fold around you, one hand splayed protectively across your back, the other cradling the back of your head as he presses you against his chest. You can feel the frantic beat of his hearts hammering through his shirt, wild and terrified and real. You tremble at the sudden touch, your whole body shaking against him.

But he doesn’t flinch.

He just holds you tighter, tucking you in closer, like he could build a fortress out of his own body to shield you from everything that’s ever hurt you. “It’s alright,” he murmurs into your hair, voice low and trembling with emotion. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. I’ve got you.” He repeats it again, and again, a mantra.

As if he’s trying to stitch you back together with nothing but words and the steady, unbreakable weight of his arms. Then carefully, so carefully you feel his hands move. He tilts your face up, cupping your cheeks in both palms, his thumbs brushing away your tears with heartbreaking tenderness. His touch is feather-light, as if he’s terrified you might crumble under anything rougher. His eyes search yours, wide and bright and swimming with things he can’t seem to say aloud.

And then.

He leans in and presses a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.

And another.

And another.

Each one a silent promise, a desperate prayer. “You chose life today,” he whispers, forehead pressing against yours so gently it feels like he’s afraid he might break you otherwise. His breath is warm, his voice raw and thick with feeling. “You stayed.” His hands frame your face, keeping you grounded, keeping you here. “And I—” He breaks off, laughing a little under his breath, shaky and almost hysterical. “I am so, so proud of you.”

He lets his forehead rest against yours for a long moment, his arms never leaving you, as if the TARDIS could fall apart around you and he wouldn’t let go.

Not ever.

“Thank you,” he breathes. And it’s not just gratitude, it’s reverence. Like you’ve just done the bravest thing in all of time and space. You cling to him because you don’t know how else to stay standing.

And he lets you.

No rush.

No judgment.

Just the Doctor and his ridiculous, broken, brilliant heart wrapped around you like a second skin.

“I don’t do this all the time, you know,” the Doctor mumbles into your shoulder, his voice half-muffled by the fabric of your jacket. His usual bright, cheerful tone has returned, that sing-song lilt he uses when he’s trying to make everything feel normal again, even if his arms are still locked tightly around you.

You smile against him, a real smile this time, small but honest.

“I know,” you say, your voice hitching slightly with the last of your leftover tears.

[cece693]

I’d do anything for a part two of “A Crown Of Two Realms”… I have never been more intrigued in a fic and its absolutely killing me AAHHH!! If you have the time, or ideas, I’d be forever grateful. Your writing is absolutely spectacular!! It encapsulates emotion so well, drawing me in like a typhoon 😵‍💫 /GEN !!

Awwww, thank you! I didn't really plan to do a second part of this since I wanted readers to create their own ending (loveless marriage vs. following your heart), but what can I say? I hate a sad ending, even if you choose it. So, this part has you choosing loki, perhaps some spicy scene, supportive Thor and living your life.

A Crown Of Two Realms Pt. 2

pairing: loki laufeyson x małe reader pairing: reader is set on loki, spicy scene (basically revelation of feelings), I just loved Loki's face here, like he looks quite innocent and adorable, anyway, loki hates himself, you strive to show him he's worthy

In the days after your eavesdropping of Loki and Thor's argument, you tried to distance yourself from the younger prince, hoping that avoiding each other would curb the tempest in your heart. Instead, it only made the longing sharper, more irresistible. That was the cruel paradox of it all: the very man you swore you couldn’t see again was the one you couldn’t stop thinking about.

One late afternoon, you were alone in one of the palace’s many colonnades, gazing across Asgard’s gleaming city. A soft breeze teased the edges of your ceremonial robe. The endless swirl of court responsibilities had left you little time to think, and yet here you were, thoughts anchored to one person alone: Loki.

You sensed Thor’s approach before he spoke—a shifting in the air and the distant echo of his surefooted stride. When you turned, he was already there, bright blue eyes studying you with an uncharacteristically thoughtful expression. “Has Asgard bored you so thoroughly?” he asked with a hint of a smile, though concern etched his brow.

“I wouldn’t say bored—just overwhelmed.”

Thor leaned against the nearest pillar, crossing his arms. “I fear I may be part of that overwhelm.” He glanced toward the horizon. “Sometimes, I wish these marriage negotiations were less complicated. It weighs on me, too.”

You stared at him, heart twinging with guilt. “Thor, I—”

He silenced you with a gentle wave of his hand. “Let me speak first. I’ve been thinking much since your arrival, and I’m not so blind as most people assume.” There was a sad twist to his grin. “You’re handsome, powerful, and wise—anyone would be honored to marry you. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t also taken by you.”

Surprise fluttered in your chest. Of all the things you expected Thor to say, that wasn’t it. “I’m flattered,” you replied quietly.

“But,” he continued, “I’ve seen the way your eyes wander during feasts—like you’re searching for something or someone.” Thor cleared his throat. "Our union guarantees peace between our families, but I'm not naive enough to believe my father’s match is the one your heart truly wants. And I will not be the one forcing you into a joyless union. That’s not how I want to rule, nor how I wish to live.”

For a moment, you could only stare. Of all the outcomes you’d dreaded, you never thought Thor would willingly step aside. “But what of Odin? The treaty?”

Thor squared his shoulders, determination burning in his gaze. “Leave Father to me. If the alliance stands by a marriage with Asgard’s royal bloodline, then it need not be me. I won’t pretend this is easy, but I’d rather see you and Loki happy than see us three torn apart by a forced bond.”

Emotion welled up in you—gratitude, relief, and lingering guilt. “Thor, I—I don’t know what to say.”

He gave a sad, yet sincere smile. “Say you’ll follow your heart. Go to Loki. He may be a stubborn fool at times, but I suspect you’re the one person who can convince him he’s worth loving.”

The weight that had settled over your shoulders since your arrival lifted, if only by a fraction. You clasped Thor’s forearm in gratitude. “Thank you.”

Thor nodded. “Now go. Quickly, before someone else demands your time.”

Without hesitation, you set off through the grand corridors, heart pounding with renewed purpose. At first, you checked the corridors and library where you’d often crossed paths with Loki in quieter moments. He wasn’t there. The banquet hall was alive with courtiers, but there was no trace of the dark-haired prince. Finally, you ventured to a secluded section of the palace gardens—a space often overlooked, where a trickling fountain stood surrounded by tall hedges.

You found him there, leaning against a carved marble ledge, staring into the water’s rippling reflection. The setting sun cast a gold halo around him, accentuating the angles of his face. Anxiety churned in your chest, but Thor’s words echoed in your mind.

You cleared your throat softly, stepping into view. Loki stiffened but didn’t turn around. “I wondered when you might show up,” he said, his voice cool, almost brittle.

Your chest tightened. “We should talk—”

“Oh, should we?” Loki let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Let me guess: you’ve finally come to tell me everything is over, haven’t you? Perhaps the glorious Thor awaits, and you’re here to deliver my official dismissal.”

“That’s not—” You tried to interject, but Loki pressed on, eyes flashing with a raw, self-deprecating fury.

“Because that’s your duty, isn’t it?” he sneered. “To fulfill the alliance, marry my perfect brother, keep the Nine Realms content. And me? I’m the sideshow, the one you dallied with—”

“I didn’t—”

He cut you off again, voice cracking with hurt. “It’s cruel, you know, tempting me like that. Letting me believe—for a moment—that someone powerful and stunning as you could want the lesser prince. I was a fool to think otherwise.”

Blood pounded in your ears. “Loki, just listen—” But he wouldn’t. He hurled his pent-up anguish at you in a torrent of bitter words, each one slicing deeper than the last.

“Tell me, was it sport for you? Some fleeting interest in the ‘trickster,’ so you could see how far I’d chase after a dream?” His laughter was hollow, eyes shimmering with tears he wouldn’t let fall. “I almost let myself believe you saw more in me than everyone else does. But now, you’re here to confirm I was just deluding myself. Well, hurry up, then! Deliver your grand speech of sympathy, or pity, or whatever nonsense you’ve conjured—”

“Enough!” Your patience snapped, voice rising in a rare shout that echoed across the courtyard. Loki blinked in shock; you’d never raised your voice before.

Chest heaving, you advanced on him in three swift steps, your normally composed demeanor shattered. You seized Loki by the lapels of his cloak, yanking him closer. “You don’t know a damn thing about what I’m here to say,” you growled. His eyes widened, the tirade in his throat dying unspoken. Before he could counter, you closed the distance and pulled him into a bruising kiss.

At first, Loki stiffened in disbelief, a trembling exhale escaping against your lips. Then, as if gravity itself shifted, he melted into you, slender fingers clinging to your embroidered robes. Everything about him—his taste, the warmth of his skin—flooded your senses, drowning out the world.

Your heart thundered in your ears, and you pressed closer, the height difference letting you tilt his face up to deepen the kiss. He made a small, desperate sound, arms snaking around your waist as though afraid you might vanish.

When you finally tore your mouth away, your breathing was ragged. Loki’s chest rose and fell with equal intensity, his eyes brimming with confusion, longing, and a fragile hope.

“Why—” he rasped, voice unsteady, “why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you, you stubborn fool.” The words spilled out in an impassioned rush. You grasped his chin, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I spoke to Thor. He knows everything. He told me to come find you.”

Loki blinked rapidly, tears threatening to spill. “Thor—Thor knows?”

You nodded, thumbs brushing his cheeks. “He knows I never wanted this alliance with him. Not in the way Odin planned. He knows my heart belongs to you.”

His breath caught in his throat, tears threatening to spill over. “Do you realize what you’re risking?”

You answered by leaning down to kiss him again, gentler this time—an unspoken vow. “I know precisely what I’m risking. And for you, I’d risk more.”

Loki managed the faintest of smiles, a trembling little expression that held more hope than you’d ever seen on his face. Slowly, he looped his arms around your waist, resting his head against your chest. He was noticeably smaller under your protective hold, and it dawned on you how easily you could cocoon him from the rest of the world.

“You’re unbelievably stubborn,” he muttered, attempting a wry tone but failing to mask his emotion.

A relieved laugh rumbled low in your throat. “I could say the same about you, trickster.”

[animehideout]

I think a lot about jjk men being angry because their gamer girlfriend ignores them 😩

(sorry for the writing, english is not my first language

JJK Men x Gamer GF

a/n: Hello anon thank you so much for your request. I had fun writing this one. I really hope you like it 🫶🏻

( Requests are open )

Characters: Gojo Satoru / Toji Fushiguro / Ryomen Sukuna / Nanami Kento.

Gojo Satoru:

Satoru has been very busy with endless missions lately, getting home really late.

To ease your lonliness, you started gaming.

Well till it turned into addiction.

You were kinda mad at him for not making time for you or at least speak to the higher-ups to take some days off.

But you never talked that out with him, since you didn't have the chance to express yourself.

He surprisingly arrived early tonight, excited to spend the night cuddling with you while watching movies.

But he didn't expect you to have your eyes glued on the screen in front of you while gaming like a maniac.

The room echoed with the sounds of keystrokes and game music.

He jumped in excitement to surprise you but no reaction.

“huh? baby! Im hooome”

“hey” you smiled unenthusiastically at him and quickly turned your focus back on your game.

He raised his eyebrow, watching as you delve into your virtual world, a world seemingly more captivating than his presence.

Would try everything to bring your attention towards him.

He knows his touch makes you weak, so he leaned in wrapping his arms around your shoulders, kissing the top of your head, wishing to draw your attention away from your screen.

“I missed you so much babygirl”

His attempt failed miserably, you just hummed in return completely ignoring him.

When his affection didn't work he started teasing you attempting to provoke you and get a reaction out of you.

“You sure you can play this game? I feel like you suck at this”.

When his teasing fell on a deaf ear as well, his frustration reached its peak.

His calm and amused voice turned into an annoyed tone.

“ARE YOU REALLY GONNA IGNORE ME FOR THAT STUPID GAME Y/N?” he would yell in an unusual harsh tone.

The question hang in the air as it left you momentarily stunned.

“Why the hell are you yelling?” you would question.

“Oh so now I got your attention?! I've been trying to talk to you for half an hour now and all what you did is playing your stupid game”.

His anger was very evident.

He would remove his blindfold throwing it somewhere in your shared bedroom.

“So you got mad because I was focusing on playing my game but you didn't consider that I'm probably the one who's mad because you're never home” you let out of everything, confronting him.

“you're comparing this stupid game to my job?”

Oh boy he fucked up, he didn't get the whole point.

After raging and snapping at you he would give you the silent treatment.

Of course his narcissistic ass wouldn't apologize first.

He's convinced that it's your fault even though he was offensive as well.

You would eventually say sorry and he'll show you his bright smile at the spot.

Both of you would talk things out and find a solution to spend more time together.

“so we good now baby?...can we cuddle?”

“yeah Satoru just lemme finish this round” you would joke.

Toji Fushiguro:

As much as he enjoys your giggles and the way you throw cute tantrums while playing, he HATES IT when you're completely engrossed in your game, oblivious to the way he's sitting there watching you.

Kinda paradoxical.

He wished to have you in his arms.

Or having you on his lap while making out.

But all of these were just thoughts crossing his mind cuz you don't seem like you're finishing your game any time sooner.

And that annoyed him to the core.

“y/n, y/n ?”

“HOW LONG IS THIS GOING TO TAKE”.

You didn't even hear him with having your headset on.

He's very possessive of you and he wants all of your attention to himself.

Especially when you started chatting with your friends, while playing together.

That shit was his last straw.

“Thats it...get your ass over here y/n”

You would look at him in disbelief.

Mouthing “my friends heard you”

“oh trust me I don't give A SINGLE FUCK” he would yell again.

You apologized to your friends and quickly paused the game.

“Are you out of your mind Toji why did you say that”.

“Why did you apologize to your friends while I'm the one you should apologize to”

He would stand up approaching you, narrowing his eyes, clearly pissed.

His giant figure making you take a step back, trapping you between him and your desk.

“Now what should I do to you for ignoring me for too long huh?” he whispered.

You started stuttering, his strong aura did things to you.

His narrow eyes piercing through you, sending shivers down your spine.

“I- I'm s-sorry” you gulped.

“What a good girl...now turn off that computer before I smash it and get your ass on the bed”

Well you had no other options, so you obeyed him.

Unless you want to act bratty which will result in him punishing the hell out of you.

Would spend the whole night cuddling you, literally smashing you in his strong arms, never letting go of you. 🫶🏻🥹

“But Toji I really need to use the bathroom”.

“Nuh-uh”.

Ryomen Sukuna:

Two possibilities, whether you're too bold or you're suicidal and have a death wish to test this man's patience.

They just released this new game and you're completely obsessed with it.

You would spend hours playing it, luckily Sukuna was busy with some things so he didn't notice the way that game took your whole attention and energy.

He wants to be the one taking all of your time and energy.

But when he does notice, oh god, run or pray for your life.

“y/n come here let me kiss you”

“one second!!!”

He would look at you in disbelief.

Cocking his eyebrow, while leaning back .

Even though your back was facing him, you could feel the daggers he was sending your way.

“I said NOW”

“Please baby, I'm winning be there in a sec-”

You didn't even get to finish your sentence when he threw your whole set up off of your desk.

Your eyes would widen in shock.

You don't know if you should feel sad that your whole gaming set up got destroyed or scared that you're the one about to get destroyed.

“You dare to ignore me.. that's bold of you y/n” he would say in his deep voice, making your chest tighten.

“I'll only allow this once, there won't be a second time... do you understand?”

You would nod immediately.

He would throw you on his shoulder taking you to your shared bedroom.

“You need to be taught a lesson after all”

Of course he wouldn't apologize that he got angry at you.

I mean, it's Sukuna we're talking about.

The next day, Sukuna would surprise you with a new gaming computer with complete setup.

You've never imagined him doing this gesture but you truly appreciated that the king of curse actually considered your feelings.

“I don't understand what humans find so entertaining in this game... you should try murder is much more fun..”

You would happily unbox it and place it on your desk.

“Now, Doll next time when I tell you to stop you stop immediately without any stupid excuses”.

Nanami Kento:

Would be home after a long day at work.

Brings dinner with him and expects both of you to eat together while talking about your day and future plans for the weekend.

Only to find you in a dark room, only your computer screen glowing.

“y/n I'm home darling!”

“oh hey there baby” you would simply say eyes still glued on the game.

He wouldn't think much of it even though you were used to jump on him, embracing him in a long hug and telling him how much you missed him.

But lately all what you've been occupied with is this game.

Would give you space, while he takes his time to shower, prepare the table for both of you to have dinner.

“y/n dinner is ready, let's eat”

“yeah yeah I'll be there in a sec Kento” you said, agressively pressing the buttons on your controller.

He would sigh and head to the kitchen, to wait for you there.

Half an hour has passed, an hour and you didn't show up yet.

“shit” you said to yourself when you checked the time.

You ran downstairs to find him on the couch watching TV.

You slowly approached him and sat next to him.

“ken-”

“you don't have to say anything y/n”.

Your heart ached because you know you screwed up.

He would ignore you, his eyes fixated on the big screen in front of him.

You would place your hand on his lap but he would reject you.

“Kento please”

He would start lecturing you.

“You know, that was extremely childish y/n.. I've been waiting for us to have dinner together since the moment I left the morning.. that's what keeps me going.. knowing that I'll come back home to find you..but you did what? you ignored me”

He would be really furious but he kept it to a low and cold tone.

No matter how much he gets pissed he'll never raise his voice at you.

You would look down, embarrassed and feeling extremely guilty.

“I'm your husband y/n , lately you're not fulfilling your duties towards me like I do to you..”.

He is a responsible man, and he believes in efforts from both sides.

You would end up crying.

And he'll end up apologizing even though it was your mistake from the beginning.

He hates seeing you cry, especially because of him.

He regretted getting angry at you.

Between sobs you managed to explain to him that you were trying to win an award by getting the first place in this game.

Would bring you to his chest, holding you close.

“shh I'm sorry.. that's okay. I understand. I'm sorry if my words were harsh”

Would wipe your tears.

Doesn't go to work the next day and spends the day with you while you teach him how to play.

Thank you for reading (⁠♡⁠ω⁠♡⁠ ⁠)⁠ ⁠~⁠♪

[morganadismay]

THANK YOU yes exactly. it does feel crazy to compare them but the underlying themes are the same deep down: marginalized people vs the crown/the oppressor. structures of fear and shame in society vs the power in community. only bbc merlin gets so tangled in its own metaphor, uncertain if its protagonists are villains or not, and what they’re allowed to do on bbc to not be villains, and the show ultimately upholds the values it purports to criticise (e.g., to put it succinctly, gaius’s baffling and frankly appalling “uther is good for camelot” statement delivered to merlin in the wake of uther’s genocide and merlin accepting this at face value as Sound Judgement) and upholds the crown in the guise of making it tragedy. it’s poor writing, sure, but more than that it’s poor politics.

and its precisely because its the british broadcasting company (lol) that merlin stays so unbelievably centrist, “family friendly” (read: spineless) and royalist and mucks up the very compassionate metaphor its going for so severely… everytime merlin-the-character seems to get any closer to freedom/a breakthrough, he is hindered by the rigid structure of the hierarchy the show itself upholds because the writers don’t actually feel comfortable with allowing any leeway for real revolution or criticism of what camelot represents here. to actually change something you’d have to actually address something beyond “this sorcerer wanted revenge on arthur and therefore he is bad, and only those who peacefully accept their persecution and remain in their place are morally commendable”. and well. the bbc is bloody well not gonna do that ❤️ which is precisely why the comparison makes itself… with thee Fuck You British Crown show

genuinely every time i think a little too hard about bbc merlin and its politics (+ the implications irt colonialism, the british empire, queerness, revolution and religion) and it gives me a frustrated headache, i start being plagued by soothing visions of black sails. i don't know if there's another show that is so directly opposite to bbc merlin (from the quality and writing itself to the way it tackles the themes above, the way it tackles the concept of monstrosity and shame, the way it tackles ... everything) but if you ever need to like. detox. please do yourself a favour and watch it. it also has the craziest dyke drama on television with no exaggeration

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 26

Chapters: 26/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader  Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn’t utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

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

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

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

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

Author's note: And here you are the part we were all waiting for! It's quite big still, but at last, these two lovebirds are getting back together.

WARNING: Mention of blood and a bit of gore (from a nightmare).

As Morpheus pursued his quest to uncover the truth behind the Book of Paradoxes' mystery, you carried on with your life as best you could, balancing between the dream world and the waking one. Before you could reunite with the love of your life, entities from your past suddenly reappeared before you. The very ones you had hoped never to see again.

Morpheus observed the golden threads permeating the area, their luminescence dancing through the restored verdant landscape. The radiant energy resonated within him, its gentle warmth embracing his being and coiling around his heart.

“She did this,” he whispered, trailing his fingers along one of the tendrils, which shimmered and reformed around his touch.

Astra nodded, his dark, star-filled eyes catching the warm light. "Yes. Quite impressive, isn't it?"

"I abandoned my responsibilities to my realm. My grief has caused devastation once again. One that I had no right to expect her to mend."

"Well, not truly catastrophic, but close enough. Even I, my lord, felt the effects of your... shall we say... dark disposition."

"Her essence lingers within you. You are as much my creation as you are hers, in this moment," he intoned, his voice deep and resonant. "Astra... I must make amends. You sought to counsel me, to issue warning, and I..."

"You needn't make amends, my lord—at least, not to me."

Morpheus took a tentative step forward, walking into the center of a glowing spiral that formed before him. "Can I even dare to hope she would welcome me back into her life? That I could be deemed worthy to stand beside her, to be present for our child?"

"Why shouldn't you? It won't be easy, certainly, but her love for you knows no bounds. There's nothing she wants more than having you back."

“How…”

“My lord?”

"How can a being like myself be deserving of such devotion? I, who am as eternal and ruinous as the darkness itself."

"The real question is: are you willing to accept such boundless love into your heart? Are you truly ready for everything she has to offer?"

Morpheus lowered his gaze to the ground. "All I truly desire is to have her by my side. Yet I find myself haunted by the possibility that I am destined to bring only destruction."

"I understand you're still pondering the book's prophecy, but from what I can see, they will both face doom without you around. The reverse isn't true."

“Perhaps.”

"I am certain of it, my lord."

Bright streaks wove through the atmosphere, synchronizing their movements with the guardian fireflies that watched over this section of the realm.

"Look at this. The Dreaming welcomes it—loves it, even. She is no ordinary dreamer, and no ordinary mortal, either. She never was. You may be darkness, but she is light. Like day and night, you belong together. You are intertwined, neither able to truly exist without the other."

You were nothing but light. His light. You represented the sun, the moon, and the stars.

"Then let me be your light, always. Wherever you go, whatever you face, I’ll be with you.”

"The tome made itself known to her, much as it did when I first discovered it in the library halls."

"And do you know why?"

"No. Though the reason eludes me, her connection to the book runs far deeper than I initially perceived."

"And that proves there is more at work here than meets the eye."

“Yes.”

Astra's hooves tapped against the ground. "Her light endures. It has healed what was withering in the Dreaming... through your child."

"Our child... A miracle born of dreams. A being of infinite possibility."

"Could they be destined for something beyond merely inheriting your throne?"

"I cannot venture to predict what lies ahead, Astra. What I do know is that this child represents something unprecedented… a being who exists between realms, born of both dreams and mortality. A convergence of shadow and radiance."

Astra's expression darkened. "In a sense, wouldn't they be similar to Daniel Hall?"

“No,” Morpheus' voice grew grave. "Daniel's existence is different. He came to be through the union of a human and a ghost, influenced by a Vortex within my domain. His nature is that of dreams, exceeding mortal flesh."

Astra's eyes narrowed. "And your child, though conceived here in the Dreaming, came from the union of a physically present human and the Dream Lord himself."

"Indeed," he intoned solemnly.

"But is she truly human anymore? This power she possesses... she's the daughter of a Goddess."

Morpheus' eyes closed as a string of light passed through his hair, like a gentle breeze. "She has divine lineage, yes. And yet... her mortal essence remains an integral part of who she is."

"And what about your child?"

"My child is something entirely unique. What grows in her womb holds power beyond measure. Power I have yet to understand."

A firefly drifted toward Astra, its ethereal glow casting a gentle glow across his snout.

"You seem troubled."

Morpheus fell silent, his gaze trailing a shimmering path of light as he gathered his thoughts.

"Everything I have undertaken, every choice I have made. The very foundations of my existence, my purpose, my destiny... All of it has been transformed into something entirely new. It pales in significance compared to her and our unborn child."

"And is that such a terrible thing?"

"No… She is magnificent. A true force of divine nature. How could something of such exquisite beauty ever be terrible?"

"Then... to hell with the book? No offense, my Lord, but I fear this path may lead to even more dead ends."

"Even so... I can feel the energy transforming around it. I require but a moment more to contemplate this fully."

Astra sighed. "She may not have that luxury of time. What if disaster strikes again?"

"Then I shall watch over her, eternally vigilant. It was my gravest mistake to have left her side."

Morpheus turned, the golden filaments now permanently woven into the fabric of his realm, like shimmering liquid light on a celestial canvas.

"You speak truth in this matter, Astra. She belongs to me, as I belong to her. Our child represents the embodiment of our connection, something I must protect at all costs. I must not fail again."

With an elegant nod, Astra followed the Dream King as they traversed the mystical landscapes, the majestic spires of the castle forming before them through the cosmic expanse.

A golden trail drifted behind them, accompanying the Dream King's journey to the palace before merging seamlessly with its ancient foundations.

Upon waking, you discovered your name prominently featured across news outlets and social media platforms, an unexpected development you weren't prepared to face given recent events. While getting ready for work, you stumbled upon audience-captured footage of your previous evening's performance circulating online, accompanied by articles featuring it to great acclaim.

“Y/N Y/LN Stuns on Stage: A Muse, A Mystery, A Moment to Remember!”

"Ethereal, Elegant, Enigmatic – Y/N Y/LN Captivates the Audience in a Spellbinding Performance.”

"The Fashion World's Darling Proves She’s More Than Just a Style Icon.”

“Who Is Y/N Y/LN Singing For? Fans Speculate on the Meaning Behind Her Emotional Display.”

Fortunately, the headlines and contents maintained discretion regarding your companion that evening, with no photographs or mentions of Hob appearing in any media coverage. The near-incident on the street also went unreported—except for a brief news item about a drunk driver hitting a lamppost—allowing you to preserve your personal boundaries while garnering professional recognition. 

It remained unclear whether this was merely coincidental or a deliberate act of discretion by the local authorities. Regardless of the circumstances, the absence of scrutiny surrounding the occurrence was a welcome relief.

However, Hob immediately xpressed clear regret about the predicament, constantly berating himself. "Bloody hell, love. This is on me entirely. Should've thought about how all this might put you in the spotlight, shouldn't I?"

With a smile, you shook your head. "Hob, don't worry about it. You wanted to do something nice for me, and I honestly ended up enjoying myself."

"But that fucking car nearly took you out right in front of me, didn't it? If I hadn't been such a stubborn git, if I'd just let you stay home like you wanted..."

"Don't dwell on it now. Really, Hob, none of this is your fault. There's no way you could have predicted it."

He exhaled shakily, running his fingers through his hair. "But if it weren't for that magical bit he gave you... I can't even bring myself to think what might've happened."

"Honestly, what troubles me most is that he wasn't there. He must know about it, yet... he still chose to leave me alone."

Lucienne's smile softened as she clasped your wrists. "He’s always been particular in how he handles matters of the heart. He's suffering just as deeply as you are. Though he may not show it in conventional ways, his inability to rest speaks volumes about his regret."

"We could face all this together. Why is he avoiding me?"

"While I wouldn't presume to know the precise reason, I can quite say he finds himself utterly paralyzed by shame at the thought of facing you."

Could his reluctance to confront the situation truly justify his continued absence in moments of need? He could have offered some indication of his presence, a subtle signal perhaps, to demonstrate the depth of concern Lucienne had described. Yet no such gesture appeared, leaving behind only silence.

Before you could sink into another wave of despair, Hob cleared his throat and leaned forward. "Right. There's the thing, Shortcake - got something rather important to tell you."

"What do you mean?" you asked.

"Last night, when I popped out to buy tea, wouldn't you know it… I spotted him. He was standing right there in front of the building, brooding away like the dramatic bastard he is."

The breath caught in your throat, your pulse seeming to slow to a crawl.

"What? He was here?"

"Look, Y/N, I know this whole thing is driving you mad. I had a proper word with him about it too. But listen, and you can trust old Hob on this one, that guy is absolutely besotted with you."

You swallowed. "What did he tell you?"

“He said he's working his arse off to sort this whole mess out. And, I’m quoting him verbatim here, that you are ‘his heart, his universe, and the very essence of who he is’. That's about as deep as it gets.”

You sat silent, absorbing the weight of those words as they resonated through your mind repeatedly. ‘His heart. His universe. The essence of who he is.’

“ Right now, you and that child are the most important things in all the realms to him. And I can assure you that he loves you more than anything."

"I know you're desperate to see him, but I hope knowing all this brings you a bit of peace for now, yeah?"

Taking a deep breath, you delicately dabbed at the corners of your eyes to prevent tears from falling. With a relieved laugh, you nodded several times, the motion more for your own reassurance than his.

Morpheus’ care and devotion only magnified the frustration of his continued distance from your life. Nevertheless, there was comfort in knowing he was watching over you, working towards a resolution that would allow your family to unite properly; you, your beloved, and your child yet to be born. 

If anything, this knowledge provided a measure of temporary solace, indeed.

"Thank you for telling me, Hob. I truly needed this."

"Of course, I couldn't keep that from you. You were out cold on the sofa by the time I made it back."

"I'm sorry... you made a special trip to the shop at night just to get me tea, and I fell asleep before drinking it."

He chuckled. “That was well worth it though. Now, let me give you a proper lift to work, yeah? Don't want you pushing yourself too hard in your delicate state. Honestly, I'd rather you stay home and put your feet up, but..."

"No, I'll go. I have stuff to do. I can’t afford to slack off now, knowing I'll need more time off when the baby arrives."

He gave a concerned look. "Are you certain you're up for it? Haven't had a proper kip, and after that nasty business last night..."

"I'm certain. Come on, let's go—I don't want you to be late for class."

With renewed confidence evident in your smile, you retrieved the keys and headed for the door. Hob followed close behind, adjusting his jacket collar while wearing an equally pleased expression.

"I reckon that'd be worth every bloody minute."

When you arrived at the office, you were greeted with enthusiastic applause from your colleagues in response to your recent media attention. The company experienced an immediate surge in business metrics, with a significant increase in both sales figures and website traffic. New customers, previously unfamiliar with the team's product line, began placing orders at an unprecedented rate, destabilizing the servers on more than one occasion during the morning alone.

All things considered, the night out had proven beneficial in more ways than one, putting the terrifying close call behind you.

You found yourself marveling, once again, at the extraordinary turn your life had taken. After years of persistent struggles when even your most determined efforts seemed to lead nowhere, your encounter with Morpheus at the Burgess estate had brought a supernatural level of protection that seemed to shield you from even the slightest misfortune throughout every facet of your daily routine.

Still, you couldn't help but keep a cautious perspective, and as the company's success grew with each passing week, you held onto your humility and authenticity. While this professional success was gratifying, preserving your genuine self and a balanced outlook was essential. There would be no compromises.

That afternoon, while working on new design sketches and managing incoming emails, you noticed Ella at your office door. She entered quietly after knocking a couple of times, taking a seat across from your desk, her smile seeming to mask apparent nervousness.

"What is it?" you asked, noting her peculiar expression.

"Just the usual media inquiries coming in. They're all requesting interviews with you."

"Did you tell them we're declining?"

"As always. But are you certain you don't want to consider this opportunity?"

"You know how these things work, Ella. They're not interested in our actual work—they just want juicy gossip, especially after last night. No thanks."

"Well, I can't blame them. You've always been an incredible singer. It's no surprise you caught their attention."

You shook your head. "I'm not a singer. I'm just someone who enjoys music and hums tunes from time to time. Besides, what I do in my private life is my business alone. I understand I'm no longer anonymous at this point, but I won't blur the lines between my personal life and business."

She smiled warmly. "Always so humble, even now. That's why I chose you."

You laughed. "You hired me because you had an empty desk to fill."

"Well, yes. But I wouldn't just hire anyone, you know."

"I know. And honestly, I'm grateful I was the one who sent in my application to the company at the right time."

“Mh.”

As you typed away at your keyboard, you noticed her lingering glance and pressed lips. With a weary sigh, you stopped typing and settled back in your chair, hands folded in your lap. "All right, I can tell this isn't just about work. What's really going on?"

"Honestly, Y/N, you drive me crazy sometimes."

Your eyebrows arched in surprise. "Why? Is it because I won't do the interviews?"

"Oh, forget the interviews! Are you seriously pretending nothing's going on? I've known you for years, and I can tell when something's up."

Uh oh.

“I don’t understand.”

"Yes, you do. Are you really that afraid to tell me?"

“I—”

"Your stomach issues, how you rush to the bathroom thinking no one notices, your switch from coffee to tea, and the way you've started wearing looser shirts—as if you're trying to hide something."

Your eyes dropped to your hands, watching your fingernails idly trace the hem of your shirt.

"Y/N, I know what's going on. You're pregnant, aren't you?"

Despite your best efforts to keep discretion, such subtle changes couldn't escape the notice of someone who had been a close observer of your life for so many years.

"I know we've lost touch for a long time, and I probably don't have any right to expect you to still see me as your confidant now that we work together. But... please. Tell me the truth. You've always been my best friend, even during the time we were apart. And I'm sorry I never proved it to you."

You smiled, pushing your seat back slightly and relaxing your shoulders. Quietly, you retrieved a plastic folder from your bag at the edge of the table, containing the ultrasound scan you'd begun carrying everywhere with you. After taking a moment to study the image, you handed it to her. "Lying to you would be pointless, I suppose. And honestly, hiding it for weeks has been exhausting.”

Ella stared at the photo in silence, her eyes widening as realization dawned.

“Your guess is correct, Ella. I am pregnant."

“Oh my God!!!!”

In an instant, she leapt to her feet, performing one of her signature happy dances, tapping her heels against the floor. "I knew it! This is amazing! You're going to have a baby!"

"Shh, Ella, please! I don't want the entire studio to hear you."

Returning to her seat, she fanned her face as tears of happiness formed at the corners of her eyes. "Sorry, I'm just so excited. How far along are you? It looks so tiny, just like a little bean."

“Six weeks.”

"Right, you started to feel off as soon as you returned from Cape Kennedy. But wait a second... you were there for two weeks, weren't you? Wasn't your boyfriend still here in London?"

"Hey! What are you hinting at?"

"I'm just trying to piece things together—but it's not my business anyway."

You rolled your eyes. "I know what you're thinking, but I can assure you, he's the father. He was in Florida on a brief work trip at the same time I was there," you invented on the spot.

"Oh, really? How fascinating! What does he do anyway? You've been quite private about this mysterious man... and several other things, come to think of it."

"It's just... well, it's complicated."

She brushed her hair back over her shoulder. "And what about that time your pendant started glowing? You never explained that one to me either."

“And I will, I promise you.”

"I haven't told Oliver yet, by the way. As understanding and kind as he is, I worry he'd think I'm losing my mind. He'd probably just chalk it up to stress from everything that happened."

The complexities of your relationship and the extraordinary circumstances surrounding it made explaining the full situation impossible without revealing sensitive details about Morpheus and what he represented.

Morpheus… your wonderful Dream King, whose absence left an aching void in your soul. You yearned for it all - the timbre of his voice, his distinct fragrance, and the paradoxical sensation of his cool touch against his encompassing warmth.

"Look, there are things that can't be explained simply. It's not that I don't want to tell you—I really do. I just need to find the right way to explain it without breaking certain rules."

She sighed. "You know what? I won't press the issue, not right now. You're having a baby! This is such a wonderful moment, I don't want to spoil it with all my questions."

“Thank you.”

"He knows about it, right?"

You nodded. “He does.”

"So when's the wedding?"

Knives in my heart…

"One step at a time. We're still processing the pregnancy… it wasn't exactly planned."

"Well, still. You've been together for... what, almost a year now? And with this wonderful miracle happening between you two, I think you should definitely consider marriage. Don't be like Oliver and me, who wasted years letting fear and insecurity hold us back."

With Morpheus investigating the Book of Paradoxes, could you allow yourself to envision a similar future together?

"In two and a half months, it'll be a year. And if it happens, you'll definitely be the first to know."

"I'm counting on it! I'm going to be your maid of honor. My own wedding was so rushed I could barely invite my family. That's how crazy things were between us."

"But you're happy with Oliver, aren't you?"

"Yes, happier than I ever thought possible. That's why I wish the same for you, Y/N. Even though I don't really know your boyfriend, I've never seen you so invested in someone before. It means he must truly be the one."

Though uncertain about your relationship, you knew with absolute conviction that Morpheus was irreplaceable. If circumstances prevented your union, you were prepared to embrace single parenthood rather than seek another partner.

You wanted him, and only him, even if that meant accepting the inevitability of mortality while he continued his immortal existence, knowing he might one day find love again after your passing.

Once alone, you found yourself in the quiet of your office, with only the soft hum of electronics and steady tick of the wall clock for company. Unable to contain your emotions any longer, you let out a quiet sob, tears streaming silently down your face as your pregnancy-heightened hormones swept through you, leading to another cathartic cry.

Although you clung to hopes of reuniting with him sooner rather than later, especially now that you knew he was watching from the shadows, he left a continuous sense of blinding emptiness that seemed to grow with each passing day.

Time was meant to heal all wounds, but this was a gash destined to remain, impossible to mend without the one who had caused it.

Lucienne meticulously examined the book's contents, encountering the same directive that had compelled Morpheus to end things with you. Though she sensed there must be deeper implications contained in the tome's ominous prophecy that could reveal an alternative interpretation, the solution was still unattainable notwithstanding her thorough investigation.

From Lucienne's perspective, the conundrum was perplexing. If the prophecy truly foretold a catastrophic fate should your bond with Lord Morpheus persist, then logic would dictate that separation would lead to your prosperity and enrichment. Yet the evidence suggested otherwise.

During the librarian’s discussion with the Endless regarding your near-fatal incident in the Waking World, a concerning possibility emerged. Somehow, fate had guided you to that specific intersection at the precise moment when a drunk driver would approach, and the presence of the Dreamstone had proven crucial in averting disaster. Had you removed it following the separation, the consequences for both you and your unborn child could have been severe. 

This raised a logical inconsistency: How could the Book of Paradoxes deem separation from the Dream King beneficial to your safety when his divine protection had proven instrumental in preserving your well-being?

The text appeared to be intentionally misleading, hiding its true revelations from view. Still, historical accounts and documented testimonies consistently described the book as an immutable oracle of dark prophecies, bearing the same unalterable certainty as Destiny's book or the eye of the Fates. The tome's accuracy had been consistently demonstrated with a high degree of reliability.

"The essence of this tome has changed," Morpheus stated. "It bears her signature now. As if her very essence has become woven into these ancient pages."

"Could her mere touch have caused this? True, she did find it again in our library. However..."

"My knowledge extends through millennia of dreams and nightmares, yet when it comes to her... she continues to be an enigma that even I cannot fully fathom."

Lucienne turned the pages one by one. "She told me the book found her, my lord, though how this came to be eludes me. Is it possible the tome itself beckoned to her? That it was bound to be discovered by her alone this time?"

"It is possible," he spoke. "The book concealed itself from me, taunting me with its whispers through the shadows of The Dreaming."

"Are we quite certain she is… merely human?"

"She is unquestionably mortal. And yet..." He paused. "She transcends all I have known in my eternal existence."

"She has become intertwined with the very essence of The Dreaming. This realm recognizes her as one of its own now. Almost as if she were meant to be here all along. I must profess....”

"Go on."

She placed the book on her desk, adjusting her spectacles with precise fingers. "If I may be so bold. she appears to command a certain... authority here. As if The Dreaming itself recognizes her as its rightful queen."

Morpheus tilted his head back slightly as he considered her words, a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I believe you've made quite an astute observation."

"In all my years serving as librarian of The Dreaming, I've witnessed countless dreamers pass through these halls. Mortals of every kind have wandered our realm, even those rare sleepwalkers. But when she first materialized in your throne room during your imprisonment, I sensed something else. Something unrecognizable."

He nodded, inviting her to continue.

"She traverses realms that should be inaccessible, realms and dreams that were meant for others. Denizens here have taken quite a shine to her, perhaps there's more to her abilities than mere sleepwalking."

"A sleepwalker..." His voice trailed off, deep and velvet like. "Yes. That might be but one fragment of a much larger truth."

"Indeed, just one piece of a rather intricate puzzle, my lord."

"I must ask you to continue examining the book, Lucienne. There are matters that require my immediate attention."

"Of course, my lord. Though The Dreaming endures, it still needs your guidance to truly thrive."

With a respectful acknowledgment, Morpheus walked away, his dark attire creating a stark silhouette against the library's ambient glow.

Like ink dispersing in water, he melded with the castle's newly transformed atmosphere, where golden light now perpetually illuminated parts of its chambers.

In the late hours of the night, when the city streets lay quiet save for the occasional passing vehicle, Nathaniel Ashford made his way into his apartment. He deposited his keys in the entrance hall's bowl before discarding his shoes and jacket with little regard for their placement, then proceeded wearily to his bedroom. 

The effects of alcohol were evident in his unsteady gait as he relied on nearby furniture for balance and support. He collapsed onto his bed fully clothed, lying on his back with eyes closed in exhaustion. He found himself in a downward spiral, struggling with sobriety and unable to break free from his self-destructive behaviors. The received one-year license suspension and substantial fines for driving under the influence did nothing to diminish his alcohol dependency, compelling him to continue his dangerous habit regardless of potential legal consequences.

His labored breathing and throbbing temples signaled his descent into unconsciousness. As sleep overtook him, his vision faded to complete darkness, awareness slipping away into the depths of slumber. His essence drifted into the void, his physical form becoming ghostlike and weightless.

He sank into what appeared to be a dreamless rest, until a resonant, commanding voice echoed through his mind.

“You dare.”

His eyes snapped open, and he found his bedroom transformed - a strange mist settling across the familiar space. From the darkened corner near his bed emerged an imposing figure, its otherworldly presence marked by luminescent eyes that pierced through the gloom.

The man tried to move, to sit up, but found himself paralyzed. His breath came in short, panicked bursts as the figure stepped closer. The air crackled with something ancient and terrible, something that seeped into his very soul, gripped him in an iron hold and bound him to the shadows.

"You were given a chance to reflect," the voice continued, emotionless yet charged with restrained fury. "And yet you persist." His voice deepened to a menacing whisper. "You remain a threat."

The man wanted to scream, but his throat refused to work.

Morpheus loomed over him now, a towering form in his own nightmare. "You nearly stole what I hold most precious." His tone darkened, laced with something far more dangerous than anger—judgment. "Two lives that are not merely sacred to the mortal realm, but vital to the very fabric of The Dreaming itself."

Suddenly, the man was no longer in his room. The walls twisted into a grotesque reflection of his reckless nights; flashes of himself behind the wheel, his thoughts mingling with the blaring of horns, the screech of tires.

Then—an impact. A body flying. A woman's scream.

His breath came in sharp gasps as he released his grip on the steering wheel, horror dawning across his features at the sight before him. The victim lay motionless on her side, tousled hair splayed across the asphalt. An eerie stillness pervaded the scene, broken only by the thundering of his pulse and the harsh glare of headlights cutting through the darkness.

"OBSERVE." Morpheus' voice cut through the vision like a blade. "See the devastation you nearly wrought."

Trembling, he exited the vehicle, the frigid night air assaulting his senses, each step forward feeling leaden and uncertain. A soft splash beneath his foot drew his attention downward, where his gaze met a horrifying sight: crimson liquid, dark and viscous.

He had walked into a pool of blood. Your blood.

"WATCH."

The man was forced to look, helpless as the dream played out. He recoiled, his breath catching as the gravity of his actions descended upon him. Compelled by an inexorable force, he approached the motionless form with trembling steps, kneeling beside your body as the blood seeped into his clothing. His hand hesitated before making contact with your jacket, then slowly gripped your shoulder to turn you over. A strangled sound escaped his throat as dread consumed him, knowing with devastating certainty what he would find.

As he turned you over, however, he was confronted not with human features, but with the stark, expressionless visage of a mannequin - an unsettling blank canvas that seemed to stare back at him with hollow intensity, despite its eyeless face.

“What—”

Suddenly, he found himself thrust back to the driver's seat, the vehicle surging forward uncontrollably. His frantic efforts to stop the car proved useless, because the brake pedal had vanished beneath his foot. His hands fused to the wheel, the grip inexplicably tightening with each attempt to release it.

Through the misty darkness ahead, your figure returned in the middle of the street. Your features were completely obscured, but he could sense your penetrating gaze fixed upon him, scrutinizing his very essence.

The second impact was even more devastating than the first, with your form launched through the air before crashing onto the pavement with brutal ferocity. His anguished screams pierced the night as he begged for the nightmare to cease, yet this was merely the beginning of his torment.

A distant wail pierced the atmosphere, its haunting echo resonating from every direction. An infant's distressed cries filled the place as a cradle formed where your body had been. Nathaniel staggered away from the vehicle once more, the engine now halted by an unseen energy. With mounting terror, he walked to the ornate crib where blood remained ever present, and reached for the blanket inside.

The soft fabric changed beneath his touch, becoming saturated with red. The cushioned interior lay vacant, bearing silent witness to an unspeakable loss.

The environment shaped again, becoming a stark, clinical morgue. A solitary examination table dominated the space, its stainless steel surface supporting a sheet-draped figure in the oppressive cold.

Morpheus appeared behind him, his presence radiating authority as he looked at Nathaniel with cold contempt. "Do you understand what you would have ripped from my grasp?"

Shuddering involuntarily, the man wrapped his arms around himself as an intense chill permeated his being. Though shrouded by the sheet, the feminine form beneath was unmistakable - most notably, the pronounced curve of a gravid abdomen pressing against the white fabric.

"N-no... I... I didn't mean—"

"You did," Morpheus’ voice boomed with controlled rage. "When you chose to indulge in your mortal vices, you neglected to consider the consequences of your decisions."

Nathaniel shook his head, wanting to shield himself from the grotesque scene, his eyelids forcibly open. A sinister presence urged him forward again, compelling his unwilling feet toward the examination table. With trembling hands, he grasped the sheet covering you and pulled it back. The table beneath was barren and empty, revealing a sight so disturbing that he stumbled backward, desperately scrambling away, retching violently.

Upon the steel surface rested a human heart, still pulsating with rhythmic movement, detached from any corporeal form.

"She bears my child."

The words struck like a hammer to Nathaniel’s chest.

"Not only did you imperil her life, but that of an innocent soul yet unborn." Morpheus spoke with deceptive quietness, carrying the weight of a storm held at bay. "A child who draws their first breath in dreams. A child whose very existence will reshape the boundaries between realities."

A terrible emptiness filled the air, suffocating in its finality.

“Had fate aligned differently that night, you would have destroyed something… eternal. Irreplaceable. To this world, and to me."

The man choked out. "No—I didn’t—I’m sorry!"

Morpheus tilted his head, his gaze unreadable. "Your apologies mean nothing. I shall not permit another opportunity for causing harm."

The dream continuously shifted, twisting into an endless loop of suffering, of loss, of everything the man could have caused.

"You will endure every excruciating moment of this until remorse grips your soul," Morpheus declared with an unyielding decree. "And should you fail to mend your ways," His eyes blackened, stars flickering within them like distant, dying embers. "Then perhaps it is best you never wake."

The nightmare swallowed Nathaniel whole, dragging him into the abyss.

Hopefully, this time, the man had learned an important lesson—both for his own safety and that of others who might cross his path.

Otherwise, Morpheus would ensure his punishments were delivered through the worst, darkest ways conceivable.

An impenetrable fog obscured your path as you ascended an endless staircase, your blue gown's fabric gracefully cascading behind you. Through the mysterious haze, Morpheus' castle loomed in the distance - a majestic structure that, despite its grandeur, was somehow tantalizingly out of reach.

A sense of restlessness pervaded your being as the shadowy atmosphere mirrored your internal disquiet. You continued to ascend, but the castle lingered at an impossible distance, making you pause your journey. A familiar tingle started to spread along your hands, attracting your attention downward. The golden luminescence had returned, transforming your skin into an almost crystalline transparency, with streams of radiant energy flowing where mortal veins once coursed. 

Guided by intuition, you extended your arms in a deliberate motion, your hands moving through an opening gesture. The mist retreated at your command, dissipating into nothingness as your radiant power illuminated the way ahead like a beacon in the darkness. 

The castle remained stationary, but at the foot of the staircase, a verdant expanse of trees emerged, with vegetation flanking both sides of the staircase. You proceeded gracefully yet purposefully, reaching the grassy terrain with effortless elegance as your light diffused into the surroundings. 

The distinct aroma of damp moss and stone filled your nostrils, accompanied by the melodious sound of rippling water nearby. Intrigued, you ventured forth to locate its origin, walking through an unfamiliar, thickly wooded area. Near the river stood a life-sized Grecian statue, its classical form enhanced rather than diminished by the patina of time, with tendrils of ivy gracefully embracing its weathered surface.

(Image generated with Sora AI for visual purposes)

A gentle smile graced your features as you observed the floral crown adorning its head. You traced your fingertips along the stone arm, exploring its textured surface where leaves and moss had left their lasting impressions. 

"Beautiful," you remarked, gently brushing away a stray leaf that had settled on the statue's eyes. 

While seemingly out of place at first glance, the statue's presence harmonized perfectly with its surroundings. The aesthetic choice aligned with the classical Greek influences found throughout Morpheus' domain, from the ornate busts adorning the throne room to the towering stone sentinels guarding the castle's exterior.

Absorbed in contemplation, you were startled by an unexpected movement, causing you to step back instinctively. The stone beneath your fingers had stirred, and as you watched in astonishment, the statue began to animate, awakening to life and breath. Its head gracefully rotated toward you, the carved eyes opening to fix their eternal gaze upon your form.

Motionless, you waited as the sculpture conducted its silent examination, not in a hostile way, but rather with curiosity. Its stone lips formed a gentle smile before the previously touched arm rose, its cold marble fingers making contact with your cheek. The statue's thumb traced gently across your temple, offering an unexpectedly tender and soothing caress. 

You leaned into it as your eyes glistened in the shadowed light, the gesture fleeting, its quick withdrawal leaving only emptiness behind.

It reached for the floral crown, carefully lifting it from its position. With fluid movements, it extended it out to you as an offering - a gift bestowed for reasons unknown. With each motion, the stone structure emitted soft, resonant sounds, firmly affixed to its pedestal. You knelt reverently as the statue placed the natural arrangement upon your head, the crown settling perfectly as if it had been specifically designed for you.

"Thank you," you whispered, gently touching the interwoven branches.

The statue responded with a nod before resuming its original posture, its form becoming rigid once more. In mere moments, it had reverted back to its immutable state, its countenance restored to its timeless serenity. 

Having no alternative road to take, you gathered your gown and proceeded through the garden's intricate tapestry of vines and blossoms, while the illumination changed from daylight to evening's embrace. The celestial expanse above became a mesmerizing canvas, where twilight hues seamlessly merged with an infinite array of stars, their cosmic glow guiding you onward.

Though uncertain of your destination, an inexplicable force pulled you deeper into the heart of the Dreaming. The lush forest eventually gave way to a vast clearing, where an endless sea of grass stretched toward the horizon. Here, the unobstructed view revealed a magnificent panorama above, a natural observatory requiring no telescope.

This vista held depths beyond mere galactic beauty - surpassing both the starlit majesty above and the natural sanctuary enveloping you. As you gazed upward, the glowing bodies commenced a mystical dance, converging into a perfect circle before falling down like stardust. Your attire underwent a remarkable transformation, the sleeveless gown evolving, its fabric extending to embrace your arms completely. The neckline rose elegantly to form a high collar adorned with a subtle triangular décolletage, the skirt's already prominent length extending further, flowing like a majestic royal train. Deep blue gradients adorned the intricate details, with magical embellishments scattered across the fabric, mirroring the starry display above. Your entire being produced a goddess-like radiance, from the crown of flowers disappearing and dusting your tresses with sparkles to your crystalline lashes, Your skin appeared as powerful, pulsating energy, and your metamorphosed attire echoed the nightgown from your previous sojourn in the Dreaming.

The indescribable splendor of the moment made you into what could only be described as a starseed incarnate.

“Y/N?”

Astra's voice resonated from behind as he approached with measured steps. His eyes, like liquid starlight, held the essence of dreams themselves.

“Astra!”

"You look glorious," he murmured. "Like a deity crafted from the stars."

"I'm just dreaming."

"Yes, but that doesn't make it any less... you."

He moved closer, gently nuzzling your belly with his snout. "I'd say the little one is enjoying it."

“How can you tell?”

"I am a dream—I can sense the very essence from which they are created."

"Yes... after all, this child is Morpheus' offspring."

"Correct. But you see, the baby is as much his as it is yours. It is not only a child of the Dreaming, it is something more."

"Do you mean a hybrid?"

"Neither I nor he truly knows what this child will be."

You clasped your hands together, resting them over your slightly rounded abdomen. It was astonishing how visibly your pregnancy already showed after only six weeks. "Have you discussed the baby with Morpheus?"

Astra nodded. "It's literally all he can think about now. Well, besides the Book of Paradoxes."

"In a good way, I hope?"

"Absolutely!"

You sighed, brushing away a glittering strand of hair. "It's ironic. He talks about the baby with everyone except me."

"Have patience for a little while longer, my dear."

With an exasperated groan, you rolled your eyes. "Even Lucienne keeps saying that, and my best friend from the Waking World seems to share the same sentiment. But do you all truly believe I possess infinite patience?"

"I don't believe anyone thinks that."

"Then stop telling me to simply wait around. I've done nothing but that for weeks."

Astra tilted his head, lowering his eyes. "Indeed... I apologize. I cannot blame you for growing weary of this situation."

"I just want him to talk to me… to say something, anything at all."

"I'm afraid he won't speak with you until he's certain everything has been resolved and your relationship can return to what it was before."

You chuckled. "Typical Morpheus—ever the stubborn creature. Too bad I'm just as immovable as he is."

"You are truly meant for each other, that's for certain."

"That's not what that book seems to suggest."

Astra looked skyward. "But it's just what it is; a book. Ink written on paper. Its words may portray the darker aspects of your story, but the facts speak for themselves."

"That's all very poetic, but frankly, it's bollocks." Crossing your arms over your chest, you were nearly blinded by the intense stellar light radiating from your sleeves. "All I hear about is this book predicting my doom if our relationship persists, while I'm dealing with actual danger in my world; like drunken maniacs nearly running me down in the street."

Your voice quivered as you felt the tendrils of wakefulness tugging at the edges of your mind.

"And then I discover I'm pregnant, forced to handle everything alone because the father of my child won't even come near me. You all offer kind, encouraging words, but the fundamental problem remains unchanged."

Astra hummed in acknowledgment.

"I genuinely adore you all, but you need to stop telling me everything will be okay. I swear by the very core of this realm, if he doesn't get his head out of his backside soon, I'll drag him by the ear myself. Dream Lord or not."

"Oh, that would be... rather interesting to witness."

You chortled. "Yeah, well. I can be particularly biting on a bad day, but challenging me in my pregnant state? Good luck to you."

"I shall make sure to relay that message to him."

You shook your head with a faint laugh, but your smile quickly faded. "Can you tell him something else for me?"

"Of course. What would you like me to tell him?"

Your arms dropped softly to your sides. "Tell him that I love him."

"Ah, I can assure you, he already knows that."

"That doesn't matter. Please, promise me, Astra."

The deer familiar drew himself up, his neck muscles tensing with purpose. "I give you my word, Lady of the Dreaming."

You inhaled the distinct aroma of the realm - a complex blend of scents punctuated by delicate notes of sandalwood.

Closing your eyes, you felt your body gently fading away as morning light through your window dispelled the night's magic. With a whispered breath, you replied, "You all keep saying that too."

As consciousness beckoned, the Dreaming slowly melted into the ether, giving way to the tangible reality of the new day ahead.

"Oi love, you absolutely certain about this? Don't fancy the thought of you being here all by your lonesome, if I'm being honest."

You smiled. "Don't worry, Hob. You've already spent so much time looking after me here… I can't expect you to camp out in my apartment and let you sleep on my couch forever. I'll be fine."

He massaged the back of his neck. "I don't care if that couch turns my spine into a pretzel. If it means keeping you safe, I'll sleep on the damned thing till kingdom come."

You chuckled. "I appreciate that, but I'd rather keep you as you are. I don't want you turning into a human pretzel."

"You absolutely sure about this? Not that I don't trust you can handle yourself and all that, but blimey, I hate thinking of you in here all weepy by yourself."

You sighed. "It's fine, really. I'm trying to look at things differently and trust that this is just temporary."

"Right then. I'll get out of your hair. But listen - you need anything, and I mean bloody anything at all, you ring me straight away, yeah? Don't even think twice about it."

"I pinky swear."

Watching him gather his belongings evoked a deep emptiness, as his presence had become a comforting constant in your household. The ensuing solitude proved more impactful than anticipated in the days that followed, and you found yourself frequently gravitating toward each window throughout the day, even while at work, searching the darkness for Morpheus' distinctive silhouette.

It was time to focus on self-care and prioritize both your health and the wellbeing of your unborn child. While Morpheus' distant vigilance provided some comfort against the fear of permanent separation, you knew it was only a matter of time before you would face this situation head-on, even if it meant metaphorically storming through the Dreaming's walls to reach him.

If only it had been that simple.

On a mild afternoon, you strolled to the nearby park, basking in the pleasant warmth of the sun as a gentle breeze caressed your hair. Finding a quiet bench, you settled down, resting one hand protectively over your abdomen while gazing at a towering oak ahead. The baby's presence within you was becoming more tangible each day, delicate yet strong. 

As you sat there, you reflected on the intricate emotions that had emerged since Morpheus' withdrawal. The more you pushed yourself toward the castle’s throne room, the more the Dreaming itself seemed to construct an invisible barrier, keeping you at a careful distance from its ruler, as though protecting both parties from an untimely confrontation.

The predicament was disconcerting, as Morpheus held complete control over your interactions (or rather, lack thereof), effectively preventing you from reaching him.

A peculiar change swept through the atmosphere, defying any logical description. The natural vibrancy of the surroundings ceased, as though time itself had been suspended. Passersby stood motionless, frozen like figures in a photograph. An eerie silence descended upon the park - no birdsong, no whispers of wind - leaving only an intensified sunlight that cast a stronger light on you and across the landscape.

The entire world was paralyzed, colors muted slightly, and even the rustling leaves halted midair. Your fingers tightened around the bench's edge as your respiration increased, and you started to question whether you had inadvertently fallen asleep in this public place, or perhaps even dreamed about leaving the house altogether.

But as three mysterious figures emerged from behind the bench and came into view, all questions were immediately answered. Your entire body tensed with apprehension, your brow creased deeply with concern, and your expression hardened with foreboding.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me. You lot again?"

The Three were just as ominous as before, their forms now draped in flowing white rather than black, looking serene but with an unsettling power. Their faces—the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone—were completely unchanged from your previous encounter, each radiating an equal measure of wisdom and menace. They moved around you in a slow circle, their penetrating stare fixed upon you with unsettling intensity, until they came to a stop.

Their strategic positioning effectively formed an impenetrable barrier, confining you to the bench, though you were fully prepared to assert yourself if circumstances demanded it.

“What do you want now?” you snapped, unwilling to tolerate any more enigmatic riddles being thrown your way.

The Maiden spoke first, her voice delicate yet piercing. "We come bearing no malice, dear Y/N."

The Mother let out a raspy chuckle. "No, not malice at all. Merely a message."

Your eyes narrowed as anger bubbled in your chest. "A message? Like the one you gave me before, dripping with disdain for Morpheus? What is it now—you're going to tell me how awful he is? How I shouldn't be with him?" You gestured sharply. "Save your breath and leave me be."

The Crone moved forward, her voice both soothing and resolute. "We see more than you do, little one. More than he does. We know what the future holds."

You crossed your arms. "You see it all, don't you? Past, present, and future. I've heard and read everything about you ladies. Well, guess what? I don't care what you think you know. And you don't get to meddle in my life or his. My future is mine alone to dictate."

The Mother cackled again, the sound grating. "Such fire. Perhaps you'll need it when the time comes."

“What time?” You demanded, your voice rising. “What are you trying to say?”

The Maiden tilted her head, studying you with unnerving calm. “You bear the child of the Dream King, do you not?”

Though your pulse quickened, you kept your expression neutral. “What of it?”

The Crone folded her hands. “That child ties you to the Endless in ways even you cannot imagine. And that tie... it will bring you both great joy, but also great peril.”

Your hands balled into fists. "I don't need your cryptic bullshit. My child is none of your concern."

The Mother’s smile widened slightly, wise and patient. “Oh, but it is. All life is our concern, little goddess.” She leaned closer, her icy breath chilling your cheek as she sat next to you. "Beware the paths ahead—the choices he shall make, and the decisions destiny will force upon you."

The Maiden's voice grew gentle. "Know this, Y/N; fate is fickle, and so is love. It has proven fatal to numerous Gods throughout history."

At that, your anger boiled over. "And you think I need you to lecture me about the fragility of love? I've lived it, felt it, and fought for it every step of the way. So spare me your dire predictions about matters I understand more deeply than anyone."

The Three exchanged glances, sharing a wordless agreement.

"You wear your mother’s warmth like a crown. But compassion is not a shield from consequence.”

"Everything bears consequences."

The Crone intoned, “your defiance is admirable, but dangerous. Even strength has its limits, my Daughter. Remember that."

You grimaced. "Since when am I one of your own?"

“You are one of us,” The Mother responded. "A Daughter of feeling, of story, of fate. Born of light.”

“We do not wish you harm,” the Crone continued. “But we do not grant you mercy, either."

"I never asked for mercy. With all due respect, I am not afraid of you. And I won't leave him simply because you declare him unworthy."

"You speak of the Dream King. Though he has abandoned you, your heart stays loyal to him. Yet he is Endless—his story was written long before yours began."

“Stories can be rewritten.”

The Maiden’s lips twitched into something between a smile and an admonition. "To rewrite fate means altering everything that comes after—love, loss, sacrifice—each word inscribed anew."

The Mother rose, her long wavy hair billowing in a nonexistent wind. “You stand at a crossroads. The child binds you to him, and to his sins. You can choose a different path. One that leads away from ruin.”

You took a deep breath, your voice soft yet steely. "Now you sound just like the Book of Paradoxes. Should I steal this child from their father? Hide them away? Forget about everything he means to me? No. I've already made my choice, and it isn't changing."

“Then so be it, little one. But remember: we offered warning, not threat. Choices have power, and they always bear fruit.”

"Thanks, but as I said, I don't need your warnings."

The Crone's mouth twitched with vexation. “You speak with certainty, Daughter. But certainty often becomes tragedy. Your prayers, then, will be wasted.”

The scene dissipated as swiftly as it had started, with the Three walking away, vanishing in a flash of light. Life resumed its natural rhythm in the park - leaves dancing in the afternoon breeze, the gentle touch of the cool air against your skin. You were immobile, your anger simmering beneath the surface.

You refused to let their dark portents cloud your conviction - not after everything you'd been through.

"To hell with it," you muttered. "We're going to prove them wrong."

You placed a protective hand on your belly once more, glaring at the spot where they had stood. "Whatever happens, I don't need their guidance to know what's right."

The constant interference from cosmic forces seemed determined to test your resistance, striving to cast shadows of misgivings over your already troubled relationship with the Endless. Instead, all this only strengthened your unshakeable commitment to reconcile with the love of your life, regardless of what ancient prophecies or supernatural beings might decree.

Through weariness and frustration, you would still gladly overcome any hardship and obstacle to protect your beloved Morpheus.

Even if that meant standing up against the fundamental principles of existence itself.

Matthew hastened to the Dreaming, his wings carrying him rapidly through the boundary between the Waking World and the realm of dreams. With urgent purpose, he made his way to the library where Morpheus was engrossed in his studies, laboring diligently to decipher the mysterious tome that had led to your separation. He meticulously examined ancient manuscripts and historical documents, with Lucienne's desk accumulating comprehensive notes and research materials.

The raven swooped down to perch at the edge of the desk. "Boss! Hey boss - hate to crash in like this, but there's some seriously weird stuff happening topside."

Morpheus and Lucienne looked up from their readings. "How do you mean by 'weird,' Matthew?" Lucienne inquired.

"Uuhh… really strange business if you ask me, but..."

"Tell me, Matthew," Morpheus said, his eyes fixed intently on the raven. "Has something happened to Y/N?"

"Well, not exactly. Look, I don’t know what it was, but everything froze up like someone hit the cosmic pause button on reality for a sec. It felt scorching hot and bone-chillingly cold at the same time.”

Lucienne's brow creased, perplexed.

Morpheus’ voice tinged with concern. "Tell me what you witnessed.”

"See, that's just it - I didn't catch much of anything. She was just sitting in the park, and then boom! That started happening."

"She's all right though, isn't she?" Lucienne asked gently.

"Yeah, she's fine! Still her usual self and everything. Though I did hear her muttering things to herself - sounded pretty determined too. She said something like, ‘We’re going to prove them wrong’, and ‘I don't need their guidance to know what's right’. Hell if I know.”

At that moment, A shadow crossed Morpheus' face. "I do."

“My lord?”

“It was them,” he answered grimly.

"’Them?’ You mean the Three?"

"They have visited her before."

"What purpose could they have in seeking her out?”

He stood as still as a sculpture, his eyes blazing with burning rage. “They do not appear without cause. They see her as another pawn to be toyed with in their game of fate.”

Lucienne's face grew somber. "Might this be connected to this book we've been studying?"

“Perhaps.”

"Well, whatever they said to her, she was right pissed about it. Trust me boss, she's not letting it get to her," Matthew interjected.

"This is all my doing," Morpheus confessed, heavy with regret. "The legacy of my mistakes and all their consequences have found their way to her, in spite of everything I've done to shield her from them."

“My lord—”

"And yet, she defends me still."

“I don’t need their guidance to know what’s right.”

"Perhaps this tome contains the truth after all," he murmured, his fingertips trailing along the black leather of the book that lay closed on the table, pulsing with a dark energy clashing against something brighter—hope. "I am the root of her misfortunes, casting shadows upon a light that deserves better.”

Matthew cocked his head. "Aw come on boss, that's complete crap and you know it!"

Lucienne spoke softly. "Matthew—"

“But,” Morpheus added, “she carries our child. A being of such purity that it awakened mending powers lying dormant within her essence."

He traced a sinuous circles over the volume, his fingers moving without any precise scheme.

"Why do I sense these disturbances in the fabric of her existence, even when we are apart?"

Matthew shuffled his feathers with a shrug. "You ever considered that maybe - just maybe - this book's got it all wrong in the first place? "That maybe you're actually keeping her safer than she'd be without you?"

"I'm afraid the matter is far more complex than that, Matthew," Lucienne noted.

"Look, I may not be the sharpest bird in the flock when it comes to all this mystical nonsense. I mean, I used to be just a regular human before… but something here just doesn't add up."

Morpheus' hand halted, his palm resting flat on the leather cover.

"Did you ever get that feeling when you two were together? That nagging little voice in your head warning you she was in danger? Because I'm betting you didn't."

“I…”

Morpheus reflected on your relationship's beginning, particularly the night he disclosed his history with Nada and explained the ancient prohibitions against mortal-Endless relationships. His primary concern had been for your wellbeing, dreading the possibility that you might face a similar fate - the potential loss of everything meaningful in your life, perhaps even your very soul.

However, these fears were soon proven unfounded, as in the months following your fateful meeting in the basement, your life was blessed with nothing but positive changes and fortunate developments.

You gave a sardonic nod, pressing your lips together in a bitter smile. "Ah, I see. So you're simply accepting this fate? You won't even let me make my own choice?"

"Not if it means every moment you spend in my presence brings you one step closer to your own destruction."

"Destruction? Morpheus, this is absurd. We've been together for months now, and all I've seen in my life is growth."

And he, the Lord of Dreams, who had endured searing losses and believed himself unworthy of affection, discovered, for the first time, the true meaning of genuine happiness. A happiness that dissolved into sorrow through his own misguided futile efforts at protection, tearing both of your hearts to pieces.

"My concern for her was ever-present, but..."

Lucienne scrutinized the tome thoughtfully, her mind piecing together the puzzle.

“My lord, what was it that Y/N's mother revealed about this book? Didn’t she mention that it only appears to specific beings when they are meant to see it, at predetermined moments in time?”

"Tell me what you are contemplating, Lucienne."

"If I may venture an observation, sir... I'm curious about your state of mind when you discovered the book. What thoughts were occupying you in those moments before it appeared?"

His mistakes were indelible, and their consequences irreparable. But your gentleness was immeasurable and irreplaceable, your wisdom a fount from which even Morpheus himself could learn. You were extraordinary, delicate yet powerful, so intensely significant to him that Morpheus understood he had never loved anyone as strongly as he had fallen for you.

Losing you would threaten to leave an unfathomable void in his existence, potentially shattering him beyond imagination. Your absence would leave him utterly bereft.

His body went rigid as understanding struck him with devastating force, as if the immense pressure of the Dreaming itself was bearing down upon him.

Morpheus experienced an unprecedented, profound sense of bliss and inner peace. After innumerable centuries of existence, he finally grasped the true meaning of being cherished, and his understanding of love had undergone a drastic metamorphosis. A human had taught him more in a brief span than eternity ever could, smoothing the sharpest edges of his being. You had believed in him when everyone else saw him as a monster, perceiving his past misdeeds as steps in his growth.

In his heart, he struggled to fully embrace his good fortune. A nagging doubt persistently gnawed at the back of his mind - the fear that he, an eternal being marked by past transgressions, might somehow diminish your remarkable spirit.

"Based on my research, this book appears to be more than just a collection of prophecies. It is not an artifact, but rather a sentient entity—one that moves freely through the fabric of time and space. Though I suspect you were already aware of this, given its whisperings."

Morpheus gave her a pensive nod, his gaze unfocused as he processed the implications.

"I know you value your privacy, my lord, and I won't pry. However, consider that this book most likely found its way to you at this precise moment for a purpose. It's responding to your feelings, your decisions... perhaps even the path that lies ahead of you. It reacts to the evolving destiny of those who interact with it. I believe it to be less of a prediction, my lord, and more likely a trial you must face."

Morpheus' lips pursed slightly. "Now I understand why it concealed itself from me. Why I could not find it again," he said with quiet resignation. "I misinterpreted its message entirely. In my folly, I cast it aside. But Y/N... she was always meant to be the one who could mend this."

"I believe that to be the case, my lord. It appears this was destined for you both."

"That's harsh," chirped Matthew.

"Now, if we examine these critical passages in detail," Lucienne proceeded, reaching for the tome and opening it to the first pages. "The verses seem to depict an impending doom—a love cursed to unravel, a fate set to be undone. But now that I look at them from a different perspective, they may well be cautioning us about the consequences of your separation, rather than your union.”

"Yeah, see, that's exactly what I've been trying to tell you!"

"My lord, your perspective has been clouded by doubt. About her, about what the two of you have built together. If you examine these parts again, with everything you now understand... what do you truly see?"

Lucienne turned the book toward him and pointed to the first line of the enigmatic text inscribed.

"I struggled with interpreting this text differently myself at first. But you, my lord, being who you are, surely understand the deeper meaning behind these metaphors far better than I."

He had acted against his very nature as the Lord Shaper, failing to see beyond the surface meaning. Despite spending countless hours analyzing those prophetic lines, his point of view was horribly obscured by preconceptions. His fear of repeating past dynamics and potentially depriving both realms of your creative mind had prevented him from perceiving the truth behind the illusion. His understanding of the book's nature was limited to historical accounts and experiences, failing to consider its deeper metaphysical implications.

He was willing to let you go if it meant preserving you from harm—even if the alternative meant cherishing your love until your final breath. He would rather endure the pain of separation than risk the complete erasure of your existence. He had made his choice with finality, declining to honor your request to seek guidance as partners.

Indeed, there had to be deeper significance beneath the surface. Much like how the Death card in tarot represents transformation rather than literal demise, the Book of Paradoxes appeared to have crafted its prophecies with particular layers of mystery, requiring careful interpretation to reveal the true nature underlying these trials.

His fingers traced the edges of the ancient text, following the intricate shapes of the ink. The pages seemed to resonate with a new pulsing vitality, the ancient tome once again whispering incomprehensible murmurs into his consciousness.

As he studied each page, the familiar verses echoed differently. The illustrations had been altered, depicting your figure oriented towards his direction. His hand froze mid-motion as the page slipped from his grasp, his gaze transfixed by a detail that undoubtedly had not existed in the book previously.

A fresh set of verses was right before him.

Tears welled in his eyes, catching the soft illumination of the library as he blinked.

As both Matthew and Astra had indicated, Morpheus had misinterpreted every single word he had consulted. Now, staring at these new inscriptions, the clarity of their message was undeniable. 

The foretold darkness was still there, yet he now understood with startling clarity that far from being the harbinger of your downfall, he was destined to be your sanctuary—your beacon of love and the father of your child, just as you would be his guiding light in the shadows.

The lunar motif, representing the realms of night, dreams, and the unconscious mind, served as a potent metaphor throughout these verses, underscoring your intrinsic connection to the Dreaming, and to the moonstone crystal he had gifted you.

In truth, you possessed the unique ability to serve as his redemption, if he would simply relinquish his protective barriers and allow your destined connection to flourish.

Love was not merely the answer—it was the solution. Your bond was an essential part of your shared future, a connection that was meant to exist, not be severed.

Though mortal in nature, you possessed extraordinary qualities that set you apart from Nada, and from any other human who had ever come too close to his kind. The path that lay ahead for both of you held secrets and possibilities that defied the original laws, even for Dream of the Endless himself.

"I now can see, Lucienne. Matthew. I let the weight of my past actions, what I once was, convince me there could be no other outcome. But I was mistaken. The book has been attempting to show me the truth all along, and I foolishly dismissed it."

Lucienne's expression softened as she exhaled quietly, her lips forming a graceful smile. 

Matthew startled as the Book of Paradoxes emanated an intense luminescence, forcing even Morpheus to retract his hand. It unleashed a brilliant, blinding flash, before vanishing from the library in a swift current of air, scattering various documents across the table and onto the floor. 

In an instant, tranquility settled over the library once more, as Lucienne surveyed the mess left in the wake of the magical disturbance. Morpheus rested his fingers against the wooden surface, savoring its tangible presence beneath his touch. 

The empty space where the tome had rested served as silent testimony that the enigma had at last been deciphered, finally unlocked.

It was done. It was sealed. It was over.

All that remained now was atonement.

"Man, that was some real freaky stuff," Matthew croaked.

Through another layer of mist, you traversed a solitary road, its destination obscured from view. Yet tranquility permeated the atmosphere, as a gentle azure glow pierced through the shadows.

The vapor swirled, giving way to delicate fabrics swaying gently in the air, their soft touch brushing against your skin like gossamer veils. They parted respectfully at your arrival, their forms creating an opening before you like devoted guardians acknowledging their sovereign. 

As you ventured forward, the haze gradually softened, revealing a chamber where, at its heart, stood a solitary crib.

(Image made with Sora AI for visual purposes)

Stars glittered across the floor and danced upon the curtains, while an infinite expanse of celestial lights stretched into the void. The divine display moved in mesmerizing circular movements, reminiscent of the crystalline beauty found in mortal light projections. 

The room was silent, save for a subtle movement beneath a dark blue blanket inside the crib. You approached with careful steps, bending over the little cushion where you found a newborn infant. The child was clearly visible now, unobscured by dream distortions, the scene continuing in smooth progression. As the baby’s eyes fluttered open, they revealed striking cerulean irises - unmistakably familiar - which mirrored the cosmic spectacle surrounding you. Their gaze met yours, deep and penetrating, as you carefully lifted the tiny form with trembling hands.

The infant remained peaceful as you cradled them in your arms. Their dark hair reflected their distinguished lineage, bearing the undeniable aura of the Dream Lord himself. The authenticity of this vision, whether it formed from reality or merely your subconscious imagination, felt undeniably grounding.

As you tenderly held the infant against your chest, your hand supporting their delicate head, the  fabrics rustled behind you. A presence made itself known, moving through the curtains before coming to rest several paces away. As you turned, you gasped at the sight of Morpheus, who stood among the shimmering veils, his expression filled with wonder and awe.

For countless nights, you had hopd to find him in your dreams, only for him to persistently elude you. On the sole occasion when your paths had crossed during your sleeping hours, he turned away from you and retreated, leaving behind unspoken sentiments and another scar upon your heart.

Now he stood in front of you, his presence commanding yet gentle. He took a step forward, his eyes falling reverently on both you and the baby in your arms. Words failed you as you stayed there, unable to give voice to the myriad things you wanted to say, to the emotions coursing through you.

The dream began to fade, the mystical chamber dissolving into nothingness as your mind pulled you back to your waking life. Morpheus' figure evaporated like stardust in the wind, leaving your arms bereft of the infant they had held moments before.

You awakened suddenly, drawing in a sharp breath as your full awareness returned, your heart racing within your chest while tears gathered at the corners of your eyes. Instinctively, your hand drifted to your abdomen, but the Dream King was nowhere to be seen.

Had his presence been genuine, or merely a creation of your deepest longings?

The workday extended well beyond regular hours at the studio due to increasing demands. Following the success of your recent collections in the market, the C&J brand has experienced heightened expectations. High-profile clients and agencies had submitted requests for specialized designs, necessitating an even greater level of precision and craftsmanship than usual.

While intense and time-consuming, the work brought immense satisfaction. The global recognition and appreciation for your designs served as a testament to your professional journey and creative vision.

After receiving your authorization, Ella had discussed your status with Oliver. They both demonstrated exceptional support and consideration, their genuine concern visible through frequent check-ins and offers of assistance. While they may have been somewhat overprotective, they created a positive environment that proved invaluable during this period.

Retrieving your keys, you tiredly reached your building's entrance. Dusk had settled, bathing the sidewalks in the gentle glow of street lamps. As you were about to insert your key into the lock, a deep voice called your name, causing you to freeze in place and almost drop all your belongings.

“Y/N.”

You turned slowly, your gaze meeting Morpheus as he came forward. You suddenly forgot how to breathe, staring at him in shock, his expression unreadable.

For a moment, you questioned the veracity of his image.

“Morpheus….”

“My love.”

You carefully returned the keys to your bag, your trembling hands betraying your shock as you stepped closer to him. With mere inches separating you now, a tempest of emotions - anger, relief, hurt, need - welled up inside you. Yet in his presence, you found yourself rendered speechless and still again.

"What are you doing here?" you asked in a whisper, your voice trembling.

"I have come seeking you," he replied. "Time has passed... painfully so."

"It's been weeks," you pointed out. "You've been avoiding me this entire time."

“My apologies.”

His touch on your shoulder felt peculiar as his hand traced down your upper arm—a subtle but noticeable difference from his usual mannerisms. His gestures had noticeably changed; where he had once been delicate and reserved, his grip was now firm and purposeful as his hand moved along your arm with unmistakable intent.

He was just as striking as ever, his beauty and regal bearing unaltered. But there was an incongruity that felt unsettling.

"You appear weary, my dear. Let me help ease your burdens. Allow me to care for you as I should. As has been your deepest desire."

Your eyes narrowed as suspicion began to rise in the pit of your stomach. His attitude seemed too casual, given the long separation and the significant revelations regarding the Book of Paradoxes—along with your pregnancy. How could he respond with such apparent nonchalance, without mentioning any of those occurrences?

"Is this how you're going to act? Ignoring everything that happened without any explanation?"

Even his smile was completely out of character.

"I shall explain everything in due time. But first, allow me to tend to your needs."

The way he leaned in, pressing close with an uncharacteristic intimacy that left you paralyzed and shivering in terror, provided incontrovertible confirmation that he was not who he claimed to be.

You knew Morpheus as deeply as your own reflection; his distinctive gaze, the careful way he carried himself, the cadence of his speech. Every gesture and interaction had its own signature, and this impersonation failed to capture all those essential details that sent your heart fluttering whenever you were near him.

This... this was most certainly not him.

Then you noticed it, a flicker of gold in his eyes that was clearly foreign to the Morpheus you knew and loved. Revulsion coursed through you as bitter realization struck, and you immediately withdrew from the creature’s touch, stepping back with decisive force.

“My love?”

"Don't 'my love' me. If you thought you could deceive me with these pathetic tricks, you were sorely mistaken."

His expression shifted to one of exaggerated shock, the artifice so glaringly obvious. “I don’t understand—”

"Oh, drop the act. Did everyone agree to use me as a pastime lately or what?”

"Y/N," His voice took on a stronger, more menacing tone. "I assure you, I have no idea what you speak of."

You became venomous, each word a strike. “Dream has never had golden eyes, and he most certainly would never behave the way you do. So tell me, Desire, what are you really here for?"

Slowly, the illusion of Morpheus collapsed, revealing the Endless’ true form - a statuesque figure with gleaming golden eyes, crimson-stained lips curved into a knowing grin, and platinum hair swept back in an elegant style. Their attire transformed from Morpheus' darkness to pristine white, very similar to the one you had seen at the Fashion Show's establishment.

"My, aren't you just precious. A pity you've spoiled my little game so quickly."

Pressing your lips together, you glared at them. "I'm not in the mood for this."

"Quite a change from our last encounter. You didn't even know who I was then, did you?"

"No. But as they say: fool me once, shame on you. You won't fool me twice."

They let out a low laugh, circling you with predatory fluidity. "Oh my sweet Y/N, don't be frightened. You're practically one of us now, aren't you? For however long that lasts, of course."

"Frightened? Oh no, I'm livid. Do you really expect me to treat you with respect after what you've done to him?"

"Of course he's told you about me. But you've only heard his version of events, haven't you? His perception of the truth. Though I can hardly blame you for that."

Your blood boiled. "Do you honestly think orchestrating the birth of a Vortex—forcing him to kill his own blood and face the Furies' vengeance—was merely a matter of perception?"

They shrugged. "It was a deliciously wicked plan, wasn't it?"

Rage coursed through you as your body responded viscerally to them. A powerful warmth spread beneath your skin while your eyes began to illuminate, golden threads of energy spreading across your form in an intricate tapestry. It pulsed and subsided as quickly as it began, serving as a clear warning of what you could unconsciously unleash.

"You planned his imprisonment too, didn't you? If you think you can continue this senseless vendetta, know this—I won't stand idly by while you scheme to get him destroyed out of pure spite."

For a moment, their smile wavered, but their surprise was brief. "Mmm, you're far more intriguing than you let on. How fascinating."

"Stay away from me. I can't even stand to look at you right now."

You moved past them, your body nearly grazing their form as you retrieved your keys from your bag anew.

"Oh I know. It's my brother you're pining for, isn't it? Poor sweet thing... He doesn't care, he never does."

"Yeah, right."

"Come now... I could give you everything you've ever wanted. Every delicious little desire you've tucked away in that precious heart of yours. After all... aren't dreams just desires waiting to be fulfilled?"

Your hand closed tightly around your keys, holding one like a makeshift knife. "I swear, if you don't leave right now—"

"Well then," they purred, slinking closer with a sinister grin, pearly white teeth glinting in the dim streetlight. "Let me show you just how... delightful things could be."

In an instant, reality warped and mutated around you, the familiar alleyway converging into a canvas of melting colors. Red walls took form and encircled you, their surfaces gleaming with an unnatural polish that reflected your image with mirror-like clarity.

"Welcome to my domain, little butterfly."

A rhythmic pulsing echoed through the otherwise silent room, its crimson interior reminiscent of an artificial cardiovascular structure.

"Take me back immediately," you demanded, your voice low and dangerous.

"Come now... let me get to know my favorite sister-in-law better. Besides, I'm simply dying to meet my little niece or nephew growing inside you."

"If you dare come anywhere near my child—"

"Oh dear, you're breaking my heart," they said with a fake pout, pressing their hand delicately to their chest.

"I will not repeat myself again, Desire. Take. Me. Back. Now."

"All this stress can't be good for that precious little one. Come, sit with me."

Realizing that further resistance would be futile and counterproductive, you felt your strength beginning to falter as exhaustion set in, accompanied by a wave of dizziness and mounting nausea.

Desire settled into a minimalist chair, gesturing elegantly to the space beside them. Your apprehension at being so far from known territory was difficult to brush aside, but fatigue began to overcome your resistance. Your body, exhausted from the day's events, betrayed your determination as you inevitably gravitated toward the offered seat.

The rigid surface provided little comfort, and Desire's unwelcome proximity became even more disturbing as they reached out to stroke your hair and face, causing tension to ripple through your muscles.

"I don't know what you want to do with me, but you're wasting your time."

"Oh, I can see exactly what drew my dear brother to you. Such fierce spirit... such delectable defiance."

You hardened your jaw.

"Sweet thing, my brother has a habit of falling for mortals. You're just another passing fancy in his eternal existence."

Your hands tightened into fists atop your knees. "Stop."

"This child won't keep him by your side. Just look at dear Calliope... such a tragic tale. And poor little Orpheus... torn apart while my brother watched idly from his domain."

"You have no right to speak about him or his son that way."

Their fingers expertly pressed against your scalp in what should have been a soothing motion, had it been performed by anyone else.

"And why shouldn't I? After all, I am family. I've been there through it all, watching every moment, while you weren't even a whisper in existence."

You pulled away harshly, sliding to the farthest side of the chair. "I'm so tired of everyone reminding me how mortal and short-lived I am. You all think you know him better only because you've been around since the dawn of all living things, but that means absolutely nothing."

"That's simply the way it is. My brother has had his infatuations before, and every single time, they've ended in a disastrous way."

"Yeah, well. None of them were me."

They laughed, their voice reverberating against the crimson membranes, hollow and cruel.

As they advanced, you found yourself cornered, with only the option of retreating to the floor beneath you and crawl backwards. An entirely unappealing prospect.

"Why throw away everything you could have for someone who'll never truly care for you? I can give you what you want. Right here, right now."

As you met their gaze, you felt a mystical pull — one that seemed designed to ensnare any mortal they seeked, just as they had done with Unity Kinkaid. Their hand returned to your hair, running through it from root to tip with practiced elegance, letting the strands slip between their fingers.

They were trying to exploit your momentary vulnerability to ensnare you, but you refused to be deceived.

With feigned sweetness, you grasped their jacket's lapels, nails grazing their exposed collarbones. Leaning in close enough to sense their subtle resonance, you fixed them with a steely glare.

"What I want is for you to screw yourself and forget I even exist," you hissed.

Your gesture caused Desire's calmess to break, their amusement turning into visible displeasure. Offended, they rose to their feet, walking to an elaborate display wall adorned with particular artifacts, one that seemed more than a mere corner filled with decorative pieces.

"See this lovely collection? All of us Endless keep our siblings' sigils in our realms. Little tokens that let us summon one another whenever we wish."

You swallowed. “So?”

"Let me offer you a little reward for your... resilience. I could summon Dream, let him come to you. Wouldn't you love to see him?"

Your heart lurched, caught between a flood of joy and the cold grip of fear at what might follow.

"Yes, how about a lovely little reunion?"

“Wait—”

As they extended their hand toward a silver mask resembling a crow's skull, Desire's expression twisted into an even more malevolent smirk. “My sweet brother Dream. It is I, Desire. I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil.”

The response came immediately, and at the sound of that voice, you nearly collapsed to the floor, desperate to scream and call out his name.

"Desire. What is it you want?"

The coldness in his tone was palpable, and understandably so.

"It's rather about what you want, dear brother. As it happens, I have a very special guest here in my domain—someone who's absolutely desperate to see you."

He needed no explanation, for he already knew whom they were referring to. "Tell me you did not."

The triumph on their face was absolutely maddening. “Come. I am extending an invitation."

You wrapped your arms around your midsection, feeling unsteady on your legs despite being seated. Footsteps rang out through the corridors, and as you looked up, Morpheus came forth from one of the lengthy crimson passages. His black shoes struck the smooth floor, halting as his cerulean eyes met your face, brimming with anguish and concern.

At last, there stood Morpheus, the real Morpheus, before you.

“There you are.”

At their words, his face contorted with unbridled irritation. "Desire, I believe I have told you to stay out of my affairs."

"Oh, but I'm doing you a favor, aren't I? This poor girl has been waiting for you."

Desire slid behind you, gripping your shoulders as their lips hovered near your ear. "Unless you'd prefer to leave her defenseless."

You winced as the dreamstone around your neck flared with a faint luminescence, its power somehow dampened. A worrying thought crossed your mind—would the stone's magic hold any sway over the Endless themselves?

Witnessing your discomfort, Morpheus' patience wore thin. "Y/N, come to me."

Without deliberation, you moved swiftly to comply with his directive. Desire released their hold, permitting you to step away without protest. As you moved to Dream’s side, he placed a protective hand against your back.

"You can thank me now or later, sweet Dream."

Desire's actions were clearly calculated to assert dominance over their brother, demonstrating their continued ability to influence and provoke Morpheus regardless of his admonitions.

“Thank you?” His fingers tightened around the fabric of your shirt. "If you ever dare to come near her again, I shall ensure your suffering is eternal."

Desire's laughter could be heard through the chamber one final time, but Morpheus had already turned away. As he guided you from the crimson realm, your surroundings altered again, eventually settling into the shadows of what had become your second home.

You expected him to return you to your dimension and depart immediately, without uttering a single word or showing any sign of intention toward reconciliation. However, as the known ambience of his castle's throne room shaped around the two of you, you regarded Morpheus with an inquisitive look.

"This is not the Waking World."

He blinked slowly, tilting his head. "No."

You had waited so long to be welcomed back into this hallowed hall.

"Why did you bring me here?"

His voice flowed like honey, rich and soothing. “We must talk, you and I.”

Your lips trembled as waves of pent-up frustration crashed through you like a tide. "Oh, so now you want to talk? After ignoring my calls for so long?"

Morpheus lowered his gaze, reflecting pain and remorse like a wounded creature in deepest distress. In an instant, you felt a pang of regret for your harsh outburst, steadying your breath and fidgeting with your fingers. "I’m sorry... I shouldn't have snapped like that. That was rude."

“Your anger is justified.”

"No," you said with a defeated sigh. "You just rescued me, I have no right to treat you unkindly." Spotting the marble stairs at the center of the room, you sank down onto the steps. "I just... I need a moment."

Your stomach churned uncomfortably, accompanied by a throbbing headache beginning to manifest.

"You are unwell." Not a question but a statement.

"The symptoms come and go. I just need some rest."

His expression tightened as he watched your weakened state—exhausted and vulnerable, managing both your daily responsibilities and pregnancy without his assistance.

“Y/N,” he muttered, moving closer, but keeping a respectful distance. “I… I owe you an apology.”

“Do you?”

He nodded gravely. “The Book of Paradoxes speaks in riddles. I spent countless nights parsing its ancient verses.”

“I know.”

“When all paths led to darkness, I chose to bear the burden of separation. A cruel mercy perhaps, but one born of devotion.”

You shook your head, pinching the bridge of your nose. "That felt more like torture than mercy. Besides, even without you, I still ended up risking my life at least once.”

“I am aware of that.”

"All that suffering... tell me, was it for nothing?" You choked out,

“I sought to shield you from harm. To preserve you from the inevitable consequences that follows when one of the Endless dares to love a mortal. But… I have committed a grave error.”

You sniffled, wiping away the tears already tracing their trail down your cheeks.

“My actions have achieved precisely what I tried to prevent, placing both you and our unborn child in the path of destruction.”

“So, the book was just… what, a joke?”

“A trial of fate,” he affirmed. “Like a mirror reflecting the depths of consciousness, the book’s cryptic whispers resonate through the very fabric of reality itself.”

“How?”

“It constantly shifts, revealing truths uniquely tailored to each bearer who dares venture into its pages. Even I, in all my centuries of existence, find myself humbled by certain mysteries that lie within its ancient bindings.”

You let out a pained chuckle, more a lament than laughter. “It’s been so hard, Morpheus.”

“I know, my love. If I had known the path to resolution, I would not have exiled myself from your existence.”

"I just wanted you by my side. We could've faced this together."

“I was trapped in this labyrinth of misunderstanding, each turn leading me further from the truth."

As you finally managed to suppress the rush of nausea, you looked at him through blurry vision. "You said the book is tailored for those who find it, that it represents a trial of fate. What about those passages that convinced you to leave me? What message was it truly trying to convey to both of us?"

"The book was a reflection of my darkest fears - that I would cause you harm, that I would lose you forever... that my love would bring about your demise, as it did with Nada. I could not bear to witness such a fate befall you as well."

Your shoulders slumped. "Morpheus… I've told you before, I'm not Nada."

"No. You are unlike any I have known before. Your presence has changed the very essence of who I am, Y/N. Everything I once believed about myself has been transformed into something... unexpected."

"What does it mean?"

"Your connection to my realm, and the child we have created together, have altered everything I once believed to be immutable."

“Stories can be rewritten.”

The Maiden’s lips twitched into something between a smile and an admonition. "To rewrite fate means altering everything that comes after—love, loss, sacrifice—each word inscribed anew."

A grin tugged at your lips—a genuine sign of victory—at the prospect of having already proven the Fates' predictions ineffectual.

However, your somber mood quickly returned. "I'm sorry you found out about the child like this. I wish I had been the one to tell you."

“I did learn it from you, in a way,” he specified.

“You did?”

“I had an illuminating discourse with an unexpected visitor. Your mother seeked my presence, desiring council; her understanding of the book's mysteries eclipsed even my accumulated knowledge.”

"My mother? Why? I thought she disapproved of our relationship from the start. Why did she suddenly start caring?"

“She finally comprehended the depths of my eternal devotion to you.”

To say you were surprised would be an understatement, as warmth bloomed in your heart at the thought.

“I perceived her unspoken truth about your condition,” he elucidated. “And so I came to the Waking World, to gaze upon what my stubbornness had rendered me blind to for so long.”

You recalled that particular night when, after waking, you had observed golden particles suspended in the air around your bed. At the time, you had simply attributed this phenomenon to your own light abilities, remnants drifting lazily through the atmosphere.

“You were there...”

“I was.”

"But that doesn't change the fact that I couldn't tell you directly myself. I was terrified... and perhaps a part of me was afraid of how you would react."

“Why?”

“I…”

“My love,” he said quietly. “I would never take our child away from you, if that troubles your mind.”

Your brow knitted thoughtfully. "I know you wouldn’t. That's not what I was referring to."

“…Oh?”

You folded your arms pensively. "I didn't know how to approach the subject after what you've been through. You were a father once… and after what happened with Orpheus… I just... I didn't want to stir up those painful memories again."

His face softened, a gentle curve playing at the corners of his mouth. “Did you harbor concern for me? That knowledge of this child would resurrect the shadows of my past?”

You relaxed your legs, joining your hands in your lap. "Yes."

“I am responsible,” he said solemnly. “The burden I placed upon your soul was... unforgivable.”

You hung your head, exhaling a heavy sigh. "You didn’t, not intentionally. I understand your perspective."

He stood rigid, restraining himself from moving any closer. “I do not deserve your kindness.”

"This isn't about what you do or don't deserve.” You lifted your eyes toward the star-filled dome above, its motif a recurrent element in your own dreams. “The night of the accident, I had taken off the Dreamstone. It reminded me of you, and I hated it... I hated not seeing you anymore, not hearing your voice, not feeling your love."

His lips parted, yet he remained silent, allowing you to continue uninterrupted.

"But then, a voice in my head urged me to keep it with me, not to discard it. I faced a choice: ignore my instinct and leave the stone behind, or put it on again. I chose to wear it."

His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"What I mean is, even if we have a predetermined destiny, our choices still shape our course through life. You tried to keep me safe by leaving me, but I’m actually safest when I am with you. Whether here or in the Waking World, it makes no difference."

The ambient sounds of the Dreaming permeated the castle walls - a symphony of ethereal whispers, crackling flames, and the gentle rustling of ancient tomes.

You cherished every aspect of it.

"The Dreamstone has protected both me and our child. It shielded me from the studio fire, and it even kept the Corinthian at bay in Georgia. The evidence is undeniable, Morpheus. I just wish you'd been there—that we could have discovered this baby together."

He tentatively advanced, bearing the weight of centuries upon himself. “You still hold such affection for me. Yet I have sullied this bond with my failings.”

Your breath came out in trembling gasps. "Of course I do. Nothing could ever change that, not even how infuriating you can be sometimes."

Morpheus closed the distance between you, extending his hand to your face. His touch was feather-light and cautious, filled with such tenderness that it instantly erased the residual tingling left by his sibling.

"Y/N, I know I do not have the right to ask. But...do you believe you could find it in your heart… to forgive me…?"

When you looked at him, his luminous eyes were filled with desperation and pleading. With all the strength you could master, you pushed yourself away from the steps, passing by him while contemplating your response, one hand pressed against your chin.

You gathered your thoughts, allowing yourself a moment to find equilibrium. When you turned to him once more, he watched your movements with an expression of anticipation. He stood tense with nervousness, bracing himself for rejection.

"Swear it," you commanded. "Swear to me that no matter what happens, no matter what prophecy you find or hear, no matter what anyone tells you about me or our future, you won't leave me again."

You cried freely then, releasing all the sorrow you had tried to suppress for so long. "Swear to me that we will face everything together as partners. That you will seek my help. I love you more than the universe itself, Morpheus, but I cannot bear to be abandoned again, left waiting for your return, not knowing if it will be in vain."

His rigidity gave way to unstable steps, his coat brushing against your arms as he stopped in front of you. The flaring redness rimming his eyes revealed weeks of concealed agony, as tears traced silvery paths down his face.

“I swear it.”

Your heart ached at his vulnerability - you had only seen such raw emotion once before, in his memories of Jessamy's tragic end.

"I swear it on all that I am. I swear it upon the Dreaming itself. I swear it on what remains of my son. And I swear it upon my unborn child."

His words struck deep, leaving you breathless and breaking down your last emotional defenses. “Never again?”

“No. Never shall I abandon you again. I make this solemn vow.”

A strangled sound escaped your chest as your crashed your lips against his, hands cradling his face as if holding the most precious treasure in existence. His arms encircled you at once, fingers weaving through your hair and grasping a few tresses with quivering digits. You held onto him like a lifeline, your arms wrapping around his neck as you deepened the kiss, tongues meeting in a passionate embrace.

The room filled with the melody of sighs and soft moans as you abandoned yourselves to each other, all the pent-up longing and desire exploding like fireworks. Morpheus’ breath was hitching, shaking, tears mingling between you as your lips danced together. The candles' flames intensified, their sway celebrating the rekindled connection between your two souls.

When you finally detached from him to catch your breath, you wiped away the tears that stained his cheeks, also collecting the fresh ones that formed.

"Oh, my silly Dream," you whispered with a smile. "What am I ever going to do with you?"

Leaning forward, he touched his forehead to yours. “Forgive me. Please. That is all I dare ask.”

You kissed him one more time, puckering your lips softly against his—a kiss he immediately returned.

"Though I was tempted to keep you on edge a bit longer, I don't have the heart for that. I've already forgiven you," you reassured him. "And while we're on the subject, I believe I owe you an apology too, Morpheus."

“An apology? To me?”

"Mmhm."

“Why?”

Absently touching your abdomen, you let your fingers slip onto his hand. "The first night we spent together, I told you I was protected. And it's true, I really was—I'd been on birth control for a long time. But when I was here, as your guest, I didn't have my medication with me."

His fingers curled around yours, initially cold, but instantly warming in your hold.

"Time moves differently between here and the Waking World, and I completely lost track. I was conscious and should have been more careful, but... I made a mistake. This child came to be as a result. I'm so sorry, Morpheus… I know it must have been shocking."

His eyes shone, though his tears had subsided. "You need not apologize to me, my love."

“It’s just…” You trailed off,

“The responsibility lies with both of us.” He paused, studying your abdomen with heartfelt wonder. “And it is... a blessing beyond measure.”

"Really? But... do you truly want this with me?"

“I would not have it any other way.”

Your posture relaxed visibly as your tension melted away from your features.

Morpheus reached toward your abdomen, his hand hovering with tentativeness. His expression held both hope and uncertainty, as if unsure whether he had permission to make contact. “May I…?”

Gently, you guided his hand to rest atop your abdomen where your child was growing, his palm spreading softly against the material of your shirt. “You must.”

He remained still, sensing the energy flowing in you, your hand protectively covering his. Morpheus' eyes widened in wonder, his lips parting as dark red rings returned around his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" you asked, reading his face.

“No, nothing is wrong,” he said with fondness. “I sense the child's essence. It resonates through the tapestry of dreams.”

“Aw.”

“She shall become a most magnificent arbiter between our worlds.”

You blinked as his other hand reached your waist, pulling you closer. "Wait... 'she'?"

“Yes,” he replied with a smile. “Our daughter.”

The Endless' ability to perceive beings and their biological imprint was truly phenomenal. In contrast, modern medical imaging was required to detect the initial cardiac activity of your developing child.

“We’re having a little girl….”

As everything crashed down on you, you finally relaxed into his arms, your legs becoming wobbly yet remaining steady enough to keep you standing. All those weeks of pain, grief, and insecurity—all the tears that had fallen and continued to spill—everything you had endured was worth it for this single moment of happiness.

"I love you. More than all the stars across infinite universes."

You gripped the back of his coat, holding him firmly, your face buried in the crook of his neck. "I love you too, Morpheus. I've missed you so much."

"I have missed you as well... as has my realm. Will you rest here tonight? Allow me to care for you, both of you, as I should have done from the beginning?"

You chuckled softly, your lips trembling as your nose traced the line of his jaw. "Absolutely."

All that was left was a sense of completeness, in spite of all the warnings and dirty games you had forcibly tackled.

"As long as you're the one sending me to sleep, my wonderful king."

Final notes: The next chapter will include lots of romance, and also bring back the smut. From now until the finale, the story will feature nothing but wholesome and positive events, along with a bit of additional lore.

I would also like to credit Corridor Digital on YouTube for their "ROT" video, which you can find here. It's a Silent Hill fan film that I highly recommend if you're not a SL fan. I used it as an inspiration for the nightmare part specifically.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 27 ->

[midsummersaywha]

Random HC I have

I read this fic (I believe it was by Maril - “In Love and War”) and somewhere in there Vector had his own realm with a table with 13 chairs and 12 other doors for his siblings which aww that’s so cute. BUT it also had these other features which were special to vector/he can manipulate his realm. GIVING ME AN IDEA!

Primusʻs realm is the realm of Allsparks and they all have a collective realm - the realm of the primes. So basically all the primes have their own realms based on them with small influences from their siblings. And they all have a table and chairs and entryways for their siblings (+yes even Megatronus and Liege bc I believe they are big softies and care about their family it’s just that everything went to shit) Like:

Prima: His table is long with him at the head (says it’s “bc he’s the oldest” but he’s just kinda pretentious). The realm never dims -its always bright. Everywhere are shields, banners, and glyphs of truth and justice etched into the walls. His sword sits unused (like excalibur in the rock).

Vector: Ever-shifting maze of crystalline halls but he can stop them/keep them suspended in time. He has doorways that lead to moments, not places. The reflections speak in futures that haven’t happened (like that episode of ninjago with Jay and Nya - yall know what im talking about). Like this is the center of timelines.

Corridors fold into each other, some looping back, others opening onto scenes from different eras. The sky is fractured into moving constellations. Clocks—some mechanical, others alien—hang from invisible ceilings. Gravity tilts unpredictably in some areas.

Alpha Trion: Endless archives suspended in space, scrolls and datapads orbiting like celestial bodies. Each room contains the memory of a moment, preserved exactly as it was lived (kinda like how you could watch that one guys life in READY PLAYER ONE). The covenant stays open on a pedastal open with blank pages and the quill lies next to it.

Solus Prime: Her realm is like massive, active forge-world (like hephastusʻs realm in those EPIC animatics). Molten rivers of gold energon (another HC i have bc ichor) flow like lava through engineered canals. Glowing runes, etched in ancient Cybertronian, pulse across the stone and metal walls. The sound of clanging hammers and humming welders never ceases, though no workers are in sight. The Forge of Solus—her artifact—sits at the center of the realm, almost powering it.

Micronus: As the minicon supporter of the group who loves his sibs very much, it was his personal choice to make his realm exactly FOR his siblings. Tucked beneath starlit skies and surrounded by low hills, soft energon streams, and gentle humming plants. He doesnt necessicarily have a table - but had spaces for his siblings and each space is made specifally to fit his siblings and their likes and dislikes. There’s always a seat by the fire. There’s always a clean tool bench waiting. Always a quiet spot.

Alchemist: A domed biome filled with massive vines, crystalline structures, and floating ore-veins. The ground is half stone, half circuitry. Pools of glowing liquid energon reflect star maps. The realm pulses softly—alive with synthetic flora and techno-organic fauna. And on the side he has an personal energon bar for his siblings (Bc a mech needs his hobbies.. "Maccadam")

Nexus: His realm is built from fractures. Cities float in fragments, connected with golden electrical bridges. His realm is paradoxical: separation in harmony. His presence binds the pieces. Without him, the realm collapses into kaleidoscopic chaos.

Onyx: Endless technological + organic primal landscapes: dark forests, jagged peaks, deep caves lit by bioluminescent fauna. Stars hide behind the canopy. It looks like the scenery from the maximalʻs planet from ROTB - just more technological - bc he is their ancestor.

Amalgamous: A realm in constant motion, reshaping itself with every thought. Matter forgets its form. Gravity plays by mood. Nothing is permanent. Identity is fluid. (his siblings are often annoyed being in his realm with how unpredictable it can be)

Quintus: A realm filled with life - random creatures galore (like those mentioned in the covenant). A biome grown from programmed evolution, where circuits blossom and metallic vines pulse with rhythmic algorithms. It's a testing ground for ideas of life. Failed organisms still twitch in the corners. Living tools crawl underfoot. Not everything here is benign. Kinda creepy if u think abt it - but honestly fitting for the creator of the quintessons.

Liege: A sleek palace of black glass and silver mirrors, surrounded by reflecting pools. Courtyards are arranged like a labyrinth. Every surface distorts your reflection—one moment honest, the next flattering, the next monstrous (like those circus mirrors). Everything is over-designed: columns curve like twisting blades, stairs float mid-air in impossible spirals, and doors shimmer before solidifying.

Megatronus: Massive, functional, militaristic. Structures are simple and intimidating: blocky towers, battlements, weapon racks, training pits, and open plazas for duels (he used to hide the weapons when little brother optimus came to visit). His reasoning "Everything is built for endurance, not beauty". But he has a seperate area just for his family and an even more private one for solus.

Optimus (Thirteenth): I HC that he is the Prime of Ideals/Rebirth. His realm morphs to represent his own ideals + the ideals of those around him. Like Micronus his realm is kinda "for" his siblings because it provides them comfort. Like this is literally the "Ideal" realm - everything you could ever want is in here. But it is also very dangerous because once you are in you dont wanna leave. I connect it to the fact the optimus is always optimistic about things and often it is adressed that he has great ideals/beliefs but sometimes is a naive thing.

This realm is not one fixed place. It is like a constantly shifting dreamscape, morphing based on the ideals and deepest desires of whoever enters/who he is close to. It is, quite literally, the perfect world—but not a lie. It is the truest expression of who you are at your best… and what you wish the world could be.

To Optimus, his realm often resembles a quiet Cybertron before the war—soft gold skies, silver towers, peace humming in the background. The Matrix floats freely here like a sun, shedding warmth that touches everything. Roads of light lead to long-lost friends, to future harmony, to memories that were never real… but could’ve been. And anyone who has strong ideals is very appealing to him...

[shtern-and-art]

ON COGS, BUTTERFLIES, AND THE NATURE OF THE SHARED DREAM

#JayvikLived and why it makes the most sense

What if saving you will doom me and the entire world, but I will still do it anyway, in every universe in every timeline, always. What if I do it again and again until I find the one where you can save me back. Because I don't want to do it without you.

---

In all timelines including the one we saw in the show, Jayce keeps fucking up, making mistakes and wrong calls. Oftentimes because of his fixation on the miracle that happened to him in his childhood. And in all timelines, in all realities Viktor keeps saving him. With that miracle.

Their recursive dream is always collapsing on itself. Viktor saved Jayce because they had the hextech dream already, and in doing so gave Jayce this dream. They are infinite in their paradox. And they managed to walk away from it only when they did it together.

Because their actual dream, the real one, was not the hextech itself, not a cog (in the system that's bringing money for the people in power), but a butterfly. A living thing. The man, not the machine.

It was never about the tech, two ways of using it, never about two sides of the cog and choosing between one or the other. It was about two wings learning to work together.

See, Jayce got his (somewhat naive) dream of saving the world because he was saved as a child. But Viktor saved him then because their dream was always, from the very start - to help and save each other.

It was the butterfly all along.

It was there when Jayce opened his eyes in the field. Not an omen of death, but of the human soul, rebirth. Of infinite consequences unraveling into the future.

---

The way the butterfly was corrupted through focusing on the technology, and the way technology eroded, reshaped itself into what it actually strives to be.

The way Jayce put hexcore into Viktor, even though it would change him, and derail his life. Even though it would doom Viktor and them both. Because Jayce couldn't do anything else. Because Jayce would love him anyway.

The way Viktor kept coming back to save Jayce when he was a child, kept giving him the crystal. Even though it would change him irrevocably, derail his life forever. Even though it would doom Jayce and them both. Because Viktor couldn't do anything else. Because Viktor loves him anyway.

And in the end we saw that holding on to that love, like a lifeline, through all the mistakes they've made along the way, can save them both from the endless cycle of death and pain.

It was affection that held them together. Held them both from breaking into pieces and losing themselves.

---

I know people keep saying that it is left ambiguous if Jayce and Viktor died, or became celestial beings together, or teleported into some other time and space. But I think it is explicitly narratively clear that they didn't die in the end.

And maybe, if Jayce left, and Viktor tried to activate the rune on his own they both would've died, yes.

But their whole story is about how they help each other choose life. Literally and figuratively. By giving inspiration, by force, by just asking. It is about the butterfly coming together, and actually flying on its own, without the magic or technology.

(mookhead_mcspazatron_ @ tiktok)

Viktor saved Jayce on the mountain and gave him his dream. Viktor took Jayce off the ledge, and gave him his dream again.

Jayce took Viktor off the ledge, when he also wanted to go. Comforted him and showed him that he can stay, even if it hurts right now. Jayce literally tore Viktor's death away from him, thrusting the new life and new fate into his hands.

And this cycle kept repeating over and over, because they refused to let each other go, yes.

But in the end Jayce clawed and tore himself to pieces to get into Viktor's soul to once again say "Your life is precious to me, no matter how bad things can get. Please see how valuable it is".

---

And this time, in this timeline, of all the possible (sometimes, I bet, deadly) purposes their rune was the rune of acceleration. Of, you know. Moving somewhere. Through time and space.

And it wouldn't have work if they didn't activate it together.

And to do it they had to, symbolically, choose to walk away. Move on. Together.

Not from life, like Jinx tried after her inner-Silco's monologue. She was wrong in thinking her death will stop the disasters she brings, it would've just added to this cycle, keeping her within it instead.

And similarly, Jayce and Viktor choosing to die, and then actually dying to save everyone would've been antithetical to everything we were told beforehand.

(And oh, one day I'll compile all my notes on Jinx-Viktor/timebomb-jayvik parallels I've been clocking since season 1. This season just polished it all into crystal clear shining thread that ties the story's themes together.)

They chose to move on from the pain, the pride, the insecurities, from everything that didn't let them choose life. Everything, that pushed them away from it and towards the ledge.

Viktor was ready to let Jayce walk away, and then throw his own life on the barricades to make up for what he has done. And Jayce said "No. You don't have to do it alone".

Viktor accepting Jayce's care and love, accepting that Jayce is staying with him, was Viktor accepting that he's worth it. That his life is worth it.

(Choosing to move on from the pain and trauma, that's what got me so strongly in the finale of the season, ugh.)

What they did wasn't a sacrifice, it was proof of life. That's what saved the world. And that's why they could only do it together.

(And with Ekko and Jinx going through the similar journey parallel to them. I'll get to that post, because fr)

Perhaps, they thought they might die. But narratively, thematically, and within their universe's established laws they actually did the opposite.

Because it was never about single individuals breaking the cycle, the wheel, the cog spinning it all. Never about one person stopping it, and saving everyone who needs it, be it through progress, through evolution, through war, or dang capitalism and politics. It was about finding the courage to trust and rely on others, to keep caring about each other. To work together like one, like two wings. To create a community, however small, that will allow you to make choices outside of the pressure the cycle of death and oppression is grinding you under. And how that brings actual meaningful change to the world, the fact that we make it happen together, and care for each other throughout.

It was about the butterfly, in the end.

P.S.

Jokes about gay situationship destroying the world and then saving it after are fun and all.

But there is SOMETHING in how it would've been so much simpler for Viktor to let Jayce die on that mountain. To let himself die of his illness later. To let the world be safe from both of them. To spare them both the pain of what will happen in the rest of their lives.

And yet Viktor comes back, and tries again and again to find a timeline where they both survive, and stay human, and don't destroy the world.

Even if it will be almost too late, even if a lot of mistakes still happen.

How about that - from the terminally ill suicidal man the world tried to convince that he's better off dead? (Yes, we're judging Heimerbitch hard in this house)

Anyways. #JayvikLived, love wins, see you all later ✨

[bonbonburgerpants]

OKAY KISSBLR YOUR PHYSICS NERD HAS ARRIVED

I've decided to take on the task of explaining my little yap in this comment:

Also I'll be simplifying a lot of things so feel free to explain them in detail in reblogs/comments :3 /g /nf

ANYWAYS

First of all, wtf even are quantum physics??

Quantum physics are a branch of physics which focuses on the subatomic, the nitty gritty wonky shit we can see under microscopes

Let's start with this: did you know that the atomic model made by Schrodinger actually is the most accurate one we have (so far)?

(the last one in this picture)

As you can see, the atomic model evolved over time, going from Dalton's ball to Schrodinger's cloud

But why the hell is it a cloud?

It's not like they turned out to be actual, negatively charged clouds instead of subatomic particles, no. It's due to electrons being in constant motion, meaning we can't tell exactly where they are and all we can do is bet that they're in certain positions (which got calculated and stuff blablabla, tons of probability talk mimimi) until observed

Which brings me into another point, superposition!

When we say that something is in superposition, we mean that it's in an unclear state until observed and as an example I'll use the famous Schrodinger's cat...man

(I put it together while writing all of this btw)

Imagine the Catman in a box with a poison which will kill him once a radioactive atom connected to it decays (usually by ejecting either a part of its nucleus, an electron or a gamma ray but which type of decay would happen here is irrelevant). Until we open the box to check if he's dead, or alive, we can't be sure

And yes, that makes him both dead and alive at the same time (which I'll get to later)

That box situation puts him in superposition and thus checks off Schrodinger's Cat(man) paradox at once :3

Also no Catmen got hurt during the experiment ":3 /silly

Staying with superposition for a moment longer, we can move to the observer effect (or as I worded it in the comment: "how observing something influences the outcome"). For it, we gotta get to the double slit experiment which is the best example of the observer effect in action!

(taken from wikimedia)

The double slit experiment is about how doing something can have different results depending if its process is being observed as it's going on

When observed and documented, the experiment gave a fairly straightforward result, with the conclusion being that electrons behaved like the particles they are:

(shown above)

But, once not observed and only documented afterwards, it gave a very... intriguing result, with the electrons acting more like waves than particles:

(same source as with pic above these two)

Now, it may either mean that the particle-wave duality of, well, particles is real, also that maybe the photons messed with the trajectory of the electrons which made them act "normal", or maybe that a conscious observer somehow messes with reality itself?

Okay, don't ask me which one it is (it's not the last one don't be ridiculous, the observer they used wasn't a sentient being but a machine) but it surely proves that us observing something will change the results!

Now going back a little, remember the part about Catman being both dead and alive? Yeah!

That relates to the concept of quantum immortality (and quantum suicide BUT dw there won't be any actual talk about kys /info)!

Quantum immortality is a concept rooted in quantum mechanics and discusses the possibility of living seemingly endlessly through the splitting of the timeline whenever you're in a deadly situation

And quantum suicide is when you're in the timeline that ends with you being dead

(Yes, it relates to the many-worlds interpretation which is about how there are endless versions of our world which "split off" whenever something happens, creating pretty much a multiverse that could be proven scientifically... maybe... someday)

And now my favorite quantum twat and his family, STRING THEORY AND M THEORY

String theory states that instead of elemental particles (e.g. electrons, up and down quarks, gluons, higgs bosons, electron neutrinos etc.), we have one dimmensional planck length strings in their place which vibrate in a certain way that results in them functioning as specific elemental particles!

Basically, everything being made of strings and not particles at the subatomic level

However, we can't prove it directly (via observation), because in order to see if they're here or not, we'd have to shrink photons so much, we'd create kugelblitzs (black holes made out of heat/energy/radiation) and see nothing

The M Theory encompasses the various versions of "the superstring theory", which tries to make quantum physics work with all fundamental forces (strong & weak nuclear forces, electromagnetism and that pesky gravity). Of course, gravity has to be a diva and make things extra complicated (which, btw, made various theories about it spark up, such as the theory about gravity being made of particles called gravitons)

The big M stands for many different things and here you can say it's "magic" or "mystery", or "meme" even tbh (my fav is Meow) /silly

AND THAT IS ALL EVERYONE

It was really fun and took me a lil while X3333!!!!

Ngl, most of it is actually from memory with fact checking to see if I remembered things correctly or not /nafx

ALSO

If anyone has any questions about these or wants to know more about atomic, subatomic, or quantum physics, feel free to ask me about it :3<

And if I won't know it, I'll do some research and then reply so dw :3c

[moyazaika]

i would love to know random facts about ur ocs 😭 like what are their pet peeves, hated foods, what cologne do they like, do they prefer coffee or tea, what music do they listen to. it's little things like that that i like learning about bc it kinda brings them more to life in my eyes! love u hope ur doing well

woowww this is so cute and im so sad it got buried in my asks,, :( i'll talk about each of the pointers u mentioned with the oc i think it's most relevant to! hopefully soon i can sit down and revisit more of them in greater depth <3

kenny's pet peeve is privacy. working in security like he does, some aspects of his career bleed into his personal life with you; especially the surveillance. he wouldn't run the company if he didn't believe in its philosophy and importance. he genuinely doesn't understand why you would need to be apart from him/hide something for the sake of "privacy" if you really loved him like you say you do + it's sweet that you think he can take that risk with you, but at a certain point it's irritating him if it's something you really value and insist on, and at some point he makes it veeery clear that either you learn to live with it how it is now lest you push him to take a step even further :) whatever that means, don't ask! - unless you wanna find out that bad :)

valentine hates rice. and it's got nothing to do with the way it tastes. it just reminds him so much of his childhood, where his elder brother would fuck up and he'd have to take the blame for it, since nobody believed his word. he was never very attached to his family members, (resented his brother, michael) but the association of them with the food... the feeling of millions of individual uncooked grains of rice excruciatingly digging into his skin when his parents told him to sit on his knees and think about what he'd done... he can't stomach it now. passes it up even when you set a plate down in front of him, saying he'd rather save more for you but never telling you why he can't even quite manage to look at it.

h.. harper smells like,, d... dior sauvage... he doesn't know about the haha funny toxic manipulator thing,, he only got it 'cus he wanted to look expensive,,, thought it would impress you.... who's gonna tell him... (within a certain radius of harper the air quality drastically drops and the breathable air to sauvage ratio is a 1:99 at best)

dean prefers coffee. black. likes a little sugar, too, if you know what i'm sayin ;) it's less about balancing out the bitterness than it is the joy of dropping in the little cubes and watching them dissolve. :33

feroze listens to rock & metal. but it's a little more complex than that... he loves songs where the singer's voice gives way to a long instrumental, whether that's a guitar solo or something more traditional. he loves when lyrics are so emotional and raw that the only right way the musician discerns they should be delivered to the listener is by screaming them or whispering them or chanting them like a prayer. anything provocative and (paradoxically) comforting at the same time - the very epitome of art being made to disturb the comfortable and comfort the disturbed. won't ever say it, but he likes showing off how unique his music taste is (though a careful listener might see the pattern within the endless music is always you). feroze could genuinely spend hours merely going through and quietly enjoying the songs on his 99999+ messy and unorganised playlists with you if you'd like to listen <3 has hundreds dedicated to you as well <33

[zhouguang66]

has anyone listened to The Enigma of Heaven and Other Daily Delusions by Hakita on youtube yet. i am going insane over the album. this is exactly what i feel like a heaven level in ultrakill is like.

like the first part "The Enigma of Heaven: 9,999,999 Channels, Finding Faith in White Noise... The God Stimulation!" feels like v1 walking into the gates, or rather forcing themselves in. the place is pristine with marble, with some blotches of blood here and there. seems like somebody forgot to clean it up.

the second part "The Hierarchy of Equality: Angelic Voices Echo Through the Halls of Heaven, Under the Railroad Bridge" is like you're fighting some angel idk who, but definitely gentler than gabriel. they don't want to kill you, they're afraid of you. they step back from v1, knowing its lethality.

"The Paradox of Faith: There's a Knocking at the Door! God is in, God is in!" is third part of the song and it sound EXACTLY like a combat mix for it. it's the perfect mix of like angelic choir and the usual chaos of hakita's breakcore in levels, it's reminiscent of/giving "A Shattered Illusion" or "A Complete And Utter Destruction Of The Senses" and like the synth at 10:02 is so chaotic and I LOVE IT IT JUST MAKES MY BRAIN TINGLE

and obviously the last part. "The Senselessness of Endlessness: Returning to an Empty Apartment with a Grocery Store Guardian Angel". This shit is like you just finished killing EVERY angel, every virtue in heaven and now v1 is either facing god or its just revelling in the immeasurable amounts of violence, and the ending of that song also is like a cacophony of such noise until like 15:47, where it finally quiets down(i imagine this part is where v1 dies because it's basically killed everything in sight and now they're shutting down for eternity, and yes robots dream of eternal sleep.) a fitting end to the franchise. do you get what i am saying.

[dailyanarchistposts]

Radical perfectionism and paranoid reading

This tendency for constant evaluation and the imposition of external standards has percolated its way into many facets of life under Empire. It exists even among radicals: what changes is merely the kind of standards and the mode of evaluation. Is it radical? Is it anarchist? Is it critical? Is it revolutionary? Is it anti-oppressive? How might it be co-opted, complicit, or flawed? What is problematic? What does it fail to do? How limited, ineffective, and short-lived is it? Margaret Killjoy spoke to us about the ways that these tendencies can pervade anarchist spaces:

While I think there’s a decent bit of spontaneity and not-making-rules and such going on in radicalism, I see an awful lot less creativity at the moment. Particularly, I see very little creativity from tactical, strategic, and even theoretical analysis … For a bunch of anarchists, we’re remarkably uncomfortable with new ideas. If I were to hazard a guess, I would say that happens because we’ve really honed our ability to critique things but not our ability to embrace things.[167]

Applied incessantly, critique can become a reflex that forces out other capacities. The queer theorist Eve Sedgwick argues that this penchant for constant critique runs through many currents of radical thought, in what she calls paranoid reading.[168] Paranoid reading is based on a stance of suspicion: an attempt to avoid co-optation or mistakes through constant vigilance. It seeks to ward off bad surprises by ensuring that oppression and violence are already known, or at least anticipated, so that one will not be caught off guard, and so that one can react to the first sign of trouble. The result is that one is always on guard and never surprised. By approaching everything with detached suspicion, one closes off the capacity to be affected in new ways.

When we interviewed Richard Day, he suggested that this tendency is linked to being in pain and converting that pain into an incessant search for lack:

In general, I think rigid radicalism is a response to feeling really hurt and fucked up. And the real enemy is the dominant order, but it gets mixed into this big soup, so the enemy becomes each other. It becomes oneself. It’s a finding lacking as such … a finding lacking almost everywhere with almost everyone. And when that lack is found, then of course there needs to be some action: which is going to be to tell, or force, or coerce, or get at that lack, and try to turn it into a wholeness. So strangely enough I’d suggest that rigid radicalism is driven by a desire to heal. And it has exactly the opposite effect: of sundering the self more, of sundering communities more, and so on.[169]

Those of us who regularly find ourselves in pain might find this paradox familiar. Through the constant imposition of external standards, everything can be found lacking, and all kinds of coercive responses can seem justified. An endless cycle ensues: no one and nothing is good enough, and this paranoid stance constantly incapacitates exploration, healing, and affirmation.

Many of us learn this mode of thought through university, or through immersion in radical spaces themselves: we learn to search for, anticipate, and point out the pervasiveness of Empire. Even without the sad rigor of the Weather Underground, we learn to search the bodies, behaviors, and words of others for any shred of complicity. Mik Turje spoke to this tendency when we interviewed them:

I think as a youth I was really idealistic, and I came to the university context, and critical theory, where idealism and imagining something better was stamped out as something naïve. The only option was to master the hypercritical language myself, and one-upping people. I got really good at that. I won all of the political arguments in school, but … I was being a shitbag of a militant, tearing everyone down.[170]

By being immersed in paranoid reading, people learn to find themselves and others lacking. Having been “educated,” one becomes a pedagogue oneself, spreading the word about Empire, oppression, and violence, and in the process one tends to position others as naïve and ignorant.

This is clear in how surprise and curiosity are often infantilized by Empire. They are treated as foolish or “childish”—that is, lacking the educated, rational, civilized, adult capacities of detached evaluation. Paranoid reading and its association with adulthood and rational detachment are transmitted through schooling, founded on patriarchal white supremacy. Based on suspicion, perfectionism, and the penchant for finding flaws in ourselves and others, paranoid reading prevents us from being joyfully in touch with the world and with the always already present potential for transformation.

Crucially, paranoid reading and lack-finding have their own affective ecology, with their own pleasures and rewards. There can be a sense of satisfaction in being the one who anticipates or exposes inadequacy. There can be safety and comfort in a paranoid stance, because it helps ensure that we already know what to do with new encounters. Incessantly exposing flaws can be pleasurable, and can even become a source of belonging.

We think this is at the heart of what destroys the transformative potential of movements from within: the capacity for paranoid reading closes off the capacity to embrace and be embraced by new things. The stance of detached judgment means remaining at a distance from what is taking place. In contrast, experimentation requires openness and vulnerability, including the risk of being caught off guard or hurt. From a paranoid perspective, things like gratitude, celebration, curiosity, and openness are naïve at best, and potentially dangerous. When everything is anticipated, or one can see immediately how something is imperfect or lacking, one misses the capacity to be affected and moved.