#placebo self titled

[horrorosier]

tell me one book, one film, & one record u cannot live without

[iamtryingtobelieve]

Give a monkey half a brain, and still he's bound to fry it

[pikslasrce]

we are forgetting one of the most important anniversaries this year

[saltlickmp3]

more specific album or song blinkies

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 1)

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

​GIF: Originally posted by @tavners

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Home invasion. Voyeurism. Implied masturbation. Dream manipulation.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Wow, this took way longer to finish than I had originally planned. My head's been all over the place with trying (and thus far failing) to find a new job. The themes are very different to what I've written before; I hope it reads okay. Please let me know what you think. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

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

Fate.

A phenomenon that governed every particle of matter within the known universe and even those beyond.

Some considered it a comforting concept that excused them from the burden of decision making, citing: "I'll leave it up to fate." For others the phrase was a cursory, throw-away comment or a romantic line they heard in the lyrics of a song.

The real truth of the matter was that Fate was a trio of immortal beings, goddesses, with sight so potent that they knew the past, present and future of every individual to have lived. The mythology of the Greeks, Romans and Norse hadn't been too far off with their stories of the Moirai, Parcae and Norns but of course, no humans really believed there to be any realism in myths. They were just stories. It didn't matter either way; they existed and had influence regardless of what the majority believed.

For beings such as The Endless siblings, the presence of Fate in the cosmos was not only real, but also something that affected even themselves.

For the King of Dreams, an eventuality had been prophesised long ago by The Kindly Ones that spoke of a bond that was to be forged between himself and a mortal.

Lord Morpheus, in his pride, had tried to be above such a foretelling, even questioning its validity because the notion of a mortal accepting his version of the universe seemed wholly implausible.

But he could not truly stop himself from wondering about you, reaching out to see if he could feel your presence in the minds of the dreamers he hosted.

It wasn't something he indulged in with frequency. More of a once-in a-decade interval. Enough to appease his curiosity.

Of course, this was put on hold during his imprisonment at Fawney Rig.

Morpheus had had much to contemplate during this period. The damage his absence caused to the collective subconscious, the decay of his realm, the loss of freedom and dignity. There was also a chance that you had been born and died in the 106 years he spent in captivity.

What if he was too late and had lost the chance of discovering who you were?

It was a nauseating prospect that scraped and scratched a space deep within his being; bleeding him of his remaining stores of hope that were so significantly depleted after the death of beloved Jessamy.

Despite the nasty emotional wound, finding you was a charge that he assigned at the end of his priorities after his escape.

Recovering his scattered tools, restoring the Dreaming, locating his absent creations, unravelling the mystery of Rose Walker and confronting Desire all had needed to come first.

The latter interaction had left Morpheus with a seething rage that was currently propelling him down the boards of the dock that sit above the Ocean of Dreams.

The dense mist in the air is buffeted by his movements and the only sounds are the tread of boots, the creak of wooden slats and the lap of water.

With each step, the liquid becomes choppier as it reacts to its master's mood and by the time he has reached the end of the dock, the surface of the water roils fervorously, completely in line with Morpheus' dangerous temperament.

The words of Desire's final silken-toned taunt echo in his mind with grating persistence.

"Oh, poor Dream. I really got under your skin this time, didn't I?"

He is loathe to admit there is truth in the question.

There are moments where Morpheus ponders the turn that the relationship between them has taken. How Desire went from being his favourite sibling to someone one shade shy of an adversary. Their faultless adeptness at provoking his temper and manipulating the events that encircle him would be impressive if not for the danger posed to humanity.

The agitated water eventually draws focus to how out of control he and his emotions have become. Morpheus knows he must get them in check, and quickly, for he knows the consequences all too well should he ignore it.

He clenches his fist and swallows it all down, pushing it deep inside his belly until the crackling entropy of the anger is fully dispelled.

Morpheus then sweeps his coat out behind him as he sinks lithely into a crouch. Trepidation nips at his heart and tugs his attention to a sobering thought.

This foray into the water may be fruitless.

You may be long gone and there would be no way of ever knowing you.

His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath; he has run out of excuses to not look, even if he is afraid of the outcome.

Long, delicate fingers dapple the surface of the inky ocean. The waves still at the touch, obedient to him with instancy.

He repositions to full height and reaches into his coat to find the pouch of sand stashed in the pocket. A handful of twinkling grains slip off his palm into the ocean, lighting the water it touches to a luminous green.

"Find my soulmate," Morpheus commands silently.

The intention is set. He steps off the dock into the water.

At first, like every other prior attempt, there is no sign of you. Morpheus floats submerged in the tepid liquid, filtering through the hubbub of countless other dreams and nightmares.

Then there is a pull.

It is faint yet indisputable. Warmth explodes in his chest and he groans inwardly from the delicious sensation of relief.

You are alive, and you are dreaming.

A path of radiance appears in the water, a line that shows your connection, and provides a location for him to hone in on.

Morpheus dives deeper without hesitation.

As he reaches the edge of your subconscious, he rejoices that he got a handle on his emotions. He wouldn't want your first perception of him to be one tinged with rage, however unaware you were of him, with your soulmate being the source.

He hesitates for a moment before entering the dream you are in and is somewhat taken aback by what he finds.

A room comprising of four blank walls, a floor, a ceiling and a door. There is but one other feature; a window, and its view is as non-descript and inoffensive as the internal space.

You stand by said window, head turned from him.

Despite being unable to see your face, he sees your anxiety with immediacy. It is an aura hovering about your body, being sucked into your lungs with every fast-paced breath.

You begin to throw glances towards the door. Morpheus filters through the layers of the dream. No one is scheduled to come across the threshold.

The more he observes, the more questions arise in Morpheus' mind.

What was making you so affected? What were you expecting to happen?

There's nothing in the scene that is intended to be unpleasant yet you are reacting in a way that most observers would characterise as unsettled.

Morpheus, despite not yet knowing you, doesn't like to see you this way. His dominant instinct is to end the dream but he quashes the desire to review the bigger picture.

The empty room dream was symbolic of a beginning.

It clicks into place.

What you were feeling, even if on a purely instinctual level, was the anticipation of meeting your soulmate and starting your new life.

Morpheus steps into the frame, just a couple of paces behind you.

You feel his presence instantly, eyes full to the brim with tears as you whirl around with a soft gasp.

You see him.

The tears spill and patter onto the white floor.

Morpheus reaches out, overcome by his need to provide comfort.

You disappear.

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

Morpheus is sat on his throne. He pores over the book he had located in the Dreaming's library a little over a week ago that contains the details of your life. It is something he has taken to doing when the impatience of waiting for you to fall asleep becomes too keen.

Your subconscious has him enraptured, watching it every night as if it is a stage show. Each dream he delves into is like the tug of fingers on a loose thread, your psyche has begun to unravel before him.

Everything from whims to cravings, hopes to fears. Your temperament, the things that delight and irk you. What drives you and demotivates you. He consumes it all with an insatiable hunger.

Based on the projection of yourself that he sees, there is no doubt that he is attracted to you.

All that prior haughty disregard for the Fates' prophecy has been cast aside like a negative thought in a meditation session. Morpheus is a romantic. A believer. He is ashamed to have even doubted your coming.

He wonders if it would vex Desire to learn of him finding his soulmate and by extension, the prospect of companionship, perhaps even physical intimacy or love.

It is all too easy to imagine the sickly sweet grin they would smile at him, shown to be fake by the almost imperceptible contempt glinting in their golden eyes.

Would his triumph drive them to distraction?

It is this smug sentiment that spurs his next decision. He wants more. The next logical step is to find you in the waking world.

He rises from his throne, a sure hand ready to bring forth his pouch of sand when he falters.

Tears pool in his eyes.

His mind is suddenly marred with the memories of what happened in 1916. The agony, mortification and rage that followed. He couldn't go through that kind of treatment ever again and the waking world expanded the risk of it transpiring.

"No," he says resolutely. His sadness turns to resolve, the hard line of his grimace matching those set in his brows.

He will not let the actions of a group of mortals dissuade him from going to you. And besides, he has researched everything he can about you from within the safety of the Dreaming.

He takes a measure of sand and uses it to materialise within your bedroom.

It is obvious from a quick scan of it that deliberate attempts have been made to ensure the space is cosy and calming.

Two marshmallowy pillows support your head. The cotton sheets have been meticulously tucked to avoid drafts. A lavender reed diffuser fragrances the air with a subtle scent. There are no devices or screens visible.

Everything has its place. A coaster supported glass of water within reaching distance. Touch activated lamp in case of emergency. The diary lined up with the back left corner of the bedside table, pen placed parallel in the spine dent. All clothes are in the wardrobe or stashed in the laundry basket.

Morpheus moves to the curtain-shrouded window and delicately moves the dark, heavy fabric to catch a glimpse of the outside world.

The scene is sepia stained from an old streetlight positioned right outside your home. It explained the choice of curtains.

You stir slightly from the change in environment and Morpheus allows the curtain to fall back in place. He remains stationary until your breathing returns to its previous pace. It is imperative that his presence remains undisclosed. He knows that mortals do not take well to home invasion.

Then, your right hand slips out from the duvet cocoon revealing a cushion cut ruby ring on your middle finger.

He smiles exultantly. The similarity between the jewel and his own now-destroyed dreamstone was undeniable.

The Fates were making it transparent.

You were the one.

Morpheus approaches the side of your bed now. In your momentary discomfort, you had moved your head, making your whole face visible to your uninvited guest.

He bends gracefully so his face is closer to yours and observes you with an intent fascination.

Even in the gloom, Morpheus asserts that your features are even more captivating now that he is able to look upon them in person and is certain that if he could guarantee an absence of fear then he would fall to knees and worship you right there.

Fingers stroke a lock of hair splayed across the pillow and his thoughts turn darker still, imagining what he would do with you if he could get you alone in the Dreaming. How he would seduce you with words, and then pleasure your body with his own until you were senseless.

Getting you there would be so easy, all he needed to do was move his hand up and touch your skin and -

Morpheus stops himself, deciding that now is not the time for an introduction. He will wait until tomorrow. You need to rest. It will be quite the revelation for your sweet mortal heart.

Morpheus whispers a promise, "We will be together soon, my precious soulmate."

He leaves after taking one last look at your peaceful form.

When he returns to the Dreaming, Morpheus discovers that the visit has riled him way beyond what he thought possible.

It was supposed to sate his curiosity and answer some questions.

It has done the opposite.

His craving for you is sublimely intense, opiate-like in its ensnarement.

He needs to possess you. To have you all to himself. Everything would fall into place. Loneliness, disillusionment, jealousy; they would never darken his outlook again. You would heal him, he is certain of it.

He paces restlessly in the low light of his private chambers as heat ripples beneath the surface of his being, charging him with pure sexual lust.

He hungers for the moment when you feel the same about him.

For now, all he can do is stand and touch himself while thinking of your face, an act that has been carried out repeatedly in the days since he found you in the Ocean of Dreams.

An erotic idea enters his mind.

Your subconscious is still in the Dreaming; he knows the feeling of it intimately.

Perhaps he could bring you a dream mirroring his own current fantasy.

To give you a taste of what was to come.

A gift that only he could bestow.

The mere thought of it turns him on even more. His back arches and his eyes roll back as he choses the words through which he would deliver the offering.

"Dream of me," Morpheus murmurs breathlessly. "Dream of me."

He repeats the phrase until he is unable to continue, moans taking over the darkened space around him.

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

It is dusk the next day when Morpheus returns to the waking world.

The instant he touches down on the Earth's surface, he knows exactly where to go. The metaphysical connection between you is as strong as the energy pulsing through a ley line.

The city he is directed to is thrumming with life but the side street he stands in has been spared from the furore.

It is fortuitous that he is permitted to be unobserved for Morpheus is struggling now with the urge to get closer.

Providence is pulling him in and also locking him out.

He walks up to the door and then an invisible force makes him back away.

He doesn't even try to fight it.

The Fates hold all the cards. Morpheus is beholden to their each and every whim.

It is surprisingly liberating.

He is dancing in the cross hairs. Blinkered by the tie the universe has fashioned for you.

All he has to do is wait.

The door to the building is pushed open.

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

Taglist: @herfantasyworldd

"Fate. Up against your will. Through the thick and thin. He will wait until you give yourself to him."

[cryptid-corpse]

I listened to placebos 1996 self titled album and now I like gay sex

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Daddy Knows Best, Part III

Title: Daddy Knows Best, Part III 

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI 

Pairing: StepDad!August Walker x StepDaughter!Reader  

Fandom: Mission: Impossible - Fallout 

Word Count: 2.5K 

Summary: August Walker and your father were once friends. One mission, a single decision, made them enemies. August decides he needs to get his revenge. And what better way, than to become your new Daddy? 

Chapter Summary: Daddy and Babydoll take a trip together. 

Warnings: pet names (Daddy, Babydoll, babygirl), age gap (the reader is 18, August is in his late-30s), Dom/sub vibes, oral (m receiving), cum facial, cockwarming, unprotected p-in-v sex, cumshot, loss of a parent (mother), dead dove: do not eat 

A/N: This is different from my usual fics. This would be considered dark!fic in every way possible. If you read the warnings and still choose to read, you are making your own decision. No one is forcing you to read this. This is an entirely self-indulgent therapeutic fic. Enjoy! Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.  

Dividers by: @saradika 

Support/Reblog banner by me

Spotify Playlist is here. 

Cover Art by me 

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

“It’s only a couple of days, Babydoll. I promise I will be back before you know it.” I fold a polo and put it in my suitcase on the bed next to a grumpy Babydoll. 

“You’re gonna leave me here with Mom? I might as well be alone.” That little pout on her face gets me every time. And she’s not wrong. Her mother will ignore her at best, and at worse she will try and connect with her.  

Too little, too late. 

“You want to come with Daddy on his trip, don’t you?” I start thinking about what things we could get up to in my safe house. 

And it could make it easier to do that...other thing I had planned.  

“Please, Daddy?! I promise I won’t take up a whole lotta space and I’ll do whatever you say, I promise!! Please, can I go?” She clasps her hands under her chin and pokes out her bottom lip and I am a goner. 

“Whatever I say, huh?” A couple of things come to mind at that moment and I file them away for later usage.  

She bites her lip to hide a smile, nodding furiously.  

I wink at her, leaning down and claiming her lips. Pulling away and smiling at her, I say, “Go and pack for a three-day trip,” I bring a hand down to cup her pussy, moving her panties to the side and dipping a finger in to feel that she was a soaked mess, “You are going to do everything I say, Babydoll. And you will respond with ‘Yes, Daddy’. Am I understood?” 

“Yes, Daddy.” She wiggles her hips to try and ride my finger, but I pull it away and lick it clean as she watches. 

“Don’t make me have to ask you to go pack, Babydoll.” I give her a stern look and she scurries away. 

Soon, our suitcases are in my Escalade and we are off on our small road trip. 

You wake up slightly as Daddy is carrying you into a cabin under the light of the moon. You keep your eyes closed as you are put into bed and your shoes and jacket are removed. You peek an eye open as you lift a hand to grab Daddy’s arm as he starts to leave. 

A warm hand touches yours, “Daddy just has to make a quick phone call. I’ll be right back, Babydoll.” 

You nod and close your eyes, melting into the plush comforter surrounding you. The creak of the wooden bedroom door shutting is all you hear before sleep claims you yet again. 

I shut the bedroom door and immediately pull out my cell phone. Dialing a number I’ve memorized, I wait until the line is picked up.  

“Timeline’s moved up. Do it now.” Hanging up after hearing confirmation, I make my way over to the small bar in the living room. 

I pour two fingers of Black Label neat and swirl it around, taking a sip. The smoky vanilla liquid coats my tongue as I savor it and then swallow. Whether it’s the placebo effect or not, I instantly feel calm.  

Sitting on one end of the couch, I throw my feet up on the coffee table. Holding my drink in my lap and leaning my head back against the backrest of the couch, I close my eyes and just rest.  

It’s so rare that I can just sit in silence anymore. I didn’t ask to be a father...figure. Not that I’m upset about Babydoll being in my life, far from it. She's perfect for me.  

I’m terrible for her. But she has no clue about that. And I'd like to keep it that way. 

My sweet little empty-headed Babydoll is ready to do anything and everything I ask her to. If pleasing me makes her happy, who am I to stop her? 

I take a sip of my drink and hear the slow creak of the floorboards in the bedroom. I throw my arm over the back of the couch as the bedroom door opens and Babydoll’s head pokes out. 

“Daddy?” Oh, how I love to hear that out of her mouth. 

“Come here, Babydoll,” I hold an arm out as she shuffles across the hardwood in her thigh-high socks and makes her way over to the couch to sit sideways in my lap, “I thought you were sleeping, babygirl.” 

Laying her head on my chest and wrapping her arms around me, she settles in against my warmth. “I reached over for you and you weren’t there and I got scared.” How is she this fucking adorable? 

“Oh, my sweet girl. I was right here the whole time. I promise you are always safe with me,” Safe was kind of subjective, but I went with it, “I’ve got an idea to get you back to sleep, it’ll make you nice and tired.” 

She starts to squirm in my lap and I put my hand on one of her thighs, hooking my fingers in her thigh-high sock and pulling it down her leg. I do the same with the other before I reach over her to put my drink on the table. 

Moving her to the couch, I kneel between her legs on the floor and get my hands under her skirt to pull her panties down. The thought crosses my mind how I went through her suitcase and pulled out all the panties she packed. I want easy access to this pussy while we’re away. 

She snaps me out of my reverie with, “Daddy?” 

“What’s wrong, Babydoll?”  

She leans up and runs her hand over the front of my slacks and grabs my dick. “I wanna learn to give Daddy special kisses too.” Did she know what she was doing to me? 

Fuck. 

I bite my bottom lip and sit back on my heels for a second, looking into her pleading eyes. Standing back up, I open my zipper and pull out my already half-hard dick right in front of those pretty plump lips. “You want this in your mouth, Babydoll?”  

“Yes, Daddy. Please teach me how you like it?” Her eyes go wide when my dick twitches at her words, so she decides to go a bit further. “Wanna taste Daddy.” She’s rewarded with another twitch. 

“Why don’t you grab Daddy’s dick and stroke it first, Babydoll?” The moment she has a hand around me, she licks her lips and it threw me for a loop. Up until this point, she has been my sweet virginal Princess, now she wants to suck me off and it turns me on beyond belief. She reverts to using both hands and that little tongue snakes out again in her concentration. I take my dick out of her hands and grab her chin, “Stick your tongue out for Daddy and keep that mouth open.” 

I hold the head of my dick and spread my precum all over her tongue, pushing just the head inside her mouth. “Now, close your mouth around Daddy’s dick with just your lips. No teeth, Babydoll. I’m gonna fuck your little mouth and then you’re gonna see how far you can go. If you have to stop to breathe, just open your mouth, ok?”  

She hums her understanding around my cock and I twitch in her mouth again. I grab the back of her head and move my hips to shallowly fuck her hot wet mouth. She’s doing so good just letting me use her, and I want to fucking cum down her throat any second but I bide my time and just thrust into her nice and slowly. I stop and pull out, a string of her spit still connecting us. 

She gulps in some air and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, looking back up into my eyes. “Can I try to see how far I can go now, Daddy?” It’s like I created the perfect little cockslut. 

“Yes, Babydoll, I want you to show me how deep you can take me. Now, be a good girl and suck Daddy’s dick.” 

“Yes, Daddy.” She takes me in both hands, licking the underside of my dick then taking me in her mouth. I groan in the back of my throat. She gets about halfway and then begins a slow rhythm of stroking and sucking.  

Not the best blowjob, but for a beginner? Damn fine first try. She takes direction well, she’s eager, and she looks so fucking cute while sucking a dick.  

I feel the coil in my stomach tightening. I was so ready to cum down her throat, but her fucking face was so pretty I wanted to mark it as mine. I run a hand through the sweat-slick hair on my forehead before throwing my head back and grunting.  

“Fuck, Babydoll. Daddy’s gonna cum all over that sweet little face...ugh, fuck, close your eyes!” I pull out and shoot rope after rope of thick milky cum over her beautiful perfect face. When her tongue slips out to taste what landed on her lips, I thought I would never stop cumming. 

Slowing my stroke, I squeeze from the base to the tip of my dick, I wipe the last of my cum on her chin. Luckily, none of my cum hit her lashes or eyelids. When she opens her eyes, I smiled at her. I use my thumb to move a bit of my cum between her open lips and she sucks my thumb so sweetly. 

I take back my thumb and place my hand on my chest to steady my breathing. 

“Daddy, I’m tired now. Can we go to bed?” She yawns lazily and the glob of cum hanging from her chin dances.  

I hold in my laughter and suggest, “Wash your face first, Babydoll. Then bedtime.” I take her hand and lead her into the bathroom so she can wash her face and I can use the can. She doesn’t seem to mind me taking a piss, but she isn't covert as she glances sidelong at my dick. I flush, wash my hands after she’s done and we enter the bedroom together. 

I take off the majority of my clothes, then I decide I don’t need to wear anything. We’re out here free from prying eyes, might as well sleep comfortably. And if that makes it even easier access to that pussy, why not? Removing my boxer briefs, I turn to where Babydoll is going over to her suitcase, no doubt to look for pajamas. 

“Babydoll, I want you to sleep naked tonight." I settle under the covers and make myself comfortable. 

“Yes, Daddy.”  

I watch as she pulls down her skirt and pulls off her sweater and undershirt. That tight little body bounced slightly as she made her way over to the bed. Climbing in, she pecks me on the lips and settles down on her side with her leg pulled up. 

I turn to face her and wrap an arm around her waist, pushing her leg up a bit further with my own so I can slide the head of my dick into her tight wet heat. I groan lowly as she moans from the sudden intrusion. 

“We’re gonna sleep with it inside tonight. I want you to just sleep and warm my cock at the same time.” I could feel her heartbeat racing and her breath quickening as he tries to keep herself calm. 

“Yes, Daddy,” She wiggles her hips in the slightest, getting used to the fullness. 

“Stay still, Babydoll. Daddy’ll fuck you in the morning, ok? For now, just rest, babygirl.” I angle my hips and aim for her g-spot and she’s putty in my hands. 

“Daddy, just right there, please? Please please, I won’t ask for anything else. I promise!” I can’t see her face but I can hear how easily she could cry from the tension. 

“Fine, fine. But I’m fucking you to sleep, Babydoll. You better cum for me when I tell you to.” I stay inside her while moving to kneel behind her, fucking into her into the mattress. 

I lean over her, my hands holding her hips as I continuously kiss her cervix with the tip of my dick. Her moans are music to my ears, along with the slapping sounds of flesh that fill the dimly lit room. I can feel her walls start to tighten around me and reach under her leg for her clit. 

“Cum for me, Babydoll. Cum all over Daddy’s dick, babygirl.” I pinch her little clit between my fingers and the dam breaks. 

“Yes, Daddy!” Her toes curl and her core quivers around me. Her warm wetness coats my length and it’s even easier to fuck into her now. Once I hear the squelching sound of her wet pussy, I can’t help but chase my release. 

“That’s my good girl. Just like that...Daddy’s gonna fuck this tight little princess hole til you can't take it anymore. You’re doing so good taking my cock, babygirl. Fuck...fuuuuuuck. Such a perfect little pussy for me to fuck. Shit! Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum. Ugh, fuck!” I pull out and cum all over her ass and back in heavy white stripes. 

I get up to grab a wet washcloth to wipe away the evidence of my orgasm. Coming back, I realize she is down for the count. Wiping her down, she hums but soft snores are soon to follow. 

Well, I meant what I said when I wanted to fuck her to sleep. 

The next two days are a blur of time with Daddy. The only time he has to go do something alone is the day you left. You wake up and find a note saying that he had to run out. When he comes back, he is in a bad mood and takes it out on your pussy.  

You both load your bags into the Escalade and start your trip home. You sleep most of the trip home, tired from your guts being rearranged. Instead of carrying you in the house, you get a soft nudge to wake up when you are back home. 

"Take your suitcase in, Babydoll. I’ll be right behind you.” He pops the trunk and meets you at the back of the SUV. You pick up your bag and head inside, going straight to your room to drop your luggage. 

It’s very quiet in the house and you wonder where your Mom could be. You check the Master bedroom and the bed is made but she’s not there. The kitchen is empty, and both bathrooms are as well. It wasn’t until something catches your eye in the backyard. 

Something is floating in the pool. Not something. It is someone.  

You go out to the patio, looking into the water you spot your Mother’s lifeless body in the water. 

Before you know it, a blood-curdling scream is escaping you and the world turns black as you’re caught by two strong arms. 

Part IV

A/N: Well, that was a doozy!!! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Guess I’ll just leave this here and see what y’all think. 

**Tag List** 

@raccoon-eyed-rebel @viking-raider @devotedlythoughtfulanchor @livisss @randomweirdoss @brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102 @mrs-solo-walker [Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁] 

[1997thebracket]

Round 5 - SEMIFINALS

It's the battle of albums and anime in 1997! Which will be the last album standing?

Blur's Self-Titled: And when she lets me slip away… Some bands make their debut with an eponymous album (Placebo did the year before, as would Albarn's second great success Gorillaz) but Blur knew that declaration of self-actualization was worth saving. Blur (1997) is the fifth studio album by the acclaimed English pop-rock-alternative-shoegaze-anything that'll stick-band of the same name, fronted by 90s coverboy Damon Albarn. The album brought us the singles Beetlebum and Song 2, the former of which debuted at #1 on the UK charts, and the latter of which would properly break in the US and give the band the footing on American soil they'd previously missed. Woo-hoo! Despite its mainstream success-- the album is certified Platinum, and saw greater success alongside their American alternative peers than any album prior-- Blur (1997) has a distinctly more experimental sound than their Britpop classics and explores rougher indie production sentiments. Guitarist Graham Coxon centers his widening musical tastes and produces some of his proudest work, while Albarn has stated that the track On Your Own may be regarded as the first taste of Gorillaz-before-Gorillaz. Although it would not be the end of the road for the band's internal turmoil and eventual reconciliation, it would come to represent an era of growth and emotional authenticity in their music.

Radiohead's OK Computer: I go forwards, you go backwards, and somewhere we will meet. By the middle of the decade, Radiohead was weary of the ubiquity of their 1993 hit Creep; although the record that followed it (The Bends) was a lusher, more evolved album than their first, it had failed to produce a distinctive enough image for the band to undo what Creep had done. The song threatened to define the band entirely to those outside their devoted following. In 1997 the band swung for the fences with the haunting, abstract OK Computer. It was a move their label cast immense doubt on at the time, and its success then and now would cement Thom Yorke and his bandmates as soothsayers of a sort, draped not in bohemian silk robes but in white hospital sheets. It's an album that speaks to the future with dread more than wonder, that critics described as "nervous almost to the point of neurosis," but marries the uneasy experimental soundscapes with poetic, surrealist, and increasingly prophetic songwriting regarding the parallel lives we lead with technology. Featuring the singles Karma Police, Paranoid Android and No Surprises, OK Computer is hailed by many as the band's magnum opus: it's certified double Platinum in the US and five-times Platinum in the UK, and in 2014 it was included in the United States National Recording Registry as "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant."

[fxreflyes]

thank you for the tags my loves!!! This was such a fun game :) @kaaaaaaarf @fatemy-friend @faggylittleleatherboy @somerubberband @wanderingdonut 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

list your top 5 albums from your top 5 artists and have people vote on which one matches your vibe

(Additional albums because idk how y’all chose 😭: Rise and fall of ziggy stardust - Bowie (I adore this album, I just saw y’all also put it so figured I’d mix it up), tim - the replacements, Boxer - the national, avenged sevenfold (self titled), darklands - Jesus and Mary chain, golden age - Ethel Cain, unknown pleasures- joy division. alright imma stop… )

Open tag!!!

But also tagging (sorry I’m late doing this so if you’ve already done it I’m sorry & lmk I’d love to see!!): @cosmmicdancer @polaroidcats @shipsnsails @fruityindividual @angelfruittree

@greengrug @belleandsaintsebastian @kaleidoscopexsighs @magneto-manifesto @sugarsnappeases

@stillagoodwitch @godsofwoes @thebloatedfrog

[geffenrecords]

2nd physical media collection update... for i am nothing if not the hoarder... smiles

everything minus books (too many) and records (too few) listed below

TAPES:

a recounting of the pearl harbor attack

so far, so good, so what! - megadeth

the four seasons - vivaldi

concerti - vivaldi

hangin' tough - new kids on the block

piano concertos - tchaikovsky, lizt

symphonies no. 40 in G minor - mozart

defenders of the faith - judas priest

flute sonatas - bach

highlights from the phantom of the opera musical

days of future passed - the moody blues

doomsday for the deceiver - flotsam and jetsam

st elmo's fire, original motion picture soundtrack

i do not want what i haven't got - sinead o'connor

sunrise on the sufferbus - masters of reality

diary - sunny day real estate

nevermind the bollocks, here's the sex pistols - sex pistols

destroyed - sloppy seconds

killing is my business... and business is good! - megadeth

synchronicity - the police

spreading the disease - anthrax

delirious nomad - armored saint

this is johnny cash

natural born killers, original motion picture soundtrack

diary of a madman - ozzy osbourne

fantastic - wham!

garage days rerevisited - metallica

VHS

metallica: year and a half in the life of...

cliff 'em all (both of these tapes are the originals my dad bought when they came out, which he gave to me :) )

BBC walking with dinosaurs

dead poets society

the lost boys

flatliners

family values tour '98 (i actually gave this one to my sibling, but its still in the picture. whoops)

star wars: attack of the clones

aliens

the terminator

hackers

CDS

the black parade - my chemical romance

danger days - my chemical romance

american idiot - green day

21st century breakdown - green day

in love and death - the used

may death never stop you - my chemical romance

baby one more time - britney spears

life on the murder scene, movie and soundtrack

dookie - green day

nimrod - green day

nevermind - nirvana

uno!, dos!, tre! - green day

nirvana, greatest hits

weezer (blue)

selfish machines - pierce the veil

collide with the sky - pierce the veil

three cheers for sweet revenge - my chemical romance

from under the cork tree - fall out boy

teens of denial - car seat headrest

in utero - nirvana

licensed to ill - beastie boys

lost and found - mudvayne

what it is to burn - finch

slipknot, first album

no strings attached - nsync

infinity on high - fall out boy

fallen - evanesence

weezer (green)

mellon collie and the infinite sadness - the smashing pumpkins

tallahassee - the mountain goats

bleach - nirvana

in the areoplane over the sea - neutral milk hotel

the downward spiral - nine inch nails

facelift - alice in chains

placebo

(this is around where i turned 16, you'll notice a shift lol)

smash - the offspring

dirt - alice in chains

peace sells... but who's buying? - megadeth

garage days rerevisisted - metallica

folie a duex - fall out boy

spit - kittie

the devil put dinosaurs here - alice in chains

alice in chains (self titled)

incesticide - nirvana

hot fuss - the killers

american beauty / american psycho - fall out boy

among the living - anthrax

oops!... i did it again - britney spears

...and justice for all - metallica

let's knife - shonen knife

kill 'em all - metallica

ride the lightning - metallica

lithium / been a son / curmudgeon - nirvana

you brought me your bullets, i brought you my love - my chemical romance, copy that my dad handmade :)

no prayer for the dying - iron maiden

unplugged in new york - nirvana

killing is my business...and business is good! - megadeth

enema of the state - blink-182

take off your pants and jacket - blink-182

pretty hate machine - nine inch nails

screaming for vengeance - judas priest

fabulous disaster - exodus

let go - avril lavigne

metallica - metallica

master of puppets - metallica

hidden treasures - megadeth

dude ranch - blink-182

there be squabbles ahead - stolen babies

twilight, original motion picture soundtrack (i litr dont remember why i bought this ? lol)

neighborhoods - blink-182

south of heaven - slayer

blink-182 - blink-182

angst - kmfdm

adios - kmfdm

never mind the bollocks, here's the sex pistols - sex pistols

hybrid theory - linkin park

the lion and the cobra - sinead o'connor

seasons in the abyss - slayer

reign in blood - slayer

meteroa - linkin park

toxicity - system of a down

jar of flies - alice in chains

core - stone temple pilots

louder than love - soundgarden

ultramega ok - soundgarden

korn - korn

life is peachy - korn

follow the leader - korn

deathconciousness - have a nice life

no more tears - ozzy osbourne

rust in peace - megadeth

system of a down - system of a down

s&m - metallica

unplugged - alice in chains

artwork - the used

issues - korn

misfits - misfits

asia - asia

randy rhoads tribute - ozzy osbourne

ke*a*h*** (psalm 69) - ministry

practice what you preach - teastament

faster than the speed of night - bonnie tyler

christmas collection - carpenters

the dark - metal church

spinal tap

boogadaboogadaboogada - screeching weasel

DVD

IT (1990)

IT (2017)

IT chapter two

ready or not

beetlejuice

glee season 1 & 2 (listen...)

jaws

the secret of nimh

jurassic park 1, 2, 3

metalocalypse seasons 1-4

flatliners

the lost boys

diary of a wimpy kid

aliens

alien resurrection

tmnt

the outsiders, the complete novel

trainspotting

over the edge

donnie darko

venom

jennifer's body

jackass number 2

twilight

the karate kid

the princess diaries

fight club

star wars prequels, 1-3

narnia; the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe

the osbournes, season 1

little miss sunshine

spider-man, 1-3

the amazing spiderman

elephant

kung fu panda

star wars, original trilogy

the polar express

scream

heathers

surf's up

bowling for columbine

hackers

a clockwork orange

natural born killers

terminator 2 judgment day

mysterious skin

moonrise kingdom

the world's greatest albums, green day's american idiot

that was then, this is now

jackass

suicide kings

matrix

the goldfinch

speak

the day after tomorrow

stand by me

kids

rumble fish

grey's anatomy, seasons 1-2 (again. listen...)

30 years of national geographic specials

what's eating gilbert grape?

carrie

little shop of horrors

the breakfast club, sixteen candles, weird science (john hughes collection)

bill and ted, bill and ted 2

girl, interuppted

the story of star wars

the exorcist

good will hunting

kansas

this is spinal tap

spirit: stallion of the cimarron

kalifornia

not pictured here, stuck under a stack of books, BBC's planet earth

[libertineangel]

I say it every year but it is funny how only using Spotify to listen to unfamiliar albums gives me a totally arbitrary meaningless Wrapped, like yeah sure my top song of the year was First Reprisal by Front Line Assembly with a grand total of two listens (put on their second album, decided I wasn't feeling it that night and checked it out another time)

Where's my Windows Media Player Wrapped to show me how many times I listened to Placebo self-titled

[iloveducks796]

Stop yearning for yearning

 

Recently I’ve been seeing hella people discussing how love feels different nowadays, especially for our generation Gen Z coming into the dating scene and how it feels different from the movies or 90s love or early 2000s love. I have also been listening to Japanese denim on repeat for the past week so.

 

I can’t go back and extract real stories of 90s or 2000 love to be able to tell you. But I can tell you what I am seeing in the friendship court, and as a result, the dating scene. 

 

Romanticization

As a generation that grew up with an unlimited technology access. This also extended to the type of content that we consume on regular basis. and yes, I am looking at y’all wattpad/Ao3 gorls. they are the main ones, but the episode/choices gurls aren’t safe either and even in the cartoons and sitcoms that we grew up seeing on cable always had that romantic aspect that we aspire to have. 

 

These further trickles down to the media that we consume as teenagers and young adults. That place these expectations and straight up unrealistic laws and rules to follow. Which is unsurprising because of the explosion of love gurus. Who framed themselves as older sisters, placebo mothers, or even ratchet aunties. and through this, we now have a generation full of not only encompassing dumb ass titles. But also, materialism over romance and more expectations

 

With the getting with people with money over attraction or valuing with someone can give you rather than the experiences you can have with someone. some of the most intimate moments I’ve experienced in my life have been with people that have given me nothing materially, and I thank them for it. because some people don’t understand this, they seek to label what they want instead of finding it.

 

I want teenage love! I want a golden retriever boyfriend! I want a lover girl. I need loyalty! (these niggas are not Kendrick)

 

Let me be honest, although this is embarrassing. It is not a unrealistic want and honestly real at times. based on what she seen in the media teenage love is full of spontaneous trips and acts of love, intimacy, and short amount of time. The freedom of being young and in love and firsts are all beautiful in a ideal world. 

 

in today’s society, this does not seem achievable even the most popular couples have their problems in their broadcast it to everyone. Because social media is a double-edged sword. Having to post your girl or your nigga to feel wanted or some sort of obligation is bullshit. and because of the romanticization of the ideal man or woman that you seen on TV or media. You are unable to appreciate what is currently in front of you.

 

Romanticization does not only apply to the overall aesthetic of a relationship. It also applies to the look of the couple. People’s appearances have always been somewhat controversial, but with the romanticization aspect coming from both sides of the problem.

It leads to self-deprecation, and unrealistic standards for beauty. although I do think there is a white beauty standard that women, especially black women, feel the need to comply to in their own way. And the same goes for men, in the way that they portray themselves. this only leads to a lot of confidence, which is why you don’t see people just coming up to other people and approaching them. not only do people nowadays, lack confidence. They also have a fear of being perceived, and rejection. Always wanting to be approached, but not the approacher…

 

Which I think is the essence of the 90s and 2000s love. It’s that effortlessly confident, portrayal of love and self-confidence that radiates through the screen. which is what’s being romanticized all the way to hell. it also puts a restriction on the way queer people can express their love any type of way because of the hetero normative portrayal of love during this time as well.

 

Lack of intimacy

if you asked the very people screeching about bringing back yearning, what is yearning? I doubt they would have an answer. They would list a bunch of examples rather than giving a straight definition.

Yearning

noun

1.    a feeling of intense longing for something

 

An intense longing for something, it’s a little fucking ironic that the same ones one in yearning to come back or yearning for yearning? but nevertheless, this all stems from a lack of intimacy. I don’t just mean, intimacy in the way that you see it as in sex or physical. 

 

I mean, mental intimacy, deep conversations, sentimental items, not attached to materialism, expression of feelings. people that yearn for love or yearn someone. They would have to be able to vocalize this mental intimacy or to be able to show it. Which is what you see in these types of early medias. Because there is not yet this fear of intimacy or lack of understanding. 

 

People yearn for other people to be able to express this but are unable to express themselves. Forever wanting to be approached, never wanting to be the approacher. if you yourself cannot put yourself out there for mental intimacy, how can you wish for someone else to do the same? and yes, I get it’s different because this form of yearning that some people want is people on their knees and begging. Which is really humility, and another expression of intimacy. These people are able to throw away their pride for the person that they love and want to be with. 

 

When people long for something they stop at nothing to be able to reach it. It sits on the back of their mind like their hippocampus. They reminisce on it like a fond memory. And they’re hunger, for it never stops even in death. People, including myself, cannot and will not voice this because it will not only fracture their pride. but also, they are scared to seem weak or humiliate themselves. 

 

I don’t know who said this, but loving is never a waste, neither is expressing yourself, or throwing away your pride. 

 

So, stop yearning for yearning and approach the unknown and long for its reply.

[drugbinges]

Tag 5 of your favorite blogs/mutuals and pass it on

Top 5 movies: Gummo, Superbad, American Psycho, Trainspotting, The Shining

Top 5 albums: Without You I'm Nothing by Placebo, Bleach by Nirvana, Exmilitary by Death Grips, Crystal Castles by Crystal Castles, Natural Born Losers by Nicole Dollanganger (honourable mentions: Lullabies in a Glass Wilderness by Lalleshwari (Katie Jane Garside) and Slipknot self titled... LOL)

Top 5 songs: Every You Every Me by Placebo, Drain You by Nirvana, Would? by Alice In Chains, Xxzxcuzx Me by Crystal Castles, Interloper (demo) by Slipknot

Top 5 foods: Squid/Octopus, Pasta in general, Onigiri, Curry, Cigarettes

Top 5 favorite things: anything inherited from dead people or my grandparents, spending time with @missstigmata , smoking, writing abt/discussing music history, and my cat

Was tagged by @folklown (thank u （　＾ω＾）)

Tagging: @missstigmata @k-holed @abandoneddepartmentstore @deadlittledogs @beefwizard91 ... if i missed any of my fave mutuals then my apolocheese . Feel free to do it no matter who u are to me. U are Speshal ʕ•̫͡•ʔ♡*:.✧

[princess-of-the-corner]

Okay thinking on the monster au and the 'giving a name' thing!

So so so so

There is nuance to how this will exist. Because obviously if knowing someone's Name is powerful, then no one would ever introduce themselves with something real to call them it's all pseudonyms. Which /may/ be a way to work Hero Names in but I'll swing back there.

But my thoughts on it is that there has to be some form of /intent/. Yes one can be tricked by a Fae's 'will you give me your name?' question, or be forced to do so, but some form of intentionally handing it over is needed. Even the 'will you give me your name' must be answered with a 'Yes it's *insert name*.' instead of just the name itself(though to be safe one should word carefully.)

Now swinging back to the Hero Name thing: I'd imagine that some people would go by some fake name or title. Just as an extra security, even if it may just be a placebo to make themselves feel better. You can't accidentally give your Name if you don't use your real name, after all.

The trick here though is that your Name is tied to your self-identity, not necessarily the name you're given at birth. For example: if someone's trans and changes their name, their Name is their chosen name, not their deadname.

Similarly with those using a pseudonym. If Toshinori begins to consider his identity 'All Might' rather than 'Toshinori', then the former will become his Name.

This can also cause fun with mixed identities! Like the Izuku vs. Tenko situation over the Tomura Identity! Both of them have a claim to the Name, both of them consider it part of their Identity, which allows them to both use Magics tied to that name, though it has yet to solidify to being able to control them.

[entheognosis]

Excerpt:

The science of mystical experiences

The groundbreaking study, undertaken by Roland Griffiths, was published in 2006 and titled Psilocybin can occasion mystical-type experiences having substantial and sustained personal meaning and spiritual significance. It examined the way psilocybin generates strong mystical experiences using an impressively rigorous methodology.

Unlike Pahnke's experiment, Griffith did not prime the experience by placing participants into a spiritually heightened environment. Instead, his experiment involved participants simply laying on a couch in a comfortable room. Encouraged to wear eye-shades, participants directed their experience inwards and then were evaluated afterwards using questionnaires and interviews.

Another fascinating aspect of Griffith's study was his incorporation of an "active placebo." As well as all participants reporting as "hallucinogen-naive," meaning they do not know what the effects of psilocybin should be, the control group was administered methylphenidate hydrochloride, or Ritalin. This meant that the control group would still feel some kind of physical experience allowing them to not simply sense nothing and immediately know they are on a placebo.

The results were remarkable. Over 60 percent of the psilocybin subjects fulfilled the study's criteria of meeting a "full mystical experience," while one third self-rated it as the most spiritually significant experience of their entire life, and two-thirds rated it among the five most meaningful experiences in their life. The longer term effects were compelling too. A two-month follow up found 79 percent reported increased well-being and life satisfaction compared to the rates of the placebo group.

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 8)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

GIF: Originally posted by @darklinsblog

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Nightmares. Violence. Dub/non con. Kissing. Nudity. AFAB + AMAB penetrative sex. Unprotected sex. Plot related cigarette use. Language.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Hello there! I wasn't intending on posting this chapter until I had the others finished but I guess Tumblr took that decision away from me and published instead of saving! Oh well, guess I'll roll with it. As always, I hope you enjoy and would be very happy to hear your thoughts. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

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

The combination of the darkened clouds and the even more desaturated décor is making the room despairingly claustrophobic.

Sporadic breaths rattle up and down your trachea; a remnant of the fear that had been created by the tail end of that conversation. You are struggling to make sense of the direction it had taken; the barrelling downward spiral whereby you discovered your newfound status.

No longer do you hold the lone title of soulmate. You are a captive.

At least that's what Morpheus made it sound like. The word is shudder inducing and a fresh trickle of bile spills into your mouth.

The door he left through, the one blocking your freedom, you are standing close enough to it that you can see every grain and groove of the ebony wood - and the curious absence of a handle or lock. With a flattened hand you gingerly press against the varnished surface, upping the pressure when you don't appear to have tripped any alarms. There's no movement no matter how hard you push, not that you really anticipated any. Morpheus said locked in for a reason. Regardless, you feel that you needed to try just in case he had changed his mind. Again, an eventuality that you do not expect.

You get the sense that Morpheus' grasp of stubbornness would rival that belonging to a group of at least 100,000 people; he is a ruler, and a centuries-old one at that. Accustomed to being in control, well versed in the art of exerting it.

He's chilling too. That nightmare quality really won out just now. You have seen darkness in his eyes before, (brought on by intense moments including sexual desire) and the effects he can have on the environments surrounding him, but this was a whole new breed.

The deflection. The disdain. The remorselessness. How the shadows had danced around him like crude oil twisting in water, a cloak of obscurity and energy to drive you away and leave you isolated.

And your relentlessness was the catalyst for it being unleashed. You're unsure as to why you brought up the theoretical consequences of refusing to be his soulmate. It had just slipped out. There were numerous other ways in which you could have handled the situation yet that was the conversational path you took.

You shudder again, wrapping your arms around your middle in an attempt to self-soothe. It provides a measure of relief but also draws attention to the fact that he should be doing this. Morpheus should be holding you. Talking this through with you.

Instead he left you standing on the marble floor, the intrinsically endothermic nature of the material causing iciness to seep up your legs via your bare feet.

Seeking warmth, you move back to the bed and dejectedly lie down.

The usual covered plate of food has appeared on the bedside table; your expression is so obviously rattled that you can see every detail despite the metal's distortion. You roll over, not wanting to contemplate eating for even a second.

Your entire body is tense, with epicentres in your tight chest and thought-clogged brain, the latter of which is showing signs of inducing a migraine. You breathe with steady intent, a review of the encounter relentlessly replaying.

One question keeps rising to the surface, getting louder and more insistent with each iteration:

Why was he doing this?

He had said it was to protect you. That it was dangerous outside. Was the dream world suddenly that different now that you had free will? Surely he would have led with that if it were true. Found a way to make it safe...

He's been unfalteringly devoted to you in every other way thus far. The aftercare looked to be proof enough of his character. The reassurance, and explanations during the soul-tying. Holding you. Staying beside you while you slept, even though he did not require the rest himself.

But then there is the distinct lack of sharing, both of his internal and external worlds, and of course the 'it is not your place to do so' comment.

That one really stings. You had been convinced that you were his equal. Yet the way the words fell so easily from his mouth, without hesitation nor any sign of an underpinning emotion - it sounded like a response that was not uttered in the heat of the moment.

How were you to know though?

You've not known him for that long and it's not like you can tell from the bond between you, even now after days of longing to and trying to pick up on something, anything that would inform you of his heart. The one thing you can attempt to read into is the state of the ceiling sky; you are getting a sense that it is linked directly to his moods. Its sudden deterioration the moment you had voiced your concerns couldn't have been a coincidence, could it?

The more you grapple for meaning, the harder you are finding it to reconcile the evidence before you, so conflicted on your opinion of him, of the situation. Yet no amount of speculation and reframing could take away from the few facts you have:

The Fates had told you of an unfathomably long imprisonment that Morpheus had endured and suffered in.

So why was he putting you in a parallel of that?

How can someone who is supposed to be your soulmate be so unreadable to you, and so inexplicably cruel?

You curl into a ball, groaning out loud in frustration.

You ponder if there is something defective within you, if he can see something that you are too human to perceive. Maybe you deserve this on some level because you are not quite enough for him.

"No," you say out loud, firmly casting that contemptuous thought out of your mind.

You will not go in for self-loathing or self-pity. You are strong and capable and compassionate. Morpheus is still your soulmate. You can fix this. Once he's back, you will talk about this.

The resolution seems to lessen the lingering despair enough that you unwittingly fall asleep.

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

There's an anticipatory undercurrent to the chatter being passed back and forth across the circular tables spaced evenly across the function room.

You're sat at one such table, the hands folded in your lap occasionally brushing against the heavy dark blue velvet draped over the wood, the feel of the material's sumptuous pile triggering pleasant goosebumps.

Ice laden water jugs and bowls of savoury snacks occupy the middle of the table, and each seat is designated by a placeholder. Your name is displayed in a bold font across the folded piece of stiff card in front of you and the names of all your colleagues have been typed out on matching markers.

The lighting could be described as ambient, moody even - a strange choice for such a celebratory event. The strongest source of light is directed towards a projection screen, where the order of events are being presented.

You thumb the lock screen button on the right hand side of your phone to check the time. 20:28. The scheduled break is due to end soon. You take a sip of water from the tumbler stamped with your lipstick and wait.

The microphone on the podium clicks and crackles as it is brought back to life and all heads turn in unison towards the man standing there. A spotlight provided by the professional lighting rig suspended above is ignited, the light from it so bright that it obscures every feature on his face.

His tone is light as he reels off a few formalities, making a joke about the speed of which some individuals had headed to the bar come the start of the interval, eliciting a sequence of throaty laughs from the crowd. He then jumps back into the award giving.

"This person, I know for a fact has really been putting in the effort with developing the traits required to truly embody this accolade and everything it stands for. Taking gullible to the next level, allowing themself to be debased and shutting down all logical reasoning. A veritable inspiration of inconsequentiality; therefore, it comes as no surprise that the award for most worthless human goes to -"

He pauses for effect, and the entire room watches on with baited breath.

Condensation beads slip down the outside of the jug closest to you, mirroring a perspiration bead that has begun to slide from your nape. You look away from the stage, feeling an impending sense of doom slink into your stomach with the nausea that suddenly washes over you. Your intuition is well-founded.

The microphone wheezes as the man inhales the breath needed to deliver the announcement.

He says your name.

The applause that follows is rapturous; a chorus of hollers and whistles punctuating the clapping. It's like you're at a rock concert.

None of it aligns with the damning description of the award name. Under no circumstance do you want to go and accept it; doing so would show that you agree with the committee.

You sneak a glance over your shoulder, wincing at the harsh fluorescents spilling in from the foyer through the set of double doors - that is where you quietly need to get to.

You're pushing your chair back slowly and carefully, about to attempt this surreptitious exit when a spotlight hits you. The hand going for your bag freezes mid-reach.

It's as if a tractor beam has been activated. You cannot stop yourself from standing, cannot stop yourself from walking on the scuffed wooden floor, made that way from years of dancing.

The journey to the stage on your shaky legs is long, given your distance from it, intensified even further by the stares of your peers. You go up the steps at the side of the stage, jelly legs adding risk with the slight elevation. You grip the handrail in a white-knuckled fist.

The award waits on the podium: an oversized key on a black plinth, the golden colour of the metal glints temptingly. With your gaze turned downwards, the man shakes your hand with the pressure of a constrictor, praising you with words that you can't hear above the continued applause.

You force your mouth into a smile and ready yourself to take the award, telling yourself that being gracious is the best approach you can take.

Unfortunately, in your moment of acceptance, someone decides to take advantage.

There's a blow to the back of your knee caps.

You cry out from shock and pain; the sound doesn't last long for as soon as your knees make impact with the boards, a gag is forced into your mouth.

The situation and the gag make it hard to breathe in any way other than frantically, pulse just as agitated in your tight-feeling chest.

The crowd's clapping doesn't stop even as intricate restraints are added at your wrists, even as burning tears and sticky snot stream down your face.

The agony intensifies when you are hauled up by your hair and then herded by several pairs of hands towards the wings of the stage. Your eyes fall on the opaque box that stands just out of view of the crowd.

Its purpose is clear. It is to be your cage.

You're now screaming despite the gag, thrashing as you're dragged towards your doom. Not even allowing yourself to be a dead weight can save you; the cloying fingers are too numerous, too zealous.

The door to the cage opens and the presence of the oppressive void within ekes out towards you like a disturbing fog. Whatever is in there, you can sense it will smother you. Obliterate you slowly. And the people in this room seem to believe you are worthy of such a fate.

The hands anchored on your body begin their last pushes. You whip your head around, making a last attempt to search for an escape when you see a figure out the corner of your eye.

There's no questioning who it is; the person who has been on the periphery of so many dreams these past weeks, you would know him anywhere.

You see a glimpse of movement. Perhaps the raising of a hand. A ripple of power courses through the scene - you feel it vibrate in your chest. Everything freezes, and in that sudden silence you hear Morpheus' solemn and decisive words:

"This dream is over."

You startle, a shriek echoing about the sunless space as you are ripped from the dream. The sheets have you wrapped up like a python; you try with desperation to get free, half-convinced that those relentless hands are still trying to ferry you into that cage.

Floundering, you work and work against the fabric, crying out again when your progress is minimal.

"Soulmate."

Morpheus' deep voice sounds, speaking your name next in such an intimate and gentle way that you instantly halt in your struggle.

He is beside you.

All the attributes of concern are in his facial expression and body language, eyes glistening with an emotion you can't quite place.

"It is over now," he confirms, dissolving the sheet into nothing.

He comes closer, stroking your face with one hand, the other atop your chest with the palm centred on your soul. It's a welcome feeling, his attentions and being free from the tangle of sheets, but you are too far gone for it to stop the fear that the nightmare has set in motion.

"When you said that it was not my place to accompany you, is it because you think I'm less than you?" You ask in a cracking, pitiful voice.

Morpheus stills for a heartbeat, before bending his head to look you straight in the eyes. "No," he breathes. "My soulmate, I could never think that."

He kisses you softly.

It's not what you expected but nevertheless your hands cling to him on instinct, kissing him back and then he's suddenly straddling you. Covering your body with his own to give you a feeling of safety and it's exactly what you require.

You're on the verge of tears from it all, touching the back of his neck, gripping his shoulders to keep him close.

"Morpheus," you call.

"I am here. I am not going anywhere."

He kisses you deeper this time as if to corroborate his statement. It incrementally lessens your doubts and anxieties but there's a call for communication too.

"We need to talk about what happened," you say with quiet assertion.

For a moment, you wonder if he has even heard you for he claims your mouth again.

"I do not wish to talk," he eventually replies, immediately diving back in for yet another kiss. "I wish to take away your anguish."

"But -"

He hushes you, a soothing shut down that would be infuriating if not for the lingering unease of the nightmare clogging your emotions. "Let us forget what was said. Let us instead indulge in the pleasure of each other's bodies."

You blink, slowly processing his explicit inference, taken aback by the very obvious physical reactions they inspire. You force yourself to adopt a professional expression as your arousal begins to leak onto your gown.

"I want to talk to you."

He's smiling smugly as he tilts his head to the side. "Your emotions betray you dearest, as does your body. I know exactly what you want and it is not conversation."

Shame rises but is quickly blotted out by Morpheus' next action.

You feel bare skin against yours; he's used his power to disrobe you as well as him. A protest forms - he stifles it with his mouth. Your eyes are wide as you take it, as he shifts his weight ever so slightly to align your hips.

His own eyes stare you down after he pulls back, unblinking like an apex predator who has caught sight of its favourite prey.

Easy prey.

That's what you are.

He arranges you as such too; grasping your legs and moving your knees to your chest to bend you in half. Pinning you underneath him.

Neither of you last long with the tightness of the angle once you allow him to enter you.

To say you are dazed afterwards would be an understatement. The events of the past few hours have been persistently erratic. If Morpheus feels the same then it isn't apparent. The colour of his eyes are as clear and stable as the weather above, hand warming his favoured spot on your chest.

Your own hands wander up and down his body, running smoothly over his enticing skin.

"You have not touched your food," he comments quietly.

One of your palms moves absentmindedly to trail lazily across your abdomen. "If I'm being honest, I've been struggling to eat since I got here. For some reason I have no appetite or thirst."

"That would be a result of the immortality."

Your hands freeze up, brain doing the opposite as it spins out in a hundred directions.

"W-what did you say?" You stammer, praying you have misheard him.

"The immortality," he clarifies. "My power is within you and with it, comes certain endurances."

You sit up and put some space between you both. This was a serious matter. Despite your empty stomach you feel like you are going to vomit.

"How long have you known that?"

"It does not matter."

Red rag to a bull doesn't come close to covering what his dismissive reply makes you feel. The set of your jaw is so tight that a section on the left side begins to feather. You talk through gritted teeth, levelling a furious glare at him - making it transparent that you are not going to tolerate his evasiveness any longer:

"Tell me how long."

He makes the smart decision to pause to select his reply, though you decipher from the suddenly overcast sky that it is not going to be one that you will like.

"Since our souls joined."

Your hand flies to your chest, to your soul as tears start to brew.

"That was days ago!"

Morpheus simply looks at you.

"Did you not think that I had a right to know about something as life changing as that?"

He opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off before he can issue a syllable.

"Please can you give me some time alone?"

Morpheus' intense stare - the one that had gone from intimidating to exhilarating - has now become distressing and you need to get out from under it.

To his credit, he does what you asked and the moment the door is closed, the tears you have been holding back start to flow freely. The ceiling sky is so crowded with dark clouds that you are convinced that it's going to do the same as your eyes.

You feel like you've been tricked. You didn't ask for this, nor were you consulted.

The gilding has fully tarnished now, revealing that things were too good to be true. And had been from the very beginning. You had been swept up in the haze of sexual satisfaction, too blinded by the soul bond to see clearly. The nightmare had spelled it out flawlessly: gullible, debased and without logical reasoning.

The previous success in derailing your self-loathing falls short now. You are bolting down the path of internal admonishment.

How could you have been so naïve?

The answer is your hubris. It had felt good to be finally wanted, chosen to be a part of something bigger than yourself by making a difference to the Dreaming. Unless you had misunderstood.

No, the Fates had told you it in no uncertain terms. What they hadn't done however was provide a time frame. You had stupidly assumed it would be effective immediately. Instead you could be looking at decades, centuries even with this newfound information.

Even with the promise of eventual fulfilment, there was little chance that you would last for years in this room with your sanity intact.

You need distraction from the demoralising thought so you bluster through your bathroom routine like a whirlwind, slamming containers down where possible and huffing out exasperated sounds.

While the gown has re-materialised on the hook by the shower, you are dead set against putting it back on. You go to the bedside table and dive into the drawers to find your clothes from the night of the award ceremony, uncovering the cigarettes and lighter you forgot had been hidden there.

You don't even think before lighting one up, hoping that the nicotine will take the edge off your despair. You are quick to finish it and the clarity it brings encourages you to have a second. And then a third.

From the combination of your reclined position on the sheets and the dainty way you hold each cigarette, you can't help but feel like a 1940s starlet. It injects a bit of delirious humour, and also gumption into the mix.

"You are not at fault here," you whisper out loud. "He is the one who has an understanding of how soulmates work. He withheld that. You are allowed to be pissed off with him and you should let him see it."

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

By the time Morpheus returns, you are in full possession of your wits and sit perched at the foot of the bed. You regard each other; he appears a touch drawn out, eyes subdued and a small line marking the space between his eyebrows.

"You have been smoking," he states flatly.

Buoyed by the confidence gifted to you by said activity, you inhale the scent of the lingering bluish fog, flashing a sardonic smile as you audibly breathe out, labouring the point with the pleasurable sigh.

"What else was I supposed to do while I waited for you to come back?" You cross your legs and smooth out a non-existent wrinkle in the bedclothes you meticulously rearranged.

The effects of your sarcasm are immediate; the air is becoming ominously dense, threatening to unleash a storm of epic proportions. Morpheus' fists clench and the pressure is dampened a fraction.

"Give them to me," he asks in a monotone.

"No."

Your connection is so devoid of dissonance at this point. Morpheus is stone carved. The kind of impenetrable that would shred and destroy finger nails; there is no point in trying to claw your way to the being beneath. The apathy sends your anger to new heights, compelling that shamefully vindictive part of you into lashing out. You want to hurt him just as he has hurt you.

"They're the only thing I have left from my real life."

A lethal quality seeps into his reply, "That life ended the moment you stepped out onto that street."

"Well then I should have run from you that night," you provoke further, tone biting as glacial ice on exposed skin.

The same shadows from before are crowding about his person, settling in his eyes - a tell that you have unleashed the nightmare form. You have to actively remind yourself to breathe at an even pace. All things you had queued up to say to him are long gone as you gaze upon his dark majesty.

"Even if you had been able to evade me, hide your physical body, I would have found you the moment you fell asleep."

The tether on his control slips as a single bolt of lightning turns the room to a white-out. The thunder never comes, instead the rumble of his voice.

"Do not think that I had not anticipated a refusal. I was more than prepared to use force to get what I wanted. What I was promised. I will not share you with anyone. You are mine. My soulmate. You -"

He stops unexpectedly and head snapping to look at the door.

You roll your eyes. "Let me guess, something requires your attention."

He takes in a deep breath. "I will return shortly."

You watch sullenly as he leaves you behind yet again, about to resume smoking when you feel an urge to re-examine the door. It is as pointless as before; no handle nor locks. Your fists hit the mahogany once, then twice before your composure fully deteriorates and you begin to hammer on it. Not because you are hoping to snag someone's awareness, for you heard it from Morpheus that no one could find this place. Sadly, you do it because you are losing hope.

Dejection momentarily quelled, you resort to staring at the door with such concentration that you fear it may trigger another headache.

"How the fuck do you work?" You ask it.

If there is no tangible way of holding it then that left the metaphysical as its locking mechanism. Metaphysical power that came from him - that now resided in you.

Maybe you could use it to break out...

You huff out a laugh at your optimism. There is no harm in trying.

Decision made, you make a quick trip to the bathroom to get the ruby ring you put by the sink. There's no chance you're escaping and leaving a beloved family heirloom behind.

You walk confidently to the door and plant yourself a forearm's length from it. The gold of the ring glimmers on your right hand as your press your palm to the glossy wood.

You do not want to be the person you were in the nightmare; forced into a box-encased void and cut off from the universe. You want to learn, to experience, to love. You want to have dreams and you're willing to make them with or without their master.

You are going to get out of here.

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"I'm walking down the line that divides me somewhere in my mind. On the borderline of the edge, and where I walk alone."