#off to do replies and make character graphics if anyone needs me

[crestlecovehq]

Good evening! We're a small town supernatural rp that's slowly growing. I'm so happy to see people enjoying their plot drops and I can't wait to see how starters develop with them.

In the mean time, i just wanted to announce that we will now be accepting on a Wednesday and Saturday so that as admins we have time to keep up with the admin work and maintain activity on our muses. But also, i wanted to let people know that our masterlist is now live!

[shirefantasies]

This is something no one requested, but that I wrote for sheer comfort at a rush of bad memories. Warnings are fairly obvious, but this post will contain implications of abuse, though no graphic/explicit depictions.

The Hobbit Characters Finding Out You Were in an Abusive Relationship

Balin

His gaze drops from yours, but you are not offended by the pensive expression that crosses his face- what you said would take anyone time, let alone someone as thoughtful as Balin. Several heartbeats pass before he speaks. "My heart breaks for you," he begins, "that is a fate no one deserves. I can hardly begin to imagine... But what I do know is you have every right to do things at your own pace. Don't push yourself for me, love." Eyes shining, you nod. "And if I ever raise my voice at you, it'll only be for good reason, say, in a battle or because my old ears don't work so good." Giggling, you accept his proffered hand. "I admit, I can't picture you raising your voice like that at anyone." "It's happened," he jokes back, "those nephews of Thorin's have earned it a few times. But not you. I'm not here to control you, I'm here to love you, and you tell me if I'm making good on that." "It's a deal," you reply, smiling softly as Balin squeezes your hand.

Dwalin

“I know you may not understand or that my fears may seem weak-” “Weak?” Dwalin cuts you off. “Ya know who’s weak? That coward for picking on someone who loved ‘em. You are strong as hell for telling them yer done.” One final question rose to your lips. “So you don’t think differently of me?” At that, the tattooed dwarf shakes his head, placing a hand upon your shoulder and breathing your name softly even in his rough voice. “By my bear, you’re about the sweetest soul I’ve ever met and this only serves to confirm it. I’d have pummeled the sod at first insult.” “I probably should have,” you remarked, arms crossing over your midsection. “Not so fast,” Dwalin’s hand clapped over your chest, taking yours, “that’s what you have me for!” The hearty, devilishly proud laugh he burst into was enough to have you joining the mirth, your head falling gently against his.

Thorin

His eyes darken, jaw setting in a way that sends shivers of intimidation down your spine even in spite of your knowledge that it is not for you. You know it because of the way Thorin pulls you into his arms, because he breaths his condolences into your ear as he does so, warm air ticking the shell of it. "And your fire still burns," he remarks, wonder coloring his voice and shining in his blue eyes. "In a way," you reply, gaze still a bit downcast, "I use it as fuel. Never again will I be somebody's plaything." "Never indeed," Thorin agrees with a small nod, "and you may not need it, but while I remain at your side you have my sword and my word that no harm will come to you so long as I draw breath…”

Oin

His eyes go moist in a moment and he holds up his ear trumpet, clearly hoping beyond hope he heard you wrong. Hands clasping his, you shake your head. “So I’m sorry if I ever seem afraid to-” “You are sorry?” Oin asks incredulously, his tone still managing to be quiet, subdued to the volume you normally know him for. “You don’t have a damn thing to apologize for. That is not your fault in the slightest. Do you have any scars? Any bruises? I’m only asking because I want to take away your pain.” Likely it was in the past, long enough ago for those worries to fade. Scars to score only your heart. “Aye, if I can…I want to heal that, too. Treat you like the jewel you are.”

Gloin

His wide-eyed expression is almost comical despite it all, bringing a hushed, nervous chuckle past your lips. Gloin continues staring at you like you're a new creation for a moment longer, dragging the silence out until you feel you might burst. Finally, he stutters out a reply. "You- you endured all that?" "Yes, though I cannot help wondering if I could have prevented it. You see, I-" "Oh, no," Gloin cuts off your spiral, clutching your gesticulating hands and shaking his head firmly at you, "don't you dare let that coward off one bit. No one asks for anything that bastard did. They always say pressure makes a diamond, but you, my dear, were a gem far before and only shine brighter with each passing moment. Diamonds are gifts of this earth, though, not just some trinket for rich arms. If it was you or all the wealth in the Lonely Mountain, I'd choose you every time. Remember that. Please." "How could I forget words like those?" You grin at him, heart still hammering. "I will do my best to carry them in my heart."

Bifur

Soon as your confession leaves your lips, Bifur backs up from you, dismaying you with his own pain in your eyes. “Scared?” He signs, and your heart breaks anew. Quickly you step forward, bridging the gap again, and reach up to tuck some of his wild hair behind his ear. Shaking your head, you reply, “No, dear Bifur, I am not afraid. If anything, I apologize if I ever seem that way. If my nightmares frighten you and I either hold you closer or push you away. If I startle a little too easily. If I am quick to say no.” He finally tilts his head back up to look you in the eyes, moving it to the side to rest his cheek against your palm. “I, too, have nightmares. Bad things happen when I sleep,” he signs to you, “I get hurt. You get hurt. I need space sometimes, too. I may tell you no, too.” “But when you love someone,” you finish, a tearful smile rising to your face, “You want to see them fulfilled.” At that, the dwarf nods vigorously. “I love you. I never want to scare you. To hurt you.”

Bofur

“A star as bright as you?” Shaking his head, Bofur removes his hat, clutching it in both hands. “Guess that’s beside the point. Someone like that only thinks o’ themselves. But hey, you know that wasn’t your fault, right?” You just nod. “And the fact that you still give your heart to everyone… you’re nothin’ short of amazing.” Tearing up, you burst into a smile, exhaling your relief and falling into Bofur’s open arms. “Was gonna do it anyway,” he mumbles into your neck, “but I want you to know that I’ll treat you like royalty. Much as I can give. I really will.” “I believe you, Bofur, I believe you.”

Bombur

Never have you seen his face fall like you do in that moment. All but instinctually, he opens his arms. “May I?” Nodding, you fall against his chest, the beat of his heart calming your racing thoughts. “I don’t know what to say other than that you don’t deserve that,” Bombur tells you, a hand gently cradling the back of your head, “you deserve the finest man who tosses roses at your feet ‘n’ sings your praises day after day. Someone with half an eye who can see how lovely you are. You deserve all the pretty things in this world.” “And I have that. I have all I could ever want right here,” you reply, a tear slipping from the corner of your eye, “you give me all the love I deserve.”

Dori

"What gives them the right? Nothing. It's not right, any of it! Why is it always the prettiest flowers that get plucked?" Even in his righteous anger, Dori pays you a sweet compliment, a small testament to his value of you. Cupping his cheek, you interrupt his rant, shifting him to meet your eyes and feeling tears prick at you when you see how wet his eyes are. "I don't want you to live with that pain," he adds, voice breaking slightly. Heart dropping, then soaring again at the love in his eyes, you reach up on the other side, and his hand comes up to cover yours. "These roots are strong," you assure him, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his, "with care they grow anew." "I will take care of you," Dori whispers your name, blue eyes fluttering shut, "Always. I swear it."

Nori

“Where is the rat? I’ll kill ‘em, gut ‘em like the pig they are!” Nori’s rage rose an odd flush of endearment through you; murderous as his words may have been, your heart was lightened for his care, the sheer vindication that what you went through was not deserved. But then again, the way that person hurt you was something you would never wish upon any living soul and you knew that. Sheepishly, you shook your head, stepping forward to take one of the dwarf’s wildly gesticulating hands. “The way you love me has avenged enough,” you cut into his harsh words, “no one has fought for me before you, Nori. Thank you.”

Ori

“Somebody really did all that to you?” He doesn’t mean to sound stupid, but the revelation is nothing but dumbfounding. “Yes,” you nod, breath catching in a half-sob, “I didn’t even feel like a person by the end of it.” Your arm is crossed over your chest, but Ori removes it, gently, intently, to hold your hand in his. “You are, though. You’re…you’re more than anything I could have ever imagined. And I like imagining things quite a lot,” he smiles softly, almost sheepishly, “in fact, you know what one of the things I imagine is?” You cringe, see his eyes widen that he accidentally hit a sore spot and feel the way his hand involuntarily tightens. He continues, though. “How I can show all that to you.” Head falling atop his, you succumb to a grin- he is leagues different from that person without even lifting a finger. “You do that just by being you, Ori.”

Fili

You hardly expect his first words to be thanking you, but indeed as both of his hands grip yours, he smiles sadly and does just that. "Thank you for trusting me with that. Fighting the fear. I don't take it lightly. But if you think this does anything but make me love you more," his smile shifts, returns to something more like the amusement you more often saw, "I'm afraid you are solely mistaken. The fact that you trust me, feel safe around me...why, I'll work to keep earning that until the day I die." Grinning, you fall into Fili's arms, feeling utterly secure in the warmth of his embrace. "And that alone means the world," you whisper, "I love you." "And I you. Forever."

Kili

"No," Kili shakes his head, "no, you cannot be serious!" "So you think I lie?" You shoot back, tone sharply defensive in your hurt. Kili's dark eyes widen, glossing over with tears; he shakes his head again, this time slower, but much more vehement, "Not at all. I simply can't believe it. Why anybody would want to hurt someone like you. I admit I can't fathom it." "It's because I didn't matter in that person's mind," you reply, your own eyes tearing and your voice going soft, "I was not a consideration." "Well, let me consider you," Kili replies quickly, straightening and reaching out a hand, "I'll not do anything you want me to do. And if I ever raise my voice at you, feel free to slap me." "Kili," you half-chuckle, half-sob, "how would that make me any better than-" "It was a joke, but see? Now I have you smiling again. That's all I want. For you to be happy. I love you, truly, I do."

Bilbo

“Any chance we would…run into this person?” So casually, almost awkwardly phrased, and yet you deduced exactly what Bilbo meant with his question. “Are you…” Your expression widened back to a tentative smile. “…hoping to have a fight with them?” Plenty of people had been on your side, nearly everyone agreeing that what you endured crossed every line, but hearing it from a partner was an even stronger spike of the vindication you never tired of. Plus Bilbo’s scrappy side was all but the cutest thing in the world. “Well,” the hobbit straightened his coat, “I simply think they need to be put in their place. Why, of all the… how could anyone take a look at someone like you and see anything but the greatest treasure they’ve ever known, it’s insulting, maddening, uncouth beyond all-” He stopped when he heard you giggle, felt your arms snake around him. “Oh Bilbo…my greatest treasure. I’ll always feel safe when you’re here.”

Thranduil

Rarely do you see the woodland king’s eyes harden, go so cold like shards of pale blue eyes, as you do when he hears your admission. “This person saw fit to treat you like property?” Thranduil’s voice is dangerously low, his gaze drifting distantly from yours. “I felt that way, yes,” you quietly agree, nodding. The king’s expression sends a shudder of intimidation down your spine. He must notice, the way he offers you his hand- tentative, eyes softening in question. Telling you wordlessly that acceptance is your choice. A small nod and you take it, his fingers closing over yours as he lifts the back of your hand to his lips. “Never again,” he breaks the silence, voice low but all ice drained from it, “while I wish your time here to never end, our gates are open to you. My halls are as your own. If that…that fiend even thinks to cross the Woodland Realm’s borders? Some gates shall be closed forever.” A part of you wishes to cringe at Thranduil’s harsh words, but as he winds you into his chest you simply feel the heat of tears prick your eyes as you whisper your thanks, an answer coming in the form of the elven king’s lips upon your head.

Bard

He stepped back, eyes widening at your revelation. Every aspect of him softened. “How? How could anybody…” Eyes distant, you shook your head. “At the time, I felt like it was because I wasn’t good enough. Now I see how sick it was. How I was…just an object,” your voice faded into a near-sob, prompting Bard to catch you about the waist, lower you into a chair. He moved to put a hand on either arm of it, thought better of making you feel trapped. Instead he simply let you keep hold of his hand, tilting your chin with the other to meet your eyes. “By every power I hold dear I hope you never feel too afraid to tell me no. To tell me if I’ve hurt you. And by that same light we’ll spend every day filling your heart. Never should you apologize for your scars- those are signs of your strength.”

Beorn

He never does this. You've never known the Skin-Changer to be one for spontaneous affection and yet he's pulling you into his arms the moment you finish, your head falling against his chest or wherever it falls upon his massive height. Several breaths pass like this before either of you speak again. “There is cruelty in this world I will never understand. No excuses exist for it. None. But I will do everything in my power to keep you safe from it.” True to his word, the Skin-Changer is there for you after every nightmare. Never once does he raise his voice or his hand to you. He may not always understand you, but well does he know the feeling of chains, physical or metaphorical, and he would die before casting his own. In moments surpassing his understanding of you, he takes to the woods, offering space over harsh words and freedom of travel over control. True love, after all, always returns.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn @wordbunch @tiny-and-witchy | Message/Reply/Ask to join 🥰

[cyberhughes]

— 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ jack hughes

chapter 2: fein

last chapter | next chapter

*:･✧* 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jack hughes x fem!oc

*:･✧* 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: swearing, drinking

𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: a bit of written dialogue so yall can see the character dynamics😝am i writing this while i should be studying for finals?? yeah but fuck it we ball!!! this is like semi proofread also😭

series masterlist + character intros

liked by jackhughes and 8372 others

naomihill ANOTHER SHOT!!!!

— view comments…

↳ quinnhughes: okay so this actually what we like to call alcoholism!

↳ naomihill: like what are you even talking about i barely had anything to drink

↳ trevorzegras: miss girl you were on the floor throwing a tantrum and jack had to carry you out…

↳ naomihill: what if i just wanted to feel his muscles???

↳ jackhughes: wait what

↳ yasminramirez: body sooo tea (hungover beyone belief rn)

↳ lhughes_06: i’m making hangover soup come over

↳ colecaufield: omg so nice of you i’m On my way!

↳ lhughes_06: i invited yasmin not u😒

↳ colecaufield: oh ok i see how it is

↳ trevorzegras: DONT DO MY BOY LIKE THAT LUKE

↳ quinnhughes: okay no more drinking for you you’re actually cut off for a bit

↳ naomihill: NO YOU CANT DO THIS I LITERALLY ONLY HAD LIKE ONE SHOT

↳ lhughes_06: more like one shot + another 36

↳ yasminramirez: this bitch bruh💀💀

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

last night’s events…

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

“you wouldn’t.” trevor had a devilish grin on his face as he egged on naomi. “oh but i would!” she stomped off to the bar to get yet another shot of tequila. she and trevor had a bet going to see who could drink the most while appearing the most sober. “hon, do you really need another?” the bartender smiled softly, expression slightly laced with concern. “how much?” naomi asked, dodging the question. the bartender handed her the machine as naomi dug through her purse looking for her card. just as she was about to pay, a hand reached over tapping the machine. she looked up confused but blushed slightly when she saw a man who had a faint resemblance of drew starkey. “oh, why did you do that?” he smiled at her question, shrugging. “pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to pay.”

“oh hell no.” jack eyed the situation at the bar as he stood with quinn and luke, their other friends scattered elsewhere. the two brothers followed his gaze to the bar, before eyeing eachother and bursting into laughter. “he’s stealing your girl.” quinn nudged. jack scoffed at this, “he couldn’t if he tried.” luke raised an eyebrow at his brothers comment, “did you just admit she’s your girl?” jacks face went red. “i- no- he just looks like a fuck boy.” he responded, fixing the cap on his head as quinn rolled his eyes. there was no way jack was calling him a fuck boy whilst wearing a backwards cap and a graphic tee. naomi and the drew starkey look alike had continued conversing, while jack had noticed the guy inching closer towards her. feeling annoyed, he shoved his drink into quinn’s hands, he powered off to the bar. “not his girl my ass.” luke chuckled.

“so are you from here?” the guy sipped his drink, shamelessly eyeing her from head to toe. “i live here now but i’m actually from-“ before she could finished a hand wrapped around her. “hey baby. who’s this?” she rolled her eyes, turning her head towards jack. “oh shit- is this your girl? thats my mad bro.” he raised his hands in the air. “you’re good.” jack replied sternly. getting the message, the guy walked away and naomi groaned. “jackkk!” she whined and he just grinned at her. “what? can’t have anyone taking you away from me.” he shrugged. “awww you’re jealous.” she wiggled her finger in his face. “that’s so cute!” she laughed and he just admired her. he really couldn’t have anyone take her away.

it was 1:30 am, quinn had suggested they go home since he had been getting tired and not drunk enough to get over it since he was DD. to this, trevor had called him a grandpa and naomi pleaded to stay longer. sighing, he had agreed to another half hour. naomi and yasmin had stumbled their way to the women’s washroom for a quick refresh. “so…” yasmin leaned against the wall as she watched naomi reapply her lip combo. “you talk all the time about needing to pull, yet you haven’t approached anyone after jack slid in when that guy bought you a drink.” she commented, sounding more like a question than a statement. “is it cause you actually just want jack?” she teased and naomi blushed. “oh my god stop it.” naomi grabbed her arm, dragging her out of the washroom and back to their group of friends. yasmin smiled to herself, knowing what she had said was completely true, and everyone around them also knew it.

“dance with me.” naomi stumbled towards jack placing her hands on his shoulders. “we’re going home now.” he, placed his hands on top of hers, subconsciously rubbing his thumbs on the back of her hand soothingly. she pouted at his response. “quinn’s already pulling up the car.” he said stepping backwards to lead her towards the exit as their friends also headed over. “we’ll dance next time okay?” and he was 100% sure that the next time they had went out he would dance with her for however long she wanted, even if killed his feet. without warning, naomi slumped down the the floor in protest. his eyes widened, trying to catch her on the way down but failing to do so. everyone else had already made their way to the exit but stopped when they noticed they were missing two of the group. yasmin looked around and when her eyes fell to naomi pouting on the floor and jack pleading for her to stand up, she let out the loudest cackle. “holy shit look.” everyone turned their attention the the scene. “yeah i think naomi had one too many shots tonight.” cole laughed. “I WIN!” trevor exclaimed, giving everyone a high five. feeling somewhat embarrassed by the looks they were getting, jack pulled her hands up so she’d stand before picking her up bridal style and walking to their friends. “hey- what- put me down!” she exclaimed, yet she still wrapped her arms around his neck for support, she never wanted him to let go.

HOT MESS EXPRESS🔥🤠

[tina-mairin-goldstein]

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[t-errifier]

Ｔ－ＥＲＲＩＦＩＥＲ , an independent & highly selective interpretation of ART THE CLOWN from the franchise TERRIFIER.    this blog is  ONLY  made for those who are  OVER THE AGE OF EIGHTEEN,    no  minors  will be permitted on the blog.   EXTREME GORE & HORROR SUBJECTS will be present on this blog; please do not follow if you are not comfortable with these topics. i DO NOT condone the actions of the character written here; his actions do not reflect the writer of this blog. he is a VILLAIN & shall be treated as such. NOTE ABOUT BLOG CONTENT HERE, what you can expect ! INTEREST CHECKER.

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NSFW MATERIAL will be present on this blog, mainly in the form of dark material. because of this, i'm not comfortable with minors being anywhere near this blog. if you are under the age of eighteen, do not attempt to follow me, it will result in a hard block. do not lie about your age to get interaction, everything comes to surface one way or another.

if you do not cut your posts, i will not follow back. i apologize for this inconvenience, but i do not want long posts on my dash. if you need assistance on learning how to cut your posts, i would be happy to help you !! just shoot me a dm & i can point you in the direction of how to do this.

my muse is very HARD to get along with, this does not reflect my feelings of you or your muse. i adore original characters & people's interpretations of canon muses. i will NEVER use my muse's actions as a means to shade you.

i RARELY FOLLOW FIRST, this is not because i think i am too good for anyone. it's because i want to know that people are COMFORTABLE with the content of my blog; i don't want to jumpscare anyone with my content if they didn't sign up for it.

DRAMA is not appropriate for this blog. do not drag me into it, do not drag any one down. simply be kind to one another. i'm not interested in mocking any one or ganging up on them. i would like for a positive experience for everyone.

THERE WILL BE NO VIOLENCE TOWARDS CHILDREN WRITTEN OUT ON THIS BLOG. while, i will still acknowledge & accept the part of ART that doesn't hold reservations for the age of his victims - i am just not personally comfortable with writing out graphic depictions of violence against minors, nor am i open to joking about the fact that he does it.

[crescent-blades]

✦•┈ᯓ Rules For making Requests.ᐟ

ʚɞ┆ First off, I would like to clarify that I won't be writing any explicit content; hence, I would appreciate it if such requests are not made. Other than that, you are free to request anything.

ʚɞ┆I also want to mention that I don’t have any triggers, and it’s pretty hard to offend me. So don’t hesitate to share anything—any content that might be sensitive will be labeled accordingly. [Please feel free to reach out if I may have missed anything!]

ʚɞ┆While it may seem obvious, I’ll say it again—please, DO NOT repost, copy, rewrite, or translate any of my work. If you’d like to reference it anywhere (especially regarding theories), please ask for my permission first.

ʚɞ┆Please note that it might take me a while to respond to inboxes. Don’t be discouraged if I haven’t replied to your requests yet; I may have seen them and could be working on a response. My busy schedule makes it challenging to reply quickly. Your patience is deeply appreciated!

ʚɞ┆Finally, this blog is all about keeping things positive and drama-free. Anyone that aims to stir up unnecessary negativity or controversy will be promptly blocked. I genuinely welcome any constructive feedback you may have about me. However, any form of hate will not be accepted.

✦•┈ᯓ Rules For Roleplaying.ᐟ

Firstly, I want to clarify that this isn't solely a roleplay blog. I often receive various requests because I enjoy writing beyond just roleplaying [drabbles, imagines, theories etc etc]. If you have any issues with some ooc content here and there, then you are free to unfollow. Moving on:

ʚɞ┆OCs, crossovers, ships, crack fics, etc.,are all welcome. Feel free to introduce any character you wish to see the samurai interact with, including the possibility of Kokushibō and/or Michikatsu being your chosen muse!

ʚɞ┆The portrayal of my muses will be as canon to the manga as possible. I will make every effort to keep my personal headcanons to a minimum, and I would really appreciate it if my writing partner could do the same.

ʚɞ┆Regarding NSFW; you won’t find any on my blog, nor am I comfortable writing anything explicit. Light shipping, flirting, romance, fluff, or similar interactions are totally fine, but let’s keep it on the softer side.

ʚɞ┆Regarding shipping and relationships; I believe it’s important for the characters to build chemistry and have meaningful interactions first, rather than jumping straight into shipping. I would prefer if we had already written together beforehand and perhaps discussed it in advance.

ʚɞ┆When it comes to violence, blood etc, I'm fine with anything. As I mentioned, I’m open to various themes, but only if the plot calls for it. I won’t tolerate any unnecessary graphic content or spiteful comments directed at my muses.

ʚɞ┆Regarding the length of my writing; I am flexible with pretty much everything, however, I generally enjoy multi-paragraph roleplays. I can adapt to different lengths if needed.

ʚɞ┆Regarding plotting I’m comfortable with either approach. Whether you want to plan out the next steps or prefer the thrill of surprises, I’m totally on board with whatever you choose.

ʚɞ┆You will get what you give. If I find that the you aren't putting in any effort with the replies, I will not be putting any effort either. I find it hard to stay motivated, especially knowing that the other person likely isn't even interested.

ʚɞ┆So, if you ever feel like your interest is waning or you need a break, then please feel free to tell me. The main goal of roleplaying is to have fun. If you decide you want to stop engaging altogether, you’re welcome to soft-block or hard-block.

ʚɞ┆Most importantly, have fun! <3

๋࣭⭑⚝Thank you!๋࣭⭑⚝

[glitchedsoftware]

well its been long enough so here it is -

My personal thoughts and issues with Sammy Lawrences characterization in Dreams Come to Life

little disclaimer im obviously gonna be pretty negative in this so if you like the books good for you!! i just want to put my thoughts on the matter out there its just some silly indie horror game book and i wouldnt take others opinions TOO seriously lol also spoilers for dctl of course

also another little edit - a majority of this was written before the graphic novel came out,, not like that changes anything rlly just yk remember im exclusively talking about the original novel here

Lets start with the most obvious point first - the racism/misogyny

The idea that Sammy's racist and misogynistic mainly stems from two parts from the book - the part where Sammy refers to Tom by his first name instead of "Mr Connor" to which Tom replies quote "Not used to giving someone like me respect?" and the part where he refers to Abby by her first name with Buddy directly stating how he wonders if this could mean Sammy has some sort of bigoted views.

Now of course he does consider if this is just a habit of his, but it is pretty unclear if that's the case. This weirdly vague and ambiguous way of writing a fan favorite character to be racist and misogynistic is just generally very weird to me. Before anyone tells me I am aware of the fact a former kindly beast member claimed that Toms race had nothing to do with it and Sammy just said that because he's a repairman or whatever, but that still doesn't remotely change the fact that it can easily be read as Sammy being racist.

(Also even in said screenshot they said how could be easily interpreted as that. Also they didn't even write the book obviously so that whole point just falls flat.)

To be fair, there is a line from Buddys first encounter with Sammy in which he also refers to Joey by first name, which could imply Buddys other conclusion was correct and that its just a habit of his.

However, I'd argue this small details pretty easy to miss (even I almost forgot about it while writing this) especially considering the only other people he refers to by any sort of name was Tom and Abby. That paired with the other two scene previously stated still make this very easy to misinterpret and even considering this, very confusing on if Sammy was written with the intention of him being racist. Also Sammys bigotry in this book being conflicted by literally one word kinda speaks for itself. It's just super weird and definitely should have been handled better. If you don't know how to write topics like this with the amount of care they deserve then you don't need to write them. On another note, Sammy being racist or misogynistic just wouldn't affect the story or world building in any sort of meaningful way. Whether he was supposed to be bigoted or not, it has no bearing on the story or characters. Any time It's even slightly implied this could affect someone it's just super underdeveloped which makes this whole thing just feel completely pointless and unnecessary. It really does just come off like it was just thrown in there to "make it more realistic to the time period" instead of working it into the story in any meaningful way that actually works, or any sort of commentary on that sorta thing other than just "racism and misogyny exist".

On a related note, I saw someone speak out about how they interpreted specifically the scene with Tom to be intended not to show that Sammy's racist, but to show how Tom would assume that it was about his race considering he's of course a black man in the 1940s and has clearly faced discrimination over that before. I could almost see how that could be perceived, but that along with the part with Abby really makes me contemplate if that was really the intention behind that scene. Also, as I said before, it isn't really expanded on how that would affect Tom. I get that that could just be because Tom is supposed to be more of a rude abrasive kinda guy, I'm not expecting him to cry over it or something. I just feel it should have either been a bit more developed on, or not been there at all. I'm all for subtly, I love how the subtle misogyny is shown in BatIM with the Alice angel merchandise not selling as well as other products, but if that's what they were going for I think this was a bad way of doing it. If you wanted to portray how this kind of bigotry affects people, maybe choosing the rude asshole character who doesn't really seem to give a shit wasn't really the best idea. (Also who's in the games implied to be classist but that's a whole other conversation) Sorry for the little detour away from discussing just Sammy, I just felt it was important since I do get where that point was coming from, I just still feel like the execution of it all was FAR from perfect.

Also overall the idea that Sammy would be racist or misogynistic is just awfully misunderstanding Sammys character and it just really fails at what its trying to do. Sammy is shown to have had a genuinely strong relationship with Susie (whether you interpret it as romantic or not) and never shown to have seen women as less than, quite the opposite actually. I saw someone say Sammy being bigoted doesn't make sense because "he doesn't respect anybody" and I heavily disagree. I think it doesn't work because he does care so much about people. In the cycle Sammy isn't shown to be selfish at all, like he's not just trying to free himself but also others (albeit through sacrificing Henry, and even then describes that as seeming "cruel"). You know it's "he will set us free". Whether he himself knows or not, Sammy does care about people deeply so him being bigoted just really doesn't work at all.

I just generally thought the topic of discrimination was handled pretty bad. I could go on and on about this subject alone, but hopefully I was able to get my point across.

Now with that out of the way I can discuss just the general mischaracterization and demonization of Sammys character

This obviously being a more broad subject makes it a little difficult to start so let me just start with this- I believe that Sammys character get heavily dumbed down to just being an asshole. I of course have no problem with Sammy being a bit of a dick considering the sort of sarcastic tone he's shown to have had in certain audio logs, but the problem arises when that is practically all he is shown to be. Looking through every scene with him, all he ever did was just be super rude to everyone and eventually go insane and kill people and talk about worshiping Bendy or whatever with little depth. This, in my opinion, makes him both weak as a character and antagonist. I mean, Buddy only first met Sammy the DAY he got infected by the ink. He never even knew what Sammy was like before that incident which REALLY makes the line "I just know that Sammy isn't Sammy anymore" make no sense. Buddy never knew Sammy, he only knew the one dimensional character we got in Dreams Come to Life.

After looking through all of Sammys characterization outside the novels I can clearly deduce that Sammy was never even explicitly the sort of condescending asshole hes shown to be in Dreams Come to Life, but was just a bit blunt and stern due to the stress of working at the studio. I get that some people just chock up his behavior to the fact that he had been drinking ink at the time or whatever, but again the fact we're never shown how he was before that just makes this feel like overall bad writing to me. It just feels like a very poor attempt at writing Sammy that lacks any sort of nuance his character was shown to have. Characters have intended purposes, and I believe Sammys was to display a character who was so overworked it drove him to insanity. Part of the reason he even worships Bendy is just because the unhealthy hours he would spend working forced him to have to see his stupid face everywhere, not the whole ink addiction thing the book goes with. It's one thing to make him unnecessarily rude, but the thing is that they never really deviate from him being just that, which just left his character feeling very flat and lackluster to me. Buddy being an "unreliable narrator" doesn't excuse this both because Buddy only states that he sometimes forgets the order of events, not the actual events themselves, and, as I said before, it never deviates from this view of Sammy. I don't even think Buddy was supposed to be an "unreliable narrator" in that way as I've heard people excuse this for. If all of Sammys mischaracterization was because of that, than like half of the book would just be Buddy completely making shit up, which clearly isn't the case. The book just genuinely tries to portray Sammy in some of the worst light ever.

All that along with the the whole implied bigotry thing I just discussed really makes it seem like they tried dehumanizing Sammy as much as possible, which really goes against one of the core messages of BatIM. Sammy just being some asshole who got addicted to ink and went crazy because of it is FAR less interesting or emotionally compelling than him being an abused overworked employee and a prime example of what working at the studio can do to someone. Stripping him of that in favor of making it that he's always just been a total dick just completely misses a lot of the point of Sammys character and even BatIM as a whole. It's not just a game about "ooh scary ink" or whatever, it's also a game about corporate greed, capitalism and obviously how big corporations abuse and manipulate their minimum wage workers. And that's what Sammy is. He's not "evil" he's just a victim of a highly unhealthy work environment. Sammy being overworked to death (literally) is something that is barely, if at all, developed on in the book weirdly enough, despite being a very interesting part of his character that they had every opportunity to explore. It feels almost like they explicitly tried making Sammy so unsympathetic so he could be a more "evil" antagonist which, in turn, makes him a very poorly written antagonist lacking depth and completely missing anything that made his character so interesting. Again they just took Sammy being a bit irritable and sarcastic and wrote him as being a genuinely bad person, which really bugs me for sorta personal reason I'll get into in this next section.

Why this matters (to me)

I feel its of importance that I discuss how writing an implied mentally ill/neurodivergent character in such a demonizing way can, whether intentional or not, come off as ableist. TO MAKE THIS CLEAR I am NOT stating Adrienne Kress is ableist. This is overall just a much larger issue in general that definitely could have a discussion of it's own. However I will be briefly talking about it since it does unfortunately relate to dreams come to life.

As I said before, Sammy is a victim. Yes, he's still a morally grey character who generally does bad things with good intentions, but hes still a character. The way Sammy is shown to act and have acted in the past is very likely because he was mentally ill and possibly autistic. Taking an actually nuanced character like that who was clearly just extremely mentally unwell and writing it that he's some evil irredeemable asshole has always just rubbed me the wrong way. As an autistic person myself, I've always kinda had issues with regulating my emotions and coming off as "too blunt", so seeing a character who also has those traits be warped into being a "bad person" just. Really sucks.

When I read Dreams Come to Life, I had always sorta read Buddy as being autistic, all though this coding could have been unintentional. For instance, he's shown to not fully get some social cues and mentions feeling like people would kinda talk down to him for not getting certain things. This being the case really confused me for a bit as to why Sammy was demonized for also displaying traits of autism until it finally hit me as to why that is. It's likely because Sammy shows symptoms that are unfortunately far more stigmatized by society. Lack of emotional/impulse control can obviously lead to someone being more prone to lashing out than other people would, and I hate how just in general people or even characters who do that are labeled as "bad people" since that clearly isn't true. Again, he's not evil or whatever, he's just extremely stressed and overworked. That's all it ever was.

Sorry for getting a bit personal, in case it wasn't obvious I'm just very passionate about this character (and franchise in general) and just wanted to discuss how I personally perceived certain things. I'm sure I wasn't supposed to read into it THIS much and I know I'm probably stretching with this. Again, I VERY HIGHLY doubt Adrienne Kress intended for Sammys writing to be read as ableist, just felt like getting my thoughts out there (regardless of how insane I probably sound)

Conclusion

To sum it all up, I just found Sammy character to be heavily flanderized and lacking a lot of the things that I personally loved so much about him, as well as finding the way bigotry was portrayed to be very nothing. It just overall didn't build on what we know about Sammys character in game in any interesting way, at least to me. Despite how long this was, I honestly don't really mind people who enjoy the books, this wasn't some personal dig on anyone of course lol. Hell, I'm even friends with some people who like Dreams Come to Life!! I've tried putting different perspectives into writing this, and I've obviously concluded that this, on top of just a bunch of general issues with the book, have just made me personally unable to like it. I'm fine with people liking the books, however I do wish people would actually criticize them more than they do. Like, you're allowed to criticize the things you like, especially with a franchise as flawed as Bendy lmao

Anyways that's pretty much it. Thanks for listening to me ramble about this silly little series I'm hyperfixated on <3

[metal-and-machetes]

The Downward Spiral

—

Jed Olsen isn’t who he says he is.

Ghostface has a thing for the young reporter.

Danny Johnson always takes what he wants.

—

This is a dark Ghostface DBD fanfiction. Content warning:

Stalking

Torture

Sexual violence

Knifeplay

Dubcon/Noncon

Blood kink

Graphic descriptions of violence

A very mean Danny Johnson

Some wound fingering

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. If the above are triggers for you, do not proceed. DBD lore does not suggest Danny is fun or nice, I wrote him as such.

Originally posted on my AO3

—

Listen, I’m not going out tonight. I’m already in my pajamas and I’m just not in the mood.”

“Oh c’mon! Look, I know you’re bummed about your boyfriend breaking up with you, but I really think a girls’ night would do you good!” You sighed. Cass had good intentions, she was just trying to help, but you were just not in the mood tonight.

“It’s not just that. I still think that call was out of character for him. He just sounded… something wasn’t right.” You sighed. “He sounded scared…”

“Need I remind you that he’s the same man who made you cry, on like, multiple occasions. He was a piece of shit, babe. He really isn’t worth your time, he’s not worth any woman’s time.”

She was right. He wasn’t very nice to you. He blew you off, he was always late picking you up for dates, and he was just a jackass. Still though, something just felt off about his message. And then he just… vanished.

“Hellooooo?”

“Sorry, sorry. Hey, and not only that, what about the curfew? Roseville PD will be crashing parties, and I don’t think an office party is an exception.”

Cass huffed. “We’re the newspaper. I don’t think they’ll shut us down. You know Jed’s supposed to be here too.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Jed Olsen. He showed up a few months ago with a stacked portfolio and a ‘winning attitude’ according to the editor in chief. Jed Olsen with his confident smile. Jed Olsen with his dark hair and deep brown eyes. Jed Olsen with the entire office head over heels for him. You weren’t any different. Jed was nice to you, if not a little flirty, Cass pointed out that he seems to hang around your desk and chat with you the most. Jed was, in every way, miles better than your ex boyfriend.

“Tell him I said hi.” You replied. “I’m not leaving my house tonight.”

Cass sighed, defeated that her master plan didn’t get you to leap into your car and speed off to the party. “Okay, we’ll miss you tonight.”

“Have fun, let me know when you get back home.”

The line cut out after you exchanged goodbye and you were once again left in silence. You opened the microwave and tossed a bag of popcorn in, leaning against the counter as the machine heated the snack up and you went through the mail. Junk, junk, junk, bill, bill, coupon. You paused when you got to the Roseville Gazette.

TWO FOUND SLAIN IN ANOTHER HORRIFIC GHOSTFACE MURDER by Jed Olsen.

The screaming ghost mask stared back at you, taunting you, watching you. Jed’s career took off when the Ghostface killings began. The exclusive photos, taken by the murderer himself, certainly helped. But so did the interviews Jed conducted, you’ve seen them, he was so sympathetic and kind to the victims’ friends and family. And he wrote like a god. No one seemed to question how Jed’s ‘insider’ gets him the photos, you don’t think anyone even cares.

You tossed the paper aside and stopped the popcorn, dumping it in a bowl and making your way to the couch and pressing play on the video you rented tonight.

Twenty minutes into the video, the phone rings. You huff and press pause to pick up the line.

“Hello?”

“Hello there.” The voice was male, albeit a little mechanical, but it was over the phone.

“Um, who’s this?”

“Who do you want it to be?”

You scoffed. Seriously? A grown man prank calling? “Okay, you’re either some random man who picked my name out of a phonebook, or you’re one of his friends being a jackass.”

“Can’t say I know who that is, doll.”

“So you just call random numbers? Or did Cass give you my number?” You found a smile pulling at your lips, starting to have a bit of fun with the stranger. Who’s to stop you, really. “Can’t imagine that isn’t something she’d do.”

“What can I say? The curfew had me bored, must’ve dialed the wrong number, but I’m not complaining. What are you up to?” Fuck it. You’ll entertain this.

“Just watching a scary movie I picked up from the video store after work.”

“Oh really? What’s your favorite scary movie?” He inquired. I was practically blushed at the smoothness of his voice.

“Halloween. Personally, I think John Carpenter makes the best horror.”

“Well, he is the Master of Horror. So, you got a name, doll?” I laughed.

“What about your name, mystery man? You called me first.”

The voice chuckled on the other end. “Well, tell me your name, I’ll tell you mine.”

You jumped up onto the counter. “Why should I do that?” A giggle rose in your throat.

A pause.

“I wanna know who I’m looking at.”

Time seemed to freeze. Your heart rate picked up and your breathing became quicker. The giggle died and became bile rising. There was a roaring in your ears and you began to stammer in fear. “Wh-what did you just say?” You misunderstood him, you must have! No one would say that, and if they did, it was just a cruel joke.

“You heard me, sweetheart. I saw you reading the front page. Do you like my work? You’re talking to Roseville’s biggest celebrity.”

No fucking way…

“I’m calling-“

“The cops? They wouldn’t make it in time, they’d find you gutted and I’d be long gone by then, just pictures of me and your pretty corpse.” His voice changed, it wasn’t flirty or sexy anymore, it was downright terrifying. It was aggressive and harsh, no more seduction. He wasn’t toying anymore, he had begun his hunt. “The only thing calling the cops would stop is how long I plan on playing with you.”

“What the hell do you want?” You growled, flinching when a flash went off out of the corner of your eye from the small window above the sink, but when you looked at it, no one was there.

“Heh. Pretty picture. But, won’t you smile for me, doll? I’ll be sending these to the paper in the morning, I want you looking your best for the obituary they write for you.” Ghostface teased.

“Quit playing around, fucker!” You pulled a knife out of the drawer and crept out of the kitchen and into the living room. “C’mon, asshole. Let’s see what you’re made of.”

The man laughed on the other end of the call, tsking at you as if you were a fool. “Well… then it’s a good thing you left the garage door unlocked.”

The dial tone blared in your ear as he hung up, leaving you in silence, the only thing scoring your last few moment was the soundtrack of Halloween 2 playing quietly. You lowered the phone, gripping the knife as your fingers began to sweat. It was too quiet. You scoffed and began to dial 911, but before you could finish dialing, you were tackled by a large figure.

“Fuck!” You thrashed as the two of you wrestled, your foot connecting with his chest and shoving him off of you. You sat up and cursed as the soulless black eyes of Ghostface’s mask bore into you before grabbing the knife and swinging at him, just missing his hand. He tilted his head as you two circled the couch, his hunting knife at the ready like yours.

“You’ve got spirit, doll. I like a challenge. I like a little fight.” His voice was distorted by a modulator, sounding the exact same as the mechanical voice over the phone.

“Fuck you!” You screamed, lunging at the killer and landing a cut on his forearm.

He yelled furiously. “You bitch! If you would just cooperate and lay down and die this wouldn’t be so bad!”

You turned and made a break for the door, hoping, praying, that you could open it and scream and your neighbors would come to your rescue. Instead, a sharp pain bloomed in your back and a scream ripped from your throat as the sharp pain was torn from your back and renewed in your flank. Ghostface’s hand tangled into your hair and your head connected with the wall, leaving you engulfed in darkness.

—

When you came to, your head was pounding. You could feel a dull pressure in your flank and something warm and sticky was running down your scalp, and was the room spinning? What room where you even in? What day is it? Shit… what happened to you?

“Oh look, you live.” You groaned and turned your head towards the mechanical voice. Ghostface was lounged in a plush chair, legs spread as if he were right at home. “You know, you’re a tricky one! Who knew you’d put up a fight!”

Oh right… he caught you…

“What do you want from me…” You slurred, trying to focus on stringing your words together. How concussed where you? Ghostface tilted his head. “Are you going to murder me?”

“Aw, don’t be scared, sweetheart, that part will be quick.” He stood and casually made his way to the side of the bed, gripping the knife that was still jammed into my side. His unoccupied hand clamped over my mouth as he slowly twisted the blade, my muffled screams having little affect on his sympathy as I thrashed and began to cry. Ghostface chuckled. “The part before however, I’ll be taking my sweet time.”

“Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you!” You barked, squirming as he ran his leather clad fingers down the column of your throat.

“Sucks that your boyfriend broke up with you, huh?” He teased. “Maybe you wouldn’t have been alone tonight, huh?”

“Wh-How do you know that?”

“Speaking of, have you heard from him lately? I think I saw somewhere in the paper that there were two bodies butchered beyond belief.” Your eyes widened. “Maybe you should’ve gone to the Gazette’s party, but I was counting on you being a recluse instead. You’re so predictable, doll. And a dumb bitch too. You really shouldn’t just go around telling people so much about yourself. That’s dangerous, you never know who exactly you’re talking to.”

“How do you know all of this? The party, the break up, who the hell are you!?” Tears spilled out of the corners of your eyes as Ghostface stroked your hair and stared at you, seemingly taking in your pathetic, half dead state. “Why are you doing this?”

Ghostface remained silent, but his hand rose up towards that mask and you knew what it meant. It meant whatever chance you had of getting out of this alive. It meant you were doomed to end up on the front page of the Gazette. You could see it now, ‘The Ghostface Killer Strikes Again, One Dead’. What you couldn’t foresee was the face behind the screaming plastic mask, because you would have never guessed that Jed Olsen’s brown eyes would be staring back at you. “Hey there, sweetheart.”

“No… No, no, it’s not y- it can’t be you, Jed!” You sobbed as he ran his fingers through the blood on your cheek and examined them. You thrashed against the restraints on your wrists and ankles, desperate to run from him.

“You’re even prettier when you bleed.” You groaned and shake your head as he cleaned the blood away from the leather with his tongue. “Way more satisfying than the look on your ex-boyfriend’s face as he made that phone call to you with a knife to his throat, thought I’d let him go too! Hah!”

“Jed… please don’t do this, please let me go, I won’t tell anyone!” You felt so pathetic begging, but it was all I could do. Jed looked back down at you, a short laugh escaping his lips.

“You won’t tell anyone, huh? I can’t risk it, sweetheart, you’ve seen my face now.” You yelped when he grabbed the knife and ripped it out of your side, examining the way your blood dripped from it. “But our fun is just beginning.”

“Please… I- I’ll- I’ll help you cover up the murders! Please Jed!”

He shushed you softly, stroking your cheek with a gentleness that was almost cruel while his other hand pressed against the wound on my flank. “The more you fight, the harder this will be. You’re going to do everything I tell you, you’re not going to fight, and you’re going to be a good pet. Do you understand?”

“Fuck- Fuck you!” Jed scoffed and jammed his fingers into the wound while holding his hand over your mouth, pulling a weak scream from you. “Jed! Stop! Stop, it hurts!”

“Do you understand now, bitch!?”

You nod reluctantly, gasping when his fingers left the wound. This was it, you were going to die and there was nothing that you could do about it. Worst of all, you liked Jed. He was always nice to you, he was gorgeous, he was smart, he was everything you wished you could have in a man. And even now, even as he played around with you in the cruelest way, he looked ethereal with the eye black and the hood of his outer layer pulled back just enough to let his hair peak through.

“Good pet.” I winced as he patted my cheek a little too aggressively.

“Why are you doing this? Why me? I thought you liked me?”

“Oh doll, I do like you! I think you’re interesting and fun to be around. Why do you think I would hang around you so much at work?” Jed circled the foot of the bed, looking eerily similar to a wolf stalking its prey. “And you were so eager to have my attention.”

“I was being friendly!”

Jed scoffed. “Give me a break, sweetheart. You think you hid it so well, but I didn’t miss the way you blushed, or smiled, or pressed your thighs together when I would lean down over your shoulder to look at what you were working on, my breath on your neck as I praised you. You really enjoyed that.” You gritted your teeth and spat in his face, earning a flinch and an unamused chuckle as he wiped it off. “You’re a lot dumber than I thought.”

He moved like lightning, throwing himself over you and straddling your hips, his buck knife pressed hard against your throat as your eyes went wide in panic. One pull on the knife and you were a goner.

Except there was a part of you, some sick and disgusting part of you, that fucking liked this. Liked the cold, sharp steel biting your skin, liked his weight holding you down, and really liked the press of his bulge against your body. And even more fucked up, you rolled your hips up against it.

“Oh my fucking god. Are you really into this?” Jed leaned down, nearly nose to nose with you. “You little slut, you are into this! Rolling your hips up like a needy little bitch. Want me to take care of that little problem down there for you?”

You whimpered at his cruel words, or maybe you were whimpering because that damn leather felt so good as it glided up your shirt. There was a loud rip as he sliced it off of you, a sadistic grin lighting up his face as he slowly raked his eyes down my body. “Jed I-“

“Danny.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “S-sorry?”

“Name’s Danny. Not Jed.”

This gave you pause, you had so many questions. What else had he lied about? How did he wind up here? Why Roseville? Why choose the Gazette? Why you? “I’m scared… Danny.”

Danny smiled softly and traced your jawline with his knife before stabbing it inches away from your head. “Fear makes pussy taste better.”

You didn’t even get to think before his hand was in your hair and ripping you upward to crash his lips to yours. You whimpered, but didn’t fight, instead you opened your mouth when he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip. You were sick in the head. You had to be. But it felt so good when his fingers slid down your body and pinched your nipple between them.

You let him grope you, you let him run his tongue over yours, you let him do whatever he wanted. He lied to you, he tricked you, and goddammit, he was still the single most sexually appealing person you’d ever laid eyes on. He parted from you and pushed you back down, grinning as he rips the knife out off the pillow and cuts your underwear.

You blushed as he raised it to his nose and inhaled before laughing as his knife slipped back into its sheath. “Pretty fucked up that you’re turned on by a stalker with a knife. I’ll be keeping these.” He stuffed them into his pocket before removing his hood, the shroud, and finally his shirt. Your breath caught in your throat as he stretched and ran his fingers through his hair, locking eyes with him. He was lean, not overly muscular, his chest had various scars, scars from when victims probably fought back. He clearly worked out, you presumed he had to with his… line of work. Danny sighed and leaned down. “You gonna be a good pet for me and be still?”

“Yes…”

“Good.” He nipped your earlobe before he began the torturously slow descent down your body. “I’ve been pining after you for months, sweetheart. But that damn boyfriend of yours…” he sucked a harsh bruise onto your neck. “Always getting in the fuckin’ way. It was so annoying.”

You gasped as he reached your breasts, running his tongue over your nipple, the softness briefly interrupted by the coolness of a ball. You looked down to see a silver ball, a piercing. Because of course he would have one.

Danny continued his descent, kissing and biting your hips until he got where he wanted to be. “And what do we have here, hm?”

Your breath hitched as he slid his hands out of the gloves by his teeth and dragged his cold, bare fingers up your thigh until he was just shy of brushing your vulva. Danny watched your legs tense and your body twitch as he finally ran his fingers between your slit.

“I wouldn’t have guessed being strapped down by a stalker would get you so wet, it’s adorable.” You whimpered as Danny leaned in close to your face and circled you clit slowly with his index and middle fingers. “Such a pathetic slut.”

“N-no!” you protested.

“Oh? You’re not a pathetic slut? Is that why you’re trying to grind on my hand?” he taunted.

“Danny please… I won’t tell anyone, we can be done here!” You felt pathetic begging him for mercy. It was weak and pitiful. “Please.”

“Oh do I love hearing you beg. Tell you what, doll, you play nice and cooperate, and I’ll consider… other options. Deal?” You swallowed, biting back a moan as he pressed a little harder on your clit. That was still Jed’s face hovering above yours. You could pretend it was still him. But pretending would involve ignoring the dull ache in your head from when Ghostface slammed you into the wall. Pretending would involve acting as if the pain from the stab wound on your flank from when Ghostface impaled you didn’t exist. And pretending would involve you looking up at the man with eyeblack and Jed’s face was truly Jed. Jed and not Danny. Jed and not Ghostface. “Tick tock, sweetheart. I’m getting an itch, and I don’t think you want to know what kind of itch it is.”

Danny pulled his fingers away from your clit and pressed them into the stab wound, grinning as a scream fell out of your throat. “Okay! Yes! Yes! I’ll cooperate! Please stop!”

He pulled them back out and shoved them knuckle deep into your pussy. Your eyes widened as your blood mixed with the wetness between your legs, a soft moan falling from your lips.

“You like that don’t you, baby?” He grinned in a way that would have been charming, but with all the eyeblack and blood that splattered on his cheek, it was simply sinister. “Maybe you’re sicker in the head than I thought.”

“That’s- fuck- that’s a lot of talk coming from the man who- mmh- who stalks people like a pervert!” you snapped, back arching as he stroked his fingers in that delicious come hither motion.

“I know I’m sick in the head.” Danny leaned in close, breath ghosting over your lips as he growled. “But you’re the one loving every second of this pervert fucking your hole with my fingers.”

“Shut up!” you snapped, gasping as his fingers spread into a v-shape and stretched your walls.

“You act so prim and proper at work.” Danny kissed your jaw bone with a laugh. “You put on this facade of the young and perky reporter with a great boyfriend and a great life. But I know what you need, Princess.” You cried out as his fingers left your pussy. “You need it filthy. You need it rough. You need me.”

Your breath heaved in your chest as he spread his fingers, streetlights gleaming against the juices that webbed between his long fingers.

“Open.”

“Wh-“ he shoved his fingers into your mouth with so much force you gagged. Danny laughed like a maniac.

“That’s it. Lick them clean and I might give you what you want.”

Fuck. His fingers tasted like your pussy and the copper of blood. This was unhinged. What the fuck were you thinking?

“That’s a good pet.” Danny’s fingers slipped from your mouth and he smiled. “Keep it up, maybe I can find a new use for you besides adding to my body count.”

“Danny-“

He ignored the weak cry of his name as he pushed apart your legs, groaning at the slick folds of your pussy, spotted with blood from his handiwork. Speaking of…

You cried out in pain as he brushed the stab wound. “Fucking hell! Stop!” Your cries were only fuel to his desperate longing and lust as his fingers played around in the wound. How long had he dreamed of this? How many days had he gone home, jacked off in his chair, went and killed, only to be back in the shower beating his cock again to you. He was obsessed.

“When I’m through with you, doll…” Danny growled, “I’m going to have you screaming my name, I’ll infect your brain like a parasite. You won’t be able to even comprehend what happened to you. I’ll have you completely cumdrunk.”

You felt breathless when he finally stopped digging around in the wound, your vision was fuzzy, your head was pounding, and yet still, fucking still! Your pussy was soaking.

“Pathetic, really, how wet you get when I play with my marks.” His dark eyes rose to yours. “I think it’s time I get to taste that sweet pussy.”

You whimper as he pressed his lips to your knee, trailing his tongue and that piercing down, down, down until he bit down on your inner thigh. “Fuck! Ow!”

Danny let go and pressed and open mouth kiss to the bite mark. “How I wish I could feel you pull my hair but… I wouldn’t want you thinking up any ways to start fighting.”

He laughed at your anger before his tongue was running up your slit in the blink of an eye. Oh god it was so warm. You gasp and let out a long, low groan as Danny focused his attention on your clit. You moved your hips best you could as his bloody hands gripped them, leaving red stains on your skin. His eyes lifted and he smiled wickedly.

“That’s it baby…” he lapped as your clit. “Make those pretty noises for me.”

You sighed and arched as tears formed in your eyes. Why did you like this? He was a murderer, a psychopath, he was a liar who created this persona to charm and hypnotize. And you fell for it.

Danny growled and nipped roughly at your clit. You look down with a yelp, locking eyes with him as he slightly lifted an eyebrow in a silent warning before fingers slipped in as he circled and massaged the tongue piercing over your clit.

“You,” he began, looking down at his fingers pumping in and out of your pussy before resting his head on your thigh. “better keep your mind from wondering. I’m all you should be fucking looking at.” He punctuated his point with a deep shove of his fingers. “Understand?”

“Fuck! Yes…” Danny grinned and nodded.

“You wanna cum don’t you?” You didn’t respond, just moaned as he stroked your G-spot. “I asked you a question, bitch!”

“Yes… fuck, yes I wanna cum…” Your cheeks burned as you admitted it. He was hot. This was hot. This was gross. He was gross. You reached that point, your legs began to shake and your body tightened as you exploded, cum flowing out onto his fingers. Danny grinned like a wolf, leaning down as his fingers withdrew.

You whimpered as his tongue touched your asshole, dragging all the way up to catch what dripped out. “God fucking damn, you taste so fucking delicious.” His fingers smeared your cum down your chest as he tweaked one nipple, then the other to illicit cries out of you. “I’m going to fuck you so good, you won’t be able to think straight.”

He stood and slowly unzipped his black pants before working it all down and narrowing his eyes at you. “If I take off those restraints, are you going to behave?”

The black around his eyes made them more intense as he sent that threat to my core. “Yes…”

“Yes, what?” he growled.

“Yes sir?”

He smirked and found the knife again, slicing your restraints off your legs before stealing you and cutting the ones from your arms. You hesitated then brought your arms to his shoulders. How could he look so good with your blood splattered on him? You couldn’t deny it any longer, you were grossly into this. You were into him. Even if he wasn’t Jed. Even if he was Ghostface. You were into everything about this. Sure, the blood loss made it easier, but you accepted your fate.

Danny leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. It was softer, more chaste. His hand drifted down your torso, lifting to grab his cock in his hand, pumping it before he teased the head against your slit.

“Please…”

“Look me in the eyes and try again, sweetheart.” he whispered.

You sighed, lifting your eyes to his and murmured “Please fuck me, Mr. Ghostface.”

Danny laughed then thrusted deep into you. You cried out as he began a brutal pace, your legs instinctually wrapping around his waist and your nails digging into his chest. “Fuck, so tight… god dammit!”

You whimpered and arched your back. The wound in your side still bled, you could feel it smear as his hand passed over it to pull a brief cry of pain from you. He grabbed the knife again and pressed it against your throat.

“You’re so lovely, covered in blood.” He purred, pressing harder, eyes darkening as he grinned. Your own eyes widened as he pumped faster, fear taking over as you. Danny groaned. “God, you slut. You just clenched at the thought of his knife slicing you right open.”

Danny moaned as you clinched again, then his eyes sparkled with an idea. He pinned you down at the elbow, exposing your inner bicep, the soft flesh exposed as he brought the hunting knife to the skin.

“No! Danny no please don’t cut me again!” You screamed when the blade bit into the skin, a sob wrenching from your throat as he carved at your arm. Each scream drew a moan from him, for every cut forced a squeeze from you. “Stop! Please! It hurts so fucking much! Fuck you!”

“Aw baby. But you’re squeezing me- fuck- so good.” He thrusted unevenly, clearly close to an orgasm. “Fuck, c’mon sweetheart…”

With one last deep slice, he came, cumming inside you as he practically roared with relief. You started sobbing, blood pouring from your arm and side, that headache that you forgot about coming back with a vengeance. The room was getting fuzzy. It hurt. You didn’t know exactly what it was that hurt the most, but it all hurt.

Danny smiled, slowly pulling out of you, sitting back on his heels and looking down at his handiwork, almost admiring it. He stayed straddling you, then started laughing again. “You know sweetheart… I think I can make a deal for you.”

You gazed up blearily, vision going in and out. “Deal…?”

“I’ll keep you alive… but not here. No… no Im taking you with me.” Danny’s breathing picked up. “It needs you. It needs a survivor. A sacrifice…”

Your brows creased as he raised the knife. “No… you… you said I’ll live!”

“I’m taking you where I’m going. We’re you will be mine forever.” He stabbed down and pierced your heart, ripping the knife out to slash your throat. Blood filled your lungs as you coughed and choked. Your eyes widened as your head lolled, eyes registering what he marred into your arm. ‘MINE’.

As the world faded, Danny’s fingers stroked your hair. “I’ll see you real soon, sweetheart.”

[nekoannie-chan]

Armchair

Pairing: Victor von Doom X Witch!Reader.

Word count: 401 words.

Summary: You tried to not use magic to assemble your new armchair.

Warnings: Magic.

A/N: This is my gift for @rodtsssss-blog. HAPPY BIRTHDAY RODRI!

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

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Victor von Doom looked curiously at the package he had just taken, the sender was you, but he found it strange that you had asked for it to come to him instead of your home.

He didn't know what it was, but his suspicions were high when he saw the shipping address. He knew you were a witch and that this might be a magical item. You weren't good at modern technology so it was very strange to him so what could it be?

He wondered what you had bought as the products you used to use were not sold just like that in the supermarkets in town or at least not the ones he knew about.

He looked at the seal on the box, it was your magic symbol, there wasn't much doubt that the package was for you. He began to open the box with a large fork and slowly knowing well how dangerous it could be to open it unprepared, and when he peeled off the last layers of paper, what he found was an electric chair. He stared at the chair confused, you had never asked for something like this before, but now he feared he had messed things up, maybe it was a gift for him and he had already opened it.

He was startled when he heard you, and then he asked you about the chair.

“I thought it was nice," you replied. You raised your arms a little, you would put it together with your magic.

“You don't need magic to put it together, it's very simple, you just have to follow the instructions," Victor said when he saw you.

“No, it's not easy. "

“Come on, you can try. "

You made a grimace, but you would try, you started to see the instructions, even if he said that you had to follow the instructions.

You grimaced, but you would try, you started to look at the instructions, and even though he said they were simple, after almost an hour, you managed to finish it.

“You saw it wasn't that hard... "

The armchair somehow fell apart.

“I give up if you want to assemble it yourself," you answered.

“I... I... have things to do in my lab," he immediately left.

“I knew it wasn't going to work “and with a wave of your hand, you put it together, magic never failed you.

[andydrysdalerogers]

Troublemaker ~ Chapter Seven ~ On The Road

He is one of the best goaltenders in the league. He's also hated by his teammates. He didn't mean to be a troublemaker but why not lean into it? There wasn't anyone to stop him.

Until he met her...

A Jeremy Swayman AU x OFC Stella Williams

Story Warnings: excessive drinking, SMUT!, an asshole Jeremy, angst

A/N: Hello and welcome to a spin-off "Cross-Checked" so plenty of characters from that story are crossing over here! If you want a more detailed story of how we ended up here, read the first store HERE Also! The taglist is open. If you want to be added or removed, please let me know!

Previous: Becoming Uncle Jeremy

Please note that I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted, or published anywhere other than my Tumblr. Reblogs are most welcome though!

Banners by me! Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Four days after little Avery made her dramatic entrance into the world, I dressed and ready to get back to work. Andy was back for the first day as well, having stayed with Leia at the hospital for a few days and they had just gotten home.  

“Do you have pictures of my niece Barber?” I yelled out in the locker room as we got ready.  

“Your niece?!” Luke replies with indignation.  “She’s MY niece, Swayman.”  

“Pretty sure I was there to help birth her, that gives me rights,” I yell back. 

“Do not make me kick your ass, Sway. I have no problem putting you on your ass!” 

“You’re just jealous that Avery smiled at me, and she just farted in your hand!” This one got the guys to laugh hard.  

“Oh, fuck you! That was the sign that she’s comfortable with me and loves me more.”  

“Pretty sure that was a sign that she thought you were shit.”  

“That’s it!” He started to chase me around while the guys took bets if he could catch me. Coach came in and blew his whistle.  

“I swear sometimes I coach a peewee league.” He shook his head. “Sway, Barber, it's great to have you both back. Sway, I want you to take it easy today, so we do your wellness assessment. Barber, I need to review something before practice.  I also want to see baby pictures.  The rest of you, get to your weightlifting or whatever it is you need to do before on ice practice.”   

I punched Luke in the arm. “We could share her.”  

“Leia already said I had to,” he grumbled. “I hate you.”  

“Love you too, Andrews.”  I laughed as I headed to the conditioning room.  That’s where I saw my favorite ass in the whole world.   I stood in the doorway for a second, admiring the way she lifted the boxes into place, her workout pants molding to the curves of her delectable ass. “Fuck me,” I mumbled. 

Stella whipped around and smiled. “Pervert.” 

“Only for you.” I walked in and went for a kiss, but she dodged me, looking around. “What?” 

“Jeremy, we are at work.” Stella pushed me away. Her rejection stung in my chest, and I didn’t like it. I guess my face gave me away. “Baby, we promised not here.” Her eyes were sympathetic. But she was right, we promised to keep it away from work. Her kiss when I was injured was a one off. It was fear induced because we had no idea what was happening or how hurt I was.  

But I liked it.  

I liked her concern for me. I like that she worried for me.  when she crawled into my bed to make sure I was ok, my heart just about exploded. I could fall for this girl and not even notice.  

Except I did just notice.  

I think I’m falling in love with Stella Williams.  

“Jeremy?” My head snaps up to see Stella giving me a curious look.  “You with me?” 

“Sorry Stel. Just went blank for a moment.” I smiled, hoping my feelings didn’t shine through. She’s not on the same level as me, this much I know.  

But I would damn well try to get her there.  

Later that evening, I was pulling up game tape for our upcoming game when there was a knock on the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone tonight.  But who I saw through the peephole made me smile. I opened the door. “You lost?” 

Stella smirked, holding up a couple of grocery bags. “I felt bad for shutting you down at work today.”  

I shrug. “You were right, I should have remembered that.”  

“No,” she sighed, “I was rude.”  

I smirk. “Kinda but it’s ok. Whatcha got there?” I tilt my head towards the bags.  

“I wanted to cook for you.” She smiles shyly. “I know its supposed to be light so I brought some salmon and veggies with a homemade marinade and some dessert.”  

“Really?” I take the bag from her and let her in. I take the bags to the kitchen and start to look for the dessert.  

“What are you doing?”  She bats my hands away. “No dessert until you eat all of your veggies,” she says with a hell of a sexy smirk. God, I want to kiss that smirk away. And I do, since we’re in my place instead of at work. I take her face in my hands and kiss the fuck out of her.  She gasps at the intensity, allowing me to taste her. I deepen it, relishing in her warms against me. I slow and give us a chance to breathe. I press my forehead to hers. We take a minute before she says, “gonna let me cook?” 

“Sure.” I pull away from her and start towards the living room. “Just know, I’m having you for dessert.”  

An hour later and I’m groaning with delight. “God damn woman, you are one hell of a cook.” I wanted to literally lick the plate clean. She made salmon with some sort of magic glaze that made me drool as I smelled it cooking. Broccoli, squash and carrots rounded out the veggies and I ate every single one.  

“Thanks, babe.” She went to pick up the plates, but I stop her.  “You cook, I clean.” I take her plate and head to the sink. I put them in sink before I take the bottle of wine and pour Stella a refill.  I had a water, but I want her to enjoy herself.  She sits at the counter as I rinse everything before getting it into the dish washer.  

“You don’t drink anymore?” 

“I do, just try not to indulge if I don’t have to.” I finish up and turn to her with a smile. “Dessert?” 

“What happened to no indulging?” She giggled at me, and I went to step in between her legs.  

“Pretty sure what I want doesn’t have many calories.  In fact, I know that it actually burns calories.” I start to kiss her neck and she lets out a sigh as she tilts her head to give me access. “God, your skin is so soft and warm. Taste like honey and sunshine.”  

“Oh, god, Jer,” she moans as I kiss lower on her chest. “So good.”  

“Yeah, baby, you like it?” I move to pull her shirt over her head. She’s in a red lace bra and I almost lose it right there. “Fuck, wear this for me?” I move behind her.  

“Ye—yes,” she stutters. Could be because I had reached and squeezed one of her breasts that are spilling out of the cup. I pulled a strap down off her shoulder and started to kiss her skin. Her hair is up in a knot, and I pulled the elastic so her hair tumbles down. She looks wrecked already and perfect.  “Jeremy,” she moans 

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart.” I suck on her skin gently, not to leave a mark. “C’mon baby, use your words.” I let my hands glide underneath her tits, massaging gently. “Tell me, beautiful. Tell me how I can make you feel good.”  

“Jeremy, touch me, please.” Her head was tossed onto my shoulder as I pulled the straps down and unclasping her bra. As soon as the fabric was away from her skin, my palms cupped her perfect breasts. I rolled her nipples in between my fingers as my lips continued their assault on her neck. I wrapped one arm around her check as my other hand drifted down to the waist band of the tight as fuck yoga pants.  

“You want my touch here?” I tweaked a nipple, and she arched her back. “Or maybe here,” I skimmed over her warmth. That got me groan and she pressed her ass into my hips. It was my turn to groan as the sensation of her rubbing that delectable ass over my rock-hard cock. “Fuck, Stel, you could make me come just rubbing this ass on my cock. It fits so nicely between these cheeks.” I ghost a hand over her ass before giving it a quick spank.  

“Baby, fuck.” Stella whines at the smack and I grin. “You like that, don’t you baby.”  

“Yes,” she breathes. I work both hands down her torso and grip her pants and drag them down. I get them off of her feet and she is standing with her back to me, naked and wanting. I yank off my shirt. I want to feel her skin on mine.  I want to feel the heat flash through, warming me down to my soul.  

Because, and I’m not sure when, but Stella Williams owns me, body and soul.  

I’m just realizing that I am in love with Stella.  

Now, I don’t want to fuck my girl. I want to make love to her. To take her to the brink with sweet kisses and easy touches. To transcend to another plane where it's just her and I, just us, just the pure love I have for her. She became everything to me, and I don’t want to let go.  

I spin her to me and pick her up, wrapping her legs around me. I walk her to my bed and lay her down gently. I hold myself over her, fighting the urge to say the words that I just discovered are in me. Instead, I say, “I want to worship you.”  

I can feel the shiver that goes through her body. “Jeremy,” she sighs, “ baby, make me feel good.”  

I descend to kiss those pouty lips. Her perfect lips.  

I took her apart piece by piece and worshiped every inch of skin I could find. It took hours but it was worth it. She slept in my arms, perfectly sated, fitting right into me.  This is my happy place now, wherever she is.  

I’m going to do my best to make sure she becomes mine forever.  

The next six weeks were an intense merry-go-round of games, practice, media and travel.  And of course, Stella.  She is the only calm in the storm going on around me.  

We see each other as often as we can, be it at home or on the road. I’m lucky she gets her own room, being that she is one of the few females that travel with us. She’s also on a whole other floor so we don’t have to be quiet.  

But it's getting hard to keep us on the low. I want to scream from the rooftops that she is mine and I am hers. I want the world to know how obsessed I am with this girl. But she’s not there yet and I respect that. 

We are a week before the playoffs starts and we are in New York for the night.  We had beaten the Rangers in a shutout (you’re welcome) and secured our playoff spot so the boys and I are out celebrating.  Stella couldn’t come on this road trip due to an injury Smith received that sent her home.  That was a bummer because I would have rather celebrated with her.  

We walked into a bar down the street from the hotel to the cheers of some fans that had followed us on the road trip. Andy and Luke said they would get the first round and I told Andy to just get me a Coke.  I was truthful to Stella that I really wasn’t drinking anymore.  Alcohol just made things worse, and I wanted to make sure that I was the best man and teammate.  An hour in, Stevens came over with a couple of shots.  “Sway! Take this with me!” 

I shook my head. “Nah, man, I’m good.”  

“One will not kill you, bro.” He set it down in front of me. “We need to celebrate your shutout.  You’re the reason we are headed to the playoffs.”  

I turned to Andy and Linus. “It’s ok, Jer, I’ve got your back,” Linus said. I nodded and took the shot.  

“Hey, to Jeremy Swayman. One half of the greatest goal tending duos that the Bruins have ever seen!” Stevens toasted and the bar cheered.  I down the shot with a grimace but laughed. I thought that would be it and we could move on.  

Boy, I was wrong.  

Three more shots later and I was truly tipsy. “Guys, I think I’m in love,” I slurred.  

“Oh yeah,” Andy smirked, “with who?” 

“Can’t tell you. She’ll kill me. But I love her. She’s my perfect half to make me whole.” I smiled and tried to reach for another drink but Luke pulled it away.  “Hey!” 

“Nope, you’re done, Sway.”  

“Boo! No fun!” Just then someone tripped into me.  I caught the body before it hit the table. It was a pixie of a blonde. She had on a blue dress that left nothing to the imagination and sky-high heels. She was beautiful, no doubt, but she wasn’t my Stella. I steadied the girl on her feet. “You ok?” 

“I’m good.” She smiled up at me. “You’re Jeremy Swayman, right? I nodded.  Britney.” She offered me her hand.  

“Nice to meet you.” I moved to turn to the table, but she stopped me. “Yeah?” 

“Was wondering if you wanted to dance... or something?” She gave me a flirty smile.  

Old Jeremy would have been all over this. But even in my inebriated state, my heart only beat for one woman. “Thanks, but no thanks. I have a girlfriend.”  

“She doesn’t need to know,” Britney said as she caressed my arm. Don’t know how but that sobered me right the fuck up.  I pushed her hand off of me.  

“And I said no. Please leave.” I guess my face said it all because she scoffed, rolled her eyes and walked away.  I turned back to my teammates.  

Andy smiled. “I don’t know who this girl is, but she is lucky to have a guy who knows what he’s got.” 

I smiled. “I’m pretty sure I’m the lucky one.” I took one more shot before he slapped my back and walked out of the bar. I got to my room and texted Stella.  

Jeremy: miss you, Stel. Want to be in your bed.   Stella: I miss you too. XO 

Unknown POV 

It is the opportunity of a lifetime. I wanted him. I wanted Jeremy Swayman. But that bitch Stella sunk her claws into him. I needed a way to break them up. No one knows that they are together. But I saw them and all I saw was red.  Why did that slut have all the good guys? First her ex, who, while ok in bed, was the absolute worst in the daylight. 

Now she had Jeremy.  

Well, not for much longer.   

I snapped the photo and sent it to the Boston Globe.  

Let’s see if she stays with his “cheating” ass.  

He’ll need comfort after.  

And I’ll be ready.  

NEXT

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[dotieeee]

The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 20

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)

**********************************************************

Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

Morpheus is DARK – in canon, he changes for the better (or at least, tries to – but we don’t do canon lol, so he goes even more batshit crazy) cue obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, powerplay

18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

Graphic death

Some consensual smut!

Manipulation, gaslighting, you name it, we have it lol

Barely edited, please bear with me

You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!

Link to the previous chapter

Chapter 20: The Abyss Gazes Back

Dream of the Endless hummed to himself, blending into the shadows of the street corner, as he observed the tavern entrance from a considerable distance. With a curl of his lips, he watched as the establishment’s keeper unceremoniously threw out the last of its rowdy patrons into the streets and closed its door for the night with a curse that alluded to their mothers and their genitalia. Undeterred, the group, composed of four, got to their feet in a wobbly fashion and erupted in raucous laughter and tuneless singing before prancing off home, as he correctly surmised. One of them, an out-of-work farmer whose lands he sold having fallen on hard times, would later arrive at his home and beat his wife and son before landing on a patch of hay and dreaming of buying back his farm. Dream knows. He always does.

He had had enough of human debauchery, he thought. How his sister managed to last an entire day in their company was beyond his fathoming. He left the corner he had hidden in and decided he’d take a stroll along the now empty, straight, concrete path before returning to his realm. He wouldn’t be returning to the Waking World in another hundred years, perhaps.

Then he heard a pair of dainty footsteps behind him. It was you.

He had known for quite a while that you had taken an interest in him. Such a curious little thing you were, but he regrettably had not had time to indulge you in your dreams.

No matter, now. You were here, and you had found him.

“Wait!” He heard you call out so desperately. 

He made up his mind in an instant. He was going to humour you, his curious little dreamer, if only for his amusement. If you proved to be worth his while, his trip to this decaying world might not be such a waste. He let his physical form vanish into sand just as he heard you reach him. Without making a noise, his form rematerialized behind you while you observed the sand falling into the stone path.

It was a mere jest, but he could not have you wait any longer, not when you’ve wandered so far away from home to come and seek him.

And so, he addressed you.

You jostled around, startled, and you even put up your fists as a reflex, he noted with faint amusement. But then your eyes widened, and you lowered your guard. You bowed to him and apologised. How could you think of yourself to be a disturbance to him, when you had braved unknown lands just to seek him?

“And you have found me. You are a long way from home, little dreamer. Now tell me what it is you seek.”

He had an inkling what you came to him for, but he needed to hear it from you.

“But it was you, yourself, that I sought.”

The pinkish tinge on your cheeks as you declared your purpose did not escape his discerning eyes. He had not had anyone seek him so, not since…

He invited you to walk with him as he did your uncle. You stayed quiet, for a while, perhaps out of bashfulness. He decided he didn’t like it when you held back from him.

“I take it you have not journeyed far only to accompany me for a stroll.”

And you laughed. It was such a short, sweet sound that you made…

You asked if he knew of your uncle, who had been unforgettable in his own right. He replied with a memory of how the sculptor caught his attention. 

You spoke of how fond he was about his craft, and how he’s had difficulty finding the heart to indulge in its creation. He only hummed and tilted his head, intending to bring you close to the lake and away from the centre of the city that reeked of human filth. He wasn’t quite fond of the idea of you being marred with it.

And you went on about how you thought his meeting with your uncle and him taking to his craft once more was no mere chance. He noted your expectant gaze, and how it turned from him towards the view of the lake, then back to his eyes. He felt a mild twinge of dismay at what you had insinuated. And he had dared hope…

“Am I to understand that you’ve braved this long journey for a boon of your own?”

But your reply completely caught him by surprise.

“I just needed to know that you, and others like you, have not truly abandoned humanity.”

Is that what brought you to him: your love for your kind? Awestruck with your response, he barely registered that the both of you had reached the riverbank - he beheld your face and felt your ache for the grim plight of the people of your time. Some of the gods he knew had indeed grown tired of humanity, and while Dream himself had at times held mild disdain for some of your kind, he knew he could never turn away from Waking World, no matter how heavy of a burden his responsibilities were.

But, for them - him - to abandon you?

“Why would you think that of us, little dreamer?” 

He was curious now, and you had everything to do with it. He closed the distance between you just so he could observe more of the enigma that was you.

Then you recounted how your family had produced so many works of art and have written literature and produced plays to honour his kind - they should be in his library tucked safely away, and he made a mental note to peruse them sometime - and you revealed that the gods’ absence was a punishment for humanity’s unspeakable sins…

“…So there, that is why I came to find you. And getting to meet you like this in person…I’m glad that some of you still walk among us.”

Your dream presented itself to him plainly: you sought more inspiration for your fellow human beings - the kind that breathed passion into their bleak lives, however it manifested. The way you poured your heart out to him, selflessly seeking no material gain for yourself and searching for something meaningful your kind could latch on to for hope in these dark times…and of all the powerful deities you could pray to, you came to him instead. The thought was enough to give him a rush he had not felt in aeons. Your meeting was fated, that he knew.

So much evil, depravity and death he has seen of humanity, and right before him was the personification of passion, of life itself, blooming so brightly under the silvery glow of the moon…

You were the most beautiful human he’s laid his eyes on.

“...I forgot to ask your name!” you fretfully said.

For the first time that night, Dream of the Endless felt a smile forming on his lips.

“I am Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams,” he declared. It gave him satisfaction seeing how shivered before him and froze to your spot, whispering to yourself a moniker he also went by, indicating you knew of him. He stared unabashedly, transfixed at the way your lips moved.

They looked so soft - would they feel soft on his, too?

“You may address me as Morpheus.”

Oh, the way he relished his name on your lips…

“... my name is -”

“I know who you are, Mera,” Dream whispered. Mera, his little dreamer. Your father was apt to name you so. The Creator had moulded you so perfectly.

“I have never met anyone quite just like you. Are you sure you’ve no desire for a boon? I can give you many things, everything you’ve dreamed of - you need only ask.”

And it was true: you could ask him for his sand, his helm, or his ruby, and he would give it without a moment’s hesitation. He knew, however, that he could never tempt you with power, or material riches. Of course, you politely declined his offer. Yet, bubbling within him was this strong desire to whisk you to the Dreaming, where you could be far away from his dreadful place and you could remain untainted by the misfortune of man.

“Will I see you again?” you innocently asked him.

Dream of the Endless felt his physical heart flutter as his eyes roamed your face and gazed into those bright eyes. He wanted to see more of you, so he dipped his head closer.

“Will that please you Mera?” he responded as softly as he could.

“If it isn’t much of a bother.”

“If my little dreamer wishes so.” 

How could he deny you of something so inconsequential? It was, after all, the only request you have asked of him so far.

Finally, he could no longer help himself - he allowed his fingers to brush against your cheek - you were so soft against his touch. He used his sand to lull you into a dream he knew you’d appreciate. Fast asleep, you tipped forward and he caught you in his arms.

As your breath tickled his clothed chest, his mind was racing with tumultuous thoughts. He could do it now - bring you to his realm. He could keep you there for eternity, where he could ensure that you stayed happy and wanted for nothing.

He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but he fell in love, hard and fast, with the human he held close to his heart, in deep sleep and blissfully unaware of the desire that plagued him.

But as he stroked your hair with all the gentleness in the world, memories of a once majestic city crumbling before the eyes of his former lover invaded his mind.

Nada had once lamented the cruel fate the love of an Endless would bring to a mortal. Could he be selfish with you like he did with her and risk bringing that deluge upon you?

Using his sand, he went through your thoughts to find the room in which you stayed and brought you there instead. Gently, he laid you down on the bed and made sure you were tucked fully under the covers (he didn’t like the sheets, they were far too rough - if he had his way, you’d be in his own quarters, tucked in rich fabrics of velvet and silk).

With a conflicted sigh, he let his fingers skim your soft cheeks. You looked so pure and innocent in your sleep, safely tucked away in your personal little corner of his realm. He made a quiet vow to watch over you in your dreams and in the Waking World when he can. What wonders awaited him in your dreams, he could not wait to witness for himself. He hovered over you, allowing himself the little pleasure of planting a lingering kiss on your forehead and pulling away before his self-control waned and he let his desire of spiriting you away take over. 

Reluctantly, the King of Dreams leaves you alone in your room and returns to his kingdom, all while pining for a love he knew could never be.

***

It took every ounce of his willpower not to grab you by the shoulders and pull you into a kiss as you openly gaped at the beauty that was the Dreaming.

He’d been watching over you for weeks, ensuring your dreams were nothing but perfect, at times even crafting them himself. Not wanting to scare you away, he used the time to get to know his precious little dreamer by way of your dreams - he’d combed through your memories and studied the people you had chosen to grace your presence with. He troubled Lucienne to scour the library in search of your works - the songs you sang, the poetry you sometimes read to the peasants in the tavern, the plays you and your cousins would enact to the townsfolk’s delectation - for them, it was an escape from their dreary lives, something they look forward to after a hard day’s work. Everyone you touched with your creation was left taken by your beauty and inspired by your message. There was hope in the air where you lived, all because of the joy you spread with your art.

He could not have chosen a better human to fall head-over-heels for.

When he finally invited you to his palace and escort you around his realm, he ensured a majestic display of his creation, and in every corner, you turned to you gasped in awe and squealed in delight - he had watched you, his insides inwardly singing, as you ran excitedly around his library, that even Lucienne did not have the heart to admonish you for making such a racket. His joy from that day was such that for the days that followed the Dreaming saw every tree and bush bloom with flowers of every colour, permeating the air of the realm with their fresh, sweet aromas.

And so, your regular visits began, and in these visits, he ensured you spent time alone with him, even if it was in companionable silence. When you conversed, he found you to be well-versed in every topic, and when he was faced with troubles concerning the nature of humans, he sought your counsel.

And one day, he heard you sing. You sang of love and pain and of life and death - haunting melodies that have not been sung in his halls since the days of Orpheus.

He then began to tell you of the tale - how his son fell into despair at the death of his wife, and how he met a terrible fate at the hands of the Maenads after failing to take her back from the Underworld. After he had confided, you had offered your hand in comfort, and he held on to it; he would not have let go of it, too, if you had not been woken up and torn away from his grasp. The hand you had so lovingly held in your warmth, he cradled to his heart for a long moment, until his duties called to him once more. He’s had a taste of your touch, no matter how fleeting, and he yearned for more of it.

It was then that he decided he could not spend eternity without it.

But, you were not spared of your own sorrows in the Waking World. He had heard of your father’s plan to have you wed to your childhood friend whom he knows you do not love. This was a fact he had known since he combed through your memories, and he had refused to acknowledge it until it was considered an official matter among your family members. Perhaps, he could confess, then, before it was too late? Damn the curse - he could find a way to rescue you from it, take you from the Waking World to his realm so you could be spared from it?

That’s why he did not understand how you came to him with the news of your engagement in such light spirits - how could you agree to this loveless marriage? Why couldn’t you see how you were meant to stay by his side, instead? How could you, someone he actually came to trust with his heart, toss it aside so nonchalantly?

He was terse when he wished you well in your betrothal and had abruptly left, using his work as an excuse. He could not find the strength to face you then, nor could he stop you from your decision - if you were happy with that mortal man, there was nothing else he could do.

So, as he dedicated himself to his kingdom day and night, he refused to see you and be in your presence. He even contemplated banishing you so he could start forgetting you, but in the end, he couldn’t find it in himself to turn you away.

The realm grew cold and hostile, mirroring its king’s state of mind; rains became the norm, as were the grey skies and the gloom they gave the entire kingdom. Still, you had kept visiting, although the occurrence had lessened. You began to ask for him every time you came, wondering where he was, or if he was ill. Lucienne had relayed your wish to see him, but he refused every instance. He could not face you without cursing the man you had chosen over him - he could give him nightmares, he supposed, but he knows you could be affected by his eventual misery - instead, he scrapped the thought and allowed himself to brood. Maybe, he could wait until your death; he could claim your soul for his own, then - after all, his sister could be easily reasoned with, he thought halfheartedly.

Still, it touched him so when you kept asking to see him even if you were always refused. He dared not hope you’d have a change of heart, so in the meantime, he purposefully avoided you until he found a way to make you his without the curse befalling you.

Overall, he despaired as he watched you slowly fall in love with your mortal husband, having already run out of ways, and of time, to win your heart.

Perhaps his tipping point was the day you arrived on the shores of his realm with a life force growing in your womb.

He had felt it the moment you arrived in his realm, and when he approached you, you wore a small smile on your face - he’s missed that smile - he revealed his knowledge of the child you carried while avoiding the bitterness in his tones, but inside he was bubbling with outrage and jealousy, unlike anything he had ever felt. Perhaps, if he had acted quicker than he had, that child could’ve been his, even if admittedly he had no intention of siring a child too soon after the tragedy that was once his son. Still, the hollow pain ate at him and even if he tried showing none of it, the skies above him shared his sentiments:

How could you willingly let that mortal reduce you to a mere broodmare when you were clearly made for something so much more? Could you not see how that man was extinguishing your light? Dream had been watching your books in his library, and the more time you spent with your husband, the more the latest pages remained empty - you’d forsaken your art in exchange for a life beneath your stature. That man has brainwashed you into thinking that was a life fitting for the personification of hope and inspiration, and it filled Dream to the brim with a sense of righteous vengeance that sought the blood of the man that dared snared you from under his nose.

Darius, his name was - he did not deserve you, not a single hair of you; and if he needed to take drastic measures to rescue you from a life of emptiness, then it would be so.

And with that thought in mind, he took his leave of you on the shores with a single promise: 

“Fear not, my dreamer, I shall not forsake you again.”

***

“You summoned me, my Lord?”

With his back turned to his greatest masterpiece of a nightmare yet, Dream of the Endless hummed in response as he gazed at nothing but the winding staircase to the throne that lay before him.

“I need you, my little nightmare, to gather two more of your kind - just as devastating, just powerful. Choose your company wisely, for the task I have for you is a gamble that I am not willing to lose,” the King spoke with a sense of purpose.

The Corinthian awaited his Lord’s command with bated breath.

“You are to work on the man who is called Darius Manius. You are to torment him in his dreams with all your power, and ensure he remembers none of it once he wakes.”

“What is the goal here, my Lord?” the nightmare asked with every bit of interest laced in his voice.

“I need him to kill his wife in her sleep.”

As his nightmare bid farewell and took his leave, the King of Dreams sat on his throne with one less worry in his heart. He was patient, and he would play this out to the end: your death, at the hands of your husband, would be the only way you could avoid a curse being placed upon you, and he would be there at the hour of your death to hold your hand, and finally offer you an eternity in his realm.

It won’t be long now, and you’ll be free.

***

The day you died in his arms was the day he admitted he may have gone too far.

You came to him that day, exhausted from giving birth, yet, you stood with pride before him in his throne room, beaming with the glow only a new mother would possess. He congratulated you with all his heart, recalling the same feeling his former wife, Calliope, must’ve felt the day their Orpheus was born. He held no grudge against your child, for his was of the same blood running in your veins, and your blood was pure and precious.

But his perceptive eyes could see something was wrong. He knew it was your husband - such a fragile mind could only hold out for so long with such potent nightmares his creations have been shaping at his behest. 

“Tell me what he has done,” he said, but you were hardly able to shake your head before it happened.

Blood. So much blood started seeping through your gown, flowing from your chest. Your hand travelled to your heart, but his eyes only beheld your face, contorted in anguish. He ran to you at once, alarmed by what he was witnessing.

His plan was at work, he just had not expected to witness such a gruesome sight.

Right over your heart was a gash where the blood flowed, likely of your husband’s doing, whose mind had finally snapped due to the terrors his nightmares have inflicted. Understandably, you were confused, you were screaming and wondering what was going on, and it hurt him to see you in agony, so he cupped your cheeks in an attempt to somehow alleviate your pain.

This was his doing. He’d gone too far. 

“My Mera, none can hurt you whilst you’re here in my realm. But in the Waking World, where your physical form lies…”

Your body could still be harmed. But, he didn’t have to say it. You were sharp enough to come to the correct conclusion.

“I’m dying, aren’t I?”

He let you completely collapse in his arms as you wailed against his cloak. But amidst your sorrowful screaming, he strengthened his resolve: this was for your own good. He was doing all this for you. When your crying had waned, he heard you whisper, “What of my son?”

Using his powers, his blue eyes shifted to depthless ink as he accessed the view of your room in the Waking. He had no time to consider shielding you from such a macabre sight, so your view was just as clear as his was: the evidence of his nightmares’ work of art on Darius’ mind - your mangled body at its death rattle, your child screaming in its crib for a mother who could never wake up again, and the man you chose to spend the rest of your days with, hovering over his only, newborn son, ready to deliver a fatal strike.

Caius - you named your son - was never supposed to be a casualty.

He could only look on as the blade pierced through the helpless child’s body, and held you even closer to his heart as you let out a piercing wail.

He was well aware he could block out the view of your son’s mutilated, lifeless body from his view - after all, it painfully reminded him of the loss of his own son, but he gritted his teeth as he stared unflinchingly, while you fell apart in his embrace in grief he could not comfort you from.

This was his punishment for letting you die so he could have you. This was the price he had to pay for his own covetousness: to watch you go through the agony of dying and losing your son all in one night…

And so he endured your cries.

The words he could offer, he knew would not ease your grief, but he said them anyway.

“My dear Mera, take comfort in the thought that my sister is kind, and she will ferry your son to the Sunless lands in her embrace.”

“Will she take me, too?” you asked him.

Dream bristled inwardly at the thought of you being swept away from him, and by his sweet sister, no less. He would never allow it. He’d never let you leave.

“No.” He drew your body closer to his, and said unwaveringly, “No. You are of the Dreaming, now. She can never take you away from me. From my realm. I will be your home if you will have me.”

As you leaned into his touch further, he felt hope inside him blossom. You were grieving, and he was aware it would take time before that pain faded away, but if this was the only way he could have you, then he would wait. You were fated to be with him, that he understood since the night he had laid eyes on you.

Your grief was his punishment.

***

Dream of the Endless went above and beyond to see to it that you wanted for nothing.

Even for months after your passing, he was aware you still mourned even if you refused to talk about it to anyone, including himself. To pass the time, he knew you had been offering your help around with the palace staff - he wouldn’t allow that to continue in the future, of course, but he deduced it as your only source of distraction. He wasn’t one to take that meagre source of comfort for you, so he let the matter be.

It offered you very little reprieve, it seemed, for as a great hush fell in the Dreaming night after night, you’d wander to the shores of the sea where the dreams lie, and, settling on the sand with your knees close, you’d gaze forlornly into the waters as if you wished nothing but to drown in them.

He could no longer help himself that night, so made his way to you. You were so immersed in your own world you did not hear him, and when he reached you, he offered his hand, which you readily accepted. He noticed you never broke eye contact. That was a good sign.

“Why do you stare at the waters so, my little dreamer?” he asked curiously.

With a deep sigh, you admitted truthfully to him how you wanted to know what the waters held. It was a simple request he could grant. He made up his mind at that very moment and offered you a deal.

“I shall make you my dream, and you shall traverse those waters, and in them, you shall find happiness once more.”

Perhaps he was being impulsive - he found that he tended to be so with matters that concerned you - but to be truthful to himself, he had been thinking what you would be like had you been his creation. There was no doubt, to him, that you would be perfect for the role he had in mind.

“You would do that, my Lord?” you whispered with so much hope in your tone.

“I ask only one thing.”

“Name it, my Lord.”

“You love. I long for it. I crave it,” he said softly, so intensely, lowering his head to yours so you were but inches away from him - so close he got a whiff of your sweet, floral scent, it almost drove him to insanity.

He saw your expression shift from adoration to astonishment - how could this be a surprise to you when he had but given you his kingdom as your home?

“How could you seek my love when you can have anyone else’s? Surely you have suitors more worthy of you, my King.”

You dared speak as if your love wasn’t worthy of him, when there was no other he deemed worthy of his own? He would not have it.

“No, their love is nothing compared to yours. I have seen it in your dreams, and in the Waking World. There is none like it.”

He gazed unwaveringly into your eyes, hoping you could see his truth: it was only you since that moonlit night on the lake, and it would always be you until he was Endless no more.

“Your heart is already so full, yet it still holds so much space for my realm, and I know you will never run out of it. Devote it to me, Mera, my dream, and I will give you the ability to form dreams that will fill the hearts and minds of mortals with the same passion for life as you have. Above all, I will give you my heart, and all the love it has held for you since the night we met.”

He waited anxiously as you paused as if contemplating his offer. 

“And you shall have it, my Lord. All of it.”

And just like that, Dream had everything in the universe he desired.

***

The Dream Lord’s lips were instantly on yours when you had finished uttering your oath to him. His kiss started soft, but when he felt you respond to him the kiss turned more heated, hungry, almost overwhelming, but you held steadfast. He held you like he feared you’d run away, so you kissed him as fervently as you could, hoping you’d assure him that you had nowhere to be except in his arms. He seemed to discern this, for he broke the kiss, although with much reluctance and swept you in arms, and thus he carried you from the sandy shores, across the Dreaming and into his palace like his bride - which, in many ways, you were, and his eyes, which had gotten a silver hue, told of the love and longing a man possessed at the day of his wedding. That fiery gaze of his never left yours as carried you to his chambers and laid you down on his bed. You lost count that night of how many times he made his love known to you. Even after you were utterly spent and unable to move owing to his fervent love-making, he held you close to his heart until you drifted off to sleep, and sleep you did, fitfully, for the first time since the day of your death.

While he was gentle with you in the company of others, he was intense and all-consuming in the privacy of your chambers. Your nights with him were filled with love-making so fiery, so passionate, and unlike any night your previous husband had spent with you - he would spend hours and hours giving you such burning passion until you shattered, limp and breathless underneath him, and he held you in his arms with such burning love and whispered promises of eternity filled with bliss in all the languages he knew, and he made sure all of his realm heard it: you were his, from the moment you pledged him your soul, until the end of time, and all of his realm knew of it.

He taught you everything there is to know about forming dreams. With your arms linked together, he took you to the sea of dreams to witness for yourself the wonders of the human collective unconscious, and under his tutelage, you formed dreams of inspiration for countless humans like yourself - you were quite good at it too, for you were aware of the plight of humans and you knew their nature by heart. You’ve developed quite a routine in no time, coming and going as you please in the Dreaming waters during the day and sharing the King’s bed during the night. Sorrows followed you no more, and in the several years that passed, your son’s unfortunate fate became nothing but a memory of a former life you could barely remember. You were truly happy.

Just like the Dream Lord had promised.

***

You met him one day in the dreams of a blacksmith: your Lord’s perfect nightmare, he was called.

The Corinthian.

You couldn’t always control where the waters took you, and that day was one such day. You arrived in the dream just in time to witness the wonderful horror that was the Corinthian’s work: the nightmare, hovering on all fours over the blacksmith’s only son, his thumbs squeezing his victim’s eye sockets as the dreamer watched, screaming in sheer terror. You stood transfixed, mesmerised, as the Corinthian gobbled up his prize using the mouths that replaced his eye sockets before they licked the blood clean with their tiny tongues.

He raised his head from his handiwork and grinned at you, then made the vision fade, leaving nothing but an empty dream-workshop and the dreamer cowering in its corner. He got to his feet and made his way to you. Speechless, you tip your head slightly in greeting.

His work was legendary, even among your kind.

“You’re the new dream, aren’t you?” He spoke, pointing lazily at you with a blood-coated forefinger.

 You could only nod, still in awe in the presence of one of your Lord's finest creations. “Corinthian. Your reputation precedes you,” you replied. “It’s an honour to finally meet you.”  

“Is that so?” he said with a lopsided grin as he placed his hands inside his trouser pockets. “Had I known I was popular among you dreams, I might be inclined to spend more time with your sort.”

Both of you stood for a moment in awkward silence, assessing each other curiously. There was something about him so familiar - it wasn’t so much a smell, but an air about him. “Forgive me for saying so, but have you been to the Waking World?”

He chuckled, donning an impressed expression. “What gave it away?”

“I can sense it, I guess,” you said with a shrug. “I’ve lived there before.”

“You have sharp senses,” he complimented as he took a silver dagger out of his robes and wiped the caked blood off it with a cloth before placing it back with a pat. He seemed fond of the weapon.

“I was told we weren’t allowed to enter the Waking World.”

“Will you tell our Lord, then?”

You paused at his question. The King had explicitly instructed you never to go back to the realm of the mortals, but perhaps being his favourite nightmare came with certain privileges. “No, I was merely intrigued, is all.”

“As am I...” His smirk widening, he continued, “About the circumstances leading to your…employment. You met an untimely death in your sleep, am I correct?”

“I did.”

The Corinthian perked up even more. “Oh? But, I must know! Spare me no detail.”

“I entrusted a person with my life, but he took it, in the end,” you responded in a clipped manner. The blacksmith, cowering in the corner of his own dream, let out a pained, pitiful moan as if recalling the horrific sight of his son being murdered right before his eyes. Even in a dream, it seemed just as traumatic for him.

The Corinthian, ignoring the dreamer, continued, “May I ask why you have accepted our Lord's offer to stay in his realm? I hear Lady Death is pleasant company.”

You smiled slightly at the mention of Lady Death, inwardly wondering what it would be like to pass while she held your hand in hers. “Be that as it may, I thought I could be of more use here than simply moving on.”

The nightmare before you tilted his head. “I take it you trusted our Dream Lord and his intentions?”

“Without a doubt. Forgive me, fellow dream, but is there a reason for your line of questioning?” Wary of his conversation, you cross your arms and regard the nightmare suspiciously. 

Not to be deterred, he seemed to grow bolder, as if taunting you. “I'm sure you've wondered why your husband seemed to have snapped and decided to murder you and your child in cold blood.”

Your expression turned sharp and asked bluntly, “How did you know that?”

The nightmare just winked. “I know more than you think, doll. While I am not allowed to divulge such...details, I'm sure I have quite the freedom to advise you this: do not place your trust on Morpheus.” He started walking away, but then turned his head back lazily and added, “And if you happen to spend your free time in the Royal Library, why not try borrowing your husband's book of dreams? I'm sure it'll make for an interesting read. It must be getting late. Forgive me, I must run. Until our next meeting.” He gave you a two-finger salute before vanishing. Where to, you had no clue, but he was able to give you something to think about: perhaps it was time you faced the truth about Darius, even if you risked opening wounds that had barely started to heal.

***

“Mera, forgive me for asking, but why would you be looking for your husband’s book?”

You faced Lucienne’s worried face with an almost guilty look, fidgeting with your gown as you did. You had torn through the entire library during what remained of the time you had in the Dreaming when you weren’t out to the ocean of dreams helping the humans. You had been through every shelf for the past three months, but there was no sign of Darius’s book in any of them, no matter how many times you’ve combed them through. If there was anyone in the realm who knew where every single book was, it was the Royal librarian herself.

“I’m just curious. There has to be a reason why he did what he did. He is…was a good person, until..well, you know what happened.”

You bit the insides of your cheeks, flashing her a hopeful look. She squashed that almost immediately.

“The Dream Lord had taken great lengths to save you from the pain, Mera.” She clasped her hands together over her desk while peering at you with a chastising look.

Ah, yes. The King of Dreams. He had been rather protective of you since the night you became lovers, which was nothing short of what you expected of him. He could be a tad excessive at times, in your opinion, but you were mortal once - the Endless, immortal beings they were, could be very strange by mortal standards. Still…

“Maybe I don’t need to be saved from it.”

Lucienne let out a deep sigh. “Mera, there is no easy way to say this, but Darius, he…he has taken his own life.”

You blinked several times, unsure of what you heard.

“I know not the reason, but perhaps he was unable to face your father. He and your uncle were out for blood when they found out. They were planning to execute him for what he’s done to you and your son.”

Your mind drew to a blank, but you managed to faintly ask:

“When?”

“It was three days after he…what he did was awful, Mera. I’m sorry.”

Lucienne stood from behind her desk and made her way to you. She hugged your unmoving body, and whispered, “I truly am.”

You wanted to hug her back, but you noticed you couldn’t even raise your hands - they were shaking badly, as was your entire body. You looked down at Lucienne’s robes and realised you’d gotten them wet.

Tears. You couldn’t stop them from flowing. Why would you mourn for the man who killed you?

But that wasn’t just who he was to you, was he? He was your best friend. The man you’d fallen in love with. The father of your child.

He was the Darius you had known and loved. So, you allowed yourself to cry for your best friend, the man you had loved, the man you had willingly given your heart to.

***

You waited dutifully for your King that night in his chambers, aware that he might have already found out about your little raid in his library. You had, of course, braced yourself for any consequences that may lead to your actions. Would he be mad at you? Disappointed? Will he take away his gift of life to you as his dream? You had expected just about everything the Endless may do in his wrath.

You had not expected him to be upon you immediately when he arrives, tearing your clothes off like it was his last day in the universe and barely making it onto his bed where he roughly made love to you over and over, until you laid underneath him, every ounce of your energy drained trying to keep up with him.

You were on your stomach, panting heavily, and you could feel his hot breath on your skin as he caressed your shoulders with his mouth. You then felt his lips hover over your ear and whispered:

“Was that better than your husband did, my dream?”

There it was - that bitter jealousy you had been expecting. He gripped your wrists with unnecessary force, waiting for your response.

But you hadn’t come up with any, so he growled in your ear and asked, his tone laced with venom:

“That pathetic excuse of a man…do you still love him? After all that he did to you?”

From above you, you felt his body shift slightly, and once more, you felt the tip of his cock probe your tease your entrance before plunging it inside fully, earning a gasp of pleasure from you.

As his thrusts filled you with utter ecstasy, you could feel his palpable ire enveloping your entire form, your lips trembling as you responded, “My Lord, you know that’s not true. I still love him, but not like I love you - ah!”

He changed the angle of his hips slightly and the thrust he gave made you cry out as he hit a spot in your core, already sensitive from your previous love-making. He hit it repeatedly with a force that made you curl your toes and moan loudly, echoing in his chambers. With his torso touching your back, you could feel the rumbling anger in his chest.

“Does he still occupy your thoughts?” He asked as he gripped your hips harshly and brought them to him as he continued rutting into you.

“No, never, my Lord…please,” you managed to let out amidst your hoarse screaming.

In your ears, he commanded with a low growl, “You will forget him. You will not seek his book. You will not speak his name in my realm. Am I understood, dream of mine?”

There was nothing you could do but nod helplessly as he continued taking you, the bed creaking slightly with his forceful thrusts.

“Do I have your word?”

“Yes, yes, my Lord, yes!”

You came undone at once, screaming in ecstasy, and your King soon follows, spilling his seed inside you far too many times more than you could count that night. As the last of his warmth spread inside your tender, throbbing walls, he declared:

“You belong to me. Your heart, your body, your soul. All of it.”

Thoroughly, utterly spent, you could only sigh in contentment as you passed out, but not before your Lord took you in his arms and made you lay on top of him with your head close to his heart.

***

The realm has once again gone chilly. You weren’t one to complain, so in the guise of normalcy, you had resumed your work in the ocean of dreams and Darius was never brought up again, for fear of incurring your Dream King’s wrath. But still, you were burning with more questions since you began your quest for the truth - you know not whether they’d ever be answered, but you had an eternity at your disposal; surely, one day that book will find its way into your hands when you least expected it. You had to tread carefully.

You were in the palace kitchens making tea. Rubbing your arms to find some warmth, you inched closer to the hearth where the kettle hung and waited for the water to boil. There was no one in there but yourself and the cold, unwelcome air, and you had just spent the entire day since this morning, crafting dreams in the sea - it was a much-awaited, much-needed break, and you desired nothing but a heavy, woollen blanket to curl up in and a book to distract you with until the next rising of the sun. It was all a dream like you could hope for.

You placed your steaming mug on a tray, along with some bread, and went back to the royal library, wondering vaguely what book you’d fancy burying your nose in. Careful not to spill anything, you gingerly made your way to your favourite spot in the entire library: it was hidden among a tall set of shelves, had a little table in the middle where you could set your humble fare down, and surrounded by couches not unlike what you had at home, made of ornate marble and stuffed with soft wool. 

Gingerly, you carried your tray through the library, taking a route you normally would, as far from the main entrance as possible and away from the larger hallways where the other dreams would convene, wanting to avoid bothering anyone and drawing attention to yourself. You had already been a topic of conversation among them, being the only one of the Dream Lord’s creations to have become his lover. Already, there were rumours of you being a witch in your past life and bewitching the Endless to ensnare his affections - it was humorous at best to you and the dreams you had gotten close to, but there were other dreams who weren’t fond of you and spread unkind words about your origins. You gave those dreams a wide berth, for confronting them won’t do them any good - the King would find out, and you shuddered to think what he’ll do to them if he so much as got a whiff of the rumours.

Being banished to the darkness came to mind.

You reached a secluded portion of the library not far from your destination. That area normally was empty, so you found it odd that hushed voices were coming from that direction.

“...cease your trysts to the Waking World, little nightmare. You do not belong there.”

“But, I have never gone against your word, my Lord. Not even when you had given me that special project of yours.”

The Dream Lord and the Corinthian.

You hated eavesdropping, so you wanted very much to just walk past and pretend you had not heard, but the mention of your name made you stop dead in your tracks.

“Speaking of her… I hear she has become a dream now…You know, one of us,” you heard the Corinthian remark curiously.

The Dream Lord’s response was brusque. “You have heard correctly.”

“Do you really think it’s wise to keep her here like your pet, with what you did with her husband? Well, ex-husband.”

Following the taunting voice of the nightmare was tension so heavy, no doubt coming from the King himself.

What did he do to Darius?

“All I mean is, what if any of the nightmares that plagued him come babbling to her? She is friendly with them, after all. Imagine if she finds out what you did..the nightmares you gave him…”

The Corinthian must be bluffing. He must be. He must’ve been caught sneaking to the Waking World and was being reprimanded for it by his creator, and he just might be lashing out. There was no way Dream of the Endless, your saviour, the one you willingly gave your heart to, could’ve orchestrated your husband’s downfall and the death of your only son.

“I simply did what must be done.”

The tray you were holding fell to the carpeted floor with a muffled crash, its scalding contents spilling on your feet.

The sting of the piping-hot liquid didn’t register. Instead, a different kind of pain manifested itself: one that was unbearable, bloody and fatal, right over the heart. And it was your Dream Lord’s nightmares that brought it about at his behest. Your hand clutching your chest, you hunched over at the sight of Cauis’s mangled body in your head - he had ordered that too, the death of an innocent child. It was guilt at the murder of his own family, you realised, that made Darius take his own life.

So many deaths…and it was all in the hands of the Endless that now faced you with slightly widened eyes, concerned about you at the state he had found you in.

“My dream, how long have you been here?”

Was that a hint of fear he had in his eyes? Good.

“That was you…” you managed to say. “You poisoned his mind, turned him into a murderer…”

The King of Dreams put on a blank mask and cautiously approached you.

“Stay away from me…” you whispered as you slowly backed away.

His footsteps came to a halt, and he said carefully, “My nightmares merely inspired the thought in his head. The rest was Darius’s doing.”

But at that point, any explanation he had was unacceptable.

“You had my son and I killed…you had planned this all along, just so you could have your way.”

The Corinthian appeared behind him with a tiny, satisfied smirk. If he had been the one to torture Darius, it didn’t matter: he helped uncover the truth, which you had been blind to, and which the King of Nightmares would’ve continued shielding you from.

“You were wasting your life away with that mortal. I only meant to give you a better life with me. Far more than Darius can offer.”

“Don’t you dare say his name!” you screamed, grabbing the nearest book and throwing it in his direction. “You don’t deserve to say his name. Darius was a good man, he loved me with all his heart. And you reduced his memory to that of a mere criminal…”

Your eyes were burning with tears, but you ignored them, you refused to wipe them away. “You took my family away from me.”

“He did not deserve you.”

Staring straight into the Dream Lord’s blue eyes, swimming with tears that have yet to flow - was that regret you saw? It didn’t matter. He selfishly tore you from a life you could’ve had with the two people you loved most in the world. His regret could never bring them back.

“And you think you do? After taking my family and my life away from me?”

“What I did, I did because I love you.”

There was so much emotion in his face and his voice - maybe it was his way of apologising, but there can never be forgiveness in your heart for what he did.

“You call that love, Lord Morpheus? I want none of it, then.”

Turning on your feet, you ran - away from his presence, away from the library, far away from the realm you dared call your ‘home.’ It was never a home, after all, but a prison.

***

Present Day

You run from the dungeon, having memorised the map of the Abyss by heart.

Was it you who wrote it? The Mera before you? Had she suffered greatly, too, in the Dream Lord’s hands?

The contents of the paper were nothing but deplorable. The Dream Lord had taken away everything from you more than a thousand years ago like he had done at the present - how many of you endured such a fate, you wondered. How many of you found out and tried to put a stop to it?

You finally reach the shores of the island he had trapped you in. Disgusted from what you had just read, you dry-heave on the sand. The effort just leaves you tired and feeling even sicker in your stomach. You find yourself exhausted, having felt more than a thousand years' worth of torture courtesy of the Endless that had claimed it was all for love.

“You knew,” you say out loud, addressing the Voice in your head.

I’m tired, is all that it replies. And you can end it.

Lady Delirium once left a boat she used on the way to this island, you remember her saying so the first time you met inside the abandoned castle. You spot it, hidden among the trees. Scrambling on your feet, you drag it to the waters and start rowing. You have a long way ahead of you, but your goal was clear.

You had to die again. If you did, Lady Death would come for you and claim your soul, and you can be free.

End it, and we can be free, the Voice says in a weakened whisper.

Your reply is nothing but hopeful. “It won’t be long now.” 

***

More than a thousand years ago

“Thought I’d find you here.”

You whipped your head in alarm to the direction of the voice, only to find the Corinthian, grinning from behind you with his hands on his hips.

You couldn’t say anything, or even get up to greet him. You simply stared, refusing to get up from your curled-up position on the floor of the dream you had chosen to lurk in.

It was the dream of the blacksmith you had met him in. In the absence of the Corinthian, the dream felt lighter and warmer - the blacksmith, and the younger, dream-version of his son were engaged in a friendly latrunculi game in the dream-garden, with the son currently winning, much to his delight and his father’s mock-annoyance. He was secretly letting his son win, though.

“Ah, that could’ve been them, couldn’t it?” the Corinthian strode beside you and offered his hand to help you stand.

“Do you want to go back?”

You stared at him blankly, but you knew his meaning.

“Home? I would like that.”

“Where, exactly? I am quite sure your family would not take it lightly that their daughter had come back from the dead as a dream.”

You chuckled lightly at his comment, imagining your uncle’s face growing pale at the mere sight of you, whole and unharmed. No, you couldn’t exactly go home to them. They were your past life, now, and they could never be with you in your next.

“Would you take me to the Temple of Bacchus? Please?”

The temple was in Lebanon. Not many knew of its existence now, so you were thankful that it was empty just as you both landed on the stone path that led to its main entrance.

“What are you going to do now, doll? Will we meet again?”

Flashing a grateful smile at him, you replied, “Not if my plan succeeds.”

The grin he showed you was one of pride.

“Good. Give him hell.”

With a final wave, he vanished, leaving you alone to face the temple ruins by yourself.

Taking a deep sigh, you entered the temple with your head bowed out of respect for your family’s patron god. You ascended the stairs leading to the temple’s altar hoping against hope that he would be merciful.

Kneeling before the altar, you pleaded your case to the god of your ancestors.

“Hear me, I beg you, o mighty Bacchus. Have mercy on this poor soul. Destroy this form that I may meet with Death.”

But, in response, you heard nothing but your own voice echoing through the halls.

If he doesn’t help, you were bound in the Dreaming with him, the monstrous being that trapped you, and who will put you in a cage for eternity.

“Please, o glorious liberator, in the name of the bond you once had with my family, please, hear my call!” you cried out in utter despair. “Take his gift away from me and set me free.”

You sobbed piteously on the floor, waiting patiently for a sign that the god had taken mercy on you. Behind you, you heard a set of footsteps approach the altar - perhaps another worshipper, whom you paid no mind to. If you had to prostrate yourself in the temple for weeks on end, you would do so.

You felt a warm hand settle on your shoulder. Startled, you got up abruptly, fearing the worst: had the Endless come to spirit you away for good?

“Why do you keen so wretchedly, creature of the Dreaming?”

You meet the kind eyes of a woman wearing simple white garb with a belt tied around her waist. She tucked her greying hair behind her ears and offered a hand to you, but you only stared warily. She smiled sympathetically, never withdrawing her hand.

“Our merciful Dionysus has heard your cries, Mera of the Dreaming. He knows your family has done him great service, and he will grant you what you seek.”

From among the pillars, more women emerged, clad in the same robes as her, with their hands clasped before them, seemingly awaiting your response. One of them held a thyrsus with both hands and bore the same, kind eyes.

Maenads.

The woman whose hand still held out to you, spoke once more, “Do you not wish to be free of your bond with the Oneiromancer? The Endless, whose machinations led to your great loss and suffering?”

The one who bore the thyrsus approached you and said, “We have come to help. Let us consume your form that your soul may ascend to Death of the Endless - she will guide you through the sunless lands and take you to your husband and child.”

Still cowering on the floor, you weighed your options: could they be trusted? Could you place your demise in their hands and, more importantly, will they keep their word and ensure that your soul would be claimed by Death herself?

Your lips quivered as you asked, “What of Orpheus? You handed him over to Dream.”

“He wasn’t of Death’s to claim, dear dream.”

One by one, the maenads surrounded you in an enclosing circle, donning a woeful expression, as the woman who held the thyrsus handed the staff to the one whose hand was still outstretched. You decided to take it and trust the god that you had prayed to.

“What is your name, priestess of the temple?” you asked in a hushed tone.

The owner of the warm hand that held yours shook her head gently, and responded, “Our names do not matter.”

She led you to the centre of the temple, where the others followed, still surrounding you in a circle. Two more women carrying jars of wine came out of the pillars, while four more came bearing golden goblets neatly lined on a tray, wearing heavy robes made of fawn fur.

“Fear not, Mera of the Dreaming - the great Dionysus will set you free.”

***

Present Day

You don’t know how long you rowed to the desolate island, nor how far you’ve trekked through the rocky mountains. The map in your head, drawn presumably by the Mera before you, had led you to the entrance of a dark cave. You stand at the entrance, knowing you’re about to walk into your destruction.

End us, says the Voice in your head, over and over.

Determined to take the final stand, you enter the cave at your full height, never flinching from the emptiness, the black hole, the void that greets you at the far end.

The Abyss.

Mera, consort to Dream of the Endless – I have been expecting you.

The voice of the Abyss rumbles in the cave, yet never echoes - it surrounds your entire form, seemingly coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once. Inwardly, you shivered, not out of fear, but anticipation.

End us.

“Greetings, Abyss,” you dip your head slightly at the Great Void. “It seems that you know why I seek you.”

Yes. There is a void within you, and I am famished.

“Will you grant me my wish, then? Will you end my existence so Death can finally take me?”

Please. Please end us.

I have no quarrel with Dream of the Endless, it replies. Nor do I answer him. I must ask you to leave this place and return to your master.

Vehemently, you shake your head and close your eyes. The tears sting as you reason, “My master has doomed me to suffer. Shall I still run to his arms and to my inevitable ruin?”

Perhaps it is his will. Are you not of his creation? Is it not your purpose to submit to his will? His word, then, should be your sacred law.

Goaded by its condescending words, you whisper, “Is that how Destruction treated you?”

Your fate and mine are not the same.

“I suppose not. He loved you like a son,” you say, your arm raising to touch the darkness it possesses, only for it to pulse in annoyance at the mention of his creator. “It pained him to leave you in the hands of his sibling.”

But he left, nonetheless, comes its bitter response. We are creatures of the Endless. We are nothing more than instruments to them, and they play us however they please, like marionettes being pulled by the strings. You should know better than to wish to abandon your function.

“Don’t you dare talk to me about function!” you spit out. Anger starts welling in your heart at the painful reminder - you had given it all, trying to please him with the dreams you crafted. “I devoted my life to the purpose he gave me over a thousand years ago. He used my soul and kept it selfishly to himself. No more.”

End us.

What of the life you bear in your womb?

Your hand automatically hovers over your stomach, as if protecting it. It was conceived unwillingly, but it was loved, all the same, yet…

“I cannot bring him to this world and have a monster for a father. I will not let my own blood live in a lie he is sure to spin.

“Please. Please,” unable to hold your emotion any longer, you kneel on the ground before the creature of Destruction, hoping, praying with all your might, that he takes pity on you and lets you walk into it. Its darkness was better, infinitely so, than the love that Dream of the Endless has forced upon you.

“Please end me.”

***

Over a thousand years ago

The priestess handed you a golden goblet filled to the brim with wine from the jugs the others carried. She watched with crazed eyes as you emptied it and begged for one fill after another. The others followed - together, you drank your fill in the name of Bacchus, while they drew closer to your intoxicated form, locked in a dancing frenzy.

The priestess joined the dance, keeping you at the centre of their manic writhing. In your own state of euphoria, you swayed and galloped and waved your arms along with them. They tore off their robes, and then your own, and the priestess descended upon you, her lips encasing yours, kissing and biting and consuming.

As you moaned in ecstasy in her mouth, hands made their way all over your body, caressing, clawing, their nails digging into your flesh.

You knew nothing but pleasure when they tore the skin from your flesh and the flesh from your bones. There was no pain, even as their teeth gnawed on your skull and their hands dug into your chest and pulled out your heart.

There was no pain - only pure bliss.

Then there was nothing.

***

Present Day

Before your trembling form, begging for salvation, the Abyss hums as if contemplating your plea.

Come to me then, that I may consume that void in your heart.

Your vision, while still bleary from your tears, regards the destructive being with confusion. Did you hear it right? Will he allow you passage and end your existence?

With hope blooming in your soul for the first time in more than a thousand years, you let out a laugh of disbelief. It will be over soon.

Death will come and claim you, at last.

“Will you grant me my final wish? Please?”

The Abyss gives no word, but you know it heard you, for in the cave, a deathly silence ensues, encouraging you to speak.

“I wish for you to hand my soul over to Death of the Endless.”

You hear nothing but a faint humming from the Void before you, which seems to grow in size. You could feel its hunger overtake its reason, but that, to you, is of no consequence - nor is the cold that follows as its dark tendrils wrap around your form. Its cold, biting hands comfort you, as your thoughts drift to soft, warm, loving forest-green eyes for the last time before you’re overcome with nothingness.

***

Not for the first time, Dream of the Endless feels his entire world collapse and his heart break at the loss of your light, his eyes closing in agony as your life force grows dormant in his realm.

As you had done over a thousand years ago, you had chosen the only path to get away from him.

You had chosen death.

He has endured this countless times - no matter how perfect he creates you, the truth always worms its way to you and poisons your heart against him - even with practice, it does not make it any easier for him to accept his loss of you.

If anything, it fills him every time with almost unbearable grief and just a little bit of resentment:

His love had not been enough for you to make you stay and choose him.

He remembers how he had fetched your soul from the maenads. Perhaps you had chosen this death to spite him, for it was the same fate that Orpheus had met. He had hurt you then, he was aware. He had to take you away from your mortal husband then, it was necessary, but he had not intended for the loss of your son as well. It was a consequence of his actions that he regrets to this day.

Many times, he had lost you, but never with a child growing in your womb.

In the tallest tower of the abandoned castle he has made for you as a home centuries ago, he mourns. He lets his tears spill on the sheets you had laid formerly.

You had gotten away from him again.

But then again, he had overpowered the maenads to claim your soul. He had contemplated punishing Dionysus for what was essentially an act of war against him and his realm (he had dared interfere with matters that did not concern him), but he remembers that he refused to take action in his sorrow and had withdrawn entirely to the black shores, creating a dream that would house your soul while allowing his realm to fall into ruin. The Dreaming stormed of fire and ice that day he lost you, and he let it storm now, but nowhere near the strength his realm had endured in the months that followed your demise in the hands of the maenads.

Much like your older forms, you had chosen the Abyss to be your final fate. No longer will he allow his grief to consume him: he would simply take your soul back and recreate you, and you will be with him again.

Time is of the essence, he muses, so with his sand, he makes his way to the cave that the Great Void had called its home. His sister may have already felt the flicker of your soul, and she would take you from him if she finds you before he does.

His sister had confronted him about you on the day of your coronation. She had all but stormed to his throne room, demanding a private audience.

She had gone straight to the point the moment they reached his library office.

“Brother, we need to talk,” she had firmly stated.

“About what, my dear sister?”

“Cut the bullshit, Dream,” she said with her arms crossed and her expression fuming. “I believe you know what I came here for.”

“Oh?” he had reacted nonchalantly. His older sister, wiser and more powerful as she was, she held no word in his realm, that much he knew.

“You know what you’ve done, Dream. I can’t, in good judgement, let you continue tormenting her.”

He ignored his sister’s increasingly ireful tone in favour of a mildly interesting book he picked up from one of his shelves.

“Her soul is mine to do as I please. It has been since she pledged it to me, and so it will be until my say-so. It was mine to claim even before you permitted me to fetch it from the Bassarids that consumed her.”

Death could do nothing but release a sigh at her brother’s obstinance. “I let you retrieve it because I knew you were mourning, brother. But you can’t just do as you please with it.”

He felt his own anger rise at his sister’s insinuation: would she really dare renege on her promise of never taking your soul for the sake of his happiness?

“And yet, I believe we had an understanding that you are not to touch it,” he remembered responding with as much venom as he could muster before you had interrupted. Only the Fates know what would’ve ensued if you hadn’t.

He will not let his sister touch a single hair of you, not when he's King of the Dreaming.

Reaching his target in the cave, he makes his presence known to the creature of Destruction.

Dream of the Endless, it greets.

“I take it you’ve been expecting me, Abyss. Then, you know why I came.”

Indeed. I remember every being I’ve consumed. She carried far greater pain than her older forms that have crossed my path. You are aware of what that does to a soul.

The Abyss lets a cold wave of silence pass in his cave, perhaps to get his point across. Dream, however, is not having any of it.

“I should have had you banished for consuming her many times, but I have been tolerant. You will hand it over,” he commands through his gritted teeth. He had had enough of his subjects disobeying his words today.

Her last wish was for Death of the Endless to claim her soul.

“Matters of the Dreaming stay in the Dreaming,” he says with vehemence. Slowly, he could feel himself transform into the shape of an eldritch being feared even by the gods themselves. “You are aware of that, Abyss. Give me her soul.”

In a defiant response, tendrils of darkness shoot from within the cave. “I do not answer to you, Dream of the Endless.”

“Shall I call for Destruction, then?” the King of Nightmares lets his own voice bounce against the walls of the cave as his sand threateningly hovers around him. “Perhaps I could implore him on your behalf? I think not.

“Have I not so graciously offered you shelter when your creator abandoned you? Have I not provided you with a sanctuary and allowed you to fulfil your function, when all of my other siblings have abandoned you, including your creator, himself?”

Baulking at the King of Nightmares’ endlessly terrifying form, the Abyss changes its tone.

You have. But, her poor soul –

“Belongs to me, as it always has been.”

The tendrils of darkness rescind, along with the palpable tension it brought inside the cave. Finally, it relents.

Then take it as you wish.

Dream, feeling his original form return, reaches inside the darkness with an outstretched hand - he let your light guide his hands, eventually withdrawing it with prized possession in his grasp:

Your soul, formless, blindingly white and pure. The light you give flickers momentarily before his eyes before dimming.

“You have done me great service, Abyss,” he declares with a tilt of his head in his thanks. “I shall move your island closer to the heart of the Dreaming: a place where you can tempt more wayward dreamers and consume their being to your desire. I can even lead some your way if you would have it.”

You are merciful and generous, Dream of the Endless. But, what of the rest her soul longingly craves?

With a final glare that sends the Great Void cowering far into the depths of the cave, he simply replies, “That is no longer of your concern.”

Turning on his heel, Dream closes his fist on the formless light that is your soul and kisses his closed fist. He shall never again allow your life force to go to waste. He lets a ghost of a grin mar his features as he feels a rip in his dimension:

“My dear sister. How good of you to join me.”

He stares at the all-black-clad form of Death of the Endless. His sister, it seems, does not share his triumph.

“You know what I came here for, little brother.” She approaches cautiously, as if afraid that he would lash out. But why would he, if she does not give him a reason to?

“And you know that you will have to pry it from my cold, dead hands.”

“Dream, enough.” Her hand is firm when she places it on her brother’s shoulder. “She has suffered too much, I regret to say it, in your hands.”

Her eyes, ever-so-full of empathy and warmth, stare into his cold, dark ones, pleading, reasoning with him: Let her go. 

“I could hear her soul calling out the moment I came to visit. Del kept hearing it, too. If you really loved her, you’d free her.”

But what does she know of love, when she has not felt it this strongly, this passionately? His only reply is short and piercing. 

“And if you were my family, sister, you would not take her away from me.”

“Dream, you forget yourself. She is dead. She died more than a thousand years ago. You know what needs to happen.”

As if to drive her point, her hand moves to touch the one that held your soul close in a vice-like grip. Dream recoils from the touch and lightly shoves her hand away.

“That may be true, my sister, but you forget yourself, as well,” he hisses. “She is my creation, and of my kingdom, as she has been the moment she accepted my offer to make the Dreaming her home. And we both know better than to interfere with the affairs of each other’s realms.”

She lets out an exasperated sigh - she knows very well there was no point reasoning with him, but she has to try. After all, she has a good reason, and it was for your sake.

“Is that her soul?” she asks with a fond smile as she gazes into the dimming light filtering through his fist. “Look at it, little brother…tell me you don’t see the light in her soul flickering. A human soul can only endure so much. The strain of being made and unmade over and over…If I let this go on, she will have nothing left in her…She will continue to exist, yes, but the dream you will make out of her will soon be nothing but an empty shell.”

Death takes his other, empty hand in hers, hoping her warmth would seep into his cold interior and relent.

“Let me take her before it’s too late.”

Dream finds himself unable to speak, finally acknowledging the damage he’s done to your soul. It lays still in his closed fist, but he could tell - all the pain you bear had taken a toll on your soul; it still burns brightly, yet he is aware it wouldn’t be long before…

He swallows a lump in his throat, steeling his resolve. It will never come to that, he will not allow it.

“I can make this right, my sister. I am aware now of the pain I have caused her. When I make her again, I will give her free will to choose, this time, and should she decide to be with me, she will know nothing but love in my embrace. Grant me this, and leave her to me.”

Could his sister not see how he would wither away without you? How his Endless essence would fade if he so much as lived a day without you by his side?

“Please.”

His chosen words seem to produce the desired effect, for his sister purses her lips and furrows her brows in a pained expression.

“And if her soul fades, what, then?”

“It will not come to that,” he promises. “I swear upon my helm and sand.”

Death offers no reply. Instead, she lets out a small groan of frustration as she rubs her face with her palms.

“Would you leave her to me, my dear sister, that I may be eternally happy?”

****************************** Link to the next and final chapter

Author notes on the Chapter:

I am so very sorry this chapter was delayed for a week. I took a work-related trip and got so busy I couldn’t even sleep properly huhuu T_T

Thank you for reading, as always, and for your endless patience! Chapter 21, the epilogue, will be out tomorrow, cross my fingers!!

As to how many times he has recreated her, I’ll leave that up to your imagination :P Also, I beg you to please bear with me, as there is more to this!!

Author's notes in general:

Thank you, THANK YOU for reading!!

Please engage, comment and reblog!! I love feedback from you guys :) This is my first ever fic, so kindness is truly appreciated!

Thank you to my queen @queenshelby @endlessdreamqueen3 for encouraging me to pen this, as well as to my fellow Dark!Morpheus writers whose work I have thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading :)

Post date: 3/14/23

Edit date: 3/14/23

Taglist: Just lemme know please if you want to be added, too!

Tagging the following:

@wt-fxck

@sandman-33

@reallystressedhoneybee

@akiraquote

@safe-teycar

@ponyboys-sunsets

@izzicle

@spygrrl99

@intothesoul

@thecrazytealady

@tastyinspection8860

@kittenssss-blog

@trinittyy

@mxacegrey

@saraicus

@blu3what

@justporple

@emy635

@chantzmar

@dawnissunnysideup

@esmeralda-tupi

@ggxsan

[archhealer]

Hello!

This is an indie RP blog for a Hazbin Hotel interpretation of Archangel Raphael. This will be semi-active mostly so I can still play around with him without clogging my main blog, @hellsdisneyprincess and multi oc blog, @hazbinmultioc

VERY IMPORTANT NOTE:

This character often conducts therapy but I am NOT MYSELF A THERAPIST. I am happy to have characters talk to Raphael about their issues and have a conversation about it. But I will NOT have him recommend treatments or coping mechanisms. The thread will fade or time skip through that. It is up to the other mun on their own to interpret that as they choose. But I will NOT be willing to claim ANY responsibility for such things.

I have been RPing off and on for several years in several spaces/formats and coming back from the longest time without RPing.

In my 30s so I work a full time job and have a family. Those are my priorities so please have patience. It also means I'm very likely to reply on mobile (especially weekdays). Wednesdays and Fridays are my weekly family nights. So I will be less active on those nights.

This blog is 18+ only! I will not shy away from describing gory scenes or injuries in graphic detail. I will tag anything I am asked to, but that content WILL be here!

I do not auto ship so please do not assume your character has a romantic relationship with mine. Nothing against any particular ship or character, I just need to make sure that my portrayal of characters and your portrayal of your character actually vibe. I'm fine assuming platonic relationships, but if those platonic relationships aren't shown in canon, discuss with me first.

I am open to discuss writing smut for ships that qualify. However, I cannot guarantee that any given ship will include it. I would need to trust the mun quite a bit for that. However, this doesn't mean my character won't have sex with anyone else, it would just fade to black.

Not exclusive. Will RP with anyone and multiples of the same character. Will tag by url to separate out. 

You will find my ask starters/inbox memes here. For all of these, as long as they are up, they are fair game. So don't worry about wanting to submit for an older meme or open starter. You're good! Though for a wish list item, it might be good to plot with me first unless I managed to make an open starter based on it.

Either reply to open starters in a separate thread so notes stay unmixed, or I will do so on my first reply (any in-progress threads will not have this to avoid confusion)

You can view Raphael's headcanons here

Any OOC post will have the tag megs the mun

[shirefantasies]

LoTR Characters Finding Out You Were in an Abusive Relationship

Sort of requested/mentioned by @autisticgenderworm and desired by yours truly, here is the other version of this reaction. I hope it brings comfort to anyone who needs it.

Warnings: mentions/implications of past abuse, but nothing graphic

Aragorn

Aragorn's pause sparks no concern. He is a pensive man and that is something you always loved about him, let alone any consideration the gravity of what you just shared. "And you gave your heart so freely, I have no doubt." He shakes his head. "That such a truly corrupt mind would try to take you. But that is just it: I see it in your eyes and I feel it in the way I am so lucky in your love. They can try, but they cannot break you. You are stronger than all the hate, all the avarice, in the world. You know this, do you not?" Eyes watering, you peer at him and blink. "Some days I feel so far from that." Aragorn nods. He reaches out and holds your cheek against his calloused palm and somehow it is the softest touch you've ever felt. "Our true strength is that we are never alone. You have so many who will fight for you. I will fight for you. You will be on no lead, your own person simply making our lives all the richer for it."

Legolas

Brows furrowing lightly, he tilts his head, fixing you with a look of deep sorrow. You see his hand raise, lower again hesitantly, so you reach out to take it. "I don't mean to frighten you," you tell him, "I'm sorry." “You have nothing to apologize for, my love. The burden rests solely on the one who took it upon themselves to hurt you. It was nothing you did. And I am not frightened. Rather I would have you feel safe.” “I do,” you tell him, “That is why I hoped you were not afraid. The last thing I would want is for you to see me differently. To be too much for you.” “Too much for me? No such thing,” Legolas teases with a little smile, “But truly I am just grateful you shared. If there is anything I do, anything I say, allow me to apologize now.” “That alone puts me at ease,” you reply, feeling yourself relax and breathe deeply once more as Legolas takes your hand.

Boromir

“Why?” “I- I don’t think there was a ‘why’,” you stuttered, “I could have done things differently, I suppose, but-” “No,” Boromir cuts you off, a hand reaching to gently caress your cheek, “Not you, my dear. Not you. Why would anyone seek to defile beauty? And kindness. Why indeed.” “I don’t know,” you answer helplessly, gaze falling from his, “I should have left sooner. I-I guess I was truly that lonely that I thought it was worth changing. It wasn’t.” A shaky, sardonic laugh escapes your lips. “Nobody should have to choose between lonely and pain,” Boromir laments, hands sliding down to take yours, “But we are here now, and I will give you everything you deserve.”

Gimli

“Where is the bastard? I have a selection of choice words for such a great blight upon this earth.” Gimli’s hands ball into fists at his sides as he speaks, his voice darkening a bit more with each passing word. You cannot help but smile at that even in spite of his tone. “I would be happy to introduce you if I knew,” you replied, “But I know not and care not.” “That’s my fire!” Gimli exclaims, pride coloring his tone and his very gaze upon you. “You don’t need me- my approval or my axe! But of course you have them both with equal enthusiasm. To look upon you is to see a flame most bright and most beautiful that nobody’s rain can extinguish.” It is you who steps forward first, pulling the dwarf into your arms, but it is Gimli who asks if he might kiss your beautiful lips. Just the asking is such a difference; of course you acquiesce.

Frodo

He says nothing at first, expression just softening and crumpling in pain. One fair hand extends and finds purchase upon your shoulder; Frodo’s touch melts you and he feels your relaxation beneath him. “Oh,” he speaks your name so softly, all but reverently, “For so long you have been my strength and yet you carried this.” “I didn’t know how to tell you,” you answer, “Didn’t want you to think badly of me.” “How could I? You asked for none of that. So often do these things happen against our will.” “Sometimes I wish I had never said yes when I did. So I would have never had to say no,” you tell him, crumpling into his arms. Frodo presses a kiss to the crown of your head. I often remember what Gandalf told me: ‘All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us’. They may have chosen to use their time to hurt and to wrestle control, but no longer. Time can only do so much healing, I know, but I will be here for you. Here for it all.”

Sam

"You can't mean... They didn't!" Anger flashes in Sam's typically docile green eyes. "I know," you reply, "I shouldn't have-" "You shouldn't have? The only person who shouldn't have was that monster! Don't you dare apologize for something you didn't do, alright? I don't want that sort of thing running through your head." Sam's last sentence emerged quietly. Trembled with an uncertain sadness. It broke you and made you whole all over again. You gave a small nod. "You're right." Sam looked up and met your eyes once more, returning the gesture with a bit more vigor. "I see that now, and that is all thanks to you. You love me like I deserve. Fight for me in all you do. When I am with you, Sam, I have the love I always thought was just a dream.” Tears rose in his eyes then even as his lips smiled. “And when I met you I thought the same: this has to be a dream.”

Merry

“They didn’t.” “Unfortunately,” you nod, gaze locked upon your feet, “They did. Sometimes I wonder what might have been different if I had-” “Don’t do that to yourself!” Merry cut you off, pausing for a moment as a look of remorseful surprise came over him. “That is to say we can’t change the past. Just like we can’t see the future. I may not have been there for your past, but I do know nothing that happened came of what you did. People like that, they have no shame. You are far too kind for someone like that. They took advantage of you. Made you feel bad and that’s all them. All right?” It was still difficult to believe sometimes, but Merry’s voice was nothing but convicted, and you trusted him. Swallowing, you nodded. “All right.” The hobbit opened his arms. “Come here.” You fell right in.

Pippin

"No." Eyes wide, he shakes his head and reaches for your hands. "No. How could- How could anybody..." "I don't know," you sigh, relaxing slightly as his thumbs ran over the backs of your hands, "Perhaps I should never have-" Pippin cut you off there. "It wasn't your fault. None of it was. There isn't a thing you could do to make any of that alright. And I swear to you that I will never do anything of the like. After all, who could even think of putting a precious gem like yourself down, hm?" At those last words, the soothing touch of his hands, your tearful expression broke into a shaky smile. "What did I do to deserve you?" You asked. "Don't worry," he replied, "I ask myself the same thing every day. I love you, you know. And I want to treat you like it. If I ever don't, please help me." The longer he spoke, his words faded closer and closer to a whisper, those lovely green eyes focused solely, searchingly, upon your gaze. Tears returning alongside your smile, you nodded. "You already do, Pippin. You already do."

Faramir

Brows furrowed, Faramir takes your hands at once, blue eyes gazing deeply into yours. "There are no words to lift the weight of it all. Nothing I can say but that your pain is mine and that I know how difficult it is to speak of such things. Thank you, truly, for sharing this with me. I want to be worthy of this. Of you." Worthy of you? Him? "You are more than worthy, Faramir." "And I wish to continue to live up to that for the sake of your beautiful heart. I wish for you to never feel unworthy again." His voice breaks and your heart does the same, knowing how similar your experiences were- Faramir was made to feel lesser for years. "I want the same for you," you run your hands over his gently with a tentative smile, "And I think deep down I knew you would understand. That no one else would understand like you. We can love each other more every day." "I like the sound of that," Faramir replies, his eyes shining nothing but love into yours.

Eomer

Even as your words fade, you catch the way his hands tighten into fists, tense slightly at the sight. "Coward. That worm had no honor whatsoever. And you...here you stand triumphant." "It does not always feel so," you admit, gaze falling. Eomer places a hand upon your shoulder. "We all have our scars. To escape, to be free... Why, that is the greatest show of strength. Is it not what we all fight for? And fight you did! Believe me when I tell you I am nothing but proud of you." Eomer's normally stoic expression rises into a smile, his hand sliding from your shoulder gently down your arm and finally to grasp your hand and bring it to his lips. "Nobody has the right to treat you like property. They should feel ashamed trying to tame a heart like yours. I would have it tempered. Let me act as your bellows, then, to stoke your fire of resiliency." His words do indeed fuel the embers in your heart, coax fire to them as they bring a small smile to your lips. "I would like that." "And let that scoundrel hope to never come within a league of this place while I draw breath."

Eowyn

“So cruel this world can be!” Eowyn cries out. “How can they not see all you have to offer? This will hardly erase the hurt, but I will say this: the loss is theirs.” Leaning in, her voice lowers to a conspiratorial whisper at that last phrase, her lips raising in a tentative smile. “For your heart is strong and steadfast and your laugh is music to me. To have you by my side is naught but joy. So help me, I will never treat you as a belonging, put you in a cage. And if that is how you feel I would have you tell me." "Never," you answer her, "Nor would I do the same to you. I told you because I trust you to understand. Because I love you." She leans forward at this, connecting your foreheads; golden strands of hair tickle your cheek, but you mind not. "And I you," Eowyn breathes.

Haldir

Never have you seen Haldir's eyes darken such as they are now. A part of you wants to back away, but you know that his ire is not for you. Not when he shakes his head, looking at you with...not quite pity. Rather all that swims in his eyes as he turns back to you is a new understanding, something deep in the blue. His hands hover over you as if you are spun-glass, and with your eyelids fluttering shut you take them and rest them upon your hips. "I do not mean to trouble you with this news, I just..." "Trouble me? The only trouble I have is how badly I wish to punish anybody who hurts you." At that, he smirks a bit and you feel his hands grip you a bit tighter. A shiver runs down your spine at his words. "You know, I would hardly mind that at this point. Not exactly unearned. So this is no change to you?" "Only any changes you want me to make," Haldir answers.

Galadriel

Her face falls, but something in its look leads you to suspect she knew already. Galadriel's gifts lie far beyond your understanding. "Do not discount the light you bring to this world," her voice cuts through your thoughts, "For you remind me of its joys every day. There will always be those who seek to rob us of our light, but that is only to fill the darkness that is in their hearts. You are more than enough despite what they say. You need not trouble yourself with the words of lesser folk." Tears flood your eyes at her words and all you can do is nod, shakily smiling. You feel Galadriel's lips against one cheek, then the other, then upon the top of your head, and finally warmly and softly upon your lips. "I'm so lucky to have you," you tell her, and at that she shakes her head. "It is I who is the lucky one," she refutes with a mischievous but loving smile.

Elrond

For just a moment, his expression steels and you flinch back, but only for a moment before it’s softened like never before and falling. Pain. That is the only word to describe what crosses Elrond’s face. He feels your pain. Stepping closer, the Lord of Rivendell opens his arms, and with a tearful smile you fall into them, into the silken softness of his robe and the gentle warmth of his hold. “Healing takes time. I have time. And here I shall be to grant you peace as best I can. Please do not hesitate to ask it of me. If you ask it and it is within my power, I shall grant it.” “I’d like to stay like this,” you reply, words muffled by the cushion of your cheek to his chest, the sound of Elrond’s soothing heartbeat in your ear. “As would I,” he agrees softly.

Arwen

“Meleth nîn,” she addresses you softly, brows furrowed in concern, “You endured all that?” At her words, you just nod, gripping her hands a bit tighter. She gives yours a gentle squeeze in response. “Your strength knows no bounds. Fear not, for by my side you can take all the time you need. I can wait, you know.” At that, she giggles and you smile. You are, after all, in love with not only the fairest of beings but one immortal by nearly all accounts. Her smile alone brings you so much comfort. “You are the one I have chosen and I will not take that for granted. You are a gift and that anyone would cast that aside is folly.”

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[voxnetwork]

Guidelines

These are the guidelines I expect you all to read. I don't expect you to remember everything, but please just read through it before interacting with me.

These are more to let you know about me, my brain and how I write.

I am mutual only. I have had bad experiences in the past. So if we are not mutual please do not interact with any of my posts. I am not afraid to hard block someone if they keep interacting with me.

Due to past experiences, I will also not write on Discord. It is not good for my mental health.

I am neurodivergent. My brain is not typical. If I do something and it comes off offensive please tell me. I most likely will not mean it that way. I will also not realise that it would be coming off a different way, then what I am meaning.

I never want to hurt anyone or make people uncomfortable. If this is how you are feeling around me please let me know instead of blocking me because I will not realise why this has happened.

I am OC-friendly, give me all of your OCs but be aware I will probably need to plot with your OCs before I write with them.

I work full-time and this is a hobby. I will reply when I can.

Some replies won't come as fast as others. I go off what muse is active and what they want to answer. So if I reply to one person more than others, it's because I have muse for that thread and not because I don't want to interact with you, I do!! Just my muses can be picky.

I am much more likely going to reply if we talked out of character because those are the threads that speak to my muses and myself.

I am a ship whore, I love to ship but please come and talk to me before a ship, I don't take kindly to having things forced onto me and chemistry is always good.

Sinday - Even if we don't ship, my muses will be into casual flings. So feel free to send stuff in.

This blog will contain some graphic and triggering content. It's is NSFW. I expect you to be over 18 if you follow and interact with me. If I find out you are younger I will block you.

I will write nearly everything, there are a few things I would not write such as Paedophilia.

Any triggering content will be tagged as tw;; trigger and anything nsfw will be tagged as ;; nsfw

I personally have no triggers

[rpcburnbook]

TLDR: The rpc identifies or fantasizes about life through their character's perspective far too prevalently for me to believe in the widespread separation of art and artist in this hobby. Also, a lot of people who write dark shit do it specifically to upset or goad people irl even when they know specific boundaries exist. // i respect that you have boundaries and know what makes you comfortable, but I am curious how you know what other rpers motivations are? there's a lot of assumption here. // I should have stated this more carefully. i also saw there was another reply too so I'll do my best to address both. fwiw, I've been in the pbp rp scene for 20 years and I absolutely don't know other people's motivations. I can only go on the basis of patterns. I have written about lots of darker stuff in my time- sa, dv, child abuse, etc, always on board where those things fit the setting. I don't actually think most dark theme writers set off to upset people, that was badly stated. However I think the behavior - in general - reveals most rpers don't have the maturity to be handling some of these topics in a communal setting, so I usually approach with caution and a fair amount of suspicion at this point. Sasha is a *really* extreme example of deliberately instigating, obviously, and I've never personally run across someone that far off the deep end. I'll instead speak to what I usually see which is more tame and probably less conscious but still in poor taste imo. I've been approached several times about what I'm writing making people uncomfortable, and only in 2 cases has the person been so overwrought or aggressive that there was no good solution. Sometimes the solution was moving plotting for certain characters to dm or a specific channel, other times it was putting things in a doc, and in some cases it was just talking to people about why I was writing those things. On the flipside I have talked to a few people in my time about keeping certain topics siloed in similar ways and seen many conversations where someone else did and they've rarely gone well. About half the time, I have seen whoever is being asked to pull back instead: get really passive/aggressive towards the asker, start soliciting similar plots from characters directly adjacent to that persons characters, start talking about the topics more, start tagging those people when they post like 'lol @ person don't read I know you'll hate it', or leaving the site altogether. I've also seen writers cut their partners off for realizing a topic was too much to write explicitly and backing out of graphic depictions of some of this. To me this says someone is too personally entangled with a character or theme to be writing them in a community, and more often than not I don't have a problem with anyone until that's been demonstrated. Again, I get squicked by these things because it shows me someone can't separate their personal feelings and self image from criticism or distaste for those topics. [pt 1]

[pt 2] I think if you're going to write these topics, you need to be prepared to handle the occasional pushback or discomfort gracefully and respectfully. Since I have seen that so rarely, I can't help but believe that most people aren't doing a good job of separating themselves from the topic or the character, much less considering other people when they're writing things which can genuinely be disturbing. If you can't do that, I don't think you should write those things outside 1x1s, and even then only with people you can hear criticism from without spinning out. In a public context, to another replier's point, there are certainly people who are looking for reasons to be upset or are at least coming into those conversations with a lot of sensitivity, which speaks to part of my original ask in that I don't think many admin teams are equipped to moderate well when one or both of those things are true. And in other contexts, rping those kind of topics is a left field kind of decision based on the setting/overall tone and shouldn't be done. All of that means I just regard most writers who focus on dark themes with caution. Like I originally said, most of the time I just ignore stuff I don't like, it's just hard for anyone (myself included) to do that if an individual has decided people are being too sensitive and the right medicine is to push harder or carry resentment instead of respecting other people.

Again, I don't think that's everyone. But my experiences on both sides of those conversations make me think a small fraction of people are genuinely equipped to handle these topics in public responsibly.

[hellishotelier]

Hello, all!

Follow back from @hellsdisneyprincess as this is a side blog.

I have been RPing off and on for several years in several spaces/formats and coming back from the longest time without RPing.

In my 30s so I work a full time job and have a family. Those are my priorities so please have patience. It also means I'm very likely to reply on mobile (especially weekdays). Wednesdays and Fridays are my weekly family nights. So I will be less active on those nights.

This blog is 18+ only! I will not shy away from describing gory scenes or injuries in graphic detail. I will tag anything I am asked to, but that content WILL be here!

I do not auto ship so please do not assume your character has a romantic relationship with mine. Nothing against any particular ship or character, I just need to make sure that my portrayal of Alastor and your portrayal of your character actually vibe. I'm fine assuming platonic relationships, but if those platonic relationships aren't shown in canon, discuss with me first. However, I will say, Alastor is more likely to end up in a QPR than anything else, but we will see what the future holds and I will not rule anything out.

I also will not automatically assume he is contracted with any particular character. If you want to play your character holding Alastor's contract, please discuss with me first. Same for those whose souls he holds contracts for besides Husk or Niffty.

I am open to discuss writing smut for ships that qualify. However, I cannot guarantee that any given ship will include it. I would need to trust the mun quite a bit for that. However, this doesn't mean my character won't have sex with anyone else, it would just fade to black.

Not exclusive. Will RP with anyone and multiples of the same character. Will tag by url to separate out. 

You will find my ask starters/inbox memes here. For all of these, as long as they are up, they are fair game. So don't worry about wanting to submit for an older meme or open starter. You're good!

Either reply to open starters in a separate thread so notes stay unmixed, or I will do so on my first reply (any in-progress threads will not have this to avoid confusion)

You can view my Alastor’s headcanons here

If your character knew Alastor while he was alive, PLEASE talk to me first so we can go over what they would and wouldn't know.

Any OOC post will have the tag megs the mun

You can view my tags list here

Verses list here