#new possible fandom relic??

[yourtwistedlies]

stop making so many tam cam posts i can’t like them all

[rebelliousstories]

A Thief and An X-Man

Relationship: Remy LeBeau/Gambit x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 2,738

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: Southern charm is a thing. Something that Remy LeBeau has taken advantage of over the years. All it took was one little X-Man to throw him off his rhythm apparently…

How everyone found themselves in their own current predicament, only the universe knows. The tomfoolery that had followed them during their journey was like something straight out of a superhero book.

Remy panted and hugged his side as he rested against the brick wall behind him. His partner in crime, albeit a reluctant one, mirrored his actions against the other wall of the alleyway. She was glaring hard in between her pants in an attempt to catch her breath.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you Cajun?” There were shouts and the pounding of footsteps getting closer and closer.

“What can I say, chere? I like pretty things.” The weight of the jewels in his pocket weighed down under her gaze.

“We’re being chased because you couldn’t keep your greedy little hands off of stuff that doesn’t belong to you!” Her words were almost drowned completely out by the pounding of footsteps.

Making a split second decision, Remy grabbed her hand and began to haul the woman towards a fire escape that was already pulled down. She was confused, but faced with the possibility of the men that were chasing them catching up? She would take the fire escape with the thief. As soon as they had made it up onto the roof of whatever building this was, Remy leaned over the edge to get a look at their personal mob that now ran by the building and alleyway they had disappeared into. With a smirk, he laid down on the cool tiles below.

“We safe now,” she questioned, almost ready to run again.

“I wouldn’t be layin’ down if we weren’t. Now would I, chere?” His eyes slipped closed as he relaxed as much as he could.

“Oh, of course. Because I should be trusting the person who got us into this mess, to be honest and truthful when he is a known Thief, to get us out of this mess. Wolverine needs to come and extract me right now.” Her grumbling was followed by the sound of her trying to use her transponder. With a frustrated groan, it clattered to the ground when it would not work.

For three days, she had been stuck in Louisiana with the leader of the Thieves Guild. A mission that she had been sent on alone to help the X-Men get a relic that needed to be kept out of the wrong hands. Had they been able to do it solo, they would have. But the Thieves were the only people who had made it to where they needed her to go, and made it back out. Thus, an unlikely alliance was made. And from that point forward, she had been subjected to the rugged charms of the one they call Gambit.

From the second she walked up to him, she had been the focus of his flirtations. Maybe it was the fact that she was a new pretty face for him. Or maybe it was that fact that she was “forbidden fruit” being an X-Man. Whatever it was, for the past three weeks, she had been subject to every one liner and flirty comment.

In all honesty, she did not mind the banter that they usually had. It was better than being with someone that did not talk much, like a certain X-Man she knew. But it was annoying once he got into a flirtatious mood.

“Ooo, chere. Did it hurt when ya fell from heaven? You look so angelic.”

“Shut up, Cajun.”

“Here, let Gambit take care o’ dat for ya. Ain’t no reason to sweat your pretty brow.”

“If Gambit don’t give me back my tools, I’m not gonna sweat my brow over putting him down.”

It was like this for three days. Any chance he got, he took. She could see that he was just doing it to get a rise out of her, since she refused to be another notch on his belt. Even though some times, she could almost swear there was something genuine about the affectionate quips he made. A sharp bark pulled her from her thoughts and brought her attention to the transponder that was still down by her feet. Careful not to step on it, she opened it to be met with the authoritative voice of a certain Canadian calling her name.

“Where have you been? You were supposed to check in an hour ago, bub.” He was upset, that was for sure. But after all these years, she could hear through the layers to his tone and knew it was just because he cared for his team like his own family.

“Wolverine, I’m fine. We ran into a snag but we should be getting back on track soon. The communicator wouldn’t work earlier or I would have checked in at the appropriate time,” came her retort. A groan trailed into a sigh on the other end of the line.

“Just be safe, kid. Let me know when you get the relic. We’ll be waiting to extract you when you need it.” His voice lowered in volume, and his tone shifted.

“Will do, Wolvie. Just gotta get this Cajun to actually get me to the place, then we’ll be on our way home.” With that, the two X-Men signed off from each other. She sat there for a moment longer as she began to rub her temples. The evening breeze was welcome against her flushed face.

“So you and da Wolverine, huh?” Gambit’s sudden ask brought her out of her head quick.

“What? Me and him? No, god no. We just work well together. He’s the one that got me into the school. Got me into the X-Men,” she stood, and looked around the night sky that was sprinkled with lights. “You gonna take me where I need to go, or do I need to find another thief to do it?”

“Oh, you wound me, chere. Suppose if ya did that, I could call another X-Man to grab the item with me instead.” He teased, finally rising to his feet.

With fluid movements, like that of a skilled ballet dancer, Remy looked towards the streets again. The mutant dubbed them safe enough, and began his descent down the same fire escape that he had them go up on. She followed after him, always maintaining a bit of distance between them as they went closer and closer to where they needed to go.

A well lit mansion greeted the two mutants after a while. This was the house that she had been searching for. She was finally here. Once again, she followed Gambit’s lead. After all, he and his guild made it out of here before with their pockets loaded. They could do it one more time.

Gambit caused a minor explosion on one of the windows in the back of the building making her flinch as she expected the commotion to begin. And yet, there was nothing. No alarms, no dogs barking or humans shouting. He turned back to the stunned woman with nothing short of a pompous smirk on, before he climbed through the window. She took his hand to help stabilize her while she was slipping through the opening.

They had ended up in the west wing of the mansion, only a few doors down from the room that they needed to go to. She had no time to be stunned at how efficient this mutant was seeing as he was already grabbing her hand to pull her through the house. Their journey was cut short when they spotted guards walking towards them in the hallway. Remy tucked them both against a wall that was out of sight, but knew they did not have long. Scanning around, he did not see a spare room or broom closet. He tried not to show the panic on his face, but he could feel his heart speeding up.

“They not supposed to be here, chere. We gotta go back out.” But when he tried to leave, the sounds of quiet conversation and boots on the hardwood floor were far too close now.

“Go with me,” was all the warning that the Cajun was given. In an instant, she made him press her against the wall. What he did not expect even more than that, was the fact that she had him engaged in a full lip lock. Stunned did not even begin to describe what he was feeling. Here this woman was, kissing him voluntarily, after spending the last three days shutting him down at every chance.

Losing himself in the moment that he wished would never end, Remy kept one of his hands on the wall near her head, while the other went to the dip of her waist. Her hands came up and pressed him even closer by the nape of his neck. This was a dream. A wonderful, beautiful dream that he did not want to wake from. Unfortunately, that was not in the cards for him. Right as he was truly enjoying the moment, a wolf whistle caught his attention. But she did not let him turn around. Instead, she pressed his face into her neck while she shouted at the guards that had finally rounded the corner.

“Cad é? Cad atá tú ag féachaint air?” Now that was a language Remy had never heard spoken. His confused face was stuck in the crook of her neck, while he felt her shooing the men away. Apparently, they were just as confused as he was, but left without complaint. As soon as they were away from the par of mutants, she pushed Remy back a bit.

“Now, where in da world is dat language from, chere? Gambit ain’t never heard nothin’ like it in his whole life.” He was a bit out of breath but it was understandable.

“I used to go visit my grandmother in Ireland when I was a kid. She made me fluent in Gaelic.” She was just as out of breath as him, but neither called attention as to the reason why.

They both sat there for a moment, not moving from their spots where they were oh so close to one another. This was the closest they had been physically the entire time they had been working together. And it was breaking down barriers that had been put in place for their own sanity and safety.

“Let’s get going before someone else catches us and we can’t get out of it as easily,” she stated breathily. For her own sake, she needed to do something, and soon before she could not stop herself. Remy nodded to himself, to confirm that he had heard her or to shake himself out of his own stupor, who knows. But soon, they were back on track with him grabbing her hand and leading them to the room once more.

Gambit made quick work of picking the lock, and then they were inside. Encased in glass was a small pendant and necklace. Unassuming at first, but they knew better. This one little artifact was responsible for so much suffering around the world, and more of it if they did not get it out of non-mutant hands. Remy approached the glass case and looked for a way to get it open without disturbing it too much. But the sound of glass shattering spooked him, made him jump back from the shards.

“You were taking too long.” She shrugged, turning back to look at the pendant. Pulling out her own case for the necklace, she tried very hard not to touch the jewel in the center. Once it was secured, Remy did another look out to make sure that the coast was clear.

“Let’s get going, chere. Don’t want no unwelcome guests taggin’ along now.” The two mutants slipped out the same way that they entered. It was such a shock for her, not having any hangups during a mission. Usually it was every chance the universe got to make something go wrong, it did. So to have one go this smoothly was a welcomed change of pace.

They fled into the night before them, and did not look back until they were safe in the heart of New Orleans once more. Lights, music, and conversation drowned out any and all thoughts they had for just a minute or two. Instead of going somewhere quiet and out of the way, Gambit ended up leading them further not the heart of the city to a late night cafe.

As soon as they sat down, he ordered something for them both to eat and drink, but she was not paying any attention to him. Instead, she was trying to figure out how she was going to discreetly call her team back at the mansion to go home. For some reason though, it was not working right now.

“This thing has been finicky the entire time I’ve been here. Doesn’t know whether or not it wants to work when I need it to.” She lamented, tossing the item down onto the table before them.

“So, now that you got whatcha came here for, just gonna head home? Like that?” There was a mournful tone to his voice that did not miss her ears. Neither one needed to say exactly why he sounded so upset at her leaving, or rather neither wanted to acknowledge why he was upset.

“Well, there’s always someone else that needs saving. Or a disaster that needs to be avoided,” she said, watching his face carefully.

“Right, right…” he trailed off, not quite knowing where to take it from here. Thankfully, a waitress came by with two bowls, and two drinks for them to enjoy.

“What on earth did you order for me?” Poking her spoon around in the stew like dish in front of her, she arched an eyebrow and looked at the Cajun.

“Dat right der is what we call gumbo, chere. It’s real good. Gotta use dat piece o’ baguette at the end though.” When she still did not eat, he tried a different tactic. “Come on. Humor me before ya head on home, chere?”

If you ever asked her, she would vehemently deny that she had given in to the soft way he pleaded with her. Bringing the spoonful of hot stew and rice to her lips, a symphony of flavors erupted on her tongue. It was unlike anything she had ever eaten. The chicken, sausage and shrimp were so tender and perfectly cooked. The veggies melted, and the rice was the perfect binder.

While she was busy devouring her food, Remy was taking that time to lock in on her joyful face. If this was going to be the last time he saw her, he was going to make it count. But his day dreaming was interrupted by the transponder on the table suddenly jumping to life. As fast as she could, she set down her spoon, wiped her face, and grabbed the item.

“Wolverine,” she began, “listen, I got the necklace. Ready when you are on the extraction.”

Her eyes drifted over to the man in front of her who was trying very hard not to eavesdrop on the conversation happening two feet away from him. The long she listened to Wolverine talk, and watched Remy’s face, the more her heart moaned in pain. It was an unusual feeling to have, especially for someone that she swore she did not get along with or that she had not known for too long.

“Kid, we’ll be there in a couple hours, okay? We’re gonna track you by your communicator and then we’ll-”

“Actually, Wolvie,” she cut the man off, “I think I’m gonna stick around New Orleans for a few days. Just to make sure that nobody comes looking for this thing. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come home.”

The transponder was shut off fast, and tucked into one of the pockets of her uniform. When she looked up again, the startled face of Gambit greeted her. His eyes were wider than the bowls they were eating out of, but she paid it no mind. Picking up her spoon again, she sent a teasing smirk across the table.

“Hope you don’t mind that I’ll be sticking around a little more.” She brought another spoonful of gumbo to her mouth while Gambit took a minute to recover.

“Not at all, chere. Not at all.”

[radioapple-heathen]

Masterpost

Hi folks! Since I've had an influx of new followers lately, figured it was about time I made one of these pinned posts.

Blurb: She/Her, married, thirties, aspec, rampant ADHD'er raising the next generation of neurodivergents. This was meant to be a sideblog for my brief fascination with radioapple, but now I'm actually hyperfixating on this pair, reading an unhealthy amount of fanfic, and writing fics, so I guess I'm stuck in this Hell with a very respectable penname to match. You can call me Hikari (a relic of my first ever fandom).

I usually won't take on more than 1-2 writing projects at a time, any more than that is a surefire way for me to end up with multiple incomplete projects, and it's really important to me that I finish the things I start (while fighting my ADHD brain every step of the way). Check out my fics, headcanons, and rec lists below!

My Fics:

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

Multi-Chap, 4/4, Complete.

Summary:

Lucifer stumbles upon a rather effective way of shutting up The Radio Demon.

Alternatively, Alastor can't cope with his feelings and makes it everyone else's problem.

2. loml

Multi-Chap, 8/20, In Progress.

Summary:

“Why him?”

Lucifer crosses his arms over his stomach, hands clasping onto opposite elbows; a simulation of the hug he so desperately needs.

There’s a lot he can say here.

Like how Alastor makes his hopeless heart flutter with the belief that maybe dreams are still possible; that Alastor makes him feel something, anything, everything all at once, and it is as heavenly as it is torturous.

But all he can manage, in a voice so small he can scarcely believe it's his own, is, “He makes me laugh.”

Chapter Art: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

My Rec Lists:

My Top 10 Series Recs

My Top 10 Multi-Chap Recs

My Top 10 Oneshot Recs

(These are subject to change and will fluctuate over time as new content becomes available! But as of 9/1/2024, these are my top recs!)

My Headcanons:

Find them here!

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

The Duality of Simon (or the Importance of Marcy)

Travel back to the early 2010s, when Adventure Time was still a fairly new thing. The fandom was growing, the theories were flowing. We've had confirmation that Ooo is in fact a post appcalyptic world. And then we get:

Here was living, breathing proof of the intersection between Ooo and our world. Simon Petrikov was a literal connection to the past, and moreover one of the ways Adventure Time really began to develop its inner tragedies.

But honestly, as sad as the Idea of Simon Petrikov was - it remained that he was a relic, an inert tragedy that was a connection to the past, but not necessarily connected to the future.

Enter:

You can mourn the losses of ages past. But it won't necessarily move you to act. Because there's nothing to compel you. You can stand to gain something but it's more important that you don't lose anything by keeping the status quo. In short, there weren't any stakes.

No, not those kind of Stakes... Well... maybe a little

So, bear in mind, Betty won't make her debut until two seasons after "Holly Jolly Secrets". To us, she was a non-entity. Simon's grief over her loss was for the audience, a mostly intellectual exercise. How sad for this poor cursed man to lose the woman he loved - replacing all proper nouns with common nouns because we didn't know Simon either. But his situation is clearly sad, just in a general, unspecific way. Because again, there's nothing at stake here.

Marcy drives thoses stakes up (and into our hearts). Suddenly, Simon becomes Very Very Real because we know Marcy. We've hung out with her for at least five seasons now leading up to the game changing "I Remember You".

By connecting Marcy to this Simon, suddenly we had something to lose - suddenly we already lost something. Marcy gave Simon's curse weight - dimension - texture - rendering it very real instead of a mere intellectual tragedy. Simon matters because he matters to someone here and now, because someone was still crying over him. And we love Marcy. We don't want her to cry.

It was through the Marcy and Simon relationship that we came to learn of and love Simon. Betty came later. Betty came after. We already loved Simon by then so learning of his love story was just building on that love. Naturally, being invested in the Simon and Betty relationship without prior connection to Simon is possible. But the fact that he was already established and endeared to the audience goes a way into investing in the Simon and Betty relationship.

So we get to Fionna and Cake.

We get exactly one scene with the Marcy we know and love. And Simon isn't even in the same room as her.

And the show is fully justified in doing so because Fionna and Cake was a series about Simon and Betty. And Simon and Marcy have little to do with that A story (the love plotline). Even if the B story (the recovery plotline) does pay homage to Simon and Marcy by showing Simon that he does have value, the homage amounts to only a few scenes (maybe cumulatively three minutes of screen time) in the whole series.

However, Simon and Marcy's relationship wasn't just to show that Simon is an integral component to the way Ooo came to be, and his impact on the people he loves. Simon and Marcy's relationship is integral to how we came to love Simon - against all odds and all tenets of common sense, a man that was slowly warped by madness chose to take care of a completely unknown little girl that he found in the wreckage of the world.

The problem here is that Marcy's Simon and Betty's Simon never got to meet in the middle. A lot of this is rooted in the original Adventure Time series where Betty and Marceline never speak more than ten words to each other.

Literally the only time they share the screen (and no I'm not counting Betty bot in Broke his Crown)

Which is BANANAS considering they are literally the two most important people in Simon's life.

And listen, again, by Fionna and Cake, we are invested in Simon and Betty, especially after what she did during the finale. We want to know about them.

And again, the Fionna and Cake series is well and wholly complete without ever having Simon and Marcy talk.

But it leaves a little ache. Because again, the first opportunity to truly love and connect with Simon came through Simon and Marcy. And we never really know how they get on now that they're back together. We seriously have maybe 10 lines of conversation between them since the finale and this includes Obsidian.

Literally, he says hi to Marcy twice and that's it. Very meaningful conversation.

Aaaand there's also the supreme irony where in one relationship, Simon never gets a chance to contribute equally, and in his other relationship, Simon wore himself down to nubs giving all that he had. But this duality within Simon is never really connected. There is a throughline here, his impulse for self sacrifice shares a root for his self centered perspective that blinded him to Betty's self effacing habits.

Now here's the thing, Fionna and Cake also built its conflict around Simon's identity and his self worth, etc. Yet it doesn't really contend with all that Simon has done without Betty, and before Ice King. By centering the narrative on only how he was with Betty (both pre and post Mushroom War), we get very little foundation laid out for what he could do after he says goodbye to her.

And this isn't a mistake because again, the series stands on its own just fine. The story works without it because at least that central relationship of Simon and Betty is fully established. But it does come at the cost of a missed opportunity to fully explore the cause of Simon's myopia, or how living through an apocalypse could reinforce that myopia because Simon keeps romanticizing "when his life was great".

Finally, the other downside is that Fionna and Cake stands on its own, maybe a little too much. It's still based on the characters of Adventure Time, building on the love for the original show. So it would have been a crowd pleaser, shall we say some fan service, to get more of what the original show worked hard to make us love.

[anbaisai]

Finally had time to sit down and write, but honestly there’s not much to be said other than thank you to everyone who wrote a message on my tree! I really enjoyed reading every single message and screenshotting to save them into a folder for when I need a lil boost ww (including one from Mr. Viper himself above that got a laugh out of me, thanks Jamil really appreciate you thinking I’m cool)

Some sappiness under the cut:

I never expected to receive this much support for my silly yume/oc ship content when I began posting, and I really don’t have the words to express how grateful I am. I’ve met many wonderful people through this fandom, and also just had lots of fun in general making art. I mean it when I say I genuinely never had this much motivation and inspiration to create for any fandom (or original content) in the past. There was a long, long period in my life during which trying to find even a crumb of motivation to draw felt impossible. There was always some reason that I couldn’t - be it school/life being too busy, feeling too tired, having other stuff to do first, etc. I thought I’d never rediscover my love and passion for art, until I finally pushed myself to design my Yuu for real (instead of just thinking about it) and then everything just snowballed from there. (For context, I began playing TWST in 2020 and, despite being very much in love with it, only began drawing anything for it this year.)

I have such a massive list of ideas that I still want to draw (plus several asks that I want to answer that I just haven’t had the time to yet), so I’m certainly going to be kept busy for a while. After previously making every excuse possible for not drawing, I’ve learned that yeah, once you really love something you will squeeze time out for it no matter how hard things get, because it kills you not to. All those times when I wondered when I’d ever be able to draw as much as my favourite artists now feel like a distant relic of the past, and I have Twisted Wonderland (especially Jamil) and this community to thank for it. If anyone reading this is going through something similar, I promise it gets better - you will need to put in the effort to make it start, but you will get there.

There’s also my past experiences of being in fandoms that, well, did not welcome yume/self-shipping type content. If I so much as thought of creating any, the fear of being ridiculed would make me back away from the idea immediately. I’m glad to see that sentiment seems to be no longer the norm, but also the TWST fandom has been one of the most supportive of yume content I’ve ever seen. To everyone wanting to participate but has been hesitating, you absolutely should! My only regret is not starting sooner, seriously. In a sense I feel like I'm fulfilling a childhood dream of mine, and all of my past hesitation and anxiety just dissipated once... as cringe as it sounds - once love took over. So go pour your love and passion into that character you adore, they deserve it.

Anyways, wishing everyone a happy holidays and happy new year! Here’s to another year of enjoying TWST and creating for the things we love ❤

[syaolaurant]

VIOLETTE LAURANT (HL MC Profile)

I tried something new today - painting in (not so) realistic portrait of Violette. Took abit time to study cuz it's not my usual style >"<.

I'm so happy to see many of you are interested in my MC even though I've just joined the fandom for a week. Thank you so much (//ω//)!!! So here's some information about Violette (I tried to keep it short and simple but it still turned out abit long...).

Name: Violette Laurant

House: Hufflepuff

Birthday: 20th November

Nationality: French/British (She can speak French, so she didn't have to ask  Scrope to pronounce the password).

Wand: Sycamore Wood, Phoenix feather, 12 ½" Length, surprisingly swishy flexibility

The sycamore makes a questing wand, eager for new experience and losing brilliance if engaged in mundane activities. It is a quirk of these handsome wands that they may combust if allowed to become ‘bored,’ and many witches and wizards, settling down into middle age, are disconcerted to find their trusty wand bursting into flame in their hand as they ask it, one more time, to fetch their slippers. As may be deduced, the sycamore’s ideal owner is curious, vital and adventurous, and when paired with such an owner, it demonstrates a capacity to learn and adapt that earns it a rightful place among the world's most highly-prized wand woods.

A wand with this flexibility will either surprise its owner by being surprisingly loyal or surprisingly unloyal and is most often known for doing the unexpected. It is usually great for charm work. Owners that are matched with wands of this flexibility are usually the type of people who have a hard time coming out of their shell or opening up, but once they do, others will find themselves drawn to their charming, fun-loving personalities. The owner usually adapts well to unexpected changes but may find it difficult to make hard decisions.

Patronus: CAT

PERSONALITY MBTI: INFP Positive traits: Loyal and caring (she's Hufflepuff anyway), protective, passionate and a good listener. She tends to have few close friends than being surrounded by many acquaintances. Negative traits: She's an introvert, abit too emotional and gets easily lost in thoughts. Sensitive and usually absorb other people’s negative moods.

Hobbies: Tarot reading (cause me too hehe), magical gemstones collecting, dueling practice, caring for magical creatures in her vivarium.

Amortentia: Ginger tea, petrichor, tarot incense smoke which later changed to Sebatian's cologne. Favorite subjects: D.A.D.A, Care for Magical Creatures, Divination.

Least favorite subjects: Potions (she's not the type of person who always sticks to instruction), Arithmancy, History of Magic.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Family: Before her entrance to Hogwarts, Violette lived in a happy and caring family. Her father is a muggle from France, he moved to England with his twin brother in their 20s and met her mother -who is a witch (which she had kept secret until the night she got engaged, her father didn't surprise much, said he "positively felt something mysterious and strange about her the first day they met"). His twin brother is also married to a muggle, they also have a daughter named Noir Laurant. This family sure do like naming their children after color.

Sebastian Sallow: Since Violette's father and uncle are twins, she, more than anyone else understands Sebastian's feelings and why he doesn't give up on finding the cure for Anne. She was aware of the possible consequences of using dark arts, but still went along with Sebastian during the search for the relic cause she just could not bear to see him lose Anne. She admires his determination and outspokenness, which is quite contradicting to her introverted personality. After being dragged into the battle with goblins and Fig's death, Violette was traumatized and self-isolated, she lost her purpose for a while. Sebastian being a focused mind as always, helped snap her back to reality. Violette's loyalty and caring nature are Sebastian's emotional support. She decided to continue finding the cure for Anne with him, in a way that does not involve dark magic.

Ominis Gaunt: Is a wonderful friend to Violette. Both are introverts and do not trust other people easily. Violette likes Ominis's calming energy, and finds his sarcasm funny. They are the type of friends who do not talk much during hang out, just lay down and read books together.

Poppy Sweeting: Poppy is another great friend of Violette, as they're both from Hufflepuff. They share the same dedication to caring for nature and magical creatures. If there is something she cannot talk to the boys, she will share it with Poppy.

Natsai Onai: Violette and Natty get along well, she's always appreciates Natty's attempt to save her from Harlow's crucio. She also likes visiting Divination class to talk about tarot with Natty's mother.

SOME OTHER FACTS:

Violette's favorite food is apple pie & honey ginger tea. She doesn't like pineapple.

She is addicted to cats and will pet any cat she sees on the street.

She owns a brown great-horned owl named Garnet.

Her favorite tarot card is The Star. Favorite gemstone is amethyst due to its healing magic (and the color).

Even though she beat Imelda 3 times in flying and her housemate kept persuading her to join quidditch, she's not very fond of the game. She tried quidditch for about 3 months and then quit, as she doesn't like too much attention. She enjoys dueling in Crossed Wands instead.

Violette is the type of person who sometimes goes out to pick flowers and puts them in books.

She inherited her red hair from her mother.

She has a small scar on her right eye brown which was caused during her fight vs Ranrok Loyalists alongside Sebastian.

[aspenonpawzzz]

Enter the Wolves Den…..

[[[

     L̶̶O̶̶A̶̶D̶̶I̶̶N̶̶G̶̶….

                         ��]]]

(Loading…)

[W̶̶ELCOME TO EXISTENCE: THE GAME. PLEASE CHOOSE FILE̶̶]

[FILE SELECTED]

[OPENING FILE: Canis-Constellation]

{̶̶{̶̶I̶̶N̶̶T̶̶R̶̶O̶̶ ̶L̶̶O̶̶A̶̶D̶̶I̶̶N̶̶G̶̶}̶̶}̶̶

“Welcome, welcome!! I’m Aspen, the host of the canis-constellation plural!”

[[[

  ASPEN. (PRONOUNS: They/them/theirs, it/its/it’s  (AGE: Minor)    (ASEXUAL, OMNIROMANTIC,    (DEMIGENDER-FAUN XENOHOARDER.)        (RED FOX, AA WOLF, WESTERN COYOTE, AND TAN SABLE GSD THERIAN)   (AUDHD, MADD, TRICOTILLAMANIA     (TITLES: They the creator, The first being)  ]]]

ⓐⓛⓣⓔⓡ ⓛⓘⓢⓣ

-  briar 🪶🥀 |16| {They/Them} [ADHD] /Asexual Abroromantic\ ‘Grimwalker’  <sliver scout>

-River 🌊🐺|16.3| {it/they/wolf themed neos} [Autism] /omni ace\ ‘werewolf’ (in qpr/relationship with phantom) <none>

-Hunter/phantom🪶🐺⚡️{He/they/it/canine themed neos} |16| [Autism C-PTSD] /Biromantic Asexual\ 'shapeshifting grimwalker' <He who guards, The Golden Guard, It who transforms> 

-Hycan 🐺🔩🔌 {He/it, } |16/17| [Autism] /aroace\ ‘human’  it does have a animatironic form but it prefers human form (credit to @wolfsnooze for AU) <none>

-Salem 🔪 🩸 |13.5| {it/Its, ok with masc terms} [Intrusive thoughts] /Aroace\ 'Void-kin'  <death, it that comes for all, grim-reaper>

- Polaris 💫💦 |400| {They/them} [Madd] /Aroace\ 'divine being' <Sentinel of the stars, they the divine>

ⓕⓐⓥⓞⓡⓘⓣⓔⓢ

Turn off the lights (Panic! At the disco)

the owl house

green

All seasons 

Wolf walkers

Oh geeez, not again, panic at the disco, marina and the diamonds, cave town 

Spirit of the north, Zelda, Minecraft, grow home, and STRAY.

ⓣⓐⓖⓢ

#aspen yips: silly stuff

#aspen speaks (REAL): important

#aspen barks: alterhuman stuff

#aspen squeals: fandom/ hyperfixation

#aspen crows: neurodivergency

#aspen howls: creative

#[insert word or something] Au: AUs

#the owl-ssey: my EPIC x TOH au

#our pack: plural posts

#c.ai shenanigans: c.ai posts

#leaving the den: life updates and talking with mutuals

#pinned info: very important, stuff I’d like for every being to see!

#<3 stormy: my bestest fren in the whole multiverse

#EZRA! :IRL tag

#Tumblr relics : important Tumblr posts (EX: do you love the color of the sky)

 ⓘⓝⓣⓔⓡⓔⓢⓣⓢ 

the owl house (special interest)

Gravity Falls 

Alterhumanity

Labels and stuff

Vulture culture 

Oddities 

Cryptids 

Fanf (new to)

Norse mythology

TOH fictionfolk community:

Youtube:  Aspen_On-Pawzz - YouTube

AO3: A_wild_angst_nommer_fox - Profile | Archive of Our Own

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/Aspen_on_fox_pawz

pronouns page: https://en.pronouns.page/@Aspen_On_Pawzz

carrd: https://aspenonpawss.carrd.co

pronouns cc: https://pronouns.cc/@Aspen_On_Paws

My Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/AspenOnPawssss/

Besties Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/f1nst3rth3f3m/

Besites tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/stormyonpaws

ⓕⓐⓝⓓⓞⓜⓢ ⓐⓝⓓ ⓢⓟⓔⓒⓘⓐⓛ ⓘⓝⓣⓔⓡⓔⓢⓣⓢ

{special interests in bold, hyperfixtions in italics}

-Welcome to nightvale (newly found)

-the owl house. (I’m Hunter)

-Gravity falls (I be like dipper)

-wolfwalkers (favorite movie)

-FNAF (I look like Micheal 😭)

-stardew valley

-STRAY

-Minecraft

-the hycalon project (Fnaf / toh AU by wolfsnooze)

-Epic:the musical

-cryptozoology and weird stuff

ⓢⓘⓓⓔⓑⓛⓞⓖⓢ

@canis-constellation (plural)

@phantom-w0lfbane (fictive/fictionkin)

@aspec-warriors (Aspec mafia)

@aspens-hoard (label hoarding/coining)

@yourlocalangstdealer (writing/ horror)

ⓜⓐⓢⓣⓔⓡⓛⓘⓢⓣⓢ

ⓓⓝⓘ, ⓡⓤⓛⓔⓢ,ⓐⓝⓓ ⓑⓞⓤⓝⓓⓔⓡⓘⓔⓢ

DNI:

anti-lgbtq+, people who ship canon (insert sexuality) with (instert gender that the person is NOT attracted to) ei, a lesbian with a male, anti-furry,anti-therian,anti-vulture culture,anti-quadrobics, 18+ or kink blogs, if you’re older that 18(unless I knew you before you turned 18, or pass The Vibe Check{stalk ur blog}) , ableists, racists, exculionist, anti-endo, The works.

PLEASE INTERACT:

Alterhumans (Therians, otherkin, otherkith, otherhearted, animal hearted,otherlink,copinglink, furrians[furry therians], holotheres, soul shards, phytanthropes, and ANY OTHERS PLEASE ) furries, TOH or gf fans, artists and writers and cosplayers and musicains, freaks and werdios, vulture culturists, quadrobists, mogia and liom, enbies and enbyfluxes, fictionkins and fictives, systems,LGBTQIA+and people with decency.

PLEASE DO NOT:

treat me lesser/younger than you, treat me like a child, call me human, or person/people, talk Abt politics ,or involve me in such matters, repost(reblogging is fine) my ideas.

RANDOM OTHER BLOG RULES

This is a "Ship and let ship" blog. only exceptions are "insert orenation" with "a gender orenation is NOT attracted to" , Minor with not minor, [age] with [ age more than 2-3 years apart] aroace with anyone, bully x victim (ie bochlow) villian x hero with in certain bounderies, ab#sive or toxic ships, or proships.

NO HATING/DISSING ON OTHERS SHIPS. ANY WILL BE BLOCKED.

any aggressive hating/ threats will be blocked. only z0()s, n3cr0s,  p3d0s, and other harmful paraphiles are allowed to be hated on here. if you support/are these, find help and leave this blog. this is not for you. i want to point out that I’m pro-recovery. I want you to get better. But I will block any and all zoophiles and necrophiles, regardless if you’re in recovery or not. Sorry.

gatekeeping is not allowed. at all.

support of KOSA and other things like this is not allowed.

take your discorse and politics elsewere. this is a fun blog for fun stuff. 

I am a minor, if +18 dni unless I, a trusted person, or a mewtual vet your blog. 

I WILL SPAM LIKE AND REBLOG.

I use tonetags.

if you follow me, please follow (if dni allows) @justalexisfine, @stupidcav (FELLOW TOH KIN, REALLY COOL) @yourelocaltransdude @hex12345678910

my fren(I'm his caretaker): @stormyonpaws

other IRL: @no-braincells-ava

[croziers-compass]

Summary Notes of Terror Camp 2023 (9.12.23)

(A small summary of notes and references I took during Terror Camp Day One)

Erasure of Sailors of Colour in Arctic Exploration!!! Needs to be explored much more. JEAMS Fitz-James Fitzjames - w'ont put his apostrophes in the back of words. Capitalising Letters where you would Not usually capitalise them is like Italics. it is Emphasis in speech when written.

These jokes are getting Auld. (If you know you know)

Most things were phonetically written.

WOAHOO!!! - James Thompson

Relic? Or Artefact?

Semiophore - Objects regarded in a given community as carries of meaning.

Walpole is a little fucked in opinion. (imo)

Dundy was awful at spelling. Worse than Goodsir.

Capitalists should really look into Thomas Holloway

Everyone knows and loves Snarfin' On Them Ribs Saturday Man Proposes, God Disposes

Lady Jane was offended.

Hudson Bay Speedrun - Let Curiosity be your Compass

James Knight does not girlboss but he thinks he does.

A Ship Called The Whalebone Roald was both an asshole but good at what he did.

The Raft of the Medusa - We knew where that was going.

Johnathan Miles is a Horse Girl

Foreshadowing of the Cannibalism and Mutiny

HOOSH

History is a Panopticon They were just people... (Also a Note. I am worried that a lot of the fandom thinks that the concept of a Panopticon originates from TMA and that it was a TMA reference. It was not. I am wondering now if the TMA listeners know who Jeremy Bentham is.)

Cultural Understandings

IceBound Not Down - I did not take a lot of notes on Professor Hester Blum's panel. I was far too invested to write and when it was over I realised I had not made any notes. She was incredible. I loved her narratives very much. I would love to get her book. It is on my list! You would have had to have been there. It was wonderful. Not News: Dan Simmons is a wee fuckboy. We have established this a lot. He also establishes this for us. (?) Umlaqtalik - There is a boat there.

Imperialism is a disease.

How to read Ethically!

Some of my Notes from the Panel with Paul Ready and Nive Nielsen:

"You can hear a smile in a recording" - Nive Nielsen

Paul "I am not an expert on Anything" Ready

He is so very attached to Goodsir. Goodsir is very much a part of him. Hearing him talk about how integrated Goodsir is to himself was wonderful.

"I think we need more Goodsirs in the world."

Nive and her impressive education on the importance of indigenous representation and how that impacted her. How her voice as not only an actor but an Indigenous Actor was taken with such respect and was given the space to allow for respectful and creative extrapolation on the Set.

A small Note in my book that says: Oh goodness me he is hideously beautiful. I cannot stand how beautiful he really is. Oh my goodness.

"Nothing is good or bad. Just the potential to be." - Nive Nielsen - Terror Camp 2023

Nive: All Humans are good at picking up sincerity.

Goodsir would have hated Hickey.

"Ah. Would you look at that. Dead with my ass carved up." - Paul Ready

Nive: You cannot kill people or let people die because everything is connected and you do not know how that will effect your future. You have to depend on each other. So when there was conflict you had to solve it with as little violence as possible.

A very Important Book Nive Nielsen had spoken about!

You can get a copy on Thriftbooks of "Give Me My Father's Body" by Kenn Harper Here

I had an incredible amount of fun during this event. I am so excited for tomorrow. What notes you are seeing here are just references to part of the panels and some side comments I had made between all of my other more detailed notes. There was so much to be had and so much that we saw and heard. The speakers were incredible and each individual was incredibly dedicated to their impressive Art and Passion. It truly showed. As Nive said: You can hear a smile in a recording". I feel as if this applies to every one of the speakers and all of the panels we had the pleasure to enjoy today.

I have more detailed notes in my journal which, of course, you can see I scrawled a lot in. I had amassed about seven whole pages worth in that time. So to type them all would be just simple a task I cannot do. But I am open to discussions regarding how everything was if you did not get to attend it! Also Terror Camp has a wonderful setup available for you to explore the other avenues that they have presented on their website. So please do go check that you if you are interested! I cannot wait to do this tomorrow with my fellow Shipmates. Thank you so much for everyone that put together @terrorcamp. I am quite excited for tomorrow!

With much love and saltwater kisses,

Second Leftenant in heart and spirit,

-Wilbur E. F. C.

[dez78]

Astarion's Path

-------------------------------------

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Warnings: Mentions of torture, torment, blood

Summary: Astarion has forged a new path for himself, a path into the light.

---------------------------------

After the defeat of Cazador, Astarion not only saved himself from becoming a monster, but he redeemed himself, freed himself. Then after defeating the Elder Brain and saving Baldur's Gate, as well as the world. He got deemed a hero, everyone who came near him, praised the ground he walked on. He saved everyone from becoming slaves to the mind flayers. Himself included.

With this newfound hope in his heart and his heroic acts, his heart becoming much softer and his compassion for others becoming his new self. He to the surprise of everyone, especially his closest friends, joined the church of Lathander and became his champion, Paladin.

This was his rebirth, his new beginning as a free vampire spawn. With the sunwalker's gift, he became a paladin of dawn and light. A fitting narrative for him.

Astarion's ultimate goal is to free as many slaves from the clutches of their masters as he possibly can. Whether it be spawn or not. Everyone deserves a chance to be free.

-------------------------------------------------

The prison cell was dark, damp, and eerily silent. A sickly suffocating, the cell clung to her like a second skin. The scent of mildew mingled with her own blood, caking her torn flesh where the whip had kissed her skin. Every nerve in her body screamed, her mind swimming with agony.

Her master promised to be back, like he always does. He wasn't done breaking her tonight or was it day? She couldn't tell. She had no tears left to shed- only whispers faint and hoarse, slipping from her cracked lips.

"Please...anyone...hear me." She rasped, her voice only a ghost of her former self.

"Send me a savior...please...I beg you." She pleaded with a sorrowful soul. Her head still sagging.

"Selune...Lathander...Ilmater...Anyone. Please, save me. I cannot endure this much longer." She whimpered pathetically. She was desperate for any kind of answer.

For hours, only the sound of dripping water from the ceiling and the distant clank of metal could be heard. The woman was still in her cell, her master hadn't returned, but she knew the gods didn't answer her pleas. She thought maybe, they didn't respond to spawn. That they already thought them unworthy of help.

The thought of being abandoned by the gods, tore into her soul further, crushing her hopes. Perhaps this was to be her fate, to rot in this cell, to be forgotten.

Then the silence was shattered. The woman's head shot up when she heard the sound of steel against steel. The guttural growls of her master's minions. The distant clamor erupted above. The sound of battle was unmistakable. For the first time in a long time, she felt hope. The noises were wild, frenzied, and relentless.

The sounds drew nearer, she could hear the battle take place just outside the prison. The guards were being attacked. Hope flared into her chest.

The sounds of battle died out, for a few moments, it was still silence again. Then the sound of the prison door being unlocked and opened. For a moment the golden rays of light were blinding as they lit up the dark prison.

The woman made out a figure through the glowing light. It was as if the sun was shining into the dark, dank cells. The armored boots resounded in the dark as the figure made their way down the steps.

Lighting up every inch of dark with their holy light. Resplendent in golden armor that shimmered like sunlight piercing through the darkness. A lance gripped in his hand radiated an otherworldly brilliance bathing the dungeon in warm, golden light.

The woman immediately recognized the weapon that bore such light, it was the lance of Lathander. A divine relic. Her breath hitched, could it be that her prayers were heard after all? The man's silver curls gleamed under the light, and his crimson eyes burning with purpose.

She knew him, this was the Paladin of freedom. The liberator of chains, the golden knight, the light walker, the infamous...

"You're the Sunborne, aren't you." The woman said breathlessly almost as if she didn't believe it. Astarion's smile was gentle as he unlocked the cell door with a gauntleted hand.

"I am." He replied softly,

"And you're free. It's over, your master is dead." He told her. The woman gasped audibly.

"Truly?" She choked; tears sprung to her eyes. She thought, she had cried all her tears.

"Truly. I made sure of it." Astarion told her, his voice was elegant and soft as he unlocked her chains. She fell, but he caught her with divine grace. Her fingers touched his golden armor that he adorned, as if to make sure he was real, and this wasn't some twisted dream.

Her knees were too weak, she glided to her knees, Astarion held her still.

"You're safe now, no one can ever hurt you again. I promise you." He murmured cradling her gently.

She looked up at him, her tears streaking her blood-stained face.

"You're truly him, the one who was once like me." She said, her voice was trembling slightly. He nodded, a faint smile ghosting his lips.

"I was like you once, yes. But now I walk a different path. A path that led me here to you." He paused, his softening further.

"I know what you've endured, but you're stronger than you know. And you'll never have to endure it alone again."

Her trembling hand reached up, brushing the edge of his glowing armor, still not quite believing he was real yet.

"Thank you." She whispered, her voice breaking. Astarion helped her to her feet. Lifting her as if though she weighed nothing to him.

"I...prayed...I prayed for a savior. Every night since I've been in here. I thought the gods had abandoned me." She said, her voice cracking.

"Well, do not fret dear. The gods heard you and they answered." Astarion replied.

"Come now, let's you get you out of here." He said as he helped her out of her prison. They walked up the stairs and into the lair, the bodies were scattered everywhere, some were burned with holy light and some were sliced through.

Astarion led the woman out into the night,

"Night just turned, so you'll have until dawn to get as far from here as you please." He explained to her. She hugged him tightly and thanked him with sobs, he held her.

Then the woman pulled from her savior and hurried off into the night, Astarion smiled proudly. His divine mission successful again, another slave freed. Astarion took what loot he could carry, then disappeared into the night.

He found a quiet secluded spot and glided to his knees in prayer, he listened to the night before hearing Lathander's voice.

'Astarion, my son, another calls for our aid.'

[sitp-recs]

3 Tacky shorts to read this week

I ran against time to get this post out before midnight ET but am still a bit late 🥲 I know T won’t mind so here’s my belated gift to my sun and stars, my first and dearest partner in crime @tackytigerfic! T, I have no words to describe how much I appreciate our friendship. It’s been so special to experience this fandom with you in the last few years. I love that we immediately hit off and share one stupid brain cell when it comes to these idiots; it feels like we’ve known each other forever and 24 hours (especially living so far apart) is not enough to talk fic, headcanons, kinks, squicks and all other irl and existencial topics with you. Navigating such a big fandom can be really scary but even when nobody knew me I’d never feel lonely, invisible or like I had to pretend to be someone else, because I had you by my side. Thank you so so much for being my safe harbour, my sicko soulmate, my confidant, my role model and my biggest cheerleader!

As I thought of new ways to celebrate your day I tried to remember which fics I hadn’t written a rec for. I came to realize that I was never able to put my thoughts into words when it comes to my 3 favorite short fics of yours. They got me in such a Drarry fever, a tingling incoherent state of emotional devastation that I immediately put away the idea of doing recs because there was no possible way to translate my raw, ugly and chaotic feels about them. I tend to do this with fics that leave me with the so-called hangover once I’m done; funnily enough, the last time this happened - when I read Lettered’s By the Grace - it was you who helped me get that rec out by reviewing it and cheering me along the way, tysm 🥹 now it’s time to respond in kind and share love for these short gems that I have the privilege to revisit every time I need some comfort food. Lucky me, it turns out my best pal writes the exact brand of tender romance that checks all of my boxes. You are a fantastic friend and such a brilliant, talented writer. I love and admire you, and I’m so proud of everything you’ve achieved. Can’t wait to see what comes next. Happy day T! 💜

👩‍🚀 Far Side + Relic Radiation (M, 1.7k)

Draco goes into space, leaving behind his son Scorpius (who has just started at Hogwarts, at least), and his not-quite-boyfriend Harry Potter. But Harry can't stop loving Draco just because he's approximately 408km up, in constant orbit.

“You’ll kill that plant,” Draco said, and flicked a lazy charm over the pot with his fingers so the spicy smell of the lavender sharpened the night air.

“You’ll kill me,” Harry said, and Draco turned his face towards the darkened sky, lunar pale, his profile some stupid unearthly thing—a flaring blazar, a supernova—in the light from the kitchen window.

When I say the heart kick factor may hit you in the solar plexus when you least expect, this is what I’m talking about. I’ve obsessed so much over these 2 tiny shorts with single dad!Draco (one of the tropes Tacky does magic with, they are so disgustingly romantic and emotionally satisfying - gimme T’s dad!Draco anthology or give me nothing!!!) that I came up with a whole theory to prove these stories are actually connected. Whether I’m on the right track or just another delusional reader it’s yet to be seen 🤣 Draco’s devotion to baby Scorpius - and Harry’s gentle yearning for the both of them - does things to my poor heart I can’t quite put into words. Let that boy have his found family happy ending, damn it. Every time I reread these gems I get teared up and wish I could stay in this verse forever, watching Scorp grow while these two lovely men find each other time and again. To make your heart melt a bit more, check the breathtaking artwork by the one and only @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm. I cannot— *cries in Drarry*

🏜️ Between the Power Lines (M, 3k)

For Harry Potter, all roads eventually lead to Draco Malfoy.

In New Orleans, they got drunk on Bourbon Street, and Malfoy danced on his own (arms bare, laughing; Harry could have watched him all night) and later on, so late it was almost morning, they let themselves into the St Louis Cemetery—Malfoy unpicking the lock so sweetly—and walked around until the sky was pink-edged with the promise of another day’s heat. Then they sat on the steps of a crypt, watched over by sightless eyes of the statue of an angel. She looked exhausted rather than sad, Harry thought, and that made a lot of sense when he thought about his own longstanding, dull-edged grief.

The best word to describe this (literally) hot fic is “atmospheric”. T does a flawless job building impeccable Americana vibes and packing so much story while keeping it 100% character-driven. I love the elegant, contained, confident writing, I love the evocative prose and how the mutual attraction bleeds through these quiet but intense road trip vignettes. The scenario is rich and immersive, the heat so palpable you can almost taste it, and the confession at the end is my definition of peak romance. A whole sensorial experience, both introspective and exciting, vibrant and melancholy, packed within 3k. Absolutely genius.

🎯Aim For My Heart (M, 3.4k)

Harry's in love, Ron's in control, and Draco just wants a nice lunch. They say three's a crowd, but Harry doesn't always agree. Not when he gets to be in the middle, anyway.

Neither of them had asked Harry what he likes best about them, but Harry watches them and feels the sick curl of excitement low in his belly, like something lost and gained all at once, and he wonders what he’d say if they did ask; would it be mouth or hands or arse, the gleam of clean hair or the hidden scent of a freshly-revealed patch of skin, blue eyes or grey? He doesn’t think he’d tell them what he really loves the most, and that’s the fact that both of them have been his for such a long time, in one way or another, and he loves that he gets to keep them.

For reference, this will always be the Dronarry classic I refer to when I think about this ship. The way Tacky explored the implications and complications of a triad relationship in its early stages (I am so fucking weak for that mix of want, jealousy and vulnerability) combined with exquisite characterization is so well executed I could cry. Beyond that banger of a starting line (“Big hands,” Draco says, and blushes) that made me blush and squeal in delight, Harry’s POV is a triumph. He’s genuinely lovely and relatable in all his yearning and insecurities, soft and longing for both Draco and Ron. The ideia of him realizing that he gets to be loved by, and keep the two people he loves the most in the world, makes my heart burst with warmth. I can pinpoint all the small, quiet but meaningful moments that made my breath stutter and my heart beat faster. This fic is a masterclass in elaborating complex and conflicting emotions, while solving them with a light hand of tenderness and understanding. It is subtle but efficient and all-encompassing in a way that stays with you for a long time after you’ve finished reading. The perfect triad fic.

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 4

Chapters: 4/? 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 (upcoming, minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn't utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

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

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics.

Note: I had to split the chapter in two parts because it was getting way too long, so I'm posting Chapter 4 and 5 at once!

I also wrote something that you may recognize if you listened to the Dreamcast tracks on Spotify!

WARNING: This chapter includes an attempted assult with some minor physical consequences due to what it led to! It's actually nothing major and Reader will be totally fine, but if you get triggered by this sort of stuff, feel free to skip that part the moment you reach it!

Chapter 4

You fell in love with a God. What could possibly go wrong?

Another month had quickly passed and it felt like it had gone by the blink of an eye.

You would find yourself heading down the basement whenever your work schedule permitted it, growing more and more fond of Dream of The Endless despite his well known stoic presence and the one-sided conversations. The sense of companionship made you feel a little less lonely each time you visited, there was never a feeling of boredom or irritation coming from his stillness and it was a comfort to be around him even in the silence.

Unfortunately, it was also foreseeable that Mr. Burgess would call for you in his study at that given time.

You walked up to the door with slow, almost dragged footsteps. You took a deep breath as Mr. McGuire opened it for you, leading you into the antique room filled with more relics from the past and a set of wooden furniture that perfectly matched with the rest of the house.

Inside, Mr. Burgess was sitting on his large leather chair behind a mahogany desk and you began to feel the weight of the pressure that was now resting on your shoulders.

Mr. McGuire walked to his husband to gently lay a hand on the back of his neck, the tension within the room was palpable, creating an atmosphere of solemnity. You could feel Mr. Burgess’s eyes on you from across the study and you went rigid the moment he finally spoke. “Miss Y/LN, thank you for coming. Please have a seat.”

As you sat in the chair facing your employers, Mr. McGuire gave you a reassuring smile. You could barely return his comforting gesture with his husband’s cold gaze intensifyng your anxiety.

Despite this, you ignored the trembling in your hands and maintained a composed demeanor.

“I am sure you know why I called you here,” he said. “Pressuring you is not in my intentions, but you’ve been talking to Dream of The Endless for quite some time, even more so recently. I was wondering if you might have some… good news to share with me?”

Mr. Burgess wanted a statement of assurance from Dream that he would not seek revenge if they decided to release him. However, you were unable to offer that as Dream had not spoken once, also at your request. Though Mr. Burgess was providing The Endless with an opportunity, it seemed to also function as a bargaining tool in much the same way his father conducted business before him.

Their safety was of paramount importance, but it was unacceptable that Dream was still locked into the cellar for his silence. While he could not guarantee they’d be left unharmed, what Mr. Burgess was giving him was a cruel and unfair ultimatum that violated The Endless’s rights. Over the course of his century-long incarceration, Dream had been forced to undergo immense emotional suffering. He deserved to receive his freedom with no exceptions and yet it wasn’t happening because of an old man’s whim.

It was risky, yes, but what would the alternative be?

You straightened your back. “Well, he trusts me enough to accept my presence and handle my boring speeches almost every day. You have to let him go, Mr. Burgess. There’s no reason to still keep him where he is.”

The man didn’t respond, so you continued. “I’m sure it’s going to be okay, if you do so.”

Mr. Burgess took a few calming breaths to ensure he maintained his composure. Mr. McGuire gently placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it while looking at you in a supportive way.

“So, he didn’t tell you anything at all?”

You gritted your teeth. “No Sir, nothing.”

“No progress, then. Just as I feared.”

You sighed heavily, unfiltered statements were delivered (in)voluntarily. “You didn’t receive a single answer from him in over 80 years of try. Did it not occur to you that maybe he can’t even speak, or doesn’t really want to for obvious reasons? And even if he did, you can’t be so sure he wouldn’t just say what you want to hear. People would do anything when they’re desperate, Mr. Burgess. Even Gods, I’m sure.”

The man rubbed his forehead in frustration. “Yes… yes you’re right, of course. But, you see… the guards have told me the way he reacts whenever you’re around. Based on this fact I was thinking…”

“You were thinking you were finally close to get what you were hoping for.” Your frustration had returned with great intensity. “Don’t you think it is time to give him the freedom he deserves? Didn’t he suffer long enough?”

He considered your suggestion with thoughtfulness, then responded. "I guess.”

You knew there was a ‘but’ coming.

“But,” Called it. “it’s not me I am worried about, Miss Y/LN. Paul and anyone else involved in this matter, if not the entire house, might suffer from my inconsiderate decision. Even you.”

You clenched your fists and your knuckles turned white. You found it difficult to keep the anger at bay as it seemed to be mounting with each breath you took.

“How much do you know about Dream of The Endless, Mr. Burgess?” You asked.

“Enough to say that his power could possibly doom us all.”

“Exactly, possibly. Which means it could also go differently.”

The air around you seemed to be growing thicker and thicker by the second.

“Sir, I understand your concern. But the longer you keep him trapped into that bowl, the higher the risk for you, or us, will be. I honestly do not see how you could make it better this way.”

The potential consequences Dream’s power could cause were indeed an alarming possibility, but would he really wipe the entire mansion out of existence without batting an eye? While it remained unclear just how far such power could reach in fruition, you were confident that his capabilities would never result in a widespread destruction.

“Miss Y/LN,” Mr. Burgess’s voice was sharp like a razor. “You would tell me if he talked to you, right?”

‘Of course not.’

“Of course.”

Mr. McGuire called for his husband’s attention with a subtle throat-clearing gesture. “Come on darling, there’s no need to be hasty. She’s trying… and she did a better job than we could manage in such a long time.”

You stared back at Mr. Burgess with equal fervor, but the man appeared more relaxed after his husband’s words. “Yes, okay.” He removed his glasses to massage the fatigue from his eyes. “My apologies, Miss Y/LN. Please keep up the good work.”

Mr. McGuire was an invaluable presence in the workplace. He had consistently shown you great kindness and support, his level of patience and understanding was incomparable. He was greatly contributing to a welcoming environment even at the most difficult times and you were really grateful for it.

You forced a smile, slightly bowed your head in respect and politely said your goodbyes. As you stepped out of the study and the door shut behind you, their muffled voices resumed the conversation and carried on in your absence, but you were too disheartened to try and listen in.

With another long and deep sigh you continued walking, shaking off that hideous feeling from your chest and knowing for certain now that any form of persuasion would end up failing with someone as stubborn as Mr. Burgess.

What were you even thinking? Of course it wouldn’t be easy. 106 years did absolutely nothing to convince the man that leaving Dream imprisoned to the bitter end was not the right way to guarantee a prosperous future to his family. Clearly, speaking from the heart had proven to also be ineffective.

Dream needed help and the only solution seemed to be unconventional. Despite your reflective thought and effort, no plan presented itself except for direct action. You racked your brain over it, but anything that wouldn’t involve you smashing the glass to pull him out seemed futile and a waste of time you didn’t have the heart to invest into, for his sake.

They say that when all other options have been exhausted and no alternatives remain viable, a last resort may be the only remaining choice. Your entire working career may have depended on that choice, as sabotaging one of your employer’s “possessions” would have been counterproductive for your Resume.

You didn’t want to resort to taking an unfavorable path, but ensuring that Dream was released from captivity had become your own personal quest. You had multiple responsibilities to attend to and many pressing issues to prioritize, but you were also risking to neglect the most critical aspects of your life while juggling too many things at once and allowing your feelings to get the best of you.

As the days went on, it became increasingly difficult to control them. Thoughts of Dream occupied your mind constantly and you would often zone out while in the middle of a conversation or activity at work. His captivating eyes, full lips and one-of-a-kind aura simply left you spellbound.

You were falling in love with a being who wasn’t quite a man, drawn to an otherworldly creature who would never truly be yours. You knew you were setting yourself up for heartbreak, but you welcomed the joy and exhilaration of being in his presence despite the inevitable pain that laid ahead.

For as long as you could.

Paul McGuire walked down a long hallway, past the various rooms and relaxation areas the house had to offer. He was looking out the windows to admire the beautiful colors of the sunset sky, but he came to a halt when his attention was quickly taken by your working figure in the garden.

You were wearing your outer suit consisting of light-colored jeans, sneakers, a short-sleeved shirt and a sweater that was carefully tied around your waist. He studied your activity as you planted a new batch of seeds, occasionally brushing a few strands of hair out of the way. Dirt and moss soaked into your clothes and your bare hands sank into the ground. Paul couldn’t help but smile, reminiscing about his days as a gardener. Your fingers smoothly glided through the grains of topsoil, memories filling his own nostrils with the scent of wet earth and fresh grass. He never was one to shy away from hard work, tending to orchards and vineyards, chopping wood in the blazing sun or in the midst of violent storms. The physical exertion of those tasks never frightened him, whether it meant breaking a sweat or braving the freezing rain. He was always up to the challenge, taking pride in his ability to push himself to his limits.

Alex often watched him while pretending to read a book, barely knowing the written summary or the title itself. It was fun, nothing short of invigorating and thrilling, creating a sense of excitement and joy that was hard to ignore.

You stood up from the ground, brushing the dirt off your hands and ensuring that the seeds were ready to grow. With that task complete, you moved to the bushes in front of you that appeared to need a bit of trimming.

Paul noticed that you had a preference for spending your day outdoors instead of doing your work inside the house, but he also observed that you approached each job with the same level of dedication, performing to the best of your abilities. Your punctuality and willingness to take on even the most difficult assignment did not go unnoticed by him. He admired your unwavering commitment to your goals and the sacrifices you were making to achieve them with tenacity and ambition.

At the same time, he felt a pang of sadness at the thought of such an extraordinary woman potentially giving up a better future for herself. From the moment you first stepped into their house, Paul was struck by your beauty, bravery, intelligence and compassion. You exuded those qualities in everything you did and he found himself enjoying your presence more and more each passing day.

If he had a daughter, he would have wished for her to possess the same spirit and good heart.

As he walked on, Paul could hear the guards chattering outside the basement. You were justified in disliking those two, given how often they seemed to slack off and treat their job so unprofessionally. Upon his arrival, they immediatly reverted from their relaxed and carefree behavior to their vigilant conduct. They regained their composure, but the embarrassment for having been caught was evident when they greeted him, lowering their heads in defeat.

Paul nodded, allowing them a brief respite before beginning the night shift in the next hour. He swiftly opened the metal door once the guards departed, proceeding towards the elevator and discending into the damp depths of the cellar without hesitation.

Dream was as still as a statue and in the same sitting position that Paul had found him in when he first went to the basement. The man felt apprehensive seeing Dream’s meneacing frown as he stepped onto the platform, the only recourse left open was for him to try and fix his own mistakes.

“Hello Dream,” he said with a smile, which the Endless plainly overlooked. He gazed at Paul inquisitively, his being there alone without Alex was an unusual event none of them ever experienced before. “I know… I’m not exactly the one you where hoping to see.”

Dream averted his gaze out of resentment.

“I’m not here to ask you to talk, I just want you to listen to what I have to say.”

Dream’s eyes seemed to reflect a sense of weariness, the lines on his face told a story of their own, each one representing a struggle he had faced and overcome. Although he managed to keep his head held high throughout it all, the weight of his experiences was heavy on his mind.

“Alex is a broken man, ruined by the cruelty of a father who left a deep scar into his soul.”

Dream’s fists clenched tightly and his eyes blazed with a fiery intensity.

“I should have tried harder to convince him the first time, but I let him handle it the way he wanted. I should have also freed you myself when I realized he wouldn’t do it, but I just allowed this to consume the both of you because I wasn’t brave enough to stop him. I chickened out whenever I felt like taking matters into my hands and I failed him, just like I failed you.”

Paul’s voice was laced with sorrow, regret and guilt poured out of him as he spoke. He had let fear and indecision hold him back for his lover’s sake, to the detriment of Dream who saw his freedom further denied and stripped away.

“Y/N had nothing to do with this. Alex involved her out of desperation and that poor girl is really trying hard for you. She wants your freedom more than anything else now.”

Dream moved ever so slightly hearing your name and Paul noticed it. “You like her.”

Dream adverted the man’s gaze once again. Paul interpreted the silence that followed as the confirmation he was looking for.

“She won’t be here forever, Dream. She deserves better than the whole ordeal she’s been dragged into.”

He had witnessed first-hand the debilitating effects of consumption and mental exhaustion on his husband. Despite the presence of Dream, which kept them alive for an extended period of time, the toll on his partner's physical and mental health had been significant.

Paul had noticed that you were intentionally disregarding Alex’s wishes and doing what you believed was best for Dream. You were traveling between Whych Cross and the city every week to check on your father, in addition to managing the stress and anxiety caused by the Endless's situation while overworking yourself around the estate. Paul was concerned that you were pushing yourself too hard, risking your well-being for something you shouldn't have discovered to begin with.

He sighed. “I am at fault, too. I begged her to do as he asked and forced the pills into her hands. I don’t expect you to forgive me, what my husband did to you is undoubtedly wrong and I went along with it.”

The sound of his voice was like a dam breaking, unleashing years of hidden guilt and suffocated pain. Every word he spoke was filled with the weight of his suffering, a burden he had carried for far too long by himself. It was as though he had been holding back a flood of emotions, now pouring out in a torrent of raw and unfiltered truths.

”Maybe I was afraid to admit it to myself, but I realized that I owe you at least an apology.”

Dream wasn't looking at him, but the man could tell he was listening. Paul knew that apologizing for 106 years of confinement was not enough to solve the problem, but he hoped that Dream could at least understand where he was coming from. Paul's ultimate goal was to find a meeting point with him to put an end to that madness once and for all without having to involve someone else in the futrure.

“Seeing how strongly she cares about you, you could say that Y/N kind of inspired me.”

Your dedication towards Dream had motivated Paul to become a better person. The passion and affection you had for the Endless reminded him of his youth, when he would gaze at Alex from afar and lose himself into his own fantasies. Your feelings were infectious and Paul couldn’t help but be drawn to them. He began to approach life with a renewed sense of purpose and he wanted to live his remaining years with the man he loved without any string attached to their necks.

“If it comes to that, I assure you, this time I will take care of it myself.”

Dream pressed his lips into a pout and lowered his eyes once more. Paul knew the risks that could come with his release, but at that point in his life, he was willing to face them without cowardly running away. The alternative was not any better; his husband was already doomed and drained by something that had always been too overwhelming for him to handle. Paul weighed his options, and despite understanding the fallout he could cause, he was still willing to take the chance at the right time.

Paul didn’t want that responsibility to fall on you.

With his eyes filled with fear and determination, he turned on his heels and left the Endless in the familiar silence and coldness of the cellar that had sucked him in for over a century.

As you walked towards your old bookshelf, a sense of excitement built inside you. Your father was lying comfortably on the couch, wrapped in a soft blanket and holding a warm cup of tea.

The bookshelf held many stories of adventures, tales of love and lessons of life. All those books had shaped, taught and inspired you countless times, undoubtedly becoming a part of you. You could almost hear the characters whispering, inviting you to join them on their journey once again.

However, your attention was focused on just one story that day.

“Are you looking for something in particular?” Your father asked.

“Do you remember the book you used to read to me when I was a child?”

“Ah, the King of Dreams? You loved that one!”

You inspected the books with eager eyes. “I thought I took it with me when I moved out, but I can’t find it anywhere. Perhaps I left it here?”

“I can’t say. It’s been a long time since I last went through those books and we've added so many over the years.”

The bookshelf was a treasure trove of memories, a portal to different worlds and a reminder of the person you used to be. Your father's presence was comforting and you could feel his warm gaze on you as you picked up one book after another, just like the old times.

As you knelt down to check the last books on the third row, you noticed one that had fallen behind and become wedged between the wall and the stack in front of it. With caution, you carefully removed it from the tight space, breathing a sigh of relief when you realized it was the volume you had been looking for.

As you brushed your fingers over the title, more memories of your childhood came flooding back at once.

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓶𝓪𝓷: 𝓐 𝓣𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓓𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓝𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓼

Your father noticed your sudden quitness and craned his neck to see what you were doing.

“Did you find it?”

You smiled brightly, turned around and held the book in front of him with satisfaction.

He observed your expression and his laughter erupted effortlessly. "That face right now..." He paused to reminisce. "It reminds me of when you were still a little girl.”

He was mentally transported back to a time when you were innocent and carefree, a time when he took pride in being your protector before everything turned upside down.

“Come,” he said, motioning for you to sit next to him on the couch. “Let’s read it together.”

Just like a happy child, you threw yourself onto the soft cushions and grabbed a piece of blanket for yourself. It’d been a long time since the two of you had enjoyed a peaceful moment, relaxing in front of a good book without him being in constant pain.

It was difficult to determine whether the medication was working as intended, or if a miracle had simply occurred after a prolonged period of suffering. Regardless of what fate had in store for your family, witnessing him regain his appetite and spend more time out of bed was something you wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

You took a deep breath and opened the book, reading the first lines aloud.

“He is said to sprincle sand or dust into the eyes of children at night, to bring on sleep and dreams. You have met him before and he has many names. He is the King of Dreams and Nightmares, he is Dream of The Endless.”

Those were the words you remembered the night you met Dream for the first time.

“He is The Shaper of Form, with the ability to control the subconscious mind. Be wary, my child; respect his power and always be mindful of what you're dreaming about when you fall asleep. The Sandman is watching and waiting to take you on a journey through your wildest dreams, or your darkest nightmares.”

As you turned the pages of your treasured book, you noticed the slight darkening and roughening of its once pristine appearance. The story was not new to you and it could only be just that - a story. Or a gateway to a world beyond your own.

Perhaps it was the intricate details of the Endless' dimension that made it feel so real, or the vivid descriptions of his powers and abilities. Whatever it was, you found yourself captivated by the possibilities that laid within its pages.

“He is a story, an idea, the anthropomorphic embodiment of dreams and imagination. He is that which you do not know and he is that which you can not know. He is a mystery to some, a legend to others. He rules his realm between the living and the dead. He needs no such things like food and water, or any other human emotion like sadness, anger or love.”

As you repeated the phrase "He doesn't need love" in your head, it was worth considering whether that statement was actually true. After all, isn't love something that every being deserves, regardless of their identity or status? Whether you're a human or a God, the need for love is universal. It's what binds us together and gives our lives meaning. Love has the power to heal wounds, bridge divides and create connections that transcend all boundaries.

Dream was unlike anything you had ever seen or experienced in your entire life. His eyes were full of emotions - fear, pain, rage, loneliness. Was it possible for a being like him to be bound to live his endless existence without any form of love?

‘It is not your love that he needs,’ those words echoed through your mind. ‘You are not like him, you will never be.’

Your heart cracked right in that instant.

You continued to read. “He can sense something deep, something that you need, something you want. What is it, child? What is the one thing you wish for, more than anything else in the world? Say it out loud and it will be yours. Speak, and the King of dreams shall make your world into paradise.”

You were so engrossed in your book that you almost jumped at the sound of your father's loud snore. Looking over, you saw him asleep like a baby himself and you couldn’t help but smile despite the disruption. You gently placed the book on your lap and adjusted the blanket on his chest. After settling him comfortably, you resumed your reading.

“Everything around you can shift, twisting like smoke. The Sandman's influence extends beyond the realm of dreams, as he is capable of affecting reality itself. His powers are vast and mysterious, many have tried to understand or harness them, to no avail.”

You thought of Dream, imprisoned in a glass sphere by a man who sought to use his powers for personal gain.

“There is no limit when you dream. The Endless can show you wonders unseen, take you on a tour of the infinite, to the stars within the stars.”

You felt yourself swept away by the idea of limitless possibilities. The thought of exploring the unknown and seeing things that had yet to be discovered was uplifting.

“Worlds beyond worlds, dimensions that you do not yet understand, universes so strange that they would shatter your mind.”

But as you continued to read, your eyes began to droop and the text in front of you started to blur.

An unusual sense of fatigue was creeping over you. Your hand slowly lost its grip on the side of the book, letting it slide onto the couch.

It felt as though your body was shutting down, the caffeine and sugar you ingested weren't helping you to stay awake.

And then, everything went black.

As you walked through a dark and misty forest, you felt transported to a different reality. The towering trees reached out with skeletal branches in the hazy atmosphere, but you didn't feel afraid and continued on to take in the sights and the rustling sounds of leaves moving in the breeze.

The mist was so thick that you could barely see where you were going, listening to the occasional hoot of an owl following you. The damp air clunged to your skin and hair, your senses on high alert.

You didn't know your destination, nor how and when you ended up in that place. All you knew was that you wanted to continue walking and get out of the forest to find what was waiting for you ahead.

As you sprinted through the woods, your heart pounding with excitement and adrenaline, you saw a glimmer of light in the distance. You picked up your pace, your feet moving faster and faster until you burst out of the forest and into a natural clearing with a suspended bridge, stretching across a murky swamp.

Two brick houses stood on either side of the bridge, looking like something straight out of a medieval fairytale. The sky above was filled with clouds that danced and converged into a sort of twist, creating a mesmerizing pattern that you couldn't take your eyes off.

You crossed the bridge and were immediately struck by the gloom that surrounded you. Dry leaves crunched beneath your feet, fallen branches littered the ground and decaying ornaments were scattered throughout the area. The overall effect was one of abandonment and you started to wonder if you were alone in that unknown land.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden and explosive roar, which echoed through the sky not far from where you were standing. You saw a dark figure plummeting towards you when you looked up and you couldn’t immediatly make out what it was. As it drew closer, it shaped into a winged creature unlike any you'd ever seen before.

The animal landed heavily on the ground, which shook under its claws. You took a few steps backward, but in your panic, you found yourself stuck in the garden with nowhere else to go. The creature’s wings were not particularly big, but the head was massive and you could already feel its hot breath as it moved closer.

Desperately trying to get away, you stumbled over a branch and fell on your bottom almost comically (but strangely, you felt nothing). You were rendered inert by fear the moment the creature approached you, sniffing your clothes with its large nostrils and stopping just a few inches away from your face.

Your heart was about to explode, but you didn’t react, unsure of what to do. The strange animal watched you with curiosity, its big and shiny eyes looked almost human-like, not at all threatening. You decided to take a chance and tentatively reached out your hand to touch its nose. Its skin was thick and rough, warm and bumpy. To your surprise, the creature responded with a happy, guttural sound that filled the air, smiling at you and jumping up and down.

You let out a sigh of relief and chuckled in amusement, it was surprisingly cute! You lifted yourself from the ground and stood before the animal, it was big and tall even if it wasn't fully standing on its legs. The creature bumped its nose against your chin and you laughed, taking its head between your hands and gently brushed them along the reptile’s face.

“Gregory! Is everything all right?”

You heard footsteps approaching from behind the creature. Two men appeared in the garden and froze on the spot, staring at you with surprise and confusion. It was clear that they weren't expecting anyone to be trespassing on their property, but they didn’t seem dangerous or hostile.

Both of them had slicked-back dark hair and long beards. One was dressed in a sleeveless green vest with a white shirt underneath, while the other wore a grey jacket and a red scarf around his neck. Their suits looked like they belonged to a distant era, quite a strong contrast with your modern attire.

“Hello,” you greeted them politely. “My apologies for the intrusion. I think I got lost.”

They were completely stunned, to say the least. They gazed at you as if you were a mirage or some sort of illusion. It took them a moment to answer you.

“We… we have a visitor…?” The man with the jacket said.

“It cannot be…” Said the other.

You laughed nervously. “I shouldn’t be here, I’m sorry.”

As you turned to leave, one of them spoke up. “Wait! Please don’t go. We’ve been alone here for so long… We’re not used to visitors anymore.”

Your eyes moved back and forth, from one man to the other. “What is this place?” you asked.

The man with the sleeveless vest responded. “This is the Dreaming, Milady. ”

Didn’t you already hear that before?

“The Dreaming…? Am I asleep?”

They both nodded.

You stood there lost in your own thoughts, gently caressing the face of the animal beside you.

“Have I been here before?”

The man with the jacket took a step forward. “Not here with us, no. Things are a little… different than they used to be without Lord Morpheus.”

“Lord Morpheus…?”

Again, you had a feeling that you'd heard that name somewhere else, but you couldn't quite recall the details of when or where.

"The King of Dreams abandoned us a long time ago and the Dreaming has been deteriorating ever since. No more dreamers have shown up at our door.”

The man with the vest's face began to visibly show anger, while the other seemed to be more sad than resentful.

“But today is a good day, because someone did show up!”

You smiled at them. The creature responded with another happy jump and a pleased growl, as if showing its approval for your arrival.

“Ah, our Gregory seems to like you!”

“Gregory? That’s a nice name. What kind of animal is he?”

The man in the jacket walked closer and tenderly patted Gregory on the back. “He’s a gargoyle! Such a good boy, isn’t he?”

As you stood in front of Gregory, you felt a sense of adoration for the magnificent creature. Despite his size and initially daunting presence, he approached you with the excitement of an oversized dog, eagerly welcoming you into his presence.

The man in the jacket spoke again. "I'm Able, by the way. This is my brother, Cain."

Cain smirked. "Greetings."

"Y/N," you replied, pondering whether their names had any connection to the well-known biblical figures, or if their mother was simply inspired by their original story. Since you were aware that you were dreaming now, nothing seemed particularly out of place in your thoughts. That’s just how dreams are, right?

Cain motioned for you to follow him to his home, which was one of the two enigmatic buildings you had spotted while crossing the bridge. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

You took a deep breath and let yourself relax as your host guided you into his home, with Able walking in after you. The moment you stepped inside, you were enveloped by the warm and inviting aroma of freshly baked biscuits and tea. The inside looked rather spacious, it felt intimate and cozy with the woodsy scent of the room adding to the feeling of comfort.

As you settled in front of the fireplace, the warmth emanating from it wrapped around your entire body, providing a much-needed respite from the cold and damp weather outside. The sound of distant thunder grew louder as a sudden downpour erupted from the raging sky, the raindrops pelting against the windowpanes in a rhythmic beat. Looking out one of the small windows, you caught a glimpse of Gregory running away from the rain and disappearing somewhere into the garden among the trees.

Able sat next to you. “It’s really nice by the fire.”

Cain snorted. “Of course it is, powder brain. It's exceedingly cozy.”

Able shrugged and reached for the teapot on the wooden table. "Here's your tea, just the way you like it," he said with a smile.

And he wasn't lying. As you gently took the mug he filled for you between your hands, you were hit by the familiar scent of tea that you regularly had in the real world.

“You can take your shoes off, if that's more comfortable for you.”

Cain snapped. “Absolutely not, this isn't a barnyard!”

You could feel the warmth of the tea on your palms and the hot steam on your face. Your senses were heightened and everything was more vivid than you thought possible in a dream. The taste of the tea was just as good as what you would expect in reality - perhaps even better. It seemed to have a depth of flavor that you had never experienced while being awake.

The two men were nice too, welcoming and friendly.

Cain took a seat in front of you by the fire. “Now that everyone appears to be settled, we can tell you the first story. Our story begins-”

“Oh, our friend here already knows who we are,” Able interrupted him, looking at you with a pleased expression. “You look smart, even sleeping.”

Your cheeks turned pink as you smiled.

“Yes, yes I can see,” Cain continued. “Well, I was a farmer.”

”And I was shepherd,” said Able.

“We were competitive, as all brothers can be.”

“I don’t think most brothers are like you at all…”

“You are ruining the story!”

Their random bickering was entertaining to watch, their presence offered you good company in an unfamiliar world.

Cain let out a deep sigh, his eyes transfixed on the raindrops that were sliding down the windowpane, tracing their path as they went. The pitter-patter of the rain against the glass seemed to fill the air with a melancholic melody that matched Cain's mood.

Able followed his brother’s gaze. “It's really coming down out there.”

“I'll brew another pot of tea,” Cain stood up, breaking his trance from the rain. He picked up the half-empty pot and turned around, making his way to the kitchen to prepare a refill for the three of you. “it's a boring story anyway. I've told it a thousand times.”

You believed there was no such thing as a boring story, but you failed to express your sentiment and your mind started to feel clouded.

Able shook his head. “Don’t mind him. You stay in dream as long as you like.”

You wanted to express gratitude, but found yourself tongue-tied. You set the mug down on the table and your vision became unclear, everything around you lost its sharpness and your fingers looked incredibly weird. Although Able was speaking, his voice seemed too far away and you felt as if you were submerged underwater. The distance between you and Cain's house was growing, you were floating in a sea of confusing images, shaping and moving uncontrollably.

When you opened your eyes, you were greeted by the bookshelf in the living room and your father's snoring was loud in your ear. You blinked several times to focus and shake off the disorientation. You were certain that you had seen something, dreamt it even… but the more you tried to recall it, the more it slipped away from you. The name "Gregory" was the only thing that remained vivid in your mind, along with the lingering taste of tea at the back of your tongue.

Strange, considering you didn’t make any.

You took a deep breath and retrieved the book that had fallen onto the cushions. Although your insomnia still troubled you at night, you had begun to notice a pattern of random naps during the day. Maybe your body was so fatigued that it seized any opportunity for rest and relaxation when you didn’t have work to do, or maybe Dream's influence in your life was more powerful than you had imagined.

Somehow, you were inclined to believe it was the latter.

As the days passed, you found yourself remembering fragments from your forgotten dreams. These recollections were sporadic, a sudden flash of images passing before your eyes like distant memories.

Did you actually see those things at all, or were they just some metaphorical visions from your subconscious mind?

You knew Dream wouldn't answer any of the questions that had been plaguing you for weeks, but he was the only living being that could at least understand what you were trying to put together.

During your last visits, the guards had stopped granting you the privacy you had requested. Upon further inquiry, you found out that Mr. Burgess himself had directly imposed a similar restriction out of nowhere. Given the growing suspicion he was developing against you, that sudden decision didn’t exactly come as a surprise to you. Any excuse related to your well being was beyond ridiculous, but you could only comply with what he wanted.

Despite the added pressure of being watched, you continued to visit the Endless whenever possible, keeping your voice low in hopes that they wouldn’t hear you.

During your most recent conversation with him, you described the detailed images that kept recurring in your mind. Although you weren't certain if those were actual dreams, he was taken aback by your descriptions and you could tell that he knew exactly what you were talking about. Somehow, that also led you to believe that you had gained access to something really big, something you didn’t even know how you could reach after a lifetime or dreamless nights with him sealed away.

You didn't want to be delusional, but Dream's eyes always seemed to soften whenever you were around. It was a truly inexplicable experience; you intuitively perceived his thoughts and managed to understand him just based on his body language and the way he looked at you. You had never felt such a strong bond with someone you hadn't even heard speaking once, it was a compelling sensation that continued expanding with time, leaving you longing for more.

But it also amplified your discomfort for your total inaction. Despite asking for his trust, you failed to provide anything that would warrant his faith in you. This lack of follow-through on your part was leaving you with the sense that you had let him down in some way and it was devouring you from the inside.

In an effort to address the situation, you decided to apologize to him. You expressed your regret, explaining that you had attempted to convince Mr. Burgess to change course, but your efforts had been unsuccessful. You were even contemplating rejecting the money they were still offering for your assistance, as it made you feel like you were just as bad as Roderick Burgess, gaining profit from his imprisonment.

You lowered your gaze and let out a shaking sigh, placing your forehead against the cold material of the sphere. You weren’t expecting much in return, but to your surprise, you saw his hand moving towards the glass. Witnessing this gesture of empathy, your heart warmed up and you could barely contain the joy coating it.

You smiled, sliding your fingers up to where his were waiting and let them rest just there. Your hand against his appeared small and delicate, which only made you desire to feel the contact of his skin. You longed for his fingers to intertwine with yours, bringing you closer together. You yearned to feel his heart, assuming he had one like humans do, and brush the tip of your nose along his cheek.

It was as if you were falling in love for the first time all over again.

Dream stared back at you without blinking or smiling. And yet, his eyes glistened under the dim light above and his Adam's apple bobbed, leaving you with no doubt about the honesty of his feelings.

The intensity of the moment was so strong that you literally snapped out of it when the guard called you from the other side of the platform.

“Oi. Get a room, shall ya?”

You rolled your eyes, cleared your throat and reluctantly moved your hand away from the glass. Dream did the same, looking away and clenching his jaw.

You turned slightly, glaring at the guard from afar. “Why, are you jealous?”

At least this time he didn’t point a gun at you.

The man didn't respond, but instead, snorted and crossed his arms in a pompous manner. The woman sitting next to him was giggling like a schoolgirl, adding to your frustration.

You gazed at Dream, disappointment and resignation written all over your face. His posture revealed the desperation he had been suffocating for many years.

"I should probably go," you told him, your lack of enthusiasm was evident in your voice. “See you tomorrow.”

Parting ways with him always felt like torture, knowing that you were leaving him trapped and mistreated every single time. You just wanted to free him from his cage and hold him close, feeling his warmth, scent and breath on your lips.

And yet, you found yourself turning on your heels once more, leaving Dream alone with those two individuals who only saw him as nothing more than a cash cow.

But as you walked away, you didn't notice a bit of paint from the bounding circle had ended up under one of your shoes. Dream, however, was looking at the very subtle smear that was starting to form on the ground, causing the left corner of his mouth to rise up.

Another month went by and your life had become awfully repetitive.

You were working in the mansion from morning until late evening, running back and forth between Wych Cross and the city, serving guests and venturing down to the basement over and over again. But your salary was something to be more than satisfied about and your father's health was only improving with each passing day. These factors, combined with Dream being a stable part of your daily routine now, made all your efforts and physical exertion worth it.

That was, until one fateful night.

Mr. Burgess's and Mr. McGuire's "friends" were partying in the main resting area, enjoying drinks, snacks and various conversations about things that only made you cringe the more you listened to them.

There was a guest in particular who seemed to be captivated by your presence. He was in his mid-40s, showing up with a new branded suit every time. You couldn't ignore the fact that his eyes were constantly searching for you, and he even tried to strike up a conversation whenever you stopped next to him to clean up.

You had to politely turn him down at least three times, using your duties as a pretext to avoid his annoying advances.

The man was a regular visitor to the mansion, but before that moment, he had never shown any interest in you. Perhaps he had too many drinks and lost his lucidity, or maybe you had been too naive to even notice his glances the times he was there.

Things took an unpleasant turn when you went to the kitchen to refill the tray with fresh food and a couple more bottles of prestigious wine. He took advantage of the loud chattering and general distraction in the other room and followed you through the corridors like a silent predator. Sneaking into the kitchen, he stopped just a few inches away from you without even announcing his presence. When you turned around, you almost crashed into him and barely avoided splattering the food all over your uniform.

He was too close for comfort, staring at you with a pair of darkened, hungry eyes.

The chef's shift had finished half an hour before, leaving you alone with that man now who didn’t seem to have good intentions at all.

"Sir, you shouldn't be here," you told him firmly. "If you want something, I can bring it to you in the living room."

He snickered evilly. "Oh come on. Don't pretend to be all innocent now."

"I'm sorry, but you are misunderstanding," you said.

He moved closer and placed his nasty fingers on your waist. "Misunderstanding my ass. How about we have a little fun?" The smell of booze coming from his breath was nauseating.

You held the tray with all your might and tried to slip away from his grasp. Despite how drunk and unbalanced he appeared to be, his grip was quite strong on you and he started to push you against the wall.

"Sir, please let me go," you protested.

But he didn't want to see reason, forcing you to walk backward and causing the tray to fall with a loud crash. The bottles broke instantly, covering the floor with glass shards. The food was ruined, scattered everywhere as the wine spread into a big red puddle that almost resembled blood.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You squirmed between his arms, but he refused to let you go.

He sniffed your neck like an animal, ready to taste its victim. "Stop pretending. I know you want this."

You started to panic. The hard wall against your back was rather painful, so you finally threw away all your professionalism and shoved him off of you as hard as you could.

"Get away from me!"

The man stumbled, his expression immediately switching to full rage mode. "You damn bitch!"

He grabbed your wrist and yanked it so hard that you could feel it twist and crack slightly. The force in his gesture pulled you forward and knocked you down onto the floor, soaking your shirt and the tips of your hair with wine in the process. You felt a sharp sting on your back, indicating that a piece of glass was most likely piercing your skin through your clothes. Smaller shards were scratching your arms, pricking you like a bunch of small needles.

For a moment, you couldn’t even breathe from the impact. Judging by the way you could still move your limbs, there didn’t seem to be anything broken, but your wrist was burning like fire, your shoulder was most likely dislocated and some drops of your blood were staining the already dirty tiles, mixing with the wine.

You didn’t know what to expect. His state of utter confusion made him horribly aggressive, assaulting you out of nowhere and without warning. At that point, you didn't want to consider the possibilities of what he could have done to you.

But before he could kneel down and climb on your inert body, Paul’s voice boomed into the kitchen from the entrance.

“What is going on here?!” His tone was filled with authority and concern.

The man froze, looking at Paul and then back at you. He ran his hand through his disheveled hair and nervously adjusted his partially undone tie. "I-uhh.... She... she tried to jump on me. I-I didn't mean to push her so hard," he stammered.

"What?!" you exclaimed in disbelief.

"And what were you doing here in the kitchen?" Paul asked skeptically.

The man was sweating profusely. "Well, I... I wanted to get a drink-"

"This house is not a place for you to explore without permission."

You pushed yourself up with your elbows, your head spinning and your wrist throbbing with pain.

"Paul, my friend. Come on, you wouldn't seriously believe that I'd do anything bad," the man pleaded.

You saw Mr. McGuire take a deep breath, trying to calm himself down as he pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes. If looks could kill, the man would have been dead right in that instant.

"Get out of my house," He said, his voice filled with so much anger that it almost shook you.

“B-but I-”

“I’ll bid a cab. You take your leave and never show your face again. Is that clear?”

The man was stunned. He dropped his head and nodded silently as Mr. McGuire escorted him out of the kitchen. He promised to return with Mr. Burgess's doctor right away, so you were left sitting on the floor, your heart beating like a drum and your body shaking uncontrollably. You held your wrist tightly against your chest, trying to steady your breathing and ease the pain in your shoulder that felt like it needed a good pull. You could smell the wine all over your clothes, feeling it seeping through the fabric and sticking to your body.

When Paul returned, he crouched down next to you and gently placed a warm hand over your good shoulder. The doctor took hold of your wrist and examined it carefully, twisting it slowly and causing a pained groan to escape from you.

They helped you stand, accompanying you to your room for better care and examination. It was discovered that your shoulder was indeed partially dislocated and although the procedure to fix it was quick, it wasn’t entirely pain-free. Your wrist was sprained due to the man's hard pull, so you were advised to use good bandages, an ice package and a pain relief cream to help with the healing process. With a sling also put on your shoulder, you needed to let your whole arm rest for a few days.

The piece of glass that had injured your back was stuck between the uniform and your skin, the thickness of your shirt preventing it from going deeper. Although the cut wasn't severe, you were certain you'd be left with a small scar there.

The tiny scratches on your arms were cleaned and disinfected properly. The doctor didn’t need to cover them with a bandaid, but your skin appeared as though it had been grated.

After the woman left, an awful silence fell over you. You were lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, unsure of what to say or do. Mr. McGuire took a seat on the chair next to you, his face was etched with pain, guilt and apprehension.

You sensed that he wanted to say something, to break the tension that had settled on the room. Finally, he let out a deep sigh and you turned your head to look at him.

"Y/N, I am so sorry for what happened. This is entirely my fault.”

You noticed that he had called you by your name for the first time, without even using "Miss" to address you.

"I've been inviting these people over because I wanted Alex to socialize," He explained. "He never considered them close friends, and we always knew they were only interested in what we could offer rather than our company. But you see, I was at least hoping that he could take his mind off all the things that are troubling him.”

You sighed. “Mr. McGuire-”

“I should have protected you. You are working for us and keeping you safe is our responsibility. But I allowed that to happen because I was so lost in my own head that I didn’t even notice he was following you,” Paul lamented.

“Sir-”

“Please forgive me. I wish I could say or do something better, but I can only apologize to you.”

“Paul.”

You thought to yourself that now was not the time to be formal with someone who had proven to be a good friend more than a common employer.

“It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t imagine he would do this to me," you reassured him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am supposed to keep an eye on you."

"You talk as if I need protection 24/7. You hired me to be a housemaid, nobody expects you to be my bodyguard and keep my every movement in check," you pointed out.

Paul was distraught, his left foot was rapidly jumping up and down, as if he wanted to make a hole in the wooden boards. "I just wanted you to feel comfortable here with us. Knowing that one of my guests assaulted you like that..."

You bit your lower lip. "What's done is done. And what that man did, or tried to do, isn't really your responsibility. "

He chuckled. "I'm not sure I deserve your kindness after tonight."

"Why not? You stopped him."

"I'm not the good man you think I am, Y/N."

"Yes, you are.”

Paul surrendered, letting his back rest against the chair as he finally relaxed after a long and emotionally exhausting day. The silence that followed was complicit, an unspoken agreement that solidified the mutual respect you had for each other.

You could tell that Paul didn't want to leave you alone after the traumatic experience you had endured, but what you really needed now was a shower to get rid of the wine that had already dried off and was making you smell like a vineyard from head to toe.

After stepping into the shower, you were grateful for the privacy of the bathroom in your own room. With caution, you removed the sling and turned on the water, ensuring that your bandage and medication around the wrist did not get wet. As the water ran along your hair and slid down on your body, it washed away the wine, but not the misery and disgust that still lingered on your aching frame. The cuts were already healing, but they were extremely painful under the hot jet.

It became clear that Fawney Rig was not the place for you, not after that night. The environment and culture were not aligned with your values and aspirations and paying a rent for an apartment you weren’t even using was a waste you didn’t really want to further prolong.

Having the rest of the evening to yourself, you thought about going to Dream to satiate your need for comfort. You decided against it though, because you didn't want him to see you in your current physical and emotional state.

You put on your nightgown and sat on the edge of the bed with a towel wrapped around your hair, the sling back in place. You took out your phone and checked the message that Hob had forwarded you a few days before, as he was the person you truly wanted to talk to at that moment. Although you promised him that you wouldn't disappear again, you failed to maintain proper contact and even forgot to answer his last text. Hob never tried to call you, nor was he the type of guy who texted people over and over again until they finally reached out to him. You knew he was worried sick about you and you wanted to let him know that you were at least okay.

But were you really okay? Your body being a little worse for wear was one thing, but the bottles of wine weren't the only things that broke into a thousand pieces. You felt empty, completely lost and utterly devastated. Your pride had been immensely damaged and your entire self-confidence had crumbled like a sandcastle.

You tapped on your phone and opened the first conversation. Hob’s profile picture appeared at the top left corner, looking as charming and professional as ever. There was a time when you thought you were developing a little crush on him, but eventually, you realized that he was more like family to you than a potential lover.

You read through his text again, figuring out a way to answer.

You began typing your reply, but then stopped midway. You contemplated what you wanted to say, deleting your words and trying again with a newly formed sentence. On your fifth try, you closed the conversation and opened your contact list directly, selecting his name and initiating a call. You heard the sound of a free line as you placed your phone against your ear, waiting for him to pick up.

Assuming he was already in bed considering the time, you let out a pained sigh and lowered the phone when he didn't reply. However, before you could press the red handset to end the call, you heard a familiar voice coming through the speaker.“Y/N?”

Your heart sped up and you immediately brought the device back to your ear. “Hob?”

“Bloody hell, Shortcake! You left me on read, where have you been?!”

You smiled, his caring nature managing to fill your heart with excitement. You needed it now more than ever.

“Hey. Sorry for going silent again. Work’s been keeping me rather busy.”

He let out a long sigh. “My dear, you sound tired as fuck. Are you okay?”

You wanted to tell him that you were absolutely fine. You wanted to reassure him and lift the worry he constantly carried for you. You parted your lips, ready to deliver the most positive answer you could think of, but the words just didn't want to come out.

You swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat. “Yes,” you finally said. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, seriously now. Don’t think I didn’t notice that pause. What happened?” He asked.

You were practically an open book to him, and you were absolutely terrible at hiding the way you felt.

The truth was that you wanted to scream, to cry, to punch something so hard that the entire house would fall down. There was so much you wanted to tell him, but you absolutely couldn't reveal all of it. Having secrets with the ones you cared about was something you could barely handle, so you only revealed the part that didn't need to be kept secure.

“Well, you see, there was an accident,” you confessed.

“What? What accident? Are you hurt?!” He was literally panicking now.

“I’m okay... sort of. Just a few scratches here and there, nothing to be worried about.”

You could feel his nervous laughter coming through the speaker. "Are you kidding me?! Of course I'm worried! Tell me everything. Now.”

Your mind went back to where everything started — to the glances that man gave you throughout the night, to the way he followed you to the kitchen, drunk and reeking. To his nasty hands over your waist as they pushed you against the wall and him abruptly grabbing your wrist, pulling you face down on the dirty floor.

You told him all that and more. You opened up about your fear of failing every time, about how much you tried to fit in, to ignore the differences between their world and yours. You admitted your strong desire to pack all your things and walk away, only kept at bay by something else you needed to take care of.

Hob listened silently until you were done. After a moment of evident shock, his voice came through the phone, louder and more agitated than before. “Y/N, are you crazy?! You can’t stay there, what the hell?!”

“I know Hob. But like I said, I can’t bring myself to leave just yet.”

“That bloody asshole assaulted you in your workplace and you got injured because of him! Do you really want to stay in such a toxic environment, only because they pay you more than anyone else would?”

You sighed. “Actually, it’s not that. Not anymore.”

“Then what is it?”

Maybe, just maybe, you were allowed to alter the story a little bit.

You closed your eyes, breathed in deeply and let your feelings spill out like a raging river. “Hob, I think I’m in love.”

You could almost hear the sound of his jaw hitting the floor. “You what?!”

You chuckled. “I know, it’s absurd.”

“Hold on a second. Shortcake, what are you talking about? Did you actually meet someone in that shithole?”

If only he could have known.

“I did.”

"And you want to stay, because of this lad?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. You were feeling foolish for admitting it out loud. "I know it's silly, but I can't help the way I feel.”

Dream had become such an important part of your life without even trying. You were in awe of him, mesmerized by his power and enigma. He was more than a God, the King of Dreams and Nightmares who you only read about when you were a child, then again when you retrieved that book from your old bookshelf. A being so powerful that he could literally shape an entire world from the ground up, so extraordinary that his grandness was far from your reach. His presence alone was enough to fill you with wonder, as if you were standing before an unfathomable force of nature.

He was a friend, a confidante, a source of comfort in times of need. Somehow, he was inspiring you to reach for greater heights, and you wished he could follow you in your journey for many years to come, guiding you through the twists and turns of existence.

But it was just a beautiful daydream. As you were on the cusp of closing that chapter of your life, there came a point where you could no longer ignore the inevitable approaching. You had to face it head-on, acknowledge it, and find a way to move forward on your own legs.

And it hurt you tremendously. “I love him, Hob. I really do.”

Love is a complex emotion that has the power to lift us up to the highest of highs and bring us crashing down to the lowest of lows. It is both beautiful and dangerous, bringing with it joy and happiness as well as heartache and pain.

You were feeling both ecstatic and terrified experiencing this new form of love after a long time. It was as if you were on top of the world and standing on the edge of a cliff simultaneously. Despite a part of you feeling complete and alive, you knew that this love was bound to end before it could even begin.

“Oh, Y/N.”

Hob was incredulous, but your sincerity had moved him deeply.

“I’ve known you for quite some time now and I’ve never heard you speak so fondly of someone before.”

So far, he had only witnessed a very brief flirtation with a man you had dated for a short period of time. Whenever he offered you the chance to meet one of his friends or coworkers, you always turned him down in fear of another waste of time you didn’t have the mental strength to deal with once more.

“I’m not going to lie to you; things are complicated between us right now. But there is something I must do before leaving, or I will regret it for the rest of my life.”

You could hear him smiling, breathing softly into the speaker. “I’ve been in love too. I know exacly how you feel.”

Although your story was far-fetched, Hob didn't want to pry and no questions were asked about the man who made you fall so hard.

The shock and dejecton were crushing you from within, but instead of wallowing in those emotions, you spent the next hour on the phone with your friend, who provided you with the perfect balance of humor and support. His jokes and words of encouragement were just what you needed to ease the burden weighting on you, his presence and the way he always knew how to make you feel better were absolutely indispensable.

When you noticed the tiredness in his voice, you thanked him for the company, wished him a good night and hung up the call, letting his uplifting words sink in.

He reminded you of your courage, allowing you to fight through your hardships instead of drowning in them. You were sensitive, compassionate and caring. You had nothing to reproach yourself for regarding how things turned out at the Burgess mansion.

Despite knowing this, there was still a voice in your head telling you that you could have tried a little harder, especially with Dream and the entire situation surrounding him.

Now you were injured and uncertain about the future, wondering how you would even face him looking like a total wreck.

After removing the towel, you brushed your hair with one hand while the sling kept your other arm firmly in place. You then got under the covers without bothering to use a hairdryer, as you massaged your sprained wrist in a circular motion. You could feel the nerves protesting and pulling under your skin, your upper arms stinging from what seemed like little electric shocks and the fabric of your nightgown rubbing against the small cut on your back, which made it burn unpleasantly even with the coverage that had been applied. Despite your efforts, you couldn't find a comfortable position that didn't make your body scream and twitch uncomfortably.

The more you thought about it, the more it resembled a movie that you had been watching from afar. It had happened so quickly and suddenly that you were still trying to come to terms with it all.

Objectively speaking, you had many things to be grateful for, especially now that you were succeeding in accomplishing what you truly wanted when you accepted to work for Alex Burgess. However, apart from the environment not matching your standards and being away from the city almost all week, something inside of you had clearly changed drastically since meeting Dream. It was more than just the feelings you had developed for him, more than a simple crush for an attractive “man” that you thought about all day. He was the answer to the many questions that formed in your mind about life and humanity, someone you had so much to learn from and were looking up to.

A creature you still knew so very little about, someone you weren’t even allowed to touch.

You closed your eyes, slowly falling into a deep sleep as your body finally started to succumb to exhaustion.

That night, you had no dream, floating into nothingness and sucked into a dark vortex.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 (currently reading) Chapter 5 ->

Read on AO3!

[rametarin]

Speaking as an OG Silent Hill 2 superfan

let people enjoy things. God damn.

Silent Hill 2 was always great, but it's not a cinematic masterpiece. It's fantastic, but not flawless.

It's a tribute and loveletter to David Lynch and many American things, via the Japanese developers and writers. It is, objectively, great. But it's not a holy relic.

Treat the remake like what it is. It's the original story but with some creative liberties. It can't possibly live up to what the fans imagine it to be, because the fans have wallowed in that fandom for over two decades now putting it up on a pedestal. It cannot possibly live up to the original.

But that's what remakes are. Imperfect attempts by other people that liked the source. It isn't the original Team Silent's vision, and truth be told, its success may've given Konami a bit of imposter syndrome, as they weren't sure what secret sauce they added to MAKE it so endearing to western audiences.

And quite frankly the fandom has driven the OG artists and writers bonkers over the last 20 years screaming about Pyramid Head. I feel bad even seeing them on twitter because HO-LY shit.

The remake may be imperfect. It may emphasize some things that as a fan you thought were already perfect. It may underutilize some stuff you loved about the orignal. But this is like what lovers of a play experience when a theater and its culture and crew perform it in their own way. Many of the same ingredients and story are there, imperfectly. But that's kind of par for the course.

Treat it as a retelling and an alternative take by different creators, who absolutely cannot live up to fill the shoes of the original. It's okay. It's fine. That's good.

I'm just happy people are enjoying the story again. It will have impact on a whole new generation that wasn't around to enjoy the original when the visuals were current and marvelous for the time (but are clunky and chunky now.) People are TALKING about it. People are ENJOYING it. People are endeared to it!

And even better, it gave a Polish studio an opportunity to get in the door.

I'm not for excusing walking simulators and visually polished but hollow games and stories. But for fucks sake, they aren't phoning it in.

[the-kcm-muggleborn]

Kind For You

Fandom: Hogwarts Legacy

O/C: Sebastian Sallow x Edwart Thompson x Ominis Gaunt ✨️platonic✨️ (My OC)

Warnings: None:}

Word count: 1k>

Chapter 3

Part 2

Edwart finally made it to Hogsmeade after a short conversation with Sirona in the Three Broomsticks. He learned he might find Lodgok in the Hog's Head. Which he did.

“Can I help you with something?” Lodgok said with a raised eyebrow.

“Hello, Lodgok. Sirona Ryan said I might find you were.”

“She did, did she? Did she send you with news?”

“No actually. I wanted to speak with you about something else” Edwart lowered his voice “About Ranrok.”

Lodgok furrowed his eyebrows. “Seems you have business with me. Sit, sit.”

Edwart sat on a small chair across from Lodgok as he continued. “Now I remember That troll attack. You're the student he's after.”

“I am. And I need to know what he and his loyalists are up to. I have to stay one step ahead”

“Let's say I did know. Why should I trust you?”

“Because Sirona does. And if you do not help me all our futures might depend on it. I am sure you are well aware of what Ranrok is doing. Not only to the wizard kind… If that’s not enough of a reason for you to help me. Sirona also mentioned that our interests might be aligned.”

“Well if Sirona thinks we have common goals. Then perhaps it is possible to trust each other.” 

“Very well. I may know of something that could help us both.”

“I'm listening,” Edwart said flatly.

“A way to get Ranrok to confide his plans to me. Years ago, a heinous witch stole a sacred goblin relic. Rumour has it that it now rests in her sarcophagus Ranrok and I had a - falling out - a while back. The relic could well repair the chasm between us. in a tomb accessible only by wizardkind.”

“If I retrieve the relic. How do I know you'll tell me the truth about what Ranrok says?”

“We will have to trust each other. I, that you will not abscond with the relic and you that I'll share what I learn.”

Edwart was getting annoyed but he kept his cool. He could not afford to blow this.

“No Lodgok. It's different. I only care about information that you have, not treasure whatever it might be. You could betray me thousands of different times. Just disappear after a stupid and naive student retrieves what you need.” Edwart exhaled deeply. 

“I understand your point. But you just have to trust me." Edwart internally groaned. Why did everything have to be about trust. Lodgok continued. "After you retrieve the helmet. I’ll return to Ranrok to try and mend things. The answers you need won't be instant. Hope you realise that.”

“Alright. How do you want to do that?” Edwart felt like a fool, agreeing to such a half-baked plan that would most likely lead to nothing else than danger.

“Gather whatever supplies you may need and meet me near the witch's tomb.” with that Lodgok stood up and left.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Edwart was feeling blood dripping down his arm. He ran out of Wiggenweld a while back. The Ashwinders who had Lodgok's helmet fought aggressively and relentlessly which did bruise Edwart severally. He was currently quietly sneaking past prefects to reach the Undercroft. It was closer than the Room Of Requirement and he did just leave there a small crate of Wiggenweld potions. Just in case. Just in case of a situation like this. That was definitely more than he bargained for. And for now, Lodgok indeed did not share anything new about Ranrok’s plans. Finally, Edwart reached the Undercroft as he grabbed a few Wiggenweld from his crate. He sat down under one of the pillars. As he took a swig of one of the healing potions. He suddenly heard a voice that made him choke.

“Edwart? Is that you?” Ominis’s voice suddenly sounded through the calm ambience of the Undercroft. 

“Ominis! What are you doing here?” Edwart could feel panic rising in his body.

"I could ask you the same thing.” He said flatly. “What are you doing here so late? Why did you skip dinner again? And why are you on the floor?”

Edwart took a deep breath. As he started to feel his head pounding. “You want the long story or the short story?”

Ominis took a moment to answer before he sat next to Edwart and asked flatly “Where are you hurt?” 

Edwart did not expect that. He expected anything else. Screaming, anger, pretence  anything other than genuine worry. It was unfamiliar. “I-” Edwarts voice sounded weirdly quiet. “I was bleeding from my arm. Other than that I just have a few bruises. I’ll be fine, I just need to breathe for a moment.”

Ominis frowned and leaned against a pillar like Edwart did. It took a few more deep breaths before Ominis asked again. “Are you positive, you are okay?” 

Edwart just smiled tiredly. And spoke quietly. “I'm fine. I'm just tired…” They were sitting in a comfortable silence for a moment but Edwart felt Ominis had a question he was dying to ask. 

"Ominis." Edwart chuckled. "You clearly have a question you want to ask me. So shoot."

“Would you mind if I examine your arm?” Ominis blurred out. 

Edwart was so exhausted after the fight he barely comprehended the weight of Ominis's question. “But that would require me to undress.” Edwart said with a chuckle “Are you trying to undress me, Mister Gaunt?” 

“Oh yes.” Ominis grinned. “I am simply dying to see you indecent.”

“Alright then. You asked for it.” As much as deep down, Edwart was feeling uneasy taking his upper clothes off, Ominis was a guy who weirdly enough didn't make Edwart feel uncomfortable. Ed didn't want anyone seeing his ‘battle scars’ even though that wasn't the case with Ominis. There was something that made Edwart nervous.

“Can you lead me to your injury?” Ominis said with a focused face.

Edwart swallowed thickly and took Ominis’s hand that was holding a wand to point at the hurting cut that was from Edwart’s shoulder to his bicep. “So this is how you ‘see’ the world?” Edwart asked with a small groan “With your wand? It leads you.”

Ominis was examining Edwart’s slowly cicatrising wound but just in case he muttered an unknown to Edwart spell that wrapped bandages around his arm. Edwart winced at that. 

Ominis backed away from Edwart as he spoke. “Yes. My wand works as an extension of myself. I can navigate myself with it. I guess one could say it works like an echolocation.”

“Extraordinary,” Edwart said bewildered.

Ominis finally got up to his feet and exhaled deeply. “Are you sure you're alright?”

“Yes,” Edwart spoke quietly with a grimace. “I've probably made a mistake.”

“How so?” Ominis raised an eyebrow.

That was the moment Edwart decided it was finally time to tell Ominis everything he and Professor Fig were up to. As Ominis was listening he started pacing taking in every word Edwart was telling him.

“Let me get this in order.” Ominis finally spoke with a focused face. “You wield something called ancient magic, Ranrok and Rookwood are after you because of this ability. You're trying to stop them with the help of Professor Fig and some sort of ‘keepers’? Who are keeping something you don't know? And to top it off. The reason you got hurt today was because you are working with a goblin who's helping you gain inside information about Ranrok.” Ominis finally stopped and crossed his arms.

Edwart frowned a bit. “That about covers it. Yeah…”

“You are mad,” Ominis stated.

“Yeah. I guess I am.” Edwart looked to the side sheepishly. “It's not like I have a choice Ominis.”

“One always has a choice.” Ominis shook his head. “But I don't mean to judge you. It's just worrying how much people expect out of you.”

“Don't worry about it.” Edwart swallowed thickly knowing Ominis was right “I'm just sorry it took me so long to tell you all this.”

“That's alright. But Merlin's beard, that's a lot to take in.”

“Yeah. I guess so.” Edwart finally got up to his feet stretching. “Do you mind if I slept in here today?” 

“Not at all. You're welcome to stay here anytime you want.” Ominis smiled a bit. “I'm going to head to bed myself. I need to think…”

“Wait Ominis.” He stopped with an intrigued expression. “Please, don't tell Sebastian. I'll tell him myself soon enough.”

“Alright. I won't tell a soul. Goodnight…  Edwart.”

“Goodnight Ominis.” Edwart frowned a bit. Thinking if he did the right thing by telling Ominis.

<Part 1 /// Part 3>

MASTERLIST

- - - - - - - - - Author's notes- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Thank you for reading Part 2! I never trusted Lodgok, we helped him but he gave us ziltch informations about Ranrok. Ominis knows! I repeat Ominis knooows! Edwart got in trouble... again so Omi takes care of him! Next on Feldcroft. Don't ask me about the gif choice. There was nothing better. Thank you for reading! More to come soon.

[sonicasura]

A few ideas that came to mind for the Vessel!Knack concept. The characters most likely to get affected are those who possible bad endings, died or been in a situation which had separate their soul from the body. Now I'm going to do something a bit differently around Knack 2.

The second player or Blue Knack is a prototype vessel for the other soul in our hero's chest orb. Heavy emphasis on prototype as the moment it breaks then the other spirit returns to their previous containment and the destroyed body needs to be repaired. There are further changes than just this.

Unlike in Knack 2, this temporary vessel will mimic physical traits of the soul when using relics to increase their side. Their Sunstone powered abilities also change to fit the respective fighting style. When combining with Knack like in the game's Co-Op, the appearance and abilities are much closer to an actual fusion.

There is one more detail I sorta forgot to mention. Should Knack be in a area heavily saturated in Relic or Sunstone Energy than the spirit within his chest becomes visible to everyone around him. This 'form' acts more like a phantom as their voice can be heard but they can't interact with the outside world.

Now with that outta the way, we can truly get started.

Jonathan Joestar

Figured I start with a pick from an older fandom I'm in: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure. Couldn't resist the irony of an archaeology enthusiast awakening inside sentient ancient relics. Jonathan isn't fully aware about this new situation at the start.

His mind's really hazy during Chapter 1 of the first game. Jonathan barely get a few snippets from Knack's viewpoint so he's heavily confused about this new situation. Unlike the other picks, he becomes conscious much faster due his and our golem hero's powers being connected to sunlight.

Not exactly a good thing as frequent vision obscuring illusions(memories) throughout very hostile uncharted territory full of bottomless pits is an awful combination. Or that it makes your allies concerned about unknown glitches being left unnoticed until now. Doctor can't exactly reboot Knack.

The first swap between both souls occurs during the boss fight against the Goblin Chief. For those unaware, there is a unique martial arts in JJBA called Hamon. A breathing technique which allows one to channel sunlight like energy for various effects from healing to enhancing one's own weapons. Combine that with a golem who can channel sunlight into different forms of destructive attacks and you got a lethal force to be reckoned with.

Knack is essentially the perfect vessel for Jonathan to take his Hamon to unimaginable heights. The golem however was a bit rattled upon seeing the Goblin Chief's mech utterly destroyed in a blink of an eye(to him). A black out that continues to happen even more frequently.

Doctor and Lucas being the only ones to help piece together this strange new personality for Knack to understand. Though the story Jonathan tells is very bizarre to them with his evidence being the Hamon technique. A stone mask that turns those who wear it into an eldritch vampire and a evil foster sibling that uses said mask for world domination.

Now neither souls has seen their shared body so Jonathan is a bit suspicious about everything that has happened so far. (He thinks he is in a trap made by Dio.) At least until the golem gets tossed into the ravine and sees the spirit. Jonathan's phantom like form visibly apart from Knack's own destroys the remaining doubt.

It takes until final boss of the first game for both to become in sync. Jonathan still has difficulty trying to adjust to this new reality. You have to remember that his psychotic vampiric foster brother is loose in his world and completely unaware of what he's up to.

Knack does try to ease Jonathan's worry, usually letting the man take control so he could take a walk or blow some steam. The Joestar is quite happy once the Doctor creates his vessel as he won't lie that being cooped up without a body tends to suck. He does miss his old one but makes it work in the end.

At least Jonathan can officially try to become an archaeologist! He can't exactly stay far away from Knack but studying relics goes hand in hand with his work. A win-win situation although Jonathan might have a few bumps in the road.

Those being Knack 2 but also a destined encounter involving his past and the bloodline he left behind...

Sparda

I figured the next pick would be a character who I haven't experimented with that much. Plus someone needs to kick this devil's ass into gear at some point. Why not shove the Dark Knight's soul inside a the core of a little size shifting golem.

It takes longer for Sparda to gain consciousness since devil spirits take a bit longer to fully connect to a non human vessel. This has led to his power seeping out on occasion. Knack often finds his attacks or abilities more destructive than normal. Only warning anyone has is the chest orb's crystal flashing violet.

First swap happens at the very start of Chapter 4 once Knack connects with the giant relic in Viktor's mansion. Sparda is super confused and concerned about this new situation. He is unaware of what to his wife nor kids.

This body has another spirit inhabiting it whose already on their own respective mission. Sparda helps the group nonetheless as it may lead to more answers. Knack's a bit conflicted about him considering most of the memories he seen from the devil are quite gruesome. (Devil May Cry games in general very violent plus it took some time before Sparda decided to fight for humanity.)

It took quite awhile for Knack to become accustomed to the more brutal memories but does decide to trust Sparda in the end. He feels less instinctively isolated with the devil around from how different they are to others. A feeling that allows them to fully become in sync around Chapter 10.

Once the temporary vessel is made, Sparda's routine sums to wandering, reading or training. It is the only thing to keep him from overthinking about the family he left behind by his death. Knack does try to help Sparda with his worries even if the most the golem can do is reassurance.

The devil does drag Knack into some of his work routines which includes swordsmanship. He figured it would do some good that the young hero expands his skill set as he really doesn't have a fighting technique at all. Sparda stills retain some of his magic and often contemplates about making new Devil Arms from it.

He often tests the Doctor's new inventions mainly out of curiosity. A great way to spend some time but also experiment with the possibilities. Sparda wonders if he can incorporate Sunstones into magic or creating Devil Arms.

A thought that might decide whether the two will be ready for their new adventure. Or when the time comes for Sparda's past comes to show itself. Guess it's time to pull that Devil Trigger.

Tangeth Toborn

I decided the final example should come from a series that has faded into the background for a decade, Chaotic. The heroic lion-like Overworlder who gave up his life to save the world of Perrim: Tangeth Toborn. Lore wise, he came from a place called the Spiritlands and could only exist outside the realm through his weapon, the Sword of Kh'yat.

A blade later broken to summon him when a dangerous threat from said land came to attack Perrim. Taking this tidbit into consideration, he's the second fastest to gain consciousness as his spirit still had issues adjusting to Knack's chest orb. It did speed up the bombardment of visions between Tangeth and his new host.

Knack had to take a short break multiple times as the memories were so vivid to the point he gotten minor dysphoria. Lingering taste of foreign food, the stickiness on matted bloody fur, and hot flames that burn his flesh. Tangeth wasn't having fun either as it became apparent he's in the human world. Or at least some variation of it. (First Creature on Earth!)

First switch during the boss against the Goblin Chief like in the Jonathan scenario. Tangeth uses fire and earth elemental attacks which took some time to learn how to use again since Knack wields solar based energy. He also wanted to know the entire situation before he willingly decides to help the Doctor and Lucas.

Tangeth truly begins to open up during his shared time with Knack down in the ravine. Chaotic Players(humans) have often caused chaos for his tribe to the point that some were willing to destroy precious locations for personal gain. Knack is the only person who's able to get Tangeth to at least give this new world a chance.

Both fully synchronize with each other halfway through the last chapter of the first game. Tangeth adjusts very quickly to the prototype vessel the Doctor creates much faster than expected. He does have experience with soul binding artifacts after all.

Tangeth usually spends his time reading, exploring or training. He has some difficulty trying to adjust in a world with way fewer conflicts between its nations unlike back in Perrim. Tangeth later asks the Doctor to make him a new sword, one powered by Sunstone he calls Kiru. He swore a new oath on the blade that he protect this world from danger.

Tangeth has a tendency to drag Knack into his training sessions as he also believes the golem should learn some actual fighting styles. Why waste such potential with just simple punches and kicks? Yes, Knack ate dirt a few times cause Tangeth was a general for an army before his death so no holding back.

It definitely helps when the next adventure proves itself to be much harder than the last. Or the possibility of a certain dream episode could potentially come true in this reality. No worse way to test loyalties.

At least that's how I see all these particular scenarios.

[valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn]

I thought you might want to check out a video by Nerdrotic on YouTube, Loki Humiliated Yet Again. It's just 8 minutes long, and they go over the pie eating scene in season 2 Ep. 2, and how Loki used to be badass and a formidable presence, and how pitiful and diluted he has become. They also make a good point by pointing out that this is still supposed to be Avengers Loki who just carried out the NY invasion a few days ago? And how he is so nonchalant and blase about it, there's no weight or gravitas to what he's saying. They also bring up another good point that this is proof yet again that the writers and the MCU no longer care about the previous movies or these characters, or the fans of them. They're using these shows to completely trash what came before.

I know you're not watching season 2 (I'm not either), but it's little comforting to know that there are people out there beyond tumblr and fandom that understand how we feel. Thank you!

You're welcome, dear! Video for the lazy:

What can I say, I agree with them. That scene of the shadows kind of reminded me of President Loki in S1. I had been so disappointed during the season, looking at TVA Loki and wondering "who the hell is this guy?", and I vividly remember seeing President for the first time and thinking "OMG That's Loki, there he is!". Like, I genuinely thought the variant we had been seeing was a different Loki and the President was IW Loki, I even expected them to confirm him as such... but they never did, of course.

I don't mind him sitting down and (not) eating pie, it's his way of speech and what he's saying. I have no interest in seeing anything right now that openly laughs and mocks what came before. If we're watching the MCU now is only because we liked what came before and it attracted us enough to come for more. The last thing we want is for these new writers to mock the previous phases, this lack of sincerity is exhausting.

For us, seeing Loki throw Stark off the window is funny? Hell yeah, it is. And Stark's comments were hilarious too. But in-universe is NOT the same. Loki would not and should not be talking about it that way. Where's the guilt if he's truly remorseful? Where's the shame that he failed the invasion? And, this is crucial, he saw in the Time Theatre that that failure meant his death at the hands of Thanos. Why, if in S1E1 he openly laughed at his "glorious purpose" after seeing the scene of his death, is he now talking about the NYC invasion like "yeah well, whatever, I threw Stark off the window, what a time that was". WTF?!

Can you imagine TDW Loki talking about the invasion like that? The scene he has with Odin at the beginning of that movie (that I swear is my favourite Loki moment in the MCU, I like it even more than the relic scene in Thor1) and Loki looking at Odin and speaking this way "Yeah dude, I totally threw him off the window".

I get the feeling there's a misplaced belief in current Marvel (except for James Gunn, bless his soul) that something humorous has to be superficial, edgy and/or as sassy as possible. And I'm blaming the hell out of Ragnarok for that.

That scene (that I hadn't seen until now, holy shit, who is that guy? I don't see Loki there at all) has the feel of a teenager at high school talking to a friend about a TikTok video. He had been mindfucked by Thanos, that alone would mean talking about it would mess with him greatly, especially when Loki always had an issue with the loss of control of his own body (taken by Odin, had his physiology changed against his will, Thanos messing with his head, later imprisoned).

Ugh, I hate it. I miss TDW Loki. And I miss TDW Thor. I just miss the TDW so much.

[chocolatte-and-despair]

I just wanted to ask randomly, do you think you’ll ever update any of your books anytime soon or plan to? Or are you possibly making a new one or taking a break?

I might make a new one, but any book that I wrote with a fem reader are indefinetly in hiatus. I would need to rewrite it all from a gn pov and it wouldn't be just changing the pronouns, as my older stories include very fem centric plotlines at times, which I don't feel comfortable writing anymore.

At the time I wrote those stories, I was a very unstable teen who wanted to write something weird to describe my emotions. I also identified as fem at the time.

Because my gender identity has changed, and fem povs make me feel dysphoric, I don't feel comfortable writing from an exclusively fem point of view.

I also don't feel comfortable with my old work and don't stand with it anymore, considering I practically romanticized abuse in a very uncomfortable way, I used outdated terms and in general, it was a mess created from an unmedicated mind that wanted to write as many bad things as possible to vent my frustrations.

I like to think that I approach darker topics more tastefully now, while in the past, I just wanted to write as much edgy stuff as possible, just to satisfy an itch.

I've contemplated deleting my old works like the villainess stories, but I know many people like to re-read it and have nostalgia towards it, so I leave it as is as a relic of the past.

My newer work has the chance to be updated, but I'm in a very strange mindset these past few years where I struggle to write, even if I love doing it. I feel like people get jumpscared whenever I post a new headcanon, with how rarely that happens.

I'm trying to motivate myself to get back to this hobby that I love dearly, so look forward to possible new works, though, they might be original yan fics, considering I haven't engaged in new fandoms meaningfully for some time now.