#so i've had a number of these conversations before in fandom spaces but also like

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 27

Chapters: 27/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader  Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn’t utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

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

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

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

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

Author's note: Writing this chapter was pure joy. It features heartwarming romance, and some absolutely NEEDED smut. I've also added a bit of additional lore about the Reader and story in general, which will eventually transition to the sequel based on season 2. The new episodes will premiere in less than two weeks from today, and that feels absolutely unreal! The moment Chapter 28 will be posted, we'll be already halfway through the second season.

This chapter contains A LOT of tooth rotting fluff, and I'm not even ashamed. I plan to complete this story within the next three chapters, and I suspect the sequel will inevitably force me to add a good amount of drama and emotional traumas, even though I'm working behind the scenes to create an alternative ending that will hopefully make sense. As we know, things are definitely getting darker and more tragic this time around.

WARNING: NSFW and huge chappy ahead.

As more mysteries unfolded and your light powers grew stronger in the Waking World, you cherished every moment with your King of Dreams and the child growing in your womb.

Consciousness returned as you surveyed the chamber Morpheus had crafted within his castle, the amethyst formations casting a gentle glow beneath the ornate canopy, while beyond the window doors stretched the infinite expanse of the dream realm, beckoning with its distant sounds.

You were shaken by pure relief as you confirmed that your reconciliation had indeed been real, dispelling the momentary anxiety that had accompanied your waking state. Your fingertips traced the intricate patterns of the celestial bedding, your nightgown seamlessly merging with the stellar design.

As you adjusted to the dimly lit surroundings and attempted to sit upright, a sudden wave of intense nausea overcame you, compelling you to rise from the bed and make your way to the adjacent washroom. Though you had managed to hold it back until now, your stomach demanded release as you hurried across the polished floor and knelt before the toilet. The feeling was far from pleasant—your throat burned as if lava were pouring out, your eyes clenched shut as you held yourself steady.

Exhausted breaths escaped you as your voice reverberated through the spacious room. Despite your discomfort, you found yourself letting out a weary laugh at the sight of the ethereal liquid in the basin, which swirled around on its own and immediately returned to its pristine appearance.

Rising to your feet, you approached the sink where the mirror reflected your fatigued countenance, dark circles beneath your eyes, your face now bare of makeup. You let the cool water flow over your hands, its gentle cascade providing a moment of respite as you sipped from your cupped hands, letting the cool water refresh your palate and cleanse away the lingering bitterness. The acrid taste faded completely, replaced by subtle hints of mint and lavender.

With a deep exhale, you gripped the sides of the sink as a shadow shifted behind you. Meeting Morpheus' gaze in the mirror, you offered him a smile before turning to face his concerned expression.

“Hey.”

"You are in pain," he observed, his eyes settling softly on your midsection.

"Well, that's a well-known side effect of pregnancy. I'm learning to cope with it," you replied with a shrug.

"I was not present for you when you needed me," he stated, his velvet voice tinged with regret. "I have failed in my responsibility to ease your burden."

"This isn't a burden, Morpheus. I'm carrying your child. And you're here now."

You leaned forward, nestling against his chest as his hands gently encircled your waist, his lips coming to rest against your forehead.

"You are here, aren't you? This is real."

"I am quite real," he reassured you. "And I shall not abandon you to solitude again."

You hummed contentedly, breathing in his anchoring scent, the blend of sandalwood and herbal musk bringing deep comfort.

He gently loosened his embrace as his fingers traced the material of your nightgown, following the curve of your hips and settling against your stomach. "You require rest, my sweet."

Your legs trembled slightly as your symptoms persisted, the sickness rushing back the moment he guided you away from the washroom and back to the king-sized bed. As you sank gracefully onto the pillows and Morpheus seated himself at the edge of the bed, a pang of sharp pain caused you to wince, a soft groan escaping your lips as your brow furrowed in distress.

"Ugh. This little one is certainly stubborn," you said. "As much as I love her, I'd kill for a full night's sleep."

Without a word, Morpheus extended his hand toward your abdomen, his palm resting gently against the fabric covering the growing swell beneath. In an instant, the nausea dissipated again, replaced by a strong sense of tranquility that permeated your entire body, from your toes to the tips of your hair.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you melted into the mattress. “Mhh…”

"Is your suffering eased, my love?"

"Oh yes. Whatever you're doing, it's absolutely working."

You reached for his palm, pressing it more firmly against your stomach as you offered another smile. "Thank you."

"To tend to you, to care for you while you carry our child... it is my deepest honor, and my sacred duty."

Your eyes glistened in the soft light of the room as the amethysts' purple luminescence reflected across his skin, tracing the contour of his jaw.

"I've really missed you, Morpheus," you reiterated. "Without you, I felt so lost."

"I was... blind. A fool who could not see what was before him. I am truly and deeply sorry."

"I wanted to hate you," you blurted out, causing him to freeze. "I wanted to be angry with you for the rest of my life."

His head hung low. "And yet you have chosen to forgive me. Why?"

"Because I love you," you replied simply. "And I knew that even if I wanted to, I could never despise you. How could I, when you've become everything to me?"

"Such kindness is undeserved."

"And why do you think that?"

"I who swore to be your eternal protector have instead caused you the deepest of wounds."

Your lower lip trembled. "You broke my heart."

"Yes."

"But you never intended to."

"No matter."

"It does matter. Your love for me is unmistakable."

His fingers traced small, soothing strokes, the gentle motion endearing. “I do love you. More than all the stories ever dreamed.”

"That's all I need, really. As painful and frightening as it was, I never truly stopped waiting for you."

"Would you still have welcomed me back into your heart, had our child not bound us together?" he asked, his tone carrying both hope and resignation.

You answered with absolute conviction. "Of course. Without a moment's hesitation."

“I…”

"Morpheus, I'm not here with you simply because of the pregnancy. Even before I knew I was expecting, all I wanted was your return."

"After bearing witness to my nature, to the darkness of my actions, to the weight of centuries of pain I have inflicted. You desire my presence still."

You chuckled. "You speak as though that were something inconceivable."

"In my eternal existence, all those I have loved, were inevitably lost."

You tightened your grip around his hand, brushing your thumb across his knuckles. "And yet here I am. The past doesn't dictate the future. I may not agree with all your decisions, but that's what love is about. I won't turn against you just because we have different approaches."

"You possess such strength of spirit, such profound wisdom. Your heart holds a compassion that even the stars would envy. You could have chosen an ordinary existence, a life untouched by nightmares, free from the weight of immortal beings."

You shook your head vigorously. "A life without you? What kind of horrible existence would that be?"

His eyes softened, a faint crimson tinge returning to them. “My love…”

"You must stop diminishing yourself this way. I understand you want what's best for me, but I thought we had moved past your assumption that I couldn't find happiness with you. You said yourself that the book was a trial, one we successfully overcame."

He listened attentively, his throat constricting.

"That first time I saw you—caged, emotionally broken, stripped of everything—I could still perceive your greatness. I felt your power radiating through the glass. And in that moment, everything finally clicked into place."

Your chest tightened as memories flooded back, from your first step into the Burgess estate to the life-changing moment you stood before the Lord of Dreams.

Tears welled in the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. "I no longer felt empty, because deep down I knew you were that missing piece of me I had been searching for all along."

A faint, vulnerable smile crossed his lips.

"I know that sounds rather sentimental," you continued. "But I assure you, this was never some fleeting, childish infatuation."

"Such thoughts have never crossed my mind."

Your eyelids felt heavy now, but you fought against sleep. "When I was a child, unable to dream, I would often hope The Sandman would visit my room, sprinkling sand into my eyes to guide me into the world of dreams."

You wrapped your hands around his wrist, holding onto him like an anchor.

"If only I had known that one day I would fall in love with him. That unbeknownst to me, he would become the most beautiful dream imaginable, and welcome me into his realm."

Before he could respond, a laugh bubbled up and spilled from your lips. "I can't imagine what you must have thought of me that day. I was such a mess back then, wasn't I?"

He tilted his head slightly, watching you with those deep, unfathomable eyes that seemed to contain entire galaxies within their depths. "That is not quite accurate, my love."

"Oh, come on, Morpheus. Be honest," you said with a wide grin. "I promise I won't get offended."

He arched a brow, clearly amused by your playful self-deprecation. "I thought you were the most magnificent mortal I had ever seen. Your spirit burned like a spark in the darkness."

Your teasing smile softened into something more tender. "Really?"

He nodded, his free hand reaching to tuck a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. "I saw your kindness, your strength, your refusal to stand idly by in the face of wrongdoing. And though I dared not acknowledge it then, you awakened something ancient within me that I had long forgotten existed.”

"And now?" you asked, your gaze soft and full of love. "What do you think of me now?"

Morpheus leaned in closer, his expression warm and unguarded, the way he reserved only for you. "Now... I believe you are my redemption. And that has been truth itself since the moment you first crossed my path."

"So, I wasn't just some annoying human after all?"

"No, my love," he denied, his tone light but sincere. "You were always a rather remarkable creature."

"Remember when I grabbed that chair and tried to break the glass before they dragged me away? Looking back, I was quite reckless. That was hardly what I'd call remarkable."

“Reckless? Perhaps,” he admitted with fondness. "Yet I found your courage most admirable."

"Admirable? Me, wildly swinging a chair around like a lunatic? I was about to make a complete fool of myself, and you consider that admirable?"

The corners of his mouth twitched upward even more. "Yes. In a world that has grown accustomed to turning a blind eye, you chose to confront that which you deemed unjust. Such defiance... such resolve... it revealed the very essence of your being."

You looked down at his hand, still tracing soft patterns along your abdomen. "Well, when you put it like that, it doesn't sound so ridiculous, does it?"

"Such an act was anything but ridiculous. You brought change to what had remained static for millennia. In you, I glimpsed... the first ray of hope I had known since the dawn of dreams."

Your cheeks flushed as you shifted deeper into the pillows. "Even when my heroic moment was nothing more than a chair and blind fury?" You paused thoughtfully, a soft hum escaping your throat once more. "The chair-wielding hero and the Dream King. Quite the dramatic pair, aren't we?"

His visage filled with admiration. "And now... we are three."

Your heart fluttered like a butterfly, wild and free. "And she gets to hear the tale of how her father met her mother. What a wonderful bedtime story that would make."

His fingers spread further across your covered belly, tracing the imperceptible rhythm of the baby's stirring, growing inside. "And she shall weave stories of her own, as the Princess of the Dreaming, a bridge between realms mortal and eternal."

"Who would have imagined that from that day in the basement, we'd find ourselves here, together in your castle, with a child on the way?"

He regarded you quietly for a moment, his gaze filled with an unspoken gratitude. "You have given me the most precious of gifts imaginable, treasures beyond measure. Your heart… and a child."

"And I would face a thousand Corinthians, a million Desires, and an infinite number of Hecates if it meant staying with you, where I belong. That is never going to change, for as long as this mortal life grants me."

"Then allow me to be worthy of your love and forgiveness. To guide you through the realm of dreams that was barred to you for so long. Let me care for my Queen... and our Little Star."

Your body trembled with excitement, your teeth gleaming in the dim light as you giggled. "I want nothing more. Words can't express how happy this makes me."

Your hand fell to your side, but his remained still, placed above your womb. No sand was needed—his voice alone served as the enchanted key, low and powerful, enveloping you like a protective haven. “Sleep, my beautiful Y/N.”

Your eyelids fell softly shut, your breathing deep and steady. "Morpheus?" you called, your voice barely audible.

"Tell me, my love."

Hovering between wakefulness and sleep, your body floating weightlessly, you felt compelled to share your thoughts, knowing that Morpheus would hear them regardless of your state of consciousness.

"Our daughter is going to adore you."

Deep within your being, you sensed an inexplicable connection between the developing life inside you and Morpheus, an authentic bond that surpassed the typical biological limitations of early pregnancy, as if your child already possessed an awareness of and longing for her father's presence.

Exhaustion finally claimed you as you drifted back into the realm outside, your mind surrendering to its gentle embrace. Slipping into slumber, Morpheus' resonant voice gradually faded from distinct utterances to otherworldly whispers, eventually becoming one with the ambient essence of the Dreaming.

"And I shall spend every waking moment of your existence ensuring you know the depth of devotion the King of Dreams holds for you both."

You stretched your arms gracefully as you traversed the polished floor of your chamber, your bare feet silent against the cool surface while your nightgown swayed elegantly at knee-length. After completing your morning ablutions, your skin carried a subtle fragrance from your bath, and your slightly damp hair felt like strands of satin against your skin.

Stepping onto the balcony, you were greeted by the mystical dreaming sky and verdant landscape, their beauty even more enchanting than the previous evening. The Dreaming was full of life, rich and prosperous, in a way you hadn't seen for quite a while.

The sound of beating wings could be heard in the distance, growing louder as the familiar, magnificent animal approached from the horizon. The wind stirred around you, and you watched the dragon descending, gliding elegantly before your balcony with its golden scales shimmering beneath the dreamlight. You smiled warmly at the majestic beast, who acknowledged your presence with a gentle dip of its head before continuing its patrol of the realm.

You ran your hands along the parapet, feeling the cool, solid marble beneath your fingers. This was real, you had truly returned to the realm of dreams in physical form, fully awake and present. The air carried the mingled scents of moonflowers, fresh grass, and sea salt. Soft chants and lullabies floated through the æther, accompanied by delicate chimes that seemed to ring in celebration.

Then, a presence rippled behind you, heralding the arrival of the monarch himself. You spun around with enthusiastic energy, grinning in delight as Morpheus came into view. His dark presence was framed by white curtains, billowing around him like dancing silk, mirroring your recent dream.

He was breathtaking, regal and powerful, his eyes like twin pools of celestial marvels.

You moved instinctively toward him, arms outstretched as you rushed to embrace him, pressing your lips to his with passionate fervor. Morpheus made a soft sound of surprise before yielding into the kiss, his fingers weaving gently through your hair.

"Hi," you whispered breathlessly, rising on tiptoes as you clung to his shoulders.

His hold was strong, hands now pressing against the small of your back, requiring minimal effort from you to stay upright.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

Reluctantly pulling away, you placed your palms around his neck, fingers toying with the back of his dark locks. "You worked a miracle, I can't remember the last time I woke up without morning sickness."

A satisfied smile graced Morpheus' features. "You find yourself in my realm now. It seems the Dreaming itself embraces our child, offering its protection."

"It's not just the Dreaming, it's you. I can't explain it, but I feel this peace inside me... and I know it isn't mine alone."

"Then it shall be my greatest pleasure to attend to both of your needs."

Your mouth crashed against his again, your body inching closer as your inhibitions dissolved. "Good. Because right now, I simply cannot stay away from you. And our little one seems to agree."

"I am yours entirely," he breathed. "And I will remain by your side for all of existence."

The air filled with nothing but gentle melodies; lips meeting in tender kisses, sighs, and rustling clothing. His mouth traced a path down your neck with feather-light touches, each kiss softer than the last, until reaching the delicate slope of your shoulder. His fingers found the strap of your nightgown, lowering it with care—your heart fluttering, breath growing shallow as your eyes closed in pleasure.

For weeks, you had longed to feel him close to you, to hear the low, rich timber of his voice, and to experience his devotion anew. Now here he was, standing before you in all his splendor, treating you as if you were the most precious being across all worlds. 

"I heard your voice that night, my love." 

His statement pierced through your thoughts like lightning, rendering you temporarily awestruck as your mind struggled to comprehend its significance. 

"My voice?"

"It cut through the endless void I had created, more beautiful than any dream I have ever woven."

"But I'm only human,

And I bleed when I fall down,

I'm only human, and I crash and I break down,

Your words in my head, knives in my heart,

You build me up and then I fall apart,

Cause I'm only human.”

Through the dazzling stage lights that illuminated the room, you had caught a glimpse of a dark, statuesque silhouette in the blurry mist. Your rational mind attempted to dismiss it as nothing more than a trick of the light, born from your desperate wishes and hopeful heart.

"You were there…? I thought I had imagined it."

"You did not. I heard every word, felt all of it."

"I was hoping you would."

His lips pressed against your skin, his nose inhaling its fresh scent. "You are far more than merely human, my heart. In fact, I wish to prove it to you.”

"Morpheus," his name escaped like a prayer, like a spell you wished to bind to you forever. "I—"

"Yes," his answer came with absolute certainty. He knew precisely what you wanted, and he would give you far more than you could ever dream of asking for.

Your body trembled with anticipation as his lips traced their journey back up, finding yours once more. “Say my name again… and again.”

"I could speak your name all day, Morpheus."

“Again.”

“Morpheus.”

“More, my love. It is pure music when spoken by these perfect lips of yours.”

And so you obliged, between passionate kisses, breathing his name over and over with growing enthusiasm. "I really want you. I need you."

"You shall have me. Every fragment of my being, for all of eternity."

Morpheus' sentence hinted at something big; a love that would stretch far beyond the years at your disposal. While mortality meant your time was finite, the prospect of living forever had begun to intrigue you with each passing day. Hob's proposition of eternal life, the chance to share endless days with Morpheus and your child, held an increasingly compelling appeal that you could no longer dismiss.

For now, however, your thoughts were consumed only by the Lord of Dreams, the sovereign of your heart.

Suddenly, as your kisses became more insistent, a luminous golden light emanated from your hands where they rested against his chest. The same glowing energy that had formed in your previous nightly adventures, the very force which had brought you to the Book of Paradoxes, now returned with heightened force, extending along your arms in intricate, vein-like patterns of radiant filaments. 

"Oh!"

"Y/N?"

You took a step backward, staring at your hands in visible apprehension, as he observed in silent contemplation. "Right, about this... I haven't told you yet."

"I am aware of this development," he replied. “My love, you—”

"Wait, don't. I don't know what's going to happen. Maybe... maybe you should stay away from me until it stops."

While there was no evidence suggesting your power could be dangerous, given its apparent role in healing the Dreaming’s wounds and escorting you to prophetic knowledge, its true nature was still undefined. Though Hob had no adverse effects after coming into contact with it in the Waking World, you couldn't completely dismiss the possibility of unforeseen implications.

But Morpheus would not be deterred, his face set with resolute purpose. His cool hands reached for yours, fingers gliding along your skin until his own began to shimmer with gold.

"This energy, this light... it stems from pure goodness itself. You cannot harm me."

"But… I still don't understand what it truly is."

"It has always resided in you. Slumbering beneath the surface. A power as old as your very existence." He cupped your face, his thumb caressing beneath your eye as your irises sparkled with incandescent fire. "You possess such exquisite radiance. You look so beautiful, my love."

"I'm carrying Morpheus' child. Clearly, these powers are coming from the baby."

Astra's brow furrowed thoughtfully. "In part, yes. But I believe there's more to it than that."

"What do you mean? I'm only human, Astra. Morpheus is the one who has full control over this realm, not me. And surely, his child is no different."

"You may not have direct control over the Dreaming, but I think you're more than you believe yourself to be. This golden light? It's undoubtedly coming from you."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I never had it before. This is no coincidence."

"Look, I may not have all the answers—and truly, only he would know for certain. But as a supernatural creature myself, Y/N, I can assure you that this magic isn't coming from our future Prince or Princess of the Dreaming. Not entirely at least."

"So Astra was right… this power isn't coming from the baby, is it?"

"Our daughter has awakened something that was latent, something that has always been yours: Your kindness shining like a beacon, your outstanding bravery, and the wisdom in your words bringing solace to those who hear them."

The tendrils of light swirled and transformed, slowly retreating until they settled at your fingertips. “What does this make me?”

"You are who you have always been. The very same mortal who came to me that fateful day. The one who earned my love. The one who now carries my child."

Kissing the crown of your hair, he enveloped your upper arms with gentle care. "You are my Y/N. You belong here, with me."

"I always have. And I always will, until the end of time."

"You are mine, and no one else's."

The golden light faded completely, your skin returning to its natural state. With another kiss, you sealed your promise of infinite loyalty and adoration, meant for him and him alone.

"So much has changed in my life since I met you. When I look at you, I see my entire future. You're everything I'll ever need; whether I live forever or remain mortal, it doesn't matter."

"Your courage astounds me, and your spirit is boundless. I shall ensure that every facet of your being remains untarnished, shielding you from the darkness of doubt and uncertainty."

Your fingers moved across his shoulder blades. "I want you to take me, Morpheus. Please… make love to me."

Your words acted like a magical trigger, unleashing something neither of you could contain.

"Then, let me show you pleasures that only I, the King of All Dreams, can offer you.”

Morpheus' gaze turned wild, his eyes darkening with hunger as they took in every inch of you, his lips magnetically drawn to yours. You were entangled like chain links, united like two ends of the same thread.

"There's no other living creature in the entire universe who could compare."

You walked to the bed where the sheets lay disheveled from your night's sleep. He followed close behind, his lips wet and plump, staring at your face as though you were the most exquisite delicacy to savor. You eased onto the mattress, your hand in his, as his knees pressed into the plush surface and advanced toward you.

You parted your legs to welcome him, his coat opening behind. Your eyes met in silent intensity as his palm traced slowly up your thigh, your nightgown following the path upward. A shiver ran through you as he looked at your abdomen, where the subtle curve of your growing belly revealed itself before him.

"You are... truly magnificent."

"If I am magnificent, then you are utterly glorious."

"You are bearing this precious life within you. I am merely a vessel through which this miracle came to be."

"You say that as if it weren't important."

"It is, but this child is unlike any other. You carry a being of extraordinary power, and you do so with remarkable grace."

You laughed. "Please tell me she won't suddenly pop out in a matter of days."

His eyebrow raised in confusion. "’Pop out’?"

"I mean, look at Lyta. She became pregnant one day and went into labor almost immediately."

"She conceived with a ghost in dreams, with time itself bending to the will of my realm. She was under the influence of the Vortex, distorting reality in ways that cannot occur to you."

"Well, that's reassuring. I was a bit worried there for a moment… this is your child we're talking about, after all."

His hands resumed their exploration, coming to your chest, your skin warming at the cool contact. “But she is also yours. We shall witness her journey unfold at her own natural rhythm.”

"That is good to know—ah!"

Your body quivered as he reached your breasts, the soft material of your attire grazing your nipples as it gathered around your collarbones. Morpheus' throat bobbed at the sight, your peaks hardening instantly in the cool air.

“Morpheus—”

“Look at you,” he murmured teasingly. “I have barely touched you, my love. And already your body trembles beneath my hands."

"I need more," you purred. "Give it to me, Morpheus."

His temples met yours, sharing the intimate space where adoring sighs met. "Tell me. What fantasies shall I bring to life for you?"

"Just… keep going. Touch every part of me."

"Mh."

Delighting in your need, Morpheus moved lower, leaving your breasts neglected and yearning for his attention. “Perhaps I should begin with these delectable legs of yours.”

His hands slid sensually up your thighs, pausing to rest at your hips, deliberately avoiding where you ached for him the most.

"Or perhaps, this." He caressed your waist, the gesture loving rather than lustful as he finally made direct contact with your swelling. "Here where my creation stirs, a testament of what we have made together."

"I can't wait to see you holding her. The mere thought makes my heart soar."

"For now, I can hold our child through you. Though I suspect her mother has... other needs at this moment."

You exhaled shakily. "As much as I like this... yes. You're driving me crazy."

"Would you prefer I move my hands... higher, my love?"

At last, his palms enclosed around your breasts, caressing them with profound reverence, holding them as if they were precious jewels meant for eternal worship. When his thumbs brushed against the rigid tips, an electric shock surged through your form, intensified by weeks of separation and your heightened sensitivity. His movements were unhurried and precise, setting your nerves ablaze as your impatience mounted at an unbearable speed.

You moaned, your lower lip caught between your teeth. "Y-yes. Exactly like that."

“You are a masterpiece,” he expressed. "Your hair is like molten sunlight."

Remnants of light cascaded along your tresses, flowing downward until they merged into your heart.

“Your neck, so elegant and graceful… a column of pure beauty.”

He punctuated each word with a new kiss, beginning at your hairline and trailing his affections down your cheek before returning to your throat.

“And your breasts… perfection incarnate. Like ripe fruit waiting to be plucked.”

Your heart thundered, its fierce rhythm pounding in your ears.

“Please—”

“Allow your King to take care of you.”

His lips closed around one peak, savoring it with sweet abandon. Gentle, wet sounds were produced as his mouth released and reclaimed each nipple, his desire for you insatiable. You moaned again, your head falling back, fingers clutching the sheets for support. Your skin burned with rosy patches blooming across your body, each sigh and gasp urging him onward.

His measured, languid kisses and licks upon your nipples were earth-shattering, a sensation beyond description.

“You are a temptation I cannot resist,” he said hoarsely, his lips descending, where moments ago his hands had wandered. “So soft. So perfect. Made for me.”

He kissed along your stomach, lingered at your navel, and traced the stretching muscles underneath. "Our child. She dreams even now, fragile as a newly formed star, yet far more formidable than we can imagine."

You stroked his hair, noticing how his right hand grasped your knee, guiding your legs further apart. "She is the daughter of the Lord of Dreams. Of course she'll become invincible."

"And with you as her mother, no being would dare stand against her."

"Ah!"

Your hips jerked and twisted as his middle and forefinger captured your clit, still covered by the thin layer of black cotton. He moved them in tentative circles, causing you to writhe and groan, the amethysts above glittering and chiming like magical bells in response.

His fingers curled under the elastic bands, holding their position. “May I?”

With a mere thought, he could have made the garment vanish into a swirling cloud of sand, no questions asked, leaving you bare and exposed without preambles.

"I love how thoughtful you are with me, but you can do anything, Morpheus. Right now... I just want you to take the damn thing off and make me scream."

A deep, guttural growl rumbled in his chest as his lips pressed against your inner thigh in appreciation, his gaze perpetually fixed on yours. Holding your panties on both sides, he slid them down your hips excruciatingly slowly, trailing the silken fabric along your legs and past your ankles. The motion was sinuous and erotic, yet incredibly grounding and absolutely right.

Letting the undergarment drop to the floor, Morpheus beheld your form with such zeal that for a moment, words failed him entirely. You were like a sacred sanctuary, an unyielding storm that bends but never breaks, a goddess carved in time and space. You were living poetry, a flame that set his endless world alight.

No sculptor's chisel nor painter's brush could capture the spectacle laid out upon these celestial sheets. Your chest rose and fell more rapidly, the nightgown still bunched above your breasts, leaving them bared. Your clit pulsed with irrepressible urgency, beckoning him to feast upon the divine offering in front of him, like a pearl in moonlight.

And so, drawn by your silent invitation, Morpheus lowered himself to your center, his tongue ravenous to taste. Your eyes rolled shut, head pressed into the pillow, your legs quaking as your fingers wove through his hair. He was relentless, his tongue exploring and consuming, one hand settling protectively over your abdomen as the other gripped your thigh.

"A-ah! Morpheus, I... wait—"

You were already about to tumble over the edge, faster than you had thought possible. He didn't cease, merely responding with a deep "Mmh" while increasing both pressure and pace. You cried out, gripping his hair as pleasure-filled moans escaped your lips, your voice climbing higher.

It crashed over you like an unstoppable cyclone, your orgasm bursting forth unrestrained and overwhelming in its raw power. Your body tensed and shuddered as his mouth coaxed every wave of pleasure, from the apex of euphoria to the sweet, lingering aftershocks.

Spent and breathless, you collapsed onto the bed, your limbs heavy and tingling. Your cheeks tinted with a deep scarlet, your hands covering your face in shy embarrassment.

Your voice emerged muffled, barely audible through your fingers. "I'm so sorry..."

"Why do you apologize, my love?" he asked with a hint of amusement.

"I didn't mean to finish so quickly."

With a gentle smile, he grasped your wrists and moved your hands away from your face, revealing your wide, teary eyes. "You are exquisite in your vulnerability, my sweet."

"I am not," you pouted, lips forming a delicate frown.

"You deserve every moment of pleasure. After all, I am the King of Dreams - it is my privilege to fulfill your deepest longings. To care for you as I could not during our time apart. And now that you have returned to me, I shall ensure you want for nothing."

A peaceful sigh escaped you as your body surrendered into contentment. "You always know exactly what to say."

"And I will tell you more, praise you, cherish you, through all the days to come."

You pulled him down into a kiss, tasting your own essense on his lips as he positioned himself above you, your legs parted on either side. You could feel his hardness pressing against your core, yet he remained patient, awaiting your consent, relinquishing all control.

Your hand brushed along his shoulder, sliding over the thin material of his shirt until reaching its edge. You let your fingers slip under the hem, grazing his lean muscles, pale skin against ebony clothes, which contracted at the slight caress. Then, you deftly undid his trousers, his manhood meeting your touch as you proceeded, proud and erect for you to receive.

"Do you think I will be a good mother?" you asked him, wrapping your palm around his shaft, finally free from its restraint.

"You are going to be extraordinary. Of that, I have no doubt. Mh—"

"I could never do this with anyone but you."

Directing his length to your entrance, you held him there for a heartbeat, balanced at the threshold.

His patience had worn thin, his body trembling with restraint. “I must confess, I find my resolve has reached its end. In fact, I cannot wait any longer.”

You grinned, moistening your lips as he eased himself between your folds, just enough for his tip to be enveloped by your heat.

“I wish to claim you as mine. Will you grant me this?”

"Morpheus, honestly!” You laughed, overcome with infinite love for this being between your legs as you clutched the shawl collar of his coat. “What more do you need me to say? I'm already taking you inside me and have no intention of stopping. Just do it, claim me. There's nothing I want more than this, more than you."

At that, Morpheus' resistance finally crumbled, leaving only an insatiable craving for you and his own physical need. With a rough, powerful thrust, he entered your body to the hilt, making you whimper and convulse. His pelvis established a rhythmic motion, tranquil at first, only to inevitably quicken at the incessant sound of your moans.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, meeting his movements as your lips and tongues melded together in a battle of dominance, one neither of you was truly willing to win.

“Tell me, my love. Is this to your satisfaction?”

You were in absolute ecstasy, your inner walls clenching and tightening around him with each thrust, sweeping away every ounce of decorum. "Yes! You are incredible. Harder!"

"Harder?"

"Please."

His length twitched and pulsed, joining with you like two pieces of one whole. "If that is what you wish."

Morpheus obliged, shifting his position before driving into you with breathtaking force. His arms held you with fierce desperation, as if you might dissolve into mist and leave him stranded in desolate loneliness. He rocked against you with deep, commanding movements, his ragged breaths and growls filling your ear.

You were the light that pirouetted through his shade, divinity wrapped in mortal form. He wanted to map constellations on your skin, every inch of your being, immersing himself in your brilliance.

“So tight, so wet. All mine.”

"I absolutely am. Forever and always. I've been yours from the beginning, even when I didn't know you; when you were nothing more than a fairy story."

He slowed momentarily, sweeping the hair from your face, shaking with bridled eagerness. "You have brought me to my knees. Even my realm holds no sway in your presence."

You inhaled, adjusting your position, pushing your legs further up around his hips and crossing your ankles against his lower back.

He resumed, pushing in and out of you with demanding insistence. "Your voice echoes through the endless halls of my castle. Love me, crave me, call out for me."

"Yes, yes! I love you, Morpheus. I love you so much. I'm so close—I can feel it building. Please don't stop."

"I shall see you through to the very end," he promised. "Let me feel every tremor, every wave of your ecstasy. Give yourself to me and I shall take you beyond the confines of dreams."

"You do that every day, even in absence—ngh! Ah, Morpheus!"

"Yes... surrender everything to me."

The wet sounds mingled with the crystal chimes as you both teetered on the edge of rapturous release. His fingers found their way back to your chest, teasing your nipple with a delicate squeeze. As that familiar tension coiled at your core, you reached down to rub your clit, synchronizing with the rhythm of his thrusts until the combined sensations built into an exquisite crescendo that would utterly shatter you.

"Seeing you writhe in my arms, pleasuring yourself before me... you are nothing short of sublime."

“Oh….!”

And then it arrived, just as powerful as the first, a climax that made your toes curl and eyes shut in exhilaration. Your hand closed around his, holding it against your breast as your body gave in, tightening around him in pulsing contractions.

His hips bucked wildly, his own limit approaching. “I—I… I-”

"Do it, please!"

With that, his body heated up as his pleasure erupted forward like a cosmic flare. He stared at you, presenting the most splendid sight of the Dream Lord lost in pure delight, jerking and filling you with the warmth of his seed. He was gorgeous, enticing in every way conceivable, your fingers still circling your sensitive nub to savor the last ripples of your orgasm, until you could take no more.

When at last you both stilled, a peaceful silence fell between you, wrapped in your embrace and sharing gentle kisses. You listened attentively to the soundscape outside, from the distant dragon's passage to the dream choruses and soft turn of pages.

"That was… wow," you revealed, panting.

"Was it?"

"Mm-hmm. Amazing."

"You are marvelous, my Queen," he intoned. "Making love to you is my greatest indulgence."

"’Queen’," you mused. "I rather like that."

“You are. My magnificent goddess of light. My everything.”

Shifting to sit up, his softening length slipping from you, you took his face between your hands and looked at him with the brightest of smiles. "I don't know how I became worthy of your love, but I wouldn't trade this life for any other."

"Worth is hardly sufficient to describe you, my love. You would bring even the mightiest beings to submission."

"I don't care for other beings, I only want to be with you."

"You have me. I am yours, irrevocably."

You guided his hand to rest upon your abdomen, pressing your lips to his shoulder through the woolen material of his coat. Your nightgown pooled delicately at your waist as he stroked your hair, his fingers grazing your neck while keeping his head against yours.

In the tranquil moments that followed, quiet spoke more than words as the Dreaming bore witness to your souls inexorably intertwined, a new life flourishing and linking the mortal and immortal realms as one.

"Bloody hell, you're joking, right?"

You chuckled, shaking your head, holding the phone between your ear and shoulder as you washed mugs. "I assure you, I am not. Why would I jest about such a matter?"

"How is it you've got every bloody mystical creature in creation flockin' to your doorstep?"

"Trust me, I haven't a clue. But honestly, at this point, I couldn't care less."

"Well, at least he's got his marbles back in order. It feels like a great stone's been lifted off my chest, if I'm being honest."

"I'm sorry for worrying you so much."

"Don't give it another thought, Shortcake. Not like you went looking for all that rubbish to begin with."

After turning off the water and drying your hands, you returned to the living room. "I honestly don't know what I would have done these past few weeks without you."

"Listen love, you can always count on me, yeah? No questions needed."

Lying on the couch, you grimaced faintly. "I know. I'm incredibly grateful to have you in my life."

“I heard that.”

"Hmm? Heard what?"

"You're not feeling well again, are you? That little noise you made there, clear as day."

Stroking your stomach, you let out a wry laugh. "I've felt dreadful ever since I came back. I suspect it's my little one making her displeasure known."

"I have no clue how all this dream business works, but couldn't you have stayed with him for a bit longer?"

"Oh, he wanted me to. In fact, he asked me to stay until the baby is due."

"And you went and turned him down? That's a bit of a bold move."

You laughed. "Despite his brooding, he was quite understanding. Even though I could stay there without time affecting our world much, I can't just return with a newborn out of thin air. Besides, I have work to accomplish here and now. He accepted to let me get my stuff in order back home, at least for today."

"Right then, makes sense. Though I'll admit, I’m a bit surprised he didn't put up more of a fuss, knowing him as I do."

"He's changed, Hob. He's truly giving it his all."

“I can see that.”

"It would be in your best interest, and that of our child, to remain here in The Dreaming. I am... concerned for your wellbeing."

"Morpheus, you know I love being here with you, but I have responsibilities in the Waking World."

Though expected, your answer still made him frown. "As you know, the rules of time and space bend differently here in my domain. You need not sacrifice your mortal obligations."

A grin tugged at the corners of your lips as you fixed the collar of his coat, brushing your nose against his cheek. "I know, but how would I explain the baby to anyone else? Using a cryptic pregnancy excuse isn't a solution."

You could see the disappointment forming on his face, his typical moping cat look returning.

"Okay, listen," you said, taking his hands in yours. "I love that you want to be there for me throughout the entire pregnancy, it means more to me than words can express. You and the Dreaming are my home now, that cannot be denied.”

"I fear your mind is made up on this matter."

"It is, but I want you to be part of this journey. You're the father, I would never exclude you."

After a thoughtful pause, Morpheus relented. "Very well. But I propose a compromise, my love."

"What kind of compromise?"

"I would ask two things of you: that you allow Matthew to watch over you when I cannot be present... and that you return to me each night in The Dreaming. Not in slumber, but in your conscious form."

You nodded. "That sounds reasonable. But I can't travel between realms on my own. Are you suggesting you'll come fetch me yourself?"

“Yes.”

Your eyes grew wide with astonishment. "You would do that? Come for me every single day? Accompany me back and forth when I have work and commitments?"

"Such a simple task means nothing. I would traverse the very fabric of existence for you."

"You're sweet, but I would never want to take you away from the Dreaming. I know there's still so much to rebuild after all that happened."

Like you, Morpheus proved to be equally stubborn. "You need not concern yourself with that. I simply wish for you to live the life you choose, both in the Waking World and here, with me."

"Even if that means dividing your time between realms?"

"Time spent in your presence is never wasted, my love."

You kissed him, nearly mimicking Ella's happy dance while restraining your elation, clinging to his shoulders as joy sparkled in your eyes. Still, Morpheus' satisfaction shone through in his smile, holding you in place.

"Then, my King, I’d say we have an agreement."

He drew you closer by your waist, his spirit visibly brightening. "Excellent."

"Oi, love? You still with me?"

"Ah, yes, sorry. I was lost in thought for a moment."

"Right then, gonna let you get some rest now. Give me a shout if you need anything, yeah?"

You stretched out on the couch, gently rotating your ankles. "Of course, thank you so much, Hob."

“Oh, and Y/N…. I meant to ask….”

“Yes?”

"Have you run into any other odd characters lately? Besides all them supernatural beings you've been telling me about."

You rubbed your chin pensively. "Odd? Well, I've seen plenty of weird things, but nothing particularly unusual comes to mind. Why do you ask?"

"Ah, well..."

You waited patiently as he hesitated before continuing, his response coming as a rushed and obviously dishonest explanation. "Nevermind then. Just me rambling on like a right old fool."

"Wait, what—?"

"I'll be checking up on you soon."

The call ended abruptly before you could inquire further, leaving you contemplating his unexpected behavior. His tone had carried a distinct note of concern - something that, given your recent experiences, warranted further investigation.

You started browsing through TV programs to occupy your evening, barely paying attention to what was playing on the screen. The more you contemplated the situation, the more questions arose about the implications of Hob’s allusion.

You sat up straight, the movie in the background now forgotten. "That was peculiarly strange, even for him."

To complicate matters even more, the next workday began with quite an unexpected turn of events.

You had just settled at your desk and powered up your equipment, preparing the day's schedule and upcoming executive briefing when a sudden commotion disrupted the studio's serene atmosphere. A sharp cry was followed by the forceful closing of a door, echoing through the corridor and making your skin crawl. Upon investigating, you observed several colleagues congregating near the restroom entrance, worriedly looking at the scene before them.

Confused, you tentatively approached the assembly, Oliver's voice rising above the hushed whispers. "Ella, sweetheart. Please, let's talk about this."

Amanda was standing behind the CEO with a brewed cup of coffee in her hand. As you moved beside her, you asked, "What's happening here, Amy? Is Ella all right?"

The woman sighed, shaking her head. "I have no clue. She just bolted to the bathroom like lightning, and I'm pretty sure she was crying. What on earth could be wrong this early in the morning?"

Oliver continued to knock, but no reply came from the other side. "Ella, I know this is difficult, but please. Don't shut me out."

As the tension in the area visibly escalated, Amanda intervened with a rough throat-clearing sound. "Everyone, let's give them some space, shall we?" She prompted the group to disperse, making sweeping motions as if creating an invisible shield around the CEO. "This isn't something we should eavesdrop on. Come on, back to work."

Although they all seemed deeply concerned about Ella's state of mind, after exchanging a few silent glances, they eventually returned to their respective posts, with only Freya staying behind. She was visibly distressed, letting out a deep breath as she gave your wrist a light squeeze. "Please keep me updated, and don't hesitate to call if you guys need anything."

You nodded firmly, watching her walk away with increasing apprehension. Meanwhile, Oliver sighed in frustration, resting his forehead against the door in complete resignation, his fist bumping softly upon the wooden surface.

Amy gave your shoulder an encouraging pat and smiled warmly before taking her leave, the coffee now cold, her typically sophisticated poise evident as she departed. The moment felt ominous, leaving you uncertain whether to intervene.

Taking a deep breath, you reached out, brushing your hand over Oliver's elbow, cocking your head questioningly. "Oliver? Maybe this is none of my business, but... what's going on?"

He closed his eyes, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I was hoping for a different outcome."

"I don't understand."

"She... she received some bad results, Y/N."

"Bad results?"

"Wait, she didn't tell you?"

"She hasn't mentioned any of this to me. Medical results? Is that what you're referring to?"

He paced anxiously back and forth, massaging the back of his neck. "We’ve been trying for so long to…" He faltered, his words trailing away into stillness.

"I had no idea she was sick. Is this serious?"

"It’s not physically dangerous for her, but... emotionally, that's another matter entirely. She had such high hopes, we both did. I just don't know what to do now."

You rubbed your temple. "I'm a bit confused."

"Y/N, I hate to put this on you, but I could really use your help. You're the only one I can turn to."

"What can I do?"

He swiveled toward the door, his eyes red and distraught. "I think I’m the last person she wants to see at the moment. Perhaps she'll listen if you talk to her."

“I can try.”

Oliver stepped aside, muttering a "thank you," and allowed you to take his place by the door. His breathing was unsteady as you gently knocked several times, the bathroom remaining silent, with no word spoken from inside.

After a brief pause, you announced your presence, calling your friend quietly. "Ella? It's me. May I come in?"

You listened at the entrance, catching the faint sound of footsteps on the other side. When you heard the lock click, careful to keep the hallway hidden from view, you exchanged a knowing look with Oliver, which he answered with a tight smile. Ella didn't appear, but her gesture came as an invitation, meant only for you to take.

You stepped into the restroom, securing the door behind you. Ella stood hunched over one of the sinks, her blonde hair falling forward to obscure her face as soft sobs escaped her lips.

Your heart ached with compassion as you placed a gentle hand on her back. "Ella, please tell me what this is about."

"He didn't say anything?" she asked, sniffling.

"No. I think he wanted you to tell me yourself."

She shook her head vigorously, tears streaming down her face. "I shouldn't be telling you this, not now."

"Why not? If you're worried I'll panic at the news, please don't be. Whatever it is, I'll need to face it eventually, and I refuse to let you go through this alone."

The more she tried to speak, the more her desperation took over. "No, it's not that. I know how you are, I don't want you feeling guilty about my situation."

"Guilty? Why?"

"Because you always put others before yourself. I can’t ruin your happiness."

You turned her to face you, brushing the unkempt hair aside, her eyes now rimmed with smudged mascara. "Stop. Just tell me already."

A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. "I'm your boss, remember? You don't get to give me orders."

"We stopped being boss and employee the moment I walked through that door. Think of it like we're back in secondary school, hiding in the bathroom and crying over our problems."

She hiccupped, pressing her hand to her mouth. "Sometimes I wish we could just go back to those days. It seemed so much easier then, when all we had to worry about was which dress to buy or how awful our dates happened to be."

You chuckled, rubbing her shoulders in a soothing motion. "Come on, tell me what's wrong."

She looked at you with trembling lips, fresh tears welling up in the corners of her eyes and spilling down her cheeks in rivulets. "Promise me you won't start blaming yourself."

"I don't even know what you think I should feel guilty about."

"Fine, okay." She inhaled shakily, her nails absently scratching at her hand. "Oliver and I... we've been trying to have a baby for quite some time now. It just hasn't worked."

Oh.

"At first, I thought it was low probability, bad luck or incorrect hormone calculations. But after a while, we suspected something wasn't right."

The realization struck you like a thunderbolt, draining all color from your face.

"Oh, for heaven's sake! See? I knew you'd react this way!"

"I didn’t say anything," you protested.

"That's not necessary, your face says it all. Y/N, I really can't handle this right now."

"Okay okay, I’m sorry. So you underwent medical tests," you concluded. "And received the results today?"

She grimaced as all her attempts to contain herself proved futile. "I'm not physically able to have children. I don't really understand all the terminology in these tests, but… all I know is that my body is broken, and I can't get pregnant, Y/N. Not now, probably not ever."

The breath rushed from your lungs, rendering you paralyzed on the spot. "Please don't say that. You're not broken."

"No? Then what am I? I just wanted to have a family with the man I love. To give Oliver the child he's always wanted. What's left for us now? What am I supposed to offer him?"

"Your heart, Ella. He married you because he loves you for who you are, not because he saw you as a means to have children."

She let out a bitter laugh. "But that's also why he married me! We talked about this years ago. We both wanted the same future; to settle down, have kids, build our family together alongside our business. And now it's just us, with no hope of growing larger. Because I'm bloody defective."

"Stop it, you're not some malfunctioning machine. And regardless of what these test results say, you can't give up hope like this."

She crumpled against the wall, crouching down. "What do you suggest then? That I keep deceiving myself? Pretend the problem isn't there?"

You knelt before her, taking her hands in a firm grip. "No, but many women have conceived even when doctors said they couldn't. There are countless stories like this, Ella. Medical conditions can be unpredictable. Just because you can't become a mother right now doesn't mean it's impossible forever."

"You didn't even see the results."

"I don't need to."

She scoffed. "This isn't the time to make light of your ‘gut feeling’ again."

"When have I ever joked about it? After everything you've witnessed, do you really think I'm making fun of you about something this dire?"

She pondered your words, her eyes flickering with uncertainty.

"Ella, I've learned so much this year. I've experienced things beyond what anyone would believe possible, and I fell in love in the most unconventional way, with someone who makes every single day of my life a wonder. Literally."

Her eyes and nose were an angry red. "I know you're experiencing things beyond my understanding, and I'm happy for you. But I'm not like you—I'm just ordinary. My life is mundane, filled with daily struggles."

"And you think mine isn't? There might be some magic in my life, but it's not as if everything automatically transforms into sunshine and butterflies. A car nearly hit me head-on a few nights ago, and that could have cost me more than I dare to think about."

Her eyes widened in shock, her back straightening. "Wait, what??"

Gently easing her back down to a seated position, you steered the conversation back to its original focus, not wanting to derail the matter at hand with tales of your own mishaps. "The bottom line is, life is a rollercoaster, Ella. Sometimes we rise, sometimes we fall, but we always find our way back up again."

"What if I truly can't have children? What then?”

"There are different paths you can explore."

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "I know we could adopt, but I really want to have Oliver's baby. Does that make me selfish?"

"No, it only makes you human. And as such, you feel."

When her gaze lifted, transfixed and solemn as she peered into your eyes with rapt attention, her fingers lay still against her thighs. She was perfectly motionless, absorbing every word with an almost trance-like focus.

"Here you were, suffering in silence, yet you still managed to be genuinely excited about my pregnancy."

"Of course I did. I am happy for you, truly… I only wish I could share it with you. How wonderful would that be, going through such a miracle together, watching our children become best friends?"

Rising to your feet, you assisted Ella to a standing position as she regained her precarious balance. You proceeded to dampen a cloth and cleanse her face, carefully removing the traces of mascara before they set. "Now, that would be such a wonderful dream, wouldn't it?"

"Yes," she replied, her eyes still set on your face. "It would be one hell of a legacy."

"Like I said, don't let these test results define your future. Do more checks if necessary. Keep trying. Be the same, exceptional woman that I always admired, the one Oliver is so desperately waiting for outside."

Gradually, her composure returned as the tears subsided and her trembling ceased. She regained her professional posture, examining herself in the mirror while smoothing her hair and adjusting her suit with practiced precision.

"Then I suppose I should give it my all, right?"

"That's exactly what I want to hear. Go to your husband, talk to him. We'll keep producing, creating, and transforming; the fashion world as much as our own lives. Keep your head high and stay confident that everything you wish for will find its way to you."

Finally, a wide grin spread across her lips, contrasting sharply with her earlier despair. "When did we switch roles? You’ve become so wise I can barely recognize you. Who are you and what did you do to Y/N?"

"I told you. Everything changed for me last summer."

"Well then. If I ever meet your boyfriend again, I'd love to shake his hand."

Smoothing her attire, she strode toward the exit, her stilettos clicking crisply against the porcelain tiles. As she disengaged the latch and the barrier swung ajar, she paused mid-step, then gracefully rotated to face you one final instance. Her visage reflected tranquility and wonderment, blending into an expression you'd never previously witnessed.

"By the way, Y/N…"

"Hmm?"

She took a measured breath, collecting her thoughts before speaking. "Do you know that you're literally glowing?"

Your brows knitted together in confusion. "Glowing?"

Ella said nothing more, only held her smile as she left you alone in the restroom, the voices outside now muffled by the door. Frozen in place, you glanced down at your hands, observing that the familiar golden luminescence had returned once again. Your skin emanated a radiance reminiscent of candlelight, as glowing streams of energy permeated through the fabric of your shirt.

Then you caught sight of it in your reflection—a spark in your eyes that made you jump in shock. Mouth agape, you blinked several times hoping to see it disappear, shaking your hands as you frantically tried to will the power away.

"No, no, no, no, this can't be happening now. Not here."

You turned your palms upward and applied cold water, waiting for it to take effect. The light began to fade, dissipating like liquid along your skin. Unfortunately, your irises retained their glow, and as you studied them in the mirror, you noticed how they seemed to dance and shift, creating an overlay of color that moved in perfect synchronization with your eye structure.

It took you a good half an hour for them to readjust, the light slowly retracting and melting like glitters scattered in the wind, leaving no trace of its supernatural display.

Throughout the entire workday, you had been more than just on edge; you were practically vibrating with terror. Despite your nerves, the executive briefing proved remarkably productive, and the fact that you managed to remain seemingly calm during the presentation was nothing short of miraculous.

In truth, you feared your awakened abilities would suddenly unlock themselves anew during the meeting, causing you to light up like a human LED in front of the attendees. Fortunately, your physical appearance remained stable with no visible changes, allowing you to keep a properly collected facade.

Ella remained discreet, sending occasional smiles your way. You noticed her and Oliver sharing private conversations during their breaks, exchanging soft touches, loving glances, and brief kisses. Wanting to give them space, you quietly slipped out of the studio at the end of your shift, making your way down the street and across the park.

The breeze ruffled your hair as you breathed in the fragrant scents of nature, reflecting on the day's events and all they entailed. Though you had tried to be supportive in the restroom, Ella's revelation now weighed heavily on your mind, and you deeply regretted sharing your embryo scan. It was difficult to witness her struggling with infertility while your own pregnancy had occurred spontaneously and unexpectedly, without any prior intention or preparation. Her genuine smile and enthusiastic celebration of the news, with that glint of happiness in her eyes, showed what a truly extraordinary person she was.

And in turn, the mere thought left you feeling utterly wretched.

As you rummaged through your bag for your phone, a golden spark emanated from your fingertips and struck the inside, causing it to glimmer momentarily. You stopped walking, raising your hand to observe as the glow rapidly spread from your nails, illuminating your entire palm to your wrist.

"You have got to be kidding me!"

As passersby walked along the treated path, you tucked your hand into your jacket and kept your head low, feeling a strange warmth forming in your eyes again. You ran aimlessly through the park, not watching where you were going, taking random turns down the most deserted walkways you could find. You were distancing yourself quite considerably from the underground station, but with your current condition, being surrounded by rush hour crowds seemed ill-advised.

In the distance, a child pointed toward you as you rushed past, trying to get his mother's attention, who was thankfully absorbed in her phone conversation and failed to notice your hurried form. Your hand tightened into a fist, and the trapped light shone through your jacket, making the fabric appear see-through.

You quickened your pace, desperate to find somewhere to hide, when you nearly collided with someone who had just blocked the way. You were about to stammer an apology and rush past, but then a voice—the most soothing, grounding voice—spoke your name like a balm.

Morpheus.

Your eyes met as he studied you intently, his hands tucked in the pockets of his Waking World attire, his cerulean gaze shifting from your hidden fist to the golden ring in your irises.

“My love.”

Finally pulling your hand free, you extended it toward him with a pleading look. Appearing lost, scared, and confused, your voice cracked with insecurity. "What should I do?"

Without second thought, Morpheus silently took your hand, bringing it to his lips as they brushed against your luminous knuckles. You stared, barely blinking, his presence alone calming your nervousness; the way he brought your hand to his face, guiding it to rest against his cheek, was more comforting and invigorating than any spoken reassurance.

Then your surroundings began to shift. The lush greenery of the park dissolving into opalescent walls and columns, the atmosphere dimming to reveal candlelight dancing through colored glass windows. The soil beneath your feet transformed into marble, while the fresh scent of leaves and resin gave way to mineral undertones, crisp ozone, and the rich fragrances of sandalwood, myrrh, and black amber.

You sighed in relief, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone, as golden filaments floated in the air before erupting into a glittering cloud. The light in your hand dimmed to nothing, leaving your skin with its natural hue.

Just like that, the phenomenon vanished for the second time.

"This could have gone terribly wrong," you said with a wry chuckle. "Thank you for finding me."

"I sensed your anguish rippling through the Dreaming, my love. Your essence called to me across the realms."

"I started glowing like a lamp right in front of my friend at work today, and I'm fortunate it was her who witnessed it rather than someone else. I have no idea what's happening."

"Your light grows, it flows through you now like sand through an hourglass. Though untamed at present, with time and patience, you will learn to bend it to your will."

"What if I cannot control it?"

"The question is not whether you can control it, but how magnificently you shall wield it."

Exhausted, you rested your head against his shoulder, savoring the comfort of his vicinity. "Unlike you, I'm not accustomed to being magical, Morpheus."

"You have always possessed this power within yourself. Your emotions give it strength, and here, in my realm, you may find peace while mastering it."

"Right," you said pensively. "I doubt I could do it in the Waking World. The last thing I need is to accidentally fry all my appliances. Or worse, bring down the entire building."

"I will teach you to harness this power, but for that, you must remain here, in the Dreaming."

"I can't risk becoming a freak show, so… I’ll stay."

You could sense his exultation, almost imperceptible, as his arms tightened around you. "Then, let me guide you through this. Allow me to remain at your side, for as long as you need."

You smiled contentedly as his fingers threaded through your hair, his deep voice a melodic rumble against your ear as you wrapped your arms around his torso. "If you think I'll ever stop needing you, you are deeply mistaken."

The waterfall in Fiddler's Green created a mesmerizing sensory backdrop, your eyes drifting shut as the gentle breeze of the Dreaming whispered across your features and danced through your clothes. Your hands were lifted before you, palms upturned, a frown creasing your forehead.

You grunted, letting your arms drop to your sides. "This is ridiculous. Why does it only come to me when I don't need it, but never when I want it?"

"Such mastery requires time," Morpheus intoned. "Your light moves in synchronicity with your soul."

"I don't know... I've been trying for two hours straight, and I haven't seen even a single spark."

He took a step forward, taking hold of your hands. "My love, do not strain against it. Let it flow as water finds its path, and it will come to you."

You sighed. "It's just... I'm afraid I might accidentally hurt someone, even you."

"Your light flows from a place of love. It cannot bring harm."

"It may be innocuous now, but you mentioned it's growing stronger. And if I can't even make it appear at will, what's going to happen the next time my eyes light up?"

Morpheus' thumbs gently traced the insides of your wrists, anchoring you to the present moment. "Y/N, you will not hurt anyone, so long as your heart remains aligned with compassion. That is your core, my love. It is your truth."

"And if that’s not enough? I don’t come from power. I wasn’t born to rule anything."

"No," he agreed, eyes deep and glinting like pale blue galaxies. "Not to rule, but to change."

You blinked at him, your breath catching as his palm descended to rest against your sternum.

"Your light did not awaken because of error, but because you love, fiercely and selflessly. Do not seek control through fear."

"How should I do it?"

"Close your eyes."

You lowered your eyelids, obedient to his request.

"Now… breathe. Remember the first time you felt it stir."

You recalled the first awakening, occurring in the midst of your separation from the Dream Lord. As Astra began to deteriorate and fade from the Dreaming, the prospect of losing him—as you had lost the one you loved—paired with witnessing the realm's potential collapse, had made your heart clench with unbearable sorrow.

Morpheus leaned forward, his forehead pressing against yours. "There. Do you feel it, my love?”

"Yes..."

It had come during various significant moments: while immersed in the ocean of your private land, and when restoring vitality to Morpheus' mighty creation reduced to dried, rotten scales due to the Endless’ despair. Through this mystical energy, you forged an inexplicable bond with the ancient Book of Paradoxes, revealing transformative wisdom that paved the path to your destined reunion.

But your memory dug deeper, back in time and to that distant day in the basement, when your hand touched Morpheus' through the glass; so close yet so far apart. You had felt it even then, the same warmth expanding through your limbs, permeating your body with liquid gold. It wasn't just a visualization, a metaphor, or a feeling... it was, as you now realized, something far more powerful and significant.

Your eyes pressed tightly shut, golden light blooming from your fingertips at last, soft and pure, spiraling like threads. It wrapped around your joined hands in powerful swirls, your chest lighting up at heart level, where his hand connected with it.

You could see the bright glow expanding. You gasped, eyes flying open. "It worked..."

Morpheus grinned, prideful and ecstatic. "As I knew it would."

The moment he stepped back, you raised your arms with flowing elegance. The light responded to your mental commands, streaming naturally with your movements. It merged seamlessly with your golden bracelets, causing the metal to radiate with an intensity rivaling daylight. 

Little by little, the glow dissipated, leaving behind tiny sparkles that settled onto the grass, making it rustle in the wind that formed. 

"Your emotions... they are what fuels your light, what gives it power," he explained. "When in doubt, your heart holds the answer."

"Or I can simply think of you, and that will calm everything down," you said with a smile.

He approached again, reaching for your abdomen, where your Little Star was peacefully developing under his amiable care. "Or perhaps that, if you wish."

With an overjoyed squeal, you leapt into his arms, wrapping yourself around him like a vine.

With consistent practice and Morpheus' expert guidance, mastering control over your light became increasingly effortless, though occasional spontaneous outbursts and persistent illumination still occurred on their own. The Dreaming's influence had the power to pacify your nerves, its restorative energy recharging your spirit. Time seemed to move at a languid pace, with both day and night taking on the uncanny quality of a waking dream. 

The denizens of the realm were all taking a liking to your physical presence among them, Abel and Cain being particularly overjoyed at the news of your pregnancy. They were elated, vying with one another to shower you with attention and provide you and your unborn child with every imaginable luxury. Their smiles were infectious, as they presented wonderful blends of aromatic tea alongside homemade confections that surpassed any earthly bakery's creations.

Although the Lord of Dreams had previously fathered the ill-fated Orpheus, his son's demigod heritage and mortal upbringing in the Waking World with Calliope meant he never truly inhabited the realm of dreams. Thus, your child, being innately connected to the Dreaming itself, represented an unprecedented and outstanding addition to the domain. Despite being merely a tiny speck of life in your womb, your daughter was already the talk of the dream folk, who considered he a harbinger of renewal and abundance for their world.

In addition to your light training sessions, Morpheus dedicated considerable time to enriching your stay in the Dreaming and making each moment unforgettable. During one such occasion, he led you through unexplored regions of the Palace; a labyrinth of chambers, curated to reflect your personal aesthetic and interests. Every alcove, window seat, and reading nook bore your distinctive imprint, from the arrangement of cushions to the carefully selected books, as though the castle itself had anticipated your arrival and morphed itself accordingly. 

The two of you approached an enigmatic entryway that commanded attention, with a majestic door whose towering frame was beautifully carved and decorated with intricate celestial etchings. Golden patterns were covering the surface, reminiscent of swirling cosmic nebulae that danced over the ornate woodwork. 

With a regal gesture, Morpheus beckoned you to cross its threshold. "I want you to find your place here. To have a sanctuary made from dreams, where fragments of the Waking World may take root."

Curious, you ventured into the room, your senses overwhelmed by the bright sunlight that filtered through the windows, bathing the space in a welcoming embrace. As your eyes adjusted, you were immediately awestruck by its contents and design, leaving you breathless and incredulous at the amount of detail and consideration that clearly went into its forging. 

The room had been neatly arranged into a sophisticated atelier, rivaling any high-end fashion studio in the mortal dimension. An array of elegant bust mannequins stood at attention, while a pristine canvas awaited on a wooden easel. The main workstation displayed an impressive collection of fabrics in unique colors and textures, complemented by an assortment of precious gemstones and professional tools, all carefully curated for your artistic endeavors.  

"Morpheus, I..." You stammered.  "This is..."

"I understand how important your craft is to you, my love. I wish for you to continue creating, even here, in my realm. Your visions will take shape, and your creativity shall know no bounds."

"I'm at a loss for words. You've given me so much... I don't deserve all this."

His smile had become a near-permanent fixture, rarely fading from his face since you arrived.

"You deserve the universe, my heart. And everything the cosmos has to offer."

"I can barely speak, I... I don't know how to thank you."

"Your happiness is all I require."

Running your fingers across the fabrics displayed on the table, you marveled at their unprecedented quality and softness. Your attention was drawn to an elegantly bound leather notebook positioned discreetly in the corner, its pristine pages awaiting your artistic inspiration.

"Can I really have this room for myself?"

"Everything here belongs to you, and you alone," he reassured in his silken timbre. "Whatever rooms you want, I will create them for you."

Turning to face him, you moved forward with weightless grace, your embroidered dress trailing behind you like a royal gown. "What more could I possibly wish for? Right now, I'd rather have a kiss from my King."

"As many kisses as you wish."

"Don't tempt me like that."

Your lips met his as you emitted a sultry hum, your hands cradling his face on either side. The room filled with the soft echoes of your mouths as a flock of iridescent butterflies drifted through the open windows, their delicate wings catching the light. One butterfly alighted in your hair, transforming into an elegant crystal hairpin that secured a loose strand behind your ear. Another alighted upon your neck, its wings elongating into delicate ribbons that formed an intricate lace choker.

Before you could voice your question, Morpheus answered in advance. "This is a demonstration of what the Dreaming can give you. The realm itself shall be your canvas, transforming your imagination into reality."

You stared at the butterflies with wonderment as they painted a magical path toward the desk. Leaning in, you touched one with your fingertips, causing the delicate creature to pirouette graciously before landing upon your nail, its gossamer legs delicately encircling your skin in a sweet embrace. The wings changed colors in a repeated gradient sequence, rippling across the beautiful membranes.

An unbridled grin lit up your countenance with unrestrained delight. "You know, I was thinking—" you rotated on your heels, hand resting on your abdomen. "—our little one will absolutely love playing here. The Dreaming is truly the most breathtaking playground any child could wish for. And she’s lucky enough to be your daughter."

"It is I who am honored to be the father of this child. She is yours... and mine. The Dreaming is forever changed by her coming."

You kissed his cheek, the butterfly hairpin in your hair scattering rainbows throughout the room, reflections bathing every wall.

In that precious instant, Morpheus moved beyond his mantle as Master of Stories, embodying the dual essence of father and partner, experiencing a sense of wholeness he had never known before—that he had always kept at bay, his pride standing as an obstacle.

And now, those walls had fallen away. For you had become his exception.

Frantic footsteps resounded through the marble hall of the ancient temple. The sky was so bright it needed no sun, its luminosity enveloping the towering structure in natural bloom. Green trees and waterfalls created a paradise-like setting, yet despite this spectacular, mystical vista, Paregoros' mood remained as dark as the blackest night, as barren as the driest desert.

"Wait!"

She stopped abruptly, rolling her eyes, her entire posture exuding irritation. "Don't even try, Damaris."

Damaris sighed, gathering her dress as she descended the stairs. "Look, I understand your perspective."

"Do you? Because from what I recall, you were quite adamant about having her banished."

"We didn't banish her," she pointed out, coming to a stop in front of her. "You know the rules. There was no sign of power in her then, she was just a normal child."

"And now that things have changed, you conveniently want her back? She has built a life for herself in her world. And even beyond it."

Damaris shrugged dismissively. "There was no possible way to foresee this. And besides, you've always distrusted the Endless."

Her voice thundered. "This isn't about Dream, it's about my daughter! I wasn't allowed anywhere near her or the man I loved. You forfeited any right to reclaim her when you left her in the human realm."

"First of all, you made your choice fully aware of the consequences," Damaris said coldly. "You conceived a child with a mortal man even though you knew it was forbidden. I act not on my own accord, but at the will of the High Matrons. And they wish only to guide her, to nurture what she has become."

"Of course they do," Paregoros replied, her voice laced with sarcasm. "You're expecting the impossible. There's so much more at stake here: her career, her father, her friendships."

"I know we cannot take her against her will, but she still has the chance to make this right."

"You believe she should abandon everything she loves, kneel at your feet and birth a legacy for your ends rather than hers."

"We act in accordance with the laws of divine balance. She is a beacon. Beacons do not belong in shadows."

"Yes. Indeed, they belong to no one—not even you."

Damaris scoffed. "I don't have to tell you what could happen if she stays with him. He was a father once, and look what happened to Calliope’s boy."

Paregoros winced, looking away.

"Do you truly want your daughter to suffer the same fate as her?"

"My daughter is her own person, and though I once had reservations about him, I cannot deny that he has changed."

"Ha! Changed? Oneiros? Don't be absurd. Someone like him is incapable of change. Your daughter possesses something unique, Paregoros. And this child she carries… it's a child of light. We must protect it from Dream's corrupting influence."

"ENOUGH!"

Damaris jolted backward, her eyes wide as saucers.

Paregoros heaved with rage, her eyebrows drawn so tightly together they narrowed her eyes to slits. "I have caused my daughter enough suffering. I would never ask her to endure the same fate I was made to accept, not that I would succeed even if I tried. "

"But it would be different for her, wouldn't it? Unlike you, she would have both her child and her mother by her side. We will present her with this choice regardless of what you wish for, but you could make the process far easier. Need I remind you that you visited her of your own accord when you were meant to keep your distance?"

"Say what you will, I'm washing my hands of this."

Damaris pursed her lips in evident disappointment. "You would rather have her stay in the Dreaming, with a being shaped by solitude and duty? A king who brings storms even in his rare moments of weakness?"

"He has held her when her light faltered, bringing her more joy than she has ever known. Oneiros earned the trust you now seek to barter away.

Damaris pressed her palm against her forehead in exasperation. "Do you even hear yourself? You speak of him with fondness after all his past actions, those horrendous deeds you once condemned. You were the one who didn't want him anywhere near your daughter, were you not? One misstep from him, and she will pay the price. As will the child."

"I don't expect you to understand. Unlike me, you've never been a mother, Damaris." Paregoros folded her arms across her chest, her eyes watering as old memories surfaced. "Seeing Y/N grow up without me was like burning in Hell. I wouldn't wish that on anyone… not even Oneiros or Lucifer themselves.”

"Sentimental as always, but that has already been your downfall once. Compassion or otherwise, it seems your very purpose blinds you to reason."

Paregoros released a mocking laugh. "Compassion doesn’t make me blind; it makes me just. We are concepts that predate language and art. I exist as an amplifier of Aphrodite's and Peitho's gifts, awakening when love is wounded or trust stands on the brink. Power is not something we seek, it is granted when needed."

"Yes, and such power is not his to keep."

"How can you be so insensitive? He remains the father. He would never allow you to keep the child sealed away from his realm."

"Even he must recognize his boundaries within the greater order of things."

"Ah, of course. Everything comes down to rules and order with you. Best of luck with that."

Damaris clicked her tongue. "You know as well as I do. He claimed to love Calliope, but his own pride mattered more than she ever did. And let's not forget how uninvolved he was in Orpheus' life. Or Death. Or in that place in between... whatever remains of him. What makes you think it will be any different with your daughter and grandchild?"

"If he truly didn't care, he would never have returned to her. As for my daughter, she made a conscious choice that requires respect."

"Please. She's merely indulging in her little human crush on a godly being. It must be that charm of darkness that so many mortals seem drawn to nowadays."

Damaris' words dripped like poison, the cruel curve of her lips causing the Daemona to clench her hands into fists, indignation flaring in her expression with renewed ferocity. "How dare you?"

Damaris dramatically responded with a wave of her hand. "Come now, I meant no offense."

"No?"

“I just—”

"You criticize her humanity, yet you seek to confine her power solely to our realm. If you believe my daughter can be swayed from her principles and convictions, that she'll abandon him and take their child away, you're going to hit a brick wall."

Damaris averted her gaze, looking offended. "She was born here. Why should she not return to where she originates from?"

But Paregoros pressed on, her voice sharp with insistence. "Because she's not some tool for you to manipulate. You sent her away at birth for lacking divine power, and now she's transformed into something entirely new. Something unprecedented, beyond any of our understanding."

"That is precisely why we cannot let Oneiros exploit such power."

Paregoros smiled icily, her eyes devoid of compassion for the first time in her eternal existence. "Because you wish to exploit it yourselves, do you not?"

"You—!"

"Fortunately, my daughter has enough wisdom to make her own good decisions, and that won't sit well with you at all."

Her arms fell to her sides as she turned, departing without a backward glance, leaving Damaris behind in her own simmering disdain.

"If you do not intervene, then we must, for their sake."

Though the Envoy remained stationary, her final question could be heard across the widening distance, her voice rising in pitch.

"Would you accept it if she chose the Endless over us? The Dreaming, over Klyseidos?"

Paregoros strode onward, replying with a sardonic gesture. "She already did, Damaris. I'll have to live with it, as will you. Unless, of course, you wish to disrupt the boundaries within the greater order of things yourself."

"And what if she falls?"

"She will rise anew. She always has."

She trotted away with composed dignity, her footsteps resonating through the temple as she made her way through the main entrance and down the road, her jaw held tight as her ire hung in the salty air.

Transitioning back to the Waking World proved to be a strong adjustment, as you wove your mundane existence back into your everyday life. Everything you had learned in the Dreaming's confines had proven invaluable, as your light stayed carefully contained, reappearing only in moments of complete seclusion rather than spilling forth unbidden in the presence of others. Mastering the equilibrium of this newfound capability was still a formidable challenge, but your proficiency in preventing spontaneous illumination at unwanted moments marked undeniable progress in your journey of self-control.

Ella hadn’t mentioned the incident at all, interacting with you as naturally as a spring breeze. You recognized her diplomatic tactfulness, as she was undoubtedly biding her time with characteristic patience, waiting for the perfect occasion to broach the subject. You acknowledged the futility of fabricating pretenses, knowing you had to resort to authenticity.

During your nocturnal sojourn into the dream realm, you encountered Astra in front of an immaculate, crystalline lake nestled within the forest. The creature acknowledged your presence with a welcoming smile, his dark eyes twinkling, while his lustrous coat resembled the finest velvet spun from moonbeams.

"I find you well, Y/N. Finally, we can all breathe a sigh of relief, yes?"

"You can definitely say that again. How is the Dreaming faring?"

"Some areas still show damage from the Vortex’s influence, and well... Lord Morpheus wasn't exactly in the right state to repair them. But I'd say things are returning to their proper order now."

Your lips curved into a serene smile as you acknowledged his words with a graceful inclination of your head. "I suppose it takes time, even for him. Still, the Dreaming feels quite different these days."

"Thanks to a certain someone, I dare say."

"I wouldn't give myself that much credit."

"That's the thing about you; you don't have to try. You complement the Dreaming, us, just as perfectly as you complement him."

Validating Astra's observation, a gentle zephyr wafted through the area, carrying with it an intoxicating fusion of night-blooming flora and amber notes, the aromatic symphony dancing upon the dreaming air. The familiar's face shone with a celestial warmth, suffused with a veneration that mirrored your own deep-seated devotion to him and the tapestry of the Dreaming realm.

"Would you like to walk with me, my lady?" he inquired.

You unfurled the diaphanous layers of your gown, letting the fabric cascade around you in waves as you bowed. "With pleasure."

The forest metamorphosed with each visit, displaying serpentine pathways and sprouting peculiar arbors. Astra's hooves produced melodious whispers against the ground as he accompanied you, while overhead, a spectacle of blue dream auroras painted the sky in waves of chromatic splendor.

"No matter how many times I explore this place, the Dreaming continues to amaze me. I imagine you never grow bored of living in such a wondrous domain."

"It certainly has its perks, being ever-changing."

"You never feel lonely, do you?"

"Not at all, I have plenty of friends here. Animals and creatures of all kinds, even the flowers. You'd be surprised how talkative they can be."

A melodious titter escaped your lips. "I don't think anything could surprise me anymore."

"Says the one who stares at everything with wonder."

"Can you blame me, though? The Waking World has its own little miracles and beauties, but I could never live a life like the one I experience here."

As you walked onward, an inexplicable chill enveloped your arms, while an enigmatic echo traversed among the canopy of leaves, its secrets lost to the winds.

"Did you hear that?"

"I hear many things," Astra said. "At times, you might hear fragments of conversations from other mortals' dreams. The realm never truly falls silent."

"Yes… of course. I might still be on edge after the whole ordeal with the Book of Paradoxes."

"Understandable. That was no trivial matter for any of us."

Desiccated foliage and gnarled twigs shattered under your footfalls, as a thin layer of vapor coiled sinuously along the forest's periphery. That voice returned once more, its ghostly melody moving nearer, threading through the branches until it coalesced into an unmistakable utterance of your name.

"It can't be just me, though, can it? Don't you feel like something is wrong?"

Before the familiar could respond to your inquiry, the fog expanded like a veil spread open, surrounding you at an alarming velocity. It enveloped you in its gelid embrace, bleaching your vision into alabaster nothingness. The ephemeral disturbance, fleeting as a moth's wingbeat, disappeared after a few blinks, yet when clarity returned, the terrain had subtly transformed - an uncanny shift that left the dreamscape feeling inexplicably altered.

"What just happened, Astra?"

An eerie disquietude permeated the atmosphere, casting forth an aura that felt unnatural, even by the standards of the Dreaming realm.

When only silence replied, you turned around. "Astra?"

Your friend had vanished into the haze, dissolved like morning dew, leaving only the faintest echo rebounding from an unfathomable distance. All that was left behind was a haunting emptiness and disquieting trepidation, as your hands instinctively sought refuge around your midsection, cradling the precious life that linked to the Dreaming's pulse.

"Astra!"

Summoning him proved fruitless, as an instinctive premonition told you that your solitary presence was ordained in this barren location, a territory whose nature diverged markedly from the well known imprint of Morpheus' craftsmanship.

“ʸ/ₙ…”

The earlier voice resonated again then, with amplified intensity and unmistakable clarity.

"Cₒₘₑ ₒᵥₑᵣ ₕₑᵣₑ."

After the cryptic tome had been sent into the void between dimensions, you had foolishly assumed that obscure calls would no longer plague your existence. Now, as this dream played like an ominous message from the unknown, your blood ran cold at the unsettling parallels.

Nevertheless, your legs began moving autonomously, guided by a force that pulled you beyond the woodland and brought you face-to-face with a liquid barrier; a vertical expanse of water that resembled a wide curtain made of frosty glass.

In bewilderment, you stared at how it defied gravity, like an ocean's surface standing upright instead of lying flat, stretching toward the sky. A continuous sheet of mist covered its highest reaches, as your reflection deformed in the moving waves in front of you.

Extending your hand toward the wall, you caressed the aqueous surface, feeling its gelatinous texture. With newfound courage, you pushed through the watery blockage to its opposite face, encountering only air—proof that it served as merely a thin partition separating the two places.

Your instincts were imploring you to flee, yet some magnetism anchored you in place. You took your hand out and it was immaculate, dried, with no sign of wetness or freezing. The barrier was neither tangible nor incorporeal, just an abstract construct similar to the ephemeral nature of dreams.

"When in doubt, your heart holds the answer."

With determined momentum, you propelled yourself through the barrier, sensing merely a subtle switch in your environment. Again, your form emerged completely untouched by moisture, and as you regained your posture to observe the translucent wall behind you, a golden radiance suddenly burst out from your palms. You made no attempt to repel it, following the trail it painted on the ground, your eyes scanning the enclosed sanctuary covered in lush greenery.

But your attention was immediately captured by the massive monolith ahead, emblazoned with an ancient glyph which triggered a flash of recent memory. Your heartbeat quickened as anxiety gripped your chest, head moving from side to side in denial.

Moving closer, your light started to fade, converging into an intricate sigil beneath the tome, one you could not recognize.

The tome bore no markings or identifying features to reveal its provenance. With hesitant trepidation, you reached for the cover's edge, and at the slightest contact, the book sprang open of its own accord.

The ordeal appeared to have concluded, yet Destiny unveiled another chapter that you were dreading to live through.

Just as terror began to seize your mind and constrict your slumbering breath, before you could turn and run away, a soft presence made itself known.

"Y/N, do not be afraid."

Your light formed a halo around the monolith, ascending from the ground and creating undefined shapes a few inches away from the massive rock. It was tethered to your outstretched palms suspended in the air, merging into what appeared to be a figure, partially diaphanous.

When the entity materialized completely, you scrutinized its form with mounting stupor. The spectral image, though devoid of distinguishing facial features, bore an uncanny and striking similitude to your physical appearance. You were gazing upon your own doppelganger made of golden light.

"Who... are you?"

Your double stepped forward, its featureless face somehow forming a smile. "I am you - the voice that’s been in your head since time immemorial. I am the whispers in your dreams, the intuition that moves you, your consciousness made real." Its voice was a thunderous symphony, each word in layered tones. "I am the force that flows through your veins, your primordial light, burning bright since the dawn of your creation."

"You... you are my light? You're actually alive?"

"Yes, in a sense. I can only communicate with you through your dreams. This is a sacred place that exists within yourself, one beyond even his reach."

"You mean Morpheus cannot find me here? But the Dreaming belongs to him, it's an extension of himself. There is no place he cannot see."

"Yes, but you are a Dreamwalker, Y/N. You can traverse where no other mortals dare, unlocking dreams that are not necessarily your own. And in doing so, you forge new ones."

Your eyes widened in disbelief. "I am a Dreamwalker?"

From ancient lore, you knew that Dreamwalkers were extraordinary souls blessed with the ability to traverse the dreamscape at will during their sleep, and in some special instances, could even breach the veil while conscious through spiritual practices like deep meditation, lucid awareness, or mystical artifacts. Unlike ordinary dreamers who moves aimlessly, a Dreamwalker has the gift to chart their course through the planes, treating the dream realm as intimately as their earthly dwelling.

"From your very first experience here, you navigated this realm without Morpheus aiding you. You discovered the gate, even the main hall of his ruined castle. You wandered freely through Abel's and Cain's territories, found your way into Lyta Hall's lost dream."

"I thought that was the Vortex's doing."

"A Vortex has the power to tear through the fabric of the Dreaming and merge separate dreams into one, but no. That was you."

With a deep breath, you turned your attention back to the glyph etched into the monolith. "What about this symbol, then? What does it mean?"

"This sigil serves as both a key and an anchor."

"What does it unlock?"

The luminous apparition tilted its visage, letting a soft quietude descend between the two of you.

"That is something you must discover when the time is right."

You let out an exasperated scoff. "Seriously? Can't anyone give me a straight answer for once? I'm tired of all these riddles!"

"This isn't a riddle, Y/N. This is your destined revelation."

"Right. What's the point of all this?"

The entity gestured at the marking, illuminating it with heightened vibrance. "You must memorize it. One day, you will need it."

"Why?"

"Because it represents what you are becoming."

"None of this makes sense."

"It will. When the hour folds, it will open. When the thread burns, it will seal. But not yet."

Your eyes blazed with incandescent fury and celestial wrath. "That’s it?"

You turned in a slow circle, your voice rising as irritation bubbled on your skin, the shadowy surroundings now bathed in the brightness of your magic. "Why must it be me? Why can't I just be normal?"

The light flickered. "You seek meaning, but you yourself are meaning."

"I don't even know who, or what, I am anymore."

"You are the question and the answer. You are the line unwritten."

"Oh yes, that makes everything so much clearer, thank you."

The presence, this time, almost sounded amused. "You aren’t prepared to understand."

"Why?" you asked, your voice raw with exasperation.

"Because knowing too much too soon unravels a thread that is already strained. If you pull on it now, it may snap."

"All this talk of 'threads', but threads of what?"

"Of life itself."

Surrendering to the doppleganer’s words, too exhausted to argue about matters that would only add more confusion to your tumultuous mind, you studied the intricate round configurations inscribed into the glyph, sensing its mystical energy intertwining with your force.

"You brought me to this hidden corner of my head, separating me from my familiar. And for what purpose? Just to show me this glyph? What should I do now, then?"

"Live. Create from your imagination. Embrace the infinite depths of love and devotion. Become the mother you are called to be. But speak of it to no one, not even him."

"Why must I keep this from Morpheus, of all beings?"

"You must walk this path alone, or neither of you will reach its end."

You clutched your pendant, feeling the warmth of your light mingling with the stone's power. "I want complete honesty with him, no secrets between us."

"Still, your silence guards him. You will do the right thing, the only one that can give you both what you seek."

"What might that be?"

Its hand brushed your cheek with the faintest touch. "Eternity."

"But—"

"This is your gift, Y/N. Protect it well."

A tempestuous wind dispersed the haze as the being pressed its fingers to your furrowed brow, causing your flesh to prickle and buzz. More white vapors surrounded your form and consumed the scene, your light waning into oblivion, bringing your clone with it.

Then, like a house of cards, the entire dream crumbled into darkness.

Consciousness returned with a sharp intake of breath, and as you regained your bearings, the chamber in the Dreaming fully shaped in front of you, its vast panorama visible through the grand window. A strange tingling sensation prickled across your forehead, yet upon examination with your fingertips, the skin was still smooth and unchanged, only slightly warmer compared to its usual temperature.

Exhaling softly, you swept your tousled locks away from your visage and drew back the starry covers, your bare feet padding softly across the floor as you retrieved the flowing vestment suspended from the bed's canopy. Draping it around your shoulders and allowing its fabric to billow gracefully behind you, you quietly made your way to the door, easing it open just enough to slip outside.

The palace corridors lay empty and silent, save for a few beings gliding along distant staircases and remote passageways. You navigated purposefully toward your intended sanctuary, your footfalls whisper-soft against the polished marble as you wound through archways and past entrances. At last, you reached the workshop Morpheus had conjured for your artistic endeavors, moving inside among the bust mannequins and glassy butterflies whose iridescence intensified in the nocturnal glow. They flapped their wings slightly while remaining stationary in their places.

Approaching the mahogany writing desk, you retrieved the pristine leather-bound journal that awaited its first inscription. Grasping a pencil, you delicately turned to the final leaf, meticulously recreating the enigmatic emblem from your dream in the lower margin. Although you ignored its real significance, an inexplicable impulse drove you to preserve its likeness before it could fade from memory. 

You stared at the finished sigil intently, its strange charm mesmerizing your thoughts, when a shadow moved in your peripheral vision.

"Y/N?" Morpheus' voice intoned tenderly.

With cool nonchalance, you closed the journal against your chest and pivoted to face him. 

"What brings you here? You should rest, my love."

"I just woke up feeling strangely inspired," you explained, masking a hint of regret behind your smile. "I wanted to sketch it, or else I may forget about it tomorrow."

"A mind such as yours brims with creativity. Each idea more extraordinary than the last."

The Dream King was, in fact, blissfully unaware of the occurance.

You wrapped an arm around his neck and kissed his lips, setting your journal back on the desk. "I do have my limits though. After all, you are the true master creator here."

"And yet, even in my vastness, I find myself humbled by such magnificence before me."

"Oh, you flatterer!" 

You abandoned yourself into his embrace, momentarily forgetting about the journal and the glyph reproduced inside.

"I just know that when our daughter is born, she'll be the most beautiful of all."

"Then I shall have two most precious muses gracing my realm with their… inspiring presence."

"You must walk this path alone, or neither of you will reach its end."

"Your silence guards him. You will do the right thing, the only one that can give you both to what you seek."

"This is your gift, Y/N. Protect it well."

You peered at the leather-bound tome once more, maintaining your serene expression intact. The symbol held secrets meant for another time, and divulging its existence felt intuitively incorrect. The marking was now safely preserved among those pages, awaiting the moment of its necessity. For the present, you rejected the burden of metaphysical interference disrupting the happines you were building together, as nothing felt more right than being with the one you loved.

"Keep those sweet words flowing, and sleep will be the last thing on my mind."

His eyes sparkled with mischievous intent, his mouth curved into a faint, playful smirk. "If you do not want to sleep, then perhaps I shall find another form of entertainment.”

Your brow quirked upward, your embrace tightening as you arched closer to his countenance. "Well, I'm not tired anymore. By all means, my King, do entertain me."

Historic establishments always held an incredible allure. The Old Coffee House in Soho beckoned you whenever moments of leisure presented themselves, a venerable place that had weathered centuries since its 1772 origins, seamlessly blending traditional culture with the vibrant spirit of modern London's tavern scene**.**

You perused your digital correspondence and browsed haute couture updates on your mobile device, while a steaming cup of aromatic brew rested atop the rustic oak surface of the table. Your palm settled tenderly on your abdomen, an instinctive motion that had become second nature and deepened the connection with your unborn little one.

A newcomer breezed through the entrance, exchanging pleasantries with the baristas as her footwear echoed across the plush flooring. Your gaze caught sight of her ensemble - an elegant trench coat, classic British boots, and a fashionable handbag draped casually from her shoulder. Your artistic sensibilities compelled you to analyze her style, but you refocused on your phone and feigned disinterest in her movements. 

Yet this mysterious visitor evidently harbored intentions of her own.

"Mind if I sit?"

You glanced up at her face to confirm she was indeed addressing you, your eyes flashing with mild surprise. "Uh… no, not at all…"

“They still serve that bloody rosehip blend here, don’t they?” she asked, eyeing the tea as she lowered herself onto the adjacent stool.

You blinked and nodded, shifting to sit straighter against the leather couch. Had she mistaken you for someone else, or had you forgotten meeting this woman before?

She offered a gentle smile, brushing aside her chestnut locks, and placed her forearms against the wooden surface. An enigmatic silence descended upon you as she scrutinized your features with an unreadable yet penetrating stare.

"So. Dream of the Endless? Must be one hell of a bedtime story."

The moment she spoke again, you almost choked on your tea.

Your eyes darted furtively around the café to scan for potential listeners within earshot. With hushed tones, you asked, "You know him?"

"We’ve crossed paths. Bit of a moody bastard, but he’s all right. Word is you've managed to soften him up quite a bit."

"I suppose so."

A peculiar disquiet crept over you, leaving you ambivalent about whether her approach was genuine curiosity or if she represented another foe seeking to disturb your tranquility. Her attention dropped to the flashy pendant around your neck, then drifted down to assess your growing belly, where your child with Dream resided.

"Oi, look. You’re not just shacking up with some cosmic entity here. You’re a walking crack in the universe’s blueprint. And believe me, that’s not an insult."

"Thanks... I guess. Though I'm not quite sure what you mean by 'walking crack.'"

"I don't have all the answers myself. But being a magic user, let's just say I notice things others don't."

"A magic user? You mean like a witch?"

“Not a witch, Occult Expert. You know, demonology, black magic, fighting the forces of evil - that sort of shit. Not exactly what most people fancy for a career.”

Finally relaxing, you found her quirky attitude disarming and sensed no hint of danger. "Sounds like fun."

"Pays well enough to keep me in designer boots, can't fucking complain about that."

Shrugging off her coat, she sported a refined button-up blouse tucked into form-fitting denim, her physique deceptively delicate despite wielding enough mystical knowledge to tame mythical creatures with a mere incantation.

Still, you couldn’t help but wonder if her presence at the café was mere coincidence or deliberately orchestrated.

"So, you seem to know about me, but I doubt Morpheus would discuss our relationship like ordinary gossip. What's this really about?"

“Sharp. I like that.”

A knowing half-smirk tugged at your lips as you shrugged.

"Right then, love. Might as well get to it: Hob Gadling. You know him, right?"

"Have you run into any other odd characters lately? Besides all them supernatural beings you've been telling me about."

"Hob? Of course. Are you telling me that he would just spill my story with Dream? That doesn't sound like him at all."

"He did not," she confessed. "Not until I pestered him with my questions and made it well impossible for him to avoid me. I did my research, he's got a good heart; immortality didn't rot it out, somehow. But lately there's been something... off about him. When you've dealt with as much nonsense as I have, you develop a sixth sense for this crap."

"Hob? Mixed up in the occult?"

She pivoted her face in negation. "Turns out you're the anomaly here, in a very strange way."

"Hold on—how exactly did your investigation lead from Hob to me?"

"Your magical signature's practically dripping off him. Given who you're with and what you're carrying inside you, it's not exactly rocket science why. There is… something about you that even my knowledge can't explain."

Had your light begun seeping into the mortal realm, turning you into a magnet for those attuned to psychic frequencies?

"It’s stronger lately. Much stronger. At first I thought we might have a fuckingmess on our hands."

Your mouth curved into a contemplative grimace. "And now?"

"Now I see it’s not a curse. It’s a convergence. You're not just carrying an Endless' child, you're bloody well pulsing like a heartbeat between dimensions."

"So why are you really here? To warn me? I suggest you get in line."

"Relax, I just wanted to offer you a healthy drink. Though I reckon you're sorted with that tea of yours. And while we have a good chat, I could figure out why this world is folding in strange places wherever you walk. And maybe even lend a hand if you need it. First time's free.”

Savoring another draught of your beverage, you exhaled a pensive whisper. "Obviously. I've learned to be wary of people offering help without expecting something in return."

She let out a sardonic snicker, giving an affirmative nod, before bellowing at the bartender to fetch her the most potent libation available.

"Nothing comes without a price," she pronounced, turning her attention back towards you.

"Except I never asked for your service."

Her bearing was distinctly unpolished, her tactics lacking finesse and sophistication. Yet beneath that gruff exterior, her eyes revealed an underlying gentleness necessarily masked by the demands of her profession.

And beneath it all, perhaps, a hidden pain.

After a momentary pause, she announced, "I'm Johanna. Johanna Constantine, since you haven't asked."

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 (currently reading) Chapter 28 (coming soon) ->

[ao3commentoftheday]

I just saw your response to gifmaker anon (sending hugs to anon!). First, let me just say thank you for being such a safe space here on tumblr and providing emotionally intelligent advice! It always warms my heart to see your replies to asks.

I am not a gifmaker or videomaker or writer or anything really (although i am tempted to try, maybe soon) and i have also struggled with loneliness in fandom, especially here on tumblr on which i am new. I was wondering if you had any concrete advice on how to reach out in fandom spaces, especially on tumblr? When is it ok to DM someone, and about what? I guess i’m afraid of taking up ppl’s time and energy, and that they think I’m weird or not fun. I have sent asks, but it honestly makes me very anxious, mostly because i never know if the tone carries.

And also how to make others reach out to you — Is it only through creating things, like fics and art? I think i’m a bit scared that what i want to make is not something a lot of people will like, and so i will just have written something i care about and then bare my soul by posting it and then just stand there in silence because no one connects with how i think, or no one understands it.

Lots of love to you!

link to the ask anon mentions

Thank you for the love - and the lovely compliment! 💗

I'm not sure I'm the best person to ask about how to make friends on tumblr. I say that because my perspective on social media is quite different from a lot of folks. I grew up pre-internet in a rural area and so I didn't get online until I moved to a city for university. My first online interactions were using things like ICQ (think WhatsApp without the phone calls) and IRC (think Discord but text only) and mostly with people I knew personally, or friends of my in-person friends.

Because I was introduced to the habit of meeting online strangers through them being friends-of-friends, I kind of have that habit still in place? I don't see messaging someone as intimidating. Sending an ask or a DM isn't scary. It's just waving hi to someone at a party and seeing if they like the spinach dip.

(ironically, talking to someone I don't know at a party IS intimidating to me)

The biggest source of my success when it comes to making friends online has been going into interactions with the friendly force of the extrovert I'm pretending to be. You know how there are some people who just seem to create friendships out of thin air? I pretend I'm one of them. I'll wave hi in a new discord server and as soon as someone replies to me, I'm basically just

Generally speaking, I keep DMs to either conversations with someone I've spoken to before or questions that seem too private for an ask (that can be published publicly). That's just me, though. Other people might have different preferences.

If you want people to reach out to you, reblog ask memes. These are lists of questions that you're wililng to answer if folks drop one of the numbers/questions in your inbox. At least, that's the way they're supposed to work. Sometimes I see people reblog them by just answering all of the questions up front, but that removes the possibility of someone asking you.

One other thing - if you want to prove that you're willing to answer asks? You can always send one or two of those questions to yourself as an anon ask. Just like a busker might drop a few coins into the guitar case to encourage people to tip!

Don't worry too much about taking up space, anon. The internet is a vast expanse with plenty of room for all of us. And if someone doesn't reply? There's a 99.9% chance it's not about you at all. We're all dealing with a lot of stuff on any given day and sometimes answering an ask or a DM falls off the radar.

One last thing in this already long post - Do Not, Under Any Circumstances, Use Creativity As a Means of Getting Followers. I know that's a lot of capital letters, but I feel very strongly about that after years of running this blog. If your primary goal for writing fic or making art is to get followers or attention or make friends, then you'll feel really bad if that doesn't happen as a result.

Make the art because you want to make the art. Share the art because you want to share the art. When you make the creation about the response to it instead of the creation itself? That leads to crushing disappointment.

Best of luck anon! Much love back to you 💗

[utilitycaster]

OK for real last Ludinus thought until the one shots air on the channel, barring direct questions, but: I saw Ludinus compared to Remmick from Sinners before I had the full context of having seen Sinners (this post alludes to that argument) and now that I've seen the film, it's actually a fantastic comparison with a striking number of similarities, and also, to be fair, I think actually less racist than I thought though still not what I'd call great.* However, it fails even more in terms of arguing that Ludinus shouldn't be killed. I mean my obvious point, of "it is super common for a villain to have similarities to the hero, and past tragedy that makes them sympathetic, and they're still the fucking villain who did immense harm and people are going to react to that" stands, like, come on, this is basic understanding of genre. [Possibly a separate post but there's a weird wave in fandom now of people going "I think the villain is actually good and couldn't help it and you are mean to dislike them" going on and it's always for white villains and usually but not always white men and I would love to hear thoughts on why this is happening because the people who are into doing this tend not to be terribly softhearted otherwise and I would even go so far as to say I find those who do this exceptionally vindictive and petty in the fandom space, and I say this as someone who isn't exactly softhearted and lacking in a vindictive streak myself.] Anyway, to go into that:

Remmick, per the bonus content in the Spotify playlist, killed an entire boat of Irish immigrants when he came to the US in the early 1900s. He lacks solidarity or loyalty even to other colonized white people. I'd also add that Ireland was Christianized pre-colonization, or at least the colonization by the English - the conversion of Irish pagans was largely in the 5th and 6th centuries, prior to the development of an English kingdom and culture, let alone the English conquest of Ireland. As that is the climactic scene with Remmick - him recounting that conversion - it's worth considering how we frame the idea of colonization, because the truth of the matter is, the countries we think of when we think about colonial powers were, for the most part themselves, culturally shaped by their conquest or at least extensive influence by the Roman Empire. Northwestern Europe was not the birthplace of Christianity; that was pushed upon it by Rome. However, the idea that the Christianization of these places was a loss of culture - which I don't disagree with - also tends to be quite popular among white supremacist nationalist groups arguing for the inherent superiority of white European native culture (with which, obviously, I do strongly disagree). Acknowledging cultural shifts and conquest does not automatically mean you are in the right simply because you said the magic word of Colonized, which is how a lot of terminally online types do. Anyway back to the original point which is that Remmick ate a bunch of his fellow countrymen and the trauma he describes is one they do not share - English oppression is not what transformed him. This is a flawless Ludinus parallel; he has outlived pretty much everyone with the same grievances, and there are many people with similar or greater grievances who have not visited the same harm on others (see: EXU Divergence for Ludinus; the Choctaw hunters for Remmick). Modern-day people in Wildemount are more likely to suffer from his oppression and harm, either indirectly (the cultural dominance and religious persecution of the Dwendalian Empire; anti-Kryn Dynasty xenophobia inflamed by his office) or directly (survivors of Molaesmyr, especially those in Bysaes Tyl who remain under Dwendalian rule) than that of the gods.

Remmick openly uses people's prejudices and threatens their families to get what he wants; any incidental kindness he does is purely manipulative. He's not a radical integrator; he wants to feed on Sammy and by extension Sammy's griot abilities (and to that point, cares not for Sammy, but for what he can do, not unlike Ludinus's jealousy of and use of Ruidusborn with no real care for the bad dreams or debilitating powers they face). He doesn't care about how clerics can get powers without trying while wizards have to work (and, hilariously, we consistently see that clerics and paladins do have to work, it's just a devalued work compared to that of wizards from his perspective) because he aligns himself with the genuine "this just happened to you" sorcerers. Similarly, Remmick doesn't actually care about stopping the Klan (why didn't he just kill the klansmen using his first two white Klan thralls as his entry, if he did); he reveals the plot mostly to try to drain Smoke's will to protect the juke joint and to tell him it was always doomed to fail, so he may as well give up Sammy. If the local source of magical music abilities had been a white musician, Remmick wouldn't have said shit about Jim Crow. Ludinus did not really care about Aeor as a loss of life, given how many innocents he was willing to kill on his path, which included the destruction of a city (Ludinus is, I would point out, far more guilty for the War of Ash and Light than Essek, who is deeply hated by a lot of the people defending Ludinus, and shows far less remorse) and he himself was not actually a victim of the destruction of Aeor, but he is happy to invoke the pain of others - even those he himself hurt - for his end goals.

I think perhaps the clincher, though, is the very beginning of the film: Sammy cannot help but see his father's religious control as a parallel for Remmick's desire to have him as a thrall. Both men wish to be the arbiter of his music. The fight in the water just before dawn is a glaringly obvious parallel to baptism, and the Lord's Prayer fails to save Sammy - his guitar, his gangster cousin, and Annie's knowledge which would likely be seen as witchcraft do. It is ultimately that realization, that his preacher father, in his own way, wanted the exact same thing from him as Remmick, that frees Sammy. It's a great scene, and the choice to show it nonlinearly is simple but entirely correct as it would come off too easy and pat if it had been shown any other way. Anyway, this is also a clear parallel to Ludinus: the person who speaks of an inciting loss and disconnect at the hands of religion harms others in a way that is eerily similar to what they suffered.

*I think actually a lot of the racist arguments surrounding defense of C3 are, to be entirely fair to those making them, coming from a place of stupidity and failing to consider implications than genuine intentional bigotry. Which again, not great, but a lot of it just comes from a place of knee-jerk Bells Hells Good Gods Bad; the fact that Ludinus and Liliana are white; and the fact that few if any of Bells Hells and none of the Vanguard generals have structural oppression as a major driving factor for their trauma. So attempts to overlay a narrative of structural oppression when there is none and a willingness to talk over and dismiss irl minorities with different opinions ends up being pretty shitty but I think it's just terminal self-absorption, thoughtless contrarianism, and a lack of awareness of unfortunate implications; and not a genuine belief in racist ideals.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Well if given how the anime will adapt the Manga, it makes me wonder about the savanaclaw adaptation given how many delays due to the artist's personal life that octavinelle Manga came around and is now have overblot Chapter before Savanaclaw does. I wonder if the author will have time to finish it and given how heartslabyul will release in October 2025, it might take awhile to animate savanaclaw.

[Referencing this news!]

Decided to put these together because the topics were similar enough and I have similar advice for both asks. To briefly clarify the second ask, I believe the Anon made a typo and meant to say "Yana Toboso was NOT involved in the anime's production". This is because Yana made a tweet recently stating that she and her team were surprised and honored that they were making an anime adaptation based on the manga.

Now, about the first ask: we are not aware of what the manga and anime creation process looks like for Twst. Yes, the Savanaclaw manga has had a number of delays, but we cannot be sure if this impacts the anime at all. For example, we don't know how much of the Episode of Savanaclaw anime is even done yet. We don't know if the anime team is going to be in talks with the mangaka to coordinate things. We don't know when the Episode of Savanaclaw will air (and for all we know, it could give the mangaka ample time to finish up). There are many things we do not know, so it would be VERY hasty to conclude anything now.

Regarding the second ask: Yes, it does seem like Yana had no involvement in the anime. This, however, should NOT be taken as an immediate sign that the anime will be poor quality or that the anime will deviate from the main story in large (and bad) ways. Nothing of the news we've heard so far would indicate any sweeping changes. This is equating a past occurrence with something that has yet to even happen without even knowing if the production circumstances are even the same between them. The only thing we know that is linking the animes of early Black Butler and Twst is Yana's lack of involvement. This doesn't account for ANY other factors in production, and it's also assuming that Yana's mere presence makes a product good--and, conversely, her absence automatically makes a product bad. I don't think this is the way to go, as it's jumping to conclusions based on minimal evidence and it's putting way too much weight on Yana's shoulders to carry the quality of the Twst anime.

And that brings me to the thread linking together not just these two asks, but a lot of the anime-related posts and asks that I've been seeing as of late: fearmongering and doomposting. Lots of it.

As I’ve said multiple times now, it's fine to be hesitant about the anime. I'm hesitant of it myself! However, let’s not draw preemptive conclusions or fret over what are ultimately hypotheticals. It’s so far off, and we have zero of the actual final product to look at and judge the quality of. I'm seeing so many people make mountains out of molehills, working themselves up over nothing, assuming the worst-case scenarios... 💦 and again, all of this based on little to no information. I can't help but that time and energy could be better spent on other fandom efforts or things we actively enjoy. It's valid to be anxious about the anime and how it presents something we care so much about, but putting those feelings in a public space paints the fandom in a bad light. It gives the impression that we'll jump the gun and claim something is bad before letting the product speak for itself. If you're a current Twst fan that is excited for the anime, it may not feel so good seeing others theorizing about how bad it will be. If you're a potential new Twst fan seeing this stuff, you'd feel very unwelcome or unwanted. I worry this will fester and create divides in the community... unintentionally creating an environment that isn't fun to be in, and that's the antithesis of what I think fandom should be. I guess I'll end on this note: There is a difference between being healthily skeptical and assuming the worst of a production. Please take a moment to reexamine your concerns about the anime and ask yourself "Is this a reasonable fear?", "What am I basing this off of?", and, "How, if at all, will this affect my own enjoyment of Twst?" If it gets to be too much for you, then please, please step away from social media (where a lot of these fears are being touted) and take a break. Do something you like, take a walk, whatever. I just beg of you, don't allow yourself to be consumed by feelings that will bleed the fun of fandom out of you 💦

[irregularcollapse]

Hey, I'm so sorry to hear about how you feel about the mota fandom and what happened to you :/ I meant to send a message earlier but life got in the way. I hope you're feeling better now, and I can only tell you that your fics and writing are some of my favorite in the fandom. Just by reading your stories, I can tell the care that was put into choosing each word to best convey the story and the characters' feelings, and it is really somethinf I admire :) I hope I can be as good a writer as you someday ❤️ And for the mota fandom, I totally get what you and that anon said! If you'll allow me a bit of a rant, to me, the mota fandom is full of well-intentioned people but I found that one of its problems is that, as much as there is enthusiasm, it is going in circles. Many have said it and I've noticed it too, but some have a tendency to jump on other people's ideas without giving credit or even asking if it's okay to expand, and on more than one occasion I found one of my ideas in someone else's inbox just a week after I'd posted it which threw me off posting any kinds of hc or random ideas, I only post full fics now because I'm scared that people will see an idea/au that they like on my blog and decide to expand on it without my consent or even crediting me for the original idea :/ To me that sucks because what I love about creating is the interactions with people, but because of the seldom posting except for full fics I don't get much 😂 And I know I could post snippet or hc, but the overenthusiasm bordering on no fandom manners that I've noticed stops me from doing that. Also, as a writer, it is quite discouraging to see people constantly reccing the same 5/6 fics/authors. Don't get me wrong, those are GREAT fics and authors, but babes, there are over 1,000 works in the clegan tag on ao3, why are we constantly reccing the same fics as in summer 2024. It feels like people only read the fics with the highest hits count, and from an outsider's pov, you'd think there are only 10 writers in the mota fandom 😭 I don't if it's bc the mota fandom is new so there are a lots of people from tiktok/that weren't on tumblr/in fandom before but it truly feels like fandom manners are getting lost, despite the plethora of incredible creators in the mota fandom. So there's this opposition between the enthusiasm over new ideas that seems to die down as soon as a story is posted, except if if it's one of the big fics from the summer. Imo the actual recognition of fics doesn't follow the enthusiasm of ideas and hcs, which is a bit of a shame I think, and to be quite honest, it made me lose my motivation to write for mota bc it just feels like I'll post a fic, it'll get traction for maybe a day or two, and then it'll be forgotten somewhere when people sort ao3 by number of hits or kudos

Anyway that was quite long I'm sorry, you don't have to answer this at all, I just needed to get this off my chest, but I really hope you know that even if it may not feel that way, you are an amazing writer, who clearly loves your stories, the characters and the words you use, and that is translated to the ao3 page <3 You truly are one of the most talented fic writers this fandom has, and I'd support you and your stories in whatever fandom you may be in ❤️

I assure you, anon, that you're not the only person to feel this way! I've had quite a few private conversations with friends and mutuals about really similar experiences and observations, and how disheartened and uncomfortable it's making us feel.

I guess people don't say anything because they don't want to be seen as sowing discord or being mean. I know that there are going to be people who might see this and interpret it as me "fuelling fandom discourse" or "fandom wanking" or "being a cunt" but actually I'm just talking about how we treat creators in online spaces, and the way that people en masse have apparently forgotten that creators in fandoms are people.

I had another anon tell me that someone laid claim to one of their ideas in the tags of their headcanon post, and I don't think you're the only person whose idea has been stolen and passed to another writer. I'm really sorry that's happened to you, and you're so right to not feel like posting anything because of it! This is truly the kind of stuff that makes people not want to participate or put themselves out there. Sometimes it's even writers doing the stealing, blatantly and without credit. It makes me think that a lot of people haven't shared creative spaces before and don't know how to be polite.

I also 100% agree about the fic rec thing. It's really disheartening to see the same fics passed around over and over again, not only from a writer perspective but a reader perspective. Something that seems to have emerged in fandom spaces over the years is deifying certain authors of popular fics - fic authors being treated like celebrities, the concept of a "must-read fic", even people only reading fics and authors that are already seen as popular/successful. I get that some people don't want to spend time scraping ao3 for niche fics, that's super understandable, but that's also why it would be nice to see a bit more adventure and variety in fic rec lists!

There is a low-key competitive feeling which a few people have mentioned to me - the feeling that there are people who want to "win" fandom or be the most popular/most reccd/most recognised writer, or whatever it may be. I just feel like anything that makes people feel like they're better than others is... come si dice... not good. I think it's a shitty way to treat people you're sharing a creative space with, to view them as competition and commodity.

Writing for consumption or writing for audience approval isn't something I've ever done, but I feel like it's cropping up more and more in fandom spaces too - not just MOTA, either. That's sort of a different discussion, but I do feel it's related to the copying/stealing in a way as well.

Now I also have to apologise for this getting too long! I'm glad you got it off your chest, and please feel free to come off anon at any time, because you've got an ally in me (and others too, I assure you). I think that everything you've said here merits consideration from everyone, at the very very least! It's in the interest of pursuing a more inclusive, supportive fandom space.

Thanks heaps as well for saying nice stuff about my writing! I only ever want to tell stories, and to give people something to enjoy that has clearly been created with care and consideration. I write to express things I want to express, and so it means a lot to me when other people see what I'm trying to say and pick up what I'm putting down. Truly madly deeply, my most boundless thanks!!! ♥️♥️♥️

[valyrfia]

RE: This ask on fanfic, fandom, and lestappen

(preface with, I love fanfic and fandom, and I've written for very big and small)

I have never experienced such bad fandom etiquette as I have with 1633. I wrote one multi chapter fic for the ship and 99% of ao3 comments I got were people asking when I'd publish the next chapter, which has always been a big no no in fandom. I deleted the fic because it felt bad that people didn't want to engage with what I had written, but, just ask about my update schedule. Also, people changing the date of their published fic to be more recent, so, it appears at the top of the 'recently updated page'! I have never seen this in any fandom before now! AO3 isn't Instagram! If you tag correctly, people will find your fic if they want to read it.

People are pushing 1633 constantly in very public spaces like Twitter, Insta and TikToK, where we know these drivers have accounts and look at comments/posts about them or on their own posts. Just today on Twitter I see Dan Howell (which what a fucking weird intersection of my past and current interests) being asked at a public panel about lestappen, just because he's mentioned liking F1 in the past. I know it gets easy clicks and engagement because it is popular. But, it's so far removed from behaviour that was ever considered acceptable in fandom.

I remember, back in 2013/14 there was a huge backlash to people bringing up fictional ships to actors/writers. There was discourse after every Supernatural or Teen Wolf fan forum/con panel when someone would inevitably ask about Destiel or Sterek. People would argue whether fanon and ships were appropriate to ask the real people behind the show about.

RPF is fine, I have written, currently write and will continue to engage in RPF spaces. But, there are boundaries that you must keep if you are going to engage with it. Tumblr and AO3 have always been considered locked fandom spaces. If a person goes onto these sites and searches themselves out, that's on them. But, it's implied in fandom that you keep to just these spaces or private chats

(personally, I'm sad I just missed out on the livejournal days... I got into fandom when everything was being moved over from there and fanfic.net onto ao3)

I understand younger social media users are used to an algorithm finding content for them. And on sites like Tumblr where the algorithm sucks or ao3, which doesn't have one. You have to search out the content you want yourself. Liking and kudos isn't enough, you actually have to engage in meaningly conversations and comments if you want to make friends. That can be scary! But, it's a soft skill that is slowly getting lost and with it fandom etiquette is going down the drain.

This is like...one of the last big serious ask I want to reply to on this topic because not everyone agrees with me (which, fine), but OP you put a lot of time into typing this up so I will honour that.

I think fandom, much like a lot of other things nowadays, have become less about fun and more about hitting a certain number of likes and interactions. That's why people push Lestappen on other social media even though most of us have explicitly said "can you not, thanks". The changing the date of the fic to push to an 'algorithm' infuriates me and is a personal pet peeve of mine. There's one that's doing that now on the Lestappen tag and I've point-blanked refused to read it literally BECAUSE of the date changing. People will read your fic if they want to, constantly pushing it to the top of the 'Date Updated' list does nothing except piss people off.

I will say I think the fictional ship discourse of 2014 was maybe driven in part by the fact that being gay was still seen as something much more 'novel' than even now. If we think about when marriage became legal in the US and all that...I still think though that it shows a level of self-awareness and self-regulation that we've lost in fandom. As my partner and I often to lament to each other, we've become so individualistic that people have lost the concept of shame. It's an idea that YOU are the exception and something should cater to YOU, instead of the other way round. In the case of fandom, this comes out as people acknowledging fandom etiquette in an abstract way, but still logging into their twitter account (WITH THEIR FACES ATTACHED! WHICH! THIS IS A TANGENT BUT IT BAFFLES ME! WHAT HAPPENED TO DIGITAL FOOTPRINT!) and posting about RPF. Fandom is not an abstract entity, fandom IS the people that interact with it–from authors to artists all the way to those who consume the content.

Also, I also JUST missed out on the lj days–the great migration was happening just when I was getting involved in fandom and I can't help but feel like I missed out on something special.

[larkawolfgirl]

2024 Fic in Review

Tagged by @hazelestelle

Total Number of Fics: 19

Total Wordcount: 76,707

Fandoms: 7

Smut scenes: 4 and 2 kinda mature scenes that aren't exactly smut

Most Popular Fic (by bookmarks): The Secret Endearments of Vegeta Briefs (although I don't want to count this because I started this years ago so the bookmarks have accumulated over years). The second is Crossroads.

Most Popular Fic (by kudos): Yet again, The Secret Endearments of Vegeta Briefs which I don't want to count for the same reason. My second is My Um Greg Universe.

New things I tried: Actually plotting out novels, even though I really have not made any real headway with any of them. I tried writing more descriptively than usual and create more space/environment during scenes.

Fic I spent the most time on: As usual, I spent quiet a bit of time on pretty much everything I wrote. However, I think I spent the most time on Crossroads and Girlfriend and Girlfriend. Crossroads was the most time actually writing whereas Girlfriend and Girlfriend has been a chore rereading the manga, copying down all of the text from the chapters, rewatching the show, and trying to think through how and when Saki and Nagisa should start getting together. I think I have 5 additional chapters copied at this point but I don't want to post any new chapters until I figure out at what pace to develop their relationship.

Fic I spent the least time on: Either Cracks in the Wall or Distant Scent of Flowers. I wrote each in one sitting so I'm not sure.

Favourite thing I wrote: It's between Crossroads and Cooking Oil on Canvas. I really like the mood I created in the latter, but I'm also proud of how I dealt with Tifa and Cloud's confused feelings in Crossroads.

Looking Back, Did You Write More Fic Than You Thought You Would This Year, Less, Or About What You’d Expected? Less. If I count my wips it might be about what I expected, but I am disappointed in myself for not finishing a handful of fics yet. Primarily my cheating KKM fic which I actually wrote quite a bit of but still feel really hazy about the direction. I also thought I would be getting through Girlfriend and Girlfriend more quickly.

Story Of Mine Most Under-Appreciated By The Universe, In My Opinion: I'm assuming this is still asking about stories written this year. Going off that, I would say Immortalization since I've only gotten one kudos besides the one from my lovely friend Doth. I put a lot of heart and personal emotion into that one.

Most Unintentionally Telling Story: Cooking in Oil on Canvas. I put a lot of myself into the process of Immortalization, but I think most of that was my own self-reflection rather than what I put on the page. While I had an overall plan for Cooking Oil on Canvas it took it's own turn with the smut scene. I honestly laughed at myself while writing it because of the unintentional direction it wanted to take. I had to reel it in before it turned into two smut scenes just so that I could put more unneeded kink into it xD

Biggest Disappointment: Not finishing fics I really wanted to. The main ones are the sequel to Crossroads, my KKM cheating fic, First Times Four, and my other kanojo mo kanojo wip.

Biggest Surprise: I did not expect to start writing Greg/Pearl fics. I was also surprised by how many novel ideas I can come up with even if I can't flesh out the plots lol

My Favourite Part Of Fandom This Year: I don't engage a lot, but I have enjoyed having little conversations on a couple ot4 ffvii fics. I have also really enjoyed getting into Critical Role.

Writing goals for next year: Honestly, just to finish up my wips and lingering ideas which I have not started yet. The endless pursuit of catching up with my muse. I would also really like to actually finish writing a novel, but I am also wanting to try writing children's books now :)

Did you meet last years goal?: No. My goal was to finish writing a novel and instead, I planned something like 7 but finished nothing lol

Tagging: @desperatepleasures @abyssal-narration, @thekaithing and anyone else who wants to :)

[tokiro07]

Was talking to a customer today about media consumption, specifically about the benefits and risks of binging

I've talked about this concept a number of times lately it feels like, but this particular conversation helped me realize a nice framework to look at it with: while binging is quick and to an extent feels good (i.e. "I finished this series in X amount of time!"), it greatly reduces the amount of anchor points that one can form to become attached to the media in question

For example, when I was reading Dungeon Meshi, I ended up reading all 90+ chapters in the span of three days; Dungeon Meshi is made up of a lot of small arcs, each lasting only a few chapters, and I ended up reading all of them in the same context (sitting on my couch at around the same time of day) with minimal exposure to outside factors (other readers, sharing what I was doing with my family or friends, etc.)

Aside from key moments, like those that were particularly funny ("an exact duplicate...?") or particularly emotionally impactful (the ancient magic, Senshi's youth, post-Dungeon Rabbits, etc.), I feel like I couldn't really relay the events of the story to someone else without missing a lot of the best bits because, again, by binging them I ended up mashing all of the events together in my mind. I didn't even end up reading it at a particularly noteworthy time in my own life, so reading it so quickly meant that it didn't end up connecting to my personal life either

Compare to say, One Piece, which I hadn't actually read in its entirety until Gear 4th was revealed; I realized that the significance of this moment may have been lost on me, so I decided that this would be a good time for me to fill in any of the gaps in my knowledge (i.e. Davy Back, Skypiea, Water 7, etc.) and read the full-color version

At just shy of 800 chapters at the time, this process took me approximately three weeks; some chapters I read lying on my bed, some I read sitting in a chair, some I read during breaks in college. Some I read while listening to Three Days Grace, some while listening to 10 Years, some while listening to Rise Against

Even though I was binging One Piece, the sheer amount of time it took me to actually do so ended up giving me a ton of opportunities to create anchors; I remember different contexts, outside conversations, and most importantly, the impacts that they had on me

Rereading Punk Hazard at the time was definitely the highlight, as it altered not only my reading experience but my involvement in the fandom and just generally how I lived my life. Because I was reminded of Monet, I started looking into the theories surrounding her, which led to me looking into other theories and finding forums like Oro Jackson. Monet herself became the ultimate anchor point for me, as she retroactively became the frame of reference that I have for my entire One Piece experience

Reading One Piece took so long that it ended up being a defining segment of my life in and of itself, whereas the time spent reading Dungeon Meshi was so small that it barely registers as a single event, despite the fact that I think it's extremely high quality and a story I highly recommend

It's like when you're studying for an exam - you can't just cram the night before, you'll wear your brain out and only really remember the first and last things you read particularly clearly; but if you space it out and give yourself time to rest, you'll have multiple beginnings and endings that you'll remember a lot better than you would have otherwise, both because they're each their own isolated incident that you can think back to while also giving yourself enough time to recover

So when you're consuming a new piece of media that you've really wanted to get into but you were too late for the live updates, please consider regulating your experience. Limit yourself to 10 chapters a day, or one arc per day, or whatever's the most conducive to that particular medium. Just resist the temptation of "just one more, it's so good and I've got time for it"

You may have the time for it, but like eating a bag of candy, you're going to end up overdoing it and regretting it because A) you don't feel as good as you would have otherwise and B) now you don't have it when you want it later

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

What's the point of th's supposed popularity if no one is listening to his music? He's basically an influencer at this point. The Kardashians have more ig followers than Beyonce and Taylor Swift, but they could easily lose those followers, unlike Beyonce and TS, who have the most loyal fan bases in the world. Quality over quantity, honestly.

Wdym his instagram likes don't matter???!?!?!

I think it has to do with everyone's obsession with "GP". Kths started that conversation around some grammys red carpet, I don't remember what year it was when they said "locals" kept asking if taekook were a couple. That's the first time I remember being taken aback and confused about this "gp" and "locals" validation. Then it was because he was in that kitchen show and they all went "omg gp darling this, gp darling that". And it hasn't stopped since solo era started. Do you have any idea of how tired I am of reading "gp" - take a shot everytime you go on army/solos spaces and read those letters.

Nobody cared about "gp" when BTS got all those billboard hot 100 positions and streams thanks to the huge fandom. As I've said before, BTS had a huge fandom for a while but only became somewhat "popular" (as in, random people would know about them - oh sorry, I meant precious GP would know about them) after butter or maybe my universe. Mind you, I've never in 6 years heard anyone in real life say "BTS". Literally Never. Meanwhile I just started this new job a month ago and I've already heard 3 different groups of people of all ages talk about Taylor. I've got students umproptly coming up to me and say "Miss, I've been listening to Taylor Swift songs to practice my English".

You'll see.. kpop fans are stereotyped as white, chubby/obese high school girls with blue hair who spend too much time online daydreaming about celebrities and have no life and get no sex. The truth is that some fans -even if they themselves are white chubby blue haired girls- are obsessed with not being associated to that stereotype. They don't want Taehyung's fans to be some miserable, lonely losers. They want him to have "LOCALS" admiration and respect. When the members opened their own ig accounts, those interactions were a gateway to that, mostly because instagram is you know.. theee place for the skinny, tanned, successful, pretty LOCALS.

I've always thought the whole obsession with "gp" and "locals" was so stupid. There's absolutely nothing wrong in having a big fandom. That's literally how BTS came to be what they were until last year, and armys weren't praying and begging for "gp" support. Taylor gets the numbers she gets because yes, many people around the world know her name and willingly listen to her music; but also because she has a huge ass fanbase. She's been building that fanbase for more than a decade. Three years ago, if you listened to Taylor you would've been considered a pathetic, lonely loser too.

At the end of the day, all this popularity talk it's just fans' own insecurities and their itch to distance themselves and the idol from the image of a "fandom" because they know what everyone thinks of people who are part of fandoms. Ironically, most BTS fans started out as people who didn't know anything about kpop -gp- and two years later they're getting hit tweets calling Jennie a lazy slut and saying "my fave is so popular amongst locals."

Taehyung stans clung to his ig interactions because they thought having the likes of "locals" made him more important or better in every way than the other members. However, in music, it's always better to have a huge fandom that will make eight hours long playlists of your song and play it multiple times a day -investing their own money and time on you- than it is to have random people liking your ig posts. And if what I'm saying it's not enough, take his china bar activities as an example. They bought almost a million albums; there's no 800k "locals" that would've bought his album.

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 24

Chapters: 24/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader  Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn’t utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

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

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

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

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

Author's note: This chapter was at risk of becoming too long, so I had to move some things to the next one. While I'm not sure how many updates this story will have, I still got quite a bit to include. I'm also keeping my fingers crossed that the second season will be released before summer. I need to know if they'll establish a clear timeline between the end of S1 and the beginning of the second season, as some of my planned finale content might not align with the canon. I know this isn't a major issue since my story is fanfiction, but I tend to be rather picky about these details.

Now, this chapter contains several significant developments. Though our dramatic duo won't reconcile just yet, I promise their reunion will happen in the next chapter.

Additionally, I've finally started upgrading the earlier chapters with a complete rewrite. I've updated chapters 1 through 6 so far, and I'm currently working on chapter 7. While they remain basically the same, I've made some noteworthy improvements and additions (particularly in chapter 6).

The absence of Morpheus was a never-ending test of endurance, as your enigmatic dreams continued to manifest. Subsequently, Morpheus received a visitation from a most improbable guest.

You observed the kitchen sink intently, where water droplets fell in a steady rhythm from the faucet, their sound reverberating through the empty house. 

With Hob out on a brief excursion to retrieve the morning paper, you found yourself in solitude, accompanied only by the tumultuous thoughts that occupied your mind. The haunting remnants of your dream left you in a state of deep contemplation, wrestling with a myriad of uncertainties and deep-seated apprehensions. 

Additionally, the peculiar incident where Hob discovered you surrounded by glowing light during your sleep further compounded the mysteries already presented by the Book of Paradoxes. According to his description, an ethereal luminescence emanated from your skin, manifesting as luminous filaments that extended throughout the room—mirroring what previously transpired in the Dreaming realm. If there was merit to Lucienne's disclosure, perhaps this inexplicable phenomenon was intrinsically linked to the living being you were supposedly carrying within you.

Your mind reeled at the implications. Could you really be pregnant with Morpheus' child? You—expecting, of all things? Although the prospect of starting a family had been a distant consideration for your future, the immediate reality of potential parenthood had never been a pressing concern.

The realization that you had failed to consider such consequences during your time in his realm filled you with regret and disbelief. How could you reconcile this development with your assurances of taking precautions and the understanding that your relationship with the Endless had been suspended indefinitely?

Upon checking your calendar, you noticed your menstrual cycle was delayed by approximately a week from its expected date. Accessing your phone, you conducted a search for pregnancy symptoms, methodically reviewing the results which merely confirmed the information you had already acquired on your own: nausea and vomiting, general morning sickness, persistent tiredness, headaches, indigestion, emotional fluctuations, dyspnea, and abdominal distension. The list was extensive, but you were a match for all of these primary descriptions with certainty. 

With a weary exhale, you set aside your phone and reclined in the chair, finding yourself at a critical juncture with no clear direction forward. While this revelation provided some relief regarding your concerns about more severe medical conditions, the prospect of caring for another life during such a tumultuous period raised valid fears about your preparedness.

The absence of the child’s father from your life, combined with your own motherless upbringing, left you without any guidance or example to follow. How could you discuss this matter with Morpheus, particularly given his current unresponsiveness and ongoing emotional turmoil regarding the Orpheus situation? The last thing you wanted was to evoke painful memories of his previous paternal experience.

Furthermore, you couldn't exactly shout "Yo Morpheus, I'm pregnant!" into the vast expanse of the Dreaming, with the high chance of him not hearing you through the self-imposed isolation and withdrawal.

The sound of keys in the lock disrupted your reverie as Hob returned, carrying a newspaper and a bag of groceries. "Good morning! Thought you'd still be asleep," he greeted cheerfully.

You shook your head and smiled. “I've been awake for at least an hour."

"Are you holding up all right? You know... after that peculiar business last night?"

"I'm fine. Still a bit nauseous, but that's nothing new. What did you get there?"

Setting the bag and newspaper onto the table, he replied, "I wasn't sure what your stomach could handle today, so I picked up a few bits that might help settle things down."

“Oh?”

"Unsweetened almond milk for breakfast, some cucumbers, couple of apples, avocados, and a nice bit of fresh salmon. How does that sound, Shortcake? Are you in the mood for any of that?"

You chuckled, touched by his thoughtful consideration yet slightly embarrassed by the unusual attention. "Thank you, Hob. They all sound wonderful. The almond milk seems perfect right now."

"Right then! Let me sort that out for you. Don't you move a muscle."

While the presence of another person in your living space felt somewhat unfamiliar, you were grateful for your friend's steadying influence during this difficult and uncertain time. You watched quietly as he prepared the table, warming the milk and deliberately foregoing his usual coffee preparation. The aversion to its scent had become quite pronounced since your last visit to the New Inn, compelling you to abandon what had once been an essential part of your daily work routine.

Taking a seat beside you, he gently blew across his steaming tea while you cradled the warm cup of almond milk between your hands. "I'm sorry about the fright I gave you, by the way," you murmured. "If I were in your position, I would have panicked at least twice as much as you did."

"Really, what in the bloody hell was that anyway?" He inquired. “I mean, don't get me wrong, I've seen some strange things in my time, but nothing similar. I get up for a bit of water, and I see this light coming from your room; thought you might be up reading or something.”

"I know, it sounds absolutely wild even just hearing about it."

“You were glowing like some sort of celestial being, Y/N. Proper freaked me out, that did. I thought you were going to blow up on me!"

You took a sip of milk, feeling the nausea subside slightly. "And yet, you still came in to check on me—even touched me without knowing what might happen."

"Are you crazy? Of course I couldn't leave you like that. Besides, I'm immortal, aren't I? Not that it matters, I would've done it either way.”

"I truly appreciate that, Hob."

He sighed. "Don't mention it, sweetheart. But I am rather curious what all that glowing was coming from, if you don't mind sharing?"

You paused, setting the cup down. "I really don't know for certain what caused that."

"So this is something new then?"

"I've never turned into a human torch before, I can assure you that."

Upon closer examination, the occurance seemed to defy conventional logic. While such events might be expected within the realm of dreams, their manifestation in the Waking World was unheard of. If this wasn't attributed to an autonomous activation of the Dreamstone, there remained only one plausible explanation.

“But… I may have a theory,” you said. “Just a hunch."

"You do?" Hob's eyebrows rose. "Well then, let’s hear it."

You took a deep breath, gathering your composure before attempting to vocalize your suspicions, though your voice trembled with uncertainty. "Hob, I… I think I'm pregnant."

A profound silence descended as Hob's demeanor shifted to one of utmost gravity, his gaze fixed and intense, the teacup frozen mid-motion in his grasp.

After a moment of deliberation, he adjusted his posture. "About that. Been meaning to bring it up myself, actually. I am not exactly shocked, if I'm being honest."

"What? You suspected?"

"I've been a father before, remember?" he replied with a gentle grin. "Different era, mind you, but I've been around long enough to recognize the telltale signs when they're right in front of me."

"Well, with your centuries of experience, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," you said with a wry smile. "Why didn't you mention it earlier?"

"Look, I may have been a right bastard back in my day, a proper rogue and scoundrel if you will, but I do try to be a decent man these days. It wouldn't have been right for me to bring it up first, would it? I Figured you'd sort it out eventually."

You released a short laugh. "You have no idea how worried I've been. I'd even imagined the worst-case scenarios."

"Wait, you weren't considering the possibility of inheriting your father's medical condition, were you?"

“Uhm, yes?”

"Christ," he slumped. "You mean to tell me you never once thought this might happen? Not that I want all the details of what you and my old mate got up to, but... really?"

"I thought that would be impossible. You know I've been on birth control for years," you said with a frown.

"What's gone wrong here, then? Your little tablets decided to take a holiday?"

Ironically, it was you who unintentionally took a break from them. And in retrospect, you questioned whether conventional contraceptive methods would maintain their efficacy when involving an entity as extraordinary as Morpheus.

You snorted. "The thing is, I don’t even know what to do now."

"I'm guessing he doesn't know yet, eh?"

"No, I don't even have confirmation myself."

Taking another sip of almond milk, you felt tears beginning to well up in your eyes.

‘Oh, not again.’

“Y/N….”

"I'm just terrified, Hob," you confessed. "We've broken up, and we haven't exchanged a single word in days. If I'm truly pregnant, how can I possibly handle everything all at once?"

"Well now, let's take this one step at a time," he replied, reaching out and resting his hand gently on your wrist. "You've got me, all right? Whatever you need, I'm here. Just tell me what to do and I'll make it happen."

You wiped away your tears before they could fall. "I suppose I should probably get a pregnancy test to confirm it, at least."

"Shall we venture forth to the apothecary today?"

You nodded. "Would you mind going with me right after breakfast? I just want to face this head-on."

With a reassuring squeeze of your hand and a knowing glance, Hob said, "You don't even have to ask, Shortcake. I've got your back."

The remainder of the morning passed in silence as you both finished your beverages, while the weight of the forthcoming confirmation loomed over you, prompting careful reflections of the many potential directions that lay ahead.

Regardless of the circumstances, your thoughts invariably returned to one consuming reality: the excruciating void procured by the man you loved, who had retreated into voluntary seclusion, creating an insurmountable distance between you.

At the pharmacy counter, you purchased three pregnancy tests for a higher percentage, waiting for the bill to be printed as the clerk's well-intentioned but misplaced enthusiasm suggested she had mistaken you and Hob for a couple. Any unnecessary commentary was discouraged by your withering glare, since you weren't in any mood for any sort of celebration. Hob, meanwhile, managed to stay perfectly composed yet amused throughout the exchange.

The designated waiting span indicated by your phone's timer stretched into infinity. With Hob waiting patiently in the living room, you retreated to the bathroom and carefully opened the first test. Though tempted to use all three packages simultaneously, you followed the recommended protocol of spacing them apart at different intervals. While the first test should provide 98% accuracy, you knew this was merely a formality given the unusual situation you were in. After all, it seemed unlikely that the Dreaming would detect a heartbeat in your body only to dismiss it as a mistake.

Perched nervously on the toilet, you watched the numbers tick by with mounting anxiety, finding it impossible to remain seated. Eventually, you rose and traversed the small space, fidgeting anxiously and alternating between wringing your hands and drumming your nails against the sink's edge. Your attempts at deep breathing only served to heighten your racing pulse, forcing you to surrender to the inevitable wait.

Finally, the timer ran out, signaling the countdown reaching zero with a soft alarm that you immediately switched off, nearly dropping your phone in the process. You were breathing heavily, your fingers trembling, as the test stick lay in front of you. With a pounding heart, you carefully lifted it to inspect the verdict, staring at it through tear-filled eyes. The instructions were clear: a positive result would be indicated by two lines appearing in the test display, while a single line would signify a negative result.

Your test was showing two clear red lines, leaving no room for doubt.

Immobilized by the (unsurprising) confirmation, you gazed at your reflection, tears silently streaming down your face as the full magnitude of these newfound complications settled upon you - complications that seemed particularly daunting to face on your own. The crushing realization that you would be embarking on this journey without Morpheus by your side proved to be the breaking point that finally shattered the last bit of strength holding you together. 

When you returned to the living room with heavy steps, Hob immediately sat up straight. "Well? Did you do it?"

“I did.”

"What's it say then?"

One look at your face told him everything he needed to know, with mascara smudges beneath your eyes.

"Oh… Christ. I want to say congrats and all that, but..."

Without a word, you lowered yourself onto the couch beside him and placed the pregnancy test on the coffee table, where the dual crimson indicators provided irrefutable evidence.

"What's the plan? What're you gonna do about all this?"

"I don't know, Hob," you said weakly. "This feels completely surreal. How am I supposed to be a mother?"

"If anyone can handle this, it's you. You're gonna be a brilliant mum, I've no doubt about that."

"Thank you, but I'm not convinced."

"You've got to tell him, yeah? No way around it."

You crossed your arms and sank deeper into the couch. "Yes, I know. And I will. It's just... I need some time to process this myself."

“That is understandable.”

"Still, would it really change anything in the end?"

He frowned. "What, you think he won't accept the little one? Come off it."

"It's not that exactly. Think about it; he left me because he was convinced his presence in my life would condemn me to ruin. What if he believes the same about our child? He might decide to watch us only from a distance, letting me raise the baby alone. All for 'our own good.'"

Hob's eyes darted uneasily. "And repeat the story of your childhood..."

"Exactly… only in reverse."

He exhaled, placing a gentle hand on your back. "Y/N, if the baby made you glow like a beacon last night, it means they've got some of their father's magic in them, right?"

“…I guess…?”

"Then it looks like they’re gonna need you both around."

You rubbed your temples, feeling a headache beginning to form. "Maybe. I can't think clearly right now."

"Just take it easy, yeah? It’s not like you're popping out the little one tomorrow."

You smiled. "Well, wouldn't be the first time I've seen something like that happen."

"Okay, I’d rather not know the details of that one, either."

With a faint laugh, you sought comfort against Hob's shoulder as a gesture of familial trust. "If you want to avoid a headache yourself, then yes, it's probably best you don't know."

As he entered the chamber he had crafted for you, Morpheus was immediately enveloped by memories of your smile. The space resonated with echoes of your laughter, while your essence seemed to suffuse the very atmosphere around him. His attention was drawn to your nightgown, gracefully arranged upon the mattress, like a ghostly reminder of the woman he loved. The garment's embellishments created an enchanting display, as countless glittering points of light pulsed across the obsidian fabric resembling a constellation of stars.

With measured steps, he approached the bed and sat down, taking the nightgown in his hands. He lifted it to his face, breathing in your scent as his eyes drifted closed. His longing for you was profound and all-encompassing; the melodic sound of your voice, your delicate touch, and your unique ability to see beyond his immortal nature and love him for all he represented, embracing every facet of his intricate being. He yearned for you with the aching emptiness of a moonless night.

Gently placing the garment down, his fingertips lingering on the delicate fabric, Morpheus rose and made his way to the balcony, where heavy rain cascaded from the darkened sky. He allowed the torrential water to fall over him, the fierce droplets striking his form with relentless intensity. Within moments, he was soaked through, his dark hair plastered against his forehead.

As his hands rested on the cold balustrade, an intense wave of sorrow pierced through his heart. He wished he could hold every fiber of you—your heart, your body, your spirit. He needed your inner strength as much as he craved the tender sight of color rising to your cheeks. 

He wished for all of it, yet could possess none.

His love for you simultaneously elevated him to euphoric heights while subjecting him to the deepest depths of despair. Nevertheless, if presented with the opportunity to alter the course of his existence and rewrite your story, he would invariably choose the path that led him to you.

The Book of Paradoxes now resided in a remote section of the library, obscured in shadows. Despite exhaustive consultation of its contents, Morpheus had come to accept the finality of his decision while awaiting what fate might bring.

He stood motionless on the balcony, his countenance downcast, while rivulets of rain intermingled with his silent tears, descending in parallel streams down his face.

Another week had passed, yet accepting the discovery of your pregnancy remained an undeniable daily struggle. In order to be thorough, you methodically completed all three tests over the following days, with both additional sticks confirming the initial positive result.

In the Waking World, only Hob was privy to this information, as you had not yet mustered the resolve to share the news with your father or Ella during your regular communications. To maintain privacy, you had cited stress-related health concerns as a reason for your absence, while Hob had extended his leave from teaching duties by claiming a family emergency.

Your experiences in the Dreaming had become erratic, alternating between moments of vivid clarity and hazy visions that primarily conjured fragments of memories or apparitions of your anxieties. Despite your diligent search throughout the realm, Morpheus was still conspicuously elusive. His prolonged disappearance increased your sense of loss, creating an ever-growing emptiness in your existence.

Despite the adage that time heals all wounds, your suffering appeared to be escalating rather than diminishing.

"So, what're those rocks you've got there then?" Hob inquired, glancing up from his laptop to examine the array of crystals and beads arranged on the table before you.

You smiled, absorbed in crafting bespoke jewelry pieces using simple, straightforward techniques that didn't need any specialized welding or soldering tools. "What? The all-knowing Robert Gadling can't recognize these stones?"

"Not like I've had much time for those in my centuries kickin' about.”

"Fair enough," you replied, picking up a drilled, faceted milky crystal. "This is white jade. And here's some rare lepidolite," you continued, holding up a purple piece with silvery sheens. "Plus a variety of high-quality quartz, moonstone, agate, and malachite. Then—"

"Slow down, love, you've lost me there. But looks like quite the fancy selection you've got, I'll give you that."

You smiled, threading beads one by one onto a thin steel wire. "Thanks. My friend at work wanted something unique, crafted from scratch, rather than just reselling wholesale items like most small businesses do."

"Right, all that mass-produced rubbish you see everywhere these days."

You shrugged. "I wouldn't call it rubbish, actually. Most items are good quality. They just lack uniqueness—though that's partly why they become viral, since they follow trends."

He typed a few more lines into his document. "I don't know much about fashion if I'm being honest. But I've got to ask; are these sparkly little things actually selling? Just, you know, wondering if people are actually buying these lovely bits."

"I get it. I was skeptical at first too. Clothes are one thing, but would people really pay extra for unique accessories when they could just buy the trendy jewelry that all the influencers are wearing?"

You paused, concentrating on threading the wire through a tiny bead opening. "But we've been getting lots of requests for that through our emails and social media. It wouldn't make sense to stock common items when everything else we make is completely original."

"If these look half as good as what you've got on now, your customers are gonna be right chuffed with them."

Your eyes lit up. "Really? You like them?"

"Look, I may not know jack, but I'll tell you what, they're absolutely you. Not too fancy, not too simple either. They really make your whole outfit pop with those vibrant colors and sparkles catching the light."

Your jewelry collection had expanded significantly in recent weeks, featuring an array of sophisticated pieces, from professionally crafted metalwork with fine-quality stone settings to delicate beaded accessories that you had assembled yourself. Thanks to Ella and Oliver's strategic sourcing partnerships, you had access to premium materials, including exceptional quality crystals and precision-engineered metals.

The creative process of designing and crafting these creations provided a calming and restorative outlet, drawing inspiration from both the ethereal realm of the Dreaming and the artistic influence that Morpheus had imparted. The ensemble incorporated natural elements that evoked celestial imagery, featuring gemstones and beads in a sophisticated palette including deep oceanic blues and rich forest greens. The decorative charms included an eclectic array of motifs, resembling mythical creatures and symbols that echoed the enchanting essence of your dreams.

Following Morpheus' departure, you had removed the golden bangle he had given you, returning it to safekeeping within the memory box. The Moonflower contained inside, originally enchanted for eternal bloom, had begun to deteriorate and wilt—a reflection of your deepening melancholy and the current state of the Dreaming itself.

The Dreamstone persisted as an essential adornment, however, its presence around your neck seamlessly complementing the rest of your current stack.

"You may not know much about fashion, but you definitely have a good eye," you said, clearing your throat.

"You've got a real talent for this. So tell me straight up; how's the project actually going?"

"It's going so much better than I expected. The response has been amazing, and Corbyn&Jones' established reputation definitely helped. Just a few photos were enough to make our follower count skyrocket."

"Well, it's not really the photos, but more like the subject," he clarified with a wink.

"Oh, I wasn't the only one photographed wearing these. Ella knows several genuine influencers who received prototypes to showcase."

"As the brand's creative director and lead designer, you've become the face of Corbyn&Jones, Shortcake. Your dedication has made the show a tremendous success, and you've created a lasting impression that resonates with your audience far more than any typical influencer campaign."

With a composed gesture, you adjusted a wayward strand of hair, blushing quietly at the compliment.

"You're a proper dream weaver, my dear."

Dream…

Shaking your head, you let out a shaky breath. "There's only one being who can do that, Hob. I deal more with the material world."

Hob fell silent, immediately recognizing his unintentional insensitivity and the emotional anguish his words had caused.

"Ah, shit. I've gone and put my foot in it, haven't I?"

“No, don't worry. I know what you meant.”

With determination, Hob closed his laptop. “That's enough of that now. You’ve been hunched over those trinkets for hours. Can't have you breaking your back, can we?"

“I’m not that tired though.”

"Right then, I'm off to the shops to get us some good treats. How about we have ourselves a proper pajama party with some ridiculous films?"

You tittered. "Hob, that's basically what we do every day."

"Who cares? It's good fun. And you need to get your mind off all this dreary business. Come on now, pack those bits away, put the kettle on, and I'll be back before you know it."

You acquiesced with a gentle smile, acknowledging the futility of debating with his determined spirit.

Shortly thereafter, Hob headed out the door, leaving you alone with your troubled mind again. As another wave of sickness hit, your hand instinctively found its way to your abdomen, gently rubbing it in circles as if to address the tiny life inside you.

"Come on, little one," you said with a smile. "Won't you give your mum a moment's peace?"

For a moment, you envisioned your future as a mother, visualizing the delicate balance between raising a child and traversing the Dreaming realm. In your mind's eye, you pictured yourself cradling your precious infant while seated in your chambers within Morpheus's domain, the King of Dreams standing beside you. The daydream crystallized as you imagined him holding the baby, his face adorned with that subtle, enchanting smile you cherished so deeply.

The idyllic vision dissolved, replaced by the prospect of facing parenthood in solitude.

"Morpheus..." you sobbed, collapsing into yourself. "Morpheus! Please come back. Please!"

Though your heart felt shattered and your spirit weary, your love burned eternal. Despite the daily torrent of tears, your resolve stood unshaken, particularly given that Morpheus had unknowingly gifted you with a child of magic.

The pain was tremendous and all-consuming, threatening to tear you apart from within, devouring every atom of your being.

"Hob, are you serious?" you asked, examining the facial treatment masks he had selected from the store.

"They were on sale! And besides, aloe's good for your skin."

"Okay, but... of all the things I expected you to buy, these weren't on the list."

"I got you some proper snacks too! And don't worry your pretty little head, they're all healthy," he announced, unpacking his haul from the grocery bags. "Got these almonds here for protein, magnesium, and good calcium for the bones.”

You observed with appreciation as he placed the substantial package of almonds on the table.

“And some proper dark chocolate; keeps the doctor away. Or so they say these days."

"You know that saying is for apples, not chocolate, you goof!"

"Dark chocolate's got antioxidant that boost your immune system! I was around when they made these bars."

"All right, all right. Thank you for being so thoughtful."

His expression radiated genuine warmth and affection. "Anything for my pregnant bestie. Besides, if I don't keep a proper eye on what you're eating, he'll have my head for it."

"Well, he's not here anyway. So what's the plan tonight? Snacks, beauty masks, and movies? What should we watch?"

Noting your swift deflection of the topic, Hob tactfully redirected his attention to the evening's preparations. He made his way to the couch with two bowls in his hands, one filled with almonds and another containing cheese and bacon-flavored chips.

The aroma combination wasn't particularly appealing to your sensitive pregnancy nose, but you couldn't bring yourself to mention it.

"Since we both fancy the oldies, we can't go wrong with a proper classic like this one."

You gaped at the VHS he pulled from his bag. "’Who Framed Roger Rabbit’? Oh my goodness, I haven't watched that in ages!"

"Right, let's slap these masks on our faces and settle in for a proper rewatch!"

With practiced efficiency, you examined the package while Hob mirrored your actions, both of you reviewing the application guidelines.

"So, these fancy things need to stay on for just 30 minutes, yeah? Any longer and they'll dry up like a raisin."

"I don't think I could wear it for very long anyway," you remarked. "My skin would probably start to itch."

While applying the facial mask, which transformed his appearance into something both comical and terrifying, he proceeded to load the VHS tape into the player. "And we don't want to muck up that lovely face of yours, now do we? Come on then, let's get comfy."

Once your own mask settled into place, a cool, refreshing feeling spread across your cheeks, nose, and forehead. "Please don't tell me you're going to drool over Jessica Rabbit."

"Oh no. She's fit and all that, but not exactly what I'm after."

You laughed, bumping his shoulder with yours. "Good. She's such a stereotype I can't stand her. And besides, she married a rabbit! How bizarre is that?"

"It's just a cartoon. Well, half cartoon, half real world madness, but you know what I mean."

"Yes, and it's still weird. She's got quite the singing voice though. And the animation is absolutely top-notch."

He awkwardly maneuvered a chip into his mouth through the hole in the face mask. “What can I say. The old stuff is of a higher level.”

"I agree. There was a special kind of magic in the 80s and 90s that's hard to capture these days."

"Indeed. Out of all the centuries I've lived through, those decades were something special, weren't they? Proper good times, if you ask me."

You carefully managed to eat an almond without hitting the fabric of your mask. "Tell me, how accurate are medieval movies?"

"Well, most of it's absolute crap. I mean yeah, they get some stuff right, but the amount of nonsense they put in there really makes me laugh. They are proper creative with their 'historical facts'."

You chuckled. "They should hire you as their consultant. I'm sure movies and TV shows would be much more accurate. Not that I mind fantasy."

"Well, I'm immortal, aren't I? Makes me a bit of a fantastical creature myself."

You turned your head, staring at his face covered in the beauty mask, and couldn't contain your snort. "Yes, but right now you look more like a strange one with that thing plastered on your face."

With an amused expression, he retrieved his mobile device from his pocket. "We've got to capture this moment for posterity. Come here, budge up closer."

"Oh no, don't you dare take a picture of me."

"Come on! I swear on my eternal life I'll keep this picture safe and sound."

With a resigned sigh, you gave in as he placed a companionable arm around your shoulders. "Well, I suppose resistance is futile anyway."

"It ain't that bad now, right? Give me a proper smile!"

Against the backdrop of the movie's animated sound effects, you both smiled for the camera, creating a charming snapshot that perfectly captured your friendship despite the absurd appearance of your face masks.

"Ah, brilliant. We look proper ridiculous, don't we?"

"Absolutely ridiculous," you agreed with a laugh.

After putting his phone away, Hob kept his arm around you, gently squeezing your shoulder in a way that brought solace and warmth. You sank into the friendly embrace as you both enjoyed your snacks, sharing lighthearted commentary about the movie between removing your face masks.

As the film reached its climactic confrontation between the protagonists and villain, your consciousness began to fade as fatigue overtook you. The characters' voices grew distant, blending into an indistinct murmuring.

"Y/N?" Hob called you softly, uncertain whether you were still awake or already surrendered to sleep.

Drowsily content, you said, "Yes…?"

"I know it's not my place to ask, but... you're keeping the baby, yeah?"

Since discovering your pregnancy, you hadn't formally considered all your options. Even if Morpheus persisted with his decision to stay away, whether out of his own conviction or as a misguided attempt at protection, you would have been justified in questioning the difficulties of single motherhood.

And yet, in both your mind and heart, you felt absolutely no uncertainty.

Taking a deep breath to steady your emotions, you gave him your definitive answer. “Yes, Hob. I am.”

You couldn't pinpoint exactly when you had arrived at the library. Standing amidst the towering shelves, you found yourself examining the books before you with unfocused eyes, slowly regaining clarity. It seemed you had wandered through the maze-like corridors for quite a while, having lost track of both time and location.

As you continued your exploration, Lucienne's familiar voice resonated through the distant halls. Moving methodically through the corridors, you traced your fingertips along the shelves for orientation, when suddenly a faint, ghostly whisper echoed your name through the stacks.

"ʸ/ᴺ...”

Turning around, you surveyed the surroundings but detected no discernible presence. After a momentary pause, during which only the ambient sounds of the library persisted, you proceeded forward, allowing intuition to guide you through a winding aisle.

Then that mysterious voice spoke again through the silence.

"ʸ/ᴺ.”

It was both alluring and unsettling, a dissonant element that seemed to defy the natural order of the library and the castle itself. Its unsettling quality felt paradoxical, fundamentally foreign to the familiar ambiance of the Dreaming.

“…Y/N…?”

Startled, you pivoted abruptly as Lucienne appeared before you.

"Oh, there you are! I was certain I heard footsteps echoing through these halls."

"Lucienne, hello.”

"Are you all right? You look as if you've just encountered a ghost," she jested with a smile. 

Your eyes drifted away with disquiet. "No, I... I thought I heard..." You dismissed the concern with a slight gesture. "Nevermind."

"I have some new volumes that need cataloguing, would you care to keep me company while I work?" she asked warmly, her accent carrying a gentle composure.

“Of course.”

"Splendid. Follow me, if you please."

As Lucienne navigated the corridors with practiced ease, you placed a hand on your abdomen and continued the discussion. "By the way, I've looked through those 'appropriate channels' you mentioned, and... you were right."

"About that... I do apologize that you had to learn it from me in such a manner. And Matthew..." She adjusted her glasses with a slight frown. "Well, he really ought to learn when to hold his tongue."

You shook your head. "No, that was actually a good thing. You see, I thought this kind of situation wasn't even possible. I'd been feeling absolutely dreadful for so long that I was starting to worry I had some sort of disease."

“Oh?"

You fell quiet momentarily before responding. "It's part of my family history, something I'd rather leave in the past. But as positive as this might be… well. There are definitely some complications to deal with."

Lucienne decreased her pace before coming to a complete halt. "I haven't mentioned your condition to Lord Morpheus yet. But I strongly advise you tell him yourself, and soon. Trust me, it would be better coming from you than if he discovers it through other means."

"But Luce, how can I possibly tell him when he won't even answer my calls?"

"You've tried to call him? And he's ignored your summons…?"

"Did you think he would still speak to me after ending things?"

"No, but I did hope he would at least maintain some basic courtesy towards you."

"Seriously, I don't know what to do. I want to speak with him about this, but I'm afraid his stubbornness about that book is clouding everything else. He has completely shut me out—I can't find any way to reach him."

Lucienne's expression grew contemplative as she gestured for you to continue walking. "I must confess, I've thoroughly searched every corner of my library for that particular volume, yet I couldn’t find it. This rather strongly suggests that His Lordship still has it in his possession."

"And... is that a good sign?"

"I don’t know. He might still be poring over those prophecies, trying to make sense of them. But whenever I attempt to discuss it, he's rather tight-lipped about the whole thing. He barely even comes to the library anymore, which is quite telling in itself."

When you arrived at her main desk, you gracefully seated yourself in one of the available chairs. "In other words, we're right back where we started."

"I wish I had better news for you, truly I do," she replied with a gentle sigh.

"It's not your fault. You're doing the best you can, I know this isn't easy."

"I will persist in my search," she assured. "And mark my words, he cannot maintain this silence indefinitely."

"Luce, I know I'm asking a lot, but could you please keep the news about the baby to yourself just a while longer?"

"Of course. But you must understand, such things have a way of making themselves known, whether we wish them to or not. Particularly in this realm, with Lord Morpheus himself being so attuned to every aspect of his domain."

Your hand returned to your abdomen, as if to soothe the developing life contained inside. "I know. I'll keep trying to reach him for as long as I can. If he continues to avoid me, then... I'd prefer he learns it from someone he trusts, like yourself."

At your protective motion, Lucienne smiled warmly. "This new life will be a blessing to the Dreaming. I do hope we can sort all this out soon enough."

Clutching the fabric of your nightgown, you released a heavy exhale. “Me too Lucienne. It’s all I really wish for right now.”

The throne room was bathed in its usual muted hues, the cold stillness of the Dreaming's heart mirroring Morpheus' own desolation as a neverending storm raged outside. He stood by one of the tall windows, his figure silhouetted against the vast expanse of stars—now hidden behind a weeping sky. His hands were clasped tightly before him, the sole visible sign of the tempest that raged within.

A faint rustling broke the silence as Astra stepped cautiously into the room. The creature moved with a graceful hesitance, its shimmering fur catching the dim light.

"My Lord," he spoke softly, his voice clear yet tinged with concern. "May I interrupt?"

Morpheus did not turn, his voice low and sharp. "I wish to be alone."

The creature did not retreat. Instead, Astra stepped closer, his hooves making only the faintest patter against the floor. "Forgive my intrusion, but I cannot ignore what’s happening here.”

"Astra," Morpheus said, cold with warning. "I did not request your presence."

"I know, and I apologize for intruding, but... she needs you, sir. Are you going to abandon her in such a state?"

The faintest twitch of his jaw betrayed Morpheus’ struggle, though Astra couldn’t see it. "My decision stands. I will not waver from this path. Nor do I desire to discuss this matter further."

"But is this path truly the right one?" Astra pressed gently. "You have read the book, yes, but have you truly understood it? Where you see endings, there might be beginnings. What frightens you so deeply, My Lord? Why do you choose to give up?"

Morpheus' shoulders stiffened, his tone dropping into a dangerous growl. "You dare presume to understand my fears?"

"Well... I know you fear for her," Astra replied. "You believe you'll bring her ruin. Yet have you considered that your absence might do the same? That she may not survive without you?"

Morpheus finally turned, his eyes blazing with a fury seldom witnessed. His words fell like ice, cutting enough to pierce even the boldest of hearts. "You are but a dream, which I have created. It is not within your authority to pass judgment upon my actions. This is far beyond your role."

"Yet it is precisely because you created me—and your purpose in doing so—that I am able to see beyond the surface."

“Enough. You forget your place. Now go, before my patience wanes entirely."

Astra flinched and lowered his head, his starry dark eyes clouding with sadness. "If that is your wish, My Lord, I shall take my leave."

He turned gracefully on his hooves, moving with heavy, reluctant steps toward the doorway. At the threshold, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "You may dismiss me, but the truth will not be so easily silenced. You know where you belong, Lord Morpheus. I pray you remember before it's too late."

Morpheus stood like a stern statue, his eyes dark and piercing as splintered glass.

"Moreover, it is because you made me Y/N's familiar that I understand what is eluding you. If you would only speak with her once, you would see it as well."

Morpheus remained still, though his eyebrows drew together in evident confusion.

"But then again, I'm merely a dream. What could I possibly know?"

And with that, Astra disappeared, leaving Morpheus alone in the cold, vast emptiness of the throne room once more. The Endless turned back to the windows, the fading stars outside seeming even more distant, as though reflecting the weight of his torment.

As time progressed, the emotional impact of the situation became devastatingly difficult to bear. While Hob's companionship provided valuable emotional support and a welcome respite, the circumstances remained uniquely impossible to navigate independently.

Despite your efforts, Morpheus was still inaccessible, withdrawn behind an impenetrable barrier of silence. The child developing within you was as much his as it was yours, yet he remained completely unaware of its existence.

Gradually, you returned to work with reduced hours to resume your professional responsibilities and project oversight. Though you kept a composed exterior at the office, the strain on your face could hardly be concealed. Fortunately, Ella and your colleagues weren't informed of the underlying situation, simply attributing your lack of energy to your temporary health concerns.

Admitting that your relationship had fallen apart was not something you wanted to face head-on, especially since, deep down, you still clung to the hope that Morpheus would return to you one day. Hopefully sooner rather than later.

Your dreams had become hollow and devoid of their former vibrancy, as the Dreaming underwent continuous transformation. This ethereal domain, once so familiar and unique, had deteriorated into a mere vestige of its former splendor.

One night, you traversed through the dreamscape, following interweaving paths that ultimately led to the beachland, where the scene crystallized with stark clarity. The once-radiant sky had transformed into a lifeless expanse of pale grey, while below, the sea lay unnaturally still, its darkened surface reflecting the melancholy atmosphere like a vast pool of sorrow.

Approaching the shoreline, you walked across the darkened sand, its texture coarse and chilled beneath your feet. The weakened waves undulated before you, their diminished force reflecting the somber sky, as you gently placed your interlaced hands upon your abdomen.

"Please," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Morpheus... if you can hear me... I need to see you. I have something to tell you."

As expected, only silence answered your plea.

"Morpheus, I implore you."

The Dreamstone pendant offered no connection to its master. His absence suggested either deliberate avoidance or a complete withdrawal from the domain he once meticulously governed.

Resigned, you lowered your hands as tears welled in your eyes. Gazing at the dark sea, you removed your clothing, allowing the garment to cascade down until it pooled at your feet, leaving your bare skin completely exposed to the elements.

Carefully, you waded into the water, its piercing cold making your dream self shiver and hesitate. Yet you pressed on, moving deeper until the dark ocean reached your neck. It was overwhelmingly real, making you feel every ache as strongly as if you were awake. Both physical and emotional.

You waited, searching for any sign of the King of Dreams—for his dark silhouette to materialize on the shore, for his eyes to find yours, for his hand to reach out in invitation. But only emptiness greeted you, on the desolate shore and deep into your soul.

Hugging yourself, you exhaled shakily as a golden spark appeared beneath the water's surface, emanating from your chest. The light expanded, transforming the ocean into an enchanting spectrum of colors, from light to deep blue, through shades of green and violet. A luminous garment shaped against your skin, taking the form of a golden dress that shimmered like a constellation of stars.

As you emerged from the ocean, you appeared completely dry, as though you had never entered the water at all. A pair of equally sparkling shoes adorned your feet, golden sandals more beautiful and comfortable than any you had ever seen or imagined. Your previous garment lay scattered across the sand, now fading back to its brownish color, stirring gently in the wind.

"I see you've done it again."

At the sound of that familiar voice and approaching hoofbeats, you smiled and turned around. Astra stood there, as majestic as when your light had restored him, his ears twitching gently.

"Astra, it's good to see you well."

"Likewise, though circumstances are... not the best."

"I feel so helpless, Astra. He refuses to speak with me."

"I know... he won't speak to me either. I've tried, but he becomes distraught at the mere mention of your name."

You sighed, brushing your fingers against his smooth head. "He is so maddening. And I can't even find a way to tell him about the baby."

"I'm afraid any attempt to contact him would be futile. He has withdrawn from everything, even us Dreams. His heart aches, and though he struggles to keep the kingdom intact, it crumbles alongside him."

"What can I do?"

"Well... you helped me. Perhaps you can help someone else too."

“Who?”

"Come with me—it's better if I show you."

Wordlessly, Astra pivoted on his hooves and began leading the way forward into the unknown. Gathering the folds of your gown, you followed in his wake as you strode along the shoreline. The surrounding landscape started to transform anew, enveloping you both within a mystical tunnel adorned with nebulae and stars.

“Astra, where are you taking me?”

Your voice resonated softly, rippling through the tunnel's crystalline walls.

"We're almost there," he replied. "Hopefully we'll make it in time."

A light shone in the distance as the tunnel dissolved, revealing a desolate forest. Your sandals rustled against dried leaves, their crisp sound echoing through the air. From somewhere ahead came deep, rhythmic breathing, its force substantial enough to create subtle vibrations in the ground beneath.

“There! Hurry!”

Astra began to run, and you followed through, quickening your pace. Something big and scaly caught your eye; a giant creature that you had seen before, a dragon Morpheus had created at the start of your relationship, during your very first dream together.

Morpheus stood a few paces away, his hands clasped before him. His subtle smile conveyed evident pride in his creation.

"Now you're just showing off," you stated with a smirk. He merely responded with a soft chuckle.

Your throat tightened as you approached the dragon, its once-luminous scales now ashen and battle-worn.

"It's dying," Astra said, gently nuzzling the dragon's head with his muzzle. "Many Dreams and Nightmares are suffering just as this one does. As I did."

Kneeling before the majestic creature, you extended your hand toward its face. Its glazed eyes locked with yours, conveying an unspoken entreaty.

"I don't understand. Morpheus would never allow his world to fade like this."

"No, but I'm afraid he's at a loss right now. His feelings run deeper than anything he's ever experienced."

"But why?" you asked softly.

"Because of you, of course. He needs you as mortals need air to breathe."

"He left me of his own accord—to protect me, that much I know. But why must he face all this alone?"

Astra shook his head. "As you noted yourself; Lord Morpheus is obstinate beyond measure."

"Is there a way I can mend this?"

"I believe so. You restored me, and just now you mended your dreamland. Perhaps you could work that same light magic again?"

"Astra, I have no idea how to control this power. It seems to happen completely at random," you explained.

"Just try. This power, whatever it may be, simply comes from within you."

With careful deliberation, you pressed your forehead against the dragon's weathered scales, closing your eyes to focus your consciousness within the ethereal realm of the dream. As you attuned yourself to the dragon's labored breathing, the Dreamstone's warmth radiated outward from where it rested against your chest. The sensation cascaded through your body, flowing from your heart down to your abdomen, converging into luminous tendrils that flowed from your form. These glowing strands of light merged seamlessly with your attire, extending outward to encircle the dragon in an intricate, spiral pattern.

The creature's scales underwent a remarkable metamorphosis, shifting into brilliant tones of emerald and amber as its respiratory pattern stabilized, becoming more steady and controlled. Little by little, the dragon rose to its full stature, and as you lifted yourself to stand, its imposing height and magnificent proportions became even more apparent.

With a graceful smile, you acknowledged the creature's respectful bow and reciprocated the gesture. The dragon then unfurled its imposing wings and, with a single powerful thrust, ascended into the air. The force of its departure created a substantial downdraft before it vanished into the distant horizon.

"Well, I'd say you're mastering that gift of yours," Astra remarked, moving to stand beside you.

"It's not truly mine though, is it?"

"What makes you say that?"

"I'm carrying Morpheus' child. Clearly, these powers are coming from the baby."

Astra's brow furrowed thoughtfully. "In part, yes. But I believe there's more to it than that."

"What do you mean? I'm only human, Astra. Morpheus is the one who has full control over this realm, not me. And surely, his child is no different."

"You may not have direct control over the Dreaming, but I think you're more than you believe yourself to be. This golden light? It's undoubtedly coming from you."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I never had it before. This is no coincidence."

"Look, I may not have all the answers—and truly, only he would know for certain. But as a supernatural creature myself, Y/N, I can assure you that this magic isn't coming from our future Prince or Princess of the Dreaming. Not entirely at least."

You sighed heavily. "I'm completely lost right now."

"Don't worry yourself over it, my dear. You're already doing far more than anyone could expect in this realm. I can see how much you're hurting."

Your lower lip quivered. "I'm so tired, Astra. I miss him terribly. I want to see him, to talk to him, to tell him how much I love him… how desperately I need him in my life."

Astra nodded. "You will, I promise you. Somehow, this will all come to an end. For now, though... you must return to the Waking World."

"I'm not ready to leave yet."

"Don't worry. I'll always be here, and so will the Dreaming. I doubt he would let it collapse… sooner or later he'll get his head out of his rear, as you humans like to say."

You laughed, taking his face between your hands and gently kissing his muzzle. "Thank you, Astra. You’re so precious to me."

"And you are to me as well, Y/N. He created me for you—I'm your familiar. And as such, even when you can't see me, know that I'm always with you."

As you gave him a gentle nod, Astra moved closer and delicately pressed his snout against your abdomen, his eyes falling shut.

"See you soon, my Queen."

With those parting words, consciousness returned as you awakened from the realm of dreams, greeted by the warm, amber tint of daybreak filtering through the windows.

The uncertainty of waiting felt like an endless ordeal. Even with Astra's reassuring outlook, the passage of time only intensified your apprehension about the coming days. 

Your eyes were swollen from constant tears, and although your pregnancy symptoms had slightly subsided, the pain of nurturing this new life without Morpheus felt like an impossible burden to bear.

The Book of Paradoxes could not be found, and according to Lucienne, it seemed improbable that Morpheus was still referencing it. Despite your multiple attempts to summon him, he remained withdrawn, isolating himself in his grief and refusing to engage in any communication with his subjects.

Although he had promised to continue searching for a solution during your separation, the book's alleged disappearance suggested a concerning possibility: Morpheus had abandoned his quest to find a way back to you.

Meanwhile, your dreams persisted, and with each exploration, they grew increasingly enigmatic and complex, filled with cryptic messages and meanings you struggled to decipher.

Until, one afternoon, a seemingly ordinary nap turned into your most impactful dream yet.

Navigating through the library's shelves, you found yourself walking through an extensive maze of books and corridors. An inexplicable force seemed to guide your steps, while the familiar mysterious whisper once again called your name, drawing you deeper into the unknown.

"ʸ/ᴺ... ʸ/ᴺ...!”

"Who are you?" you asked, turning your head in every direction but unable to locate the source of the voice.

"͓̩C͕͓̝̠͔̞͑̈̉̋̒̔͒̐̏́l͙̬̞̥̥͍̦̩̱o̘͇̩̞̗͓̜̥̭ͯ̋ͭ͂̄̈ͪͧs̲̬̝͕̲̦͚̙̍ͭ̓ͦe͕̬͕̰̔͛͌̒ͨ̈́r̯̠̦̩ͨ̌̑..."

You pressed onward, your heart pounding wildly as the rows of books appeared to close in around you.

"͓̩C͕͓̝̥͍̦̩̱͑̈̉̋̒o̘͇̩̞͙̗͓̖ͯ̋ͭ͂ͬͩ̊m̩͈͕̲̦͚̙e͕̬̔͛͌... ̯͍̱c̟͕̥͍̦̩̱ͩo̘͇̩̞͙̗͓̖ͯ̋ͭ͂ͬͩ̊m̩͈͕̲̦͚̙e͕̬̔͛͌ ̯͍̱c̟͕̠͔̞ͩ̔͒̐̏́l͙̬̞̥̥͍̦̩̱o̘͇̩̞̗͓̜̥̭ͯ̋ͭ͂̄̈ͪͧs̲̬̝͕̲̦͚̙̍ͭ̓ͦe͕̬͕̰̔͛͌̒ͨ̈́r̯̠̦̩ͨ̌̑..."

Upon reaching a corner, you came face-to-face with a dead end, forcing you to retrace your steps and pursue an alternate route. The voice grew more persistent, its omnipresent nature evoking frustration rather than fear as it echoed throughout the space.

A somber, misty ambiance permeated the library. This section was unfamiliar—an unexplored wing that seemed to challenge rather than accommodate your presence. You ventured into the perpetual labyrinth of corridors, maneuvering through narrow passages and confronting various impediments. The journey appeared to stretch interminably, leaving you with the distinct sensation of being trapped in a constant loop.

You halted at the center of a circular chamber where multiple passageways converged. The air grew still, and an unsettling silence fell over you, unnaturally absolute in its totality. Footsteps echoed through the distant halls, rendering you motionless, your feet inexplicably rooted to the ground.

"̣̝́Y͇̲̦͚̙̚e͕̬̗͓̜̥̭̔͛͌̄̈ͪͧs̲̬̝͕̍ͭ̓ͦ, ̯͍̱c̟͕̠͔̞ͩ̔͒̐̏́l͙̬̞̥̥͍̦̩̱o̘͇̩̞̗͓̜̥̭ͯ̋ͭ͂̄̈ͪͧs̲̬̝͕̲̦͚̙̍ͭ̓ͦe͕̬͕̰̔͛͌̒ͨ̈́r̯̠̦̩ͨ̌̑... à̜̫͍̣͖̑̉ͧ̿ ̠͔̞̔͒̐̏́l͙̬̞̥̜̟͙͕̎̄̆i̠̜͗̈́ͯ̾͊ͅt͓̙͔̠̜͊̈́ͯ̾͊ͅt͓̙͔̠͔̞͊̔͒̐̏́l͙̬̞̥̲̦͚̙e͕̬̔͛͌ ̯͍̱c̟͕̠͔̞ͩ̔͒̐̏́l͙̬̞̥̥͍̦̩̱o̘͇̩̞̗͓̜̥̭ͯ̋ͭ͂̄̈ͪͧs̲̬̝͕̲̦͚̙̍ͭ̓ͦe͕̬͕̰̔͛͌̒ͨ̈́r̯̠̦̩ͨ̌̑... ̯͍̱c̟͕̠͔̞ͩ̔͒̐̏́l͙̬̞̥̥͍̦̩̱o̘͇̩̞̗͓̜̥̭ͯ̋ͭ͂̄̈ͪͧs̲̬̝͕̲̦͚̙̍ͭ̓ͦe͕̬͕̰̔͛͌̒ͨ̈́r̯̠̦̩ͨ̌̑!"

Your respiration accelerated, resonating prominently in the stillness that enveloped you. The whispers dissolved into an indecipherable chorus, their words interweaving in an almost ritualistic manner.

The footsteps grew more pronounced, their resonance becoming deafening until they halted mere paces behind you. Your hair lifted gracefully into the air, suspended as though floating in water. The atmosphere carried a nostalgic blend of fragrances: distinctive notes of sandalwood intermingled with winter forest and exotic incense, crowned by the unmistakable essence of sea salt.

That unique combination of scents could belong to only one being in all of existence.

As you turned, the breath froze in your lungs. Standing before you was Morpheus, his commanding presence unmistakable in his characteristic black attire. His dark, untamed hair moved in mystical synchronicity with your own, creating an otherworldly tableau that marked the end of your prolonged separation.

His eyes grew wide with astonishment as he beheld you, his breathing unsteady. Standing mere steps away, he filled the space between you with an almost tangible energy. Your throat constricted as you attempted to call out to him, your lips silently forming his name in the soundless void between you.

He was momentarily stunned, the redness rimming his eyes revealing the profound anguish he carried inside. But as soon as he registered your approach, his head turned away—eyes squeezing shut—as he withdrew into the shadows. 

His rejection pierced your soul, leaving an aching void where your heart once beat.

“No, wait…”

With newfound determination, you left the circular room in pursuit, running through the labyrinthine shelves only to discover emptiness among them. Once again, he had vanished, denying you the opportunity for dialogue. He was fleeing from you as if you were a plague, convinced that being with you would only bring pain and devastation into your life.

If only he had known that your lives were now inextricably linked through the child you had conceived together in the realm of dreams, a magical being whose very existence necessitated the presence of their father, with no possibility for compromise.

Consumed by your emotions, you screamed his name repeatedly, searching frantically through the neverending corridors, through every row and shelf in sight.

But then, overcome with exhaustion, you collapsed to your knees as tears cascaded down your face. With trembling voice, you attempted to vocalize the crucial revelation you had been attempting to share with him for days, as he had left you with no other way to do so.

"Morpheus! Please, listen to me! I'm preg—"

However, an unseen power stopped you from revealing it, as a gust of wind surged through the space, threatening to destabilize your balance. Regaining your footing, the library's surroundings began to dissolve into nothingness, leaving you in a vast area filled with misplaced items and twisted paths.

"ʸ/ᴺ…!”

The enigmatic voice beckoned once more, but you remained steadfast in your resolve to disregard its call. Their identity and nature was still an enigma, and you became increasingly weary of your chase with an unknown presence that seemed intent on leading you astray.

At this point, you had become undeniably frustrated with anything relatively mysterious that presented itself as another riddle to solve.

"ʸ/ᴺ!”

“Oh, shut the fu—”

“—ck up!!!”

"Y/N! What's all this about? Are you all right?"

Disoriented, you foud yourself reclining on the couch, a blanket draped across your legs. Surveying your surroundings, you recognized your living room, where Hob stood in the kitchen area, preparing dinner while casting concerned glances in your direction.

With trembling hands, you ran your fingers through your hair as your gaze fixed upon the empty mug on the coffee table. In a moment of blinding rage, you seized it forcefully and, without a word, hurled it across the room. The impact against the wall shattered the ceramic into fragments that littered the floor—a physical representation of your current state.

A guttural scream escaped your throat as you clasped your temples in distress. Immediately, Hob rushed to your side, embracing you protectively while murmuring reassurances.

"Oi love, easy there now! Steady on, you're okay. Everything's gonna be okay."

Your breathing came in ragged gasps as you struggled to calm down, while he offered comfort with gentle strokes along your arm.

"It’s not good for the little one, innit? Come on now, take it easy. Did you have a rough dream? Were you chatting with someone?"

Shaking your head, you sobbed. "He was there, Hob. I saw him. But he wouldn't even talk to me… he just turned away and left."

"Well ain't that just like 'im? Bloody hell, what a right fool!"

"I was so close to telling him about the baby, but... I couldn't. Something kept stopping me, speaking to me, and I just..."

"Shhhh now, love. Best not to dwell on it. Take some proper breaths."

"I swear, this is driving me mad."

Hob let out a heavy sigh, clenching his jaw. "If I had that bloody idiot in front of me right now, I'd give 'im a proper piece of my mind."

"No doubt you would. But I'm afraid it would be a waste of breath," you stated.

"Look, I've known him for centuries, right? And he once turned his back on me over some right daft nonsense, which I've been feeling guilty about for over a hundred years. But this? This is about you now, and it's absolutely mental!"

You managed a weak smile. "He has his reasons. Even with all this anger burning inside me, I still can't bring myself to hate him for it."

"Eh, you really do love him. That's what I call proper dedication."

"He's the father of my child, after all. One way or another, he'll need to be informed—assuming he doesn't already know."

He took a seat by your side, squeezing your knee affectionately. "I don't think he does, Shortcake. He might be a right bastard, but I don't reckon he'd abandon both of you like this."

Given the tragic outcome surrounding Orpheus and the deep remorse that followed, it seemed improbable that he would deliberately distance himself from his unborn child merely due to concerns about potentially similar consequences.

Nevertheless, the way he cast you away, prompted by a prophecy within the Book of Paradoxes, made predicting his potential response particularly arduous.

Still, the dilemma of committing to an indefinite wait for his return weighed heavily on your conscience.

Confusion and mortification paralyzed Morpheus' thoughts. Following his return of the Book of Paradoxes to the library, unusual phenomena began to form throughout the realm, particularly inside his castle. Subtle whispers and voices seemed to demand his attention, persistently echoing in his mind like a cruel joke meant to toy with his emotions. 

From what had reached his ears, Lucienne’s thorough investigation could not locate the volume anywhere in the library. Morpheus dismissed the matter as inconsequential, as he was resolute in his conviction that maintaining distance was essential. Your safety from the perpetual darkness that had defined his existence since inception took precedence over all other considerations, and when the voices finally subsided, he concluded the book must have simply transported itself to another location, seeking another soul to ensnare with its dire warnings.

This time, however, the voices returned with greater intensity than before, undermining his authority and throwing the library into chaos. Never did he expect to find you at the very heart of it. 

You, his beloved Y/N, the woman he adored with fierce devotion yet was compelled to push away. The one he had desperately tried to lock out of his heart, erecting walls to shield himself from your desperate pleas. Hearing your voice alone would weaken his defenses and make him question everything—something he dared not risk when your safety hung in the balance of a looming catastrophe.

Your unexpected materialization in the library at that pivotal moment left him paralyzed. You were a vision of grace and beauty that tested the limits of his self-control, and every fiber of his being urged him to lose himself in your embrace and savor the taste of your lips, forgetting all he knew. 

His sense of duty and conviction drove him to turn away, believing that severing your connection was the only gift he could offer to shield you from the consequences that his consuming need for your love might bring upon your future.

But now, doubt began to creep into his being. He questioned whether his interpretation of the book's prophecy had been correct, and whether his choice of cutting ties with you was as warranted as he believed it to be. Did he sacrifice your bond prematurely, based on a misunderstanding fed by his own fear of losing you?

Although every indication within the book pointed to an inevitable conclusion, his certainty in its finality had begun to waver.

Lost in his musings, Morpheus was suddenly alerted to a dramatic change within the Dreaming. A powerful burst of magic made its way through the kingdom's foundation, causing the castle to tremble violently.

His attention was drawn to the floor before the stairs, where a sigil of silver light engraved itself into the marble. Descending step by step, he examined the glowing symbol, recognizing it as a sight that required his respect. The emblem represented an ancient glyph of mercy and balance, a formal summon invoking ancestral protocols to request an audience with Dream of the Endless from another world.

It was an old rite, a petition of parley. And Morpheus knew exactly who was sending it forward.

Bound by cosmic law, he could not refuse this meeting. With silent acquiescence, he remained on the stairs as the Goddess' form emerged from the sigil. Her face struck him like a physical blow—so reminiscent of you, but distinctly different in its own way.

The glyph faded to a subtle outline on the floor. Paregoros was still at its center, fixing Morpheus with an inscrutable expression.

"I acknowledge your presence in my domain, Paregoros," he spoke, his voice guarded. "I bid you welcome to the Dreaming."

"Greetings, Oneiros," she replied with a graceful bow. "I am grateful for your audience."

"I could not deny it. What brings you to my realm?" he asked with a hint of wariness.

Paregoros smiled knowingly, casting her eyes downward. "I believe you understand precisely why I have come to speak with you."

"I must confess, I find such a formal visitation to my realm quite… unexpected."

"Indeed, I have not given you sufficient cause to trust me. That is my responsibility." Clasping her hands in front of her, she took a deep breath. "Look, I admit I held you in rather low regard, and I made it clear that I disapproved of your relationship with my daughter."

"Then you shall be pleased to know that we are no longer bound together," he stated with cold resignation.

With a heavy sigh, Paregoros shook her head with a mix of sadness and reproach. "If that were truly the case, I would not be standing here."

"Tell me then, what service might the King of Dreams provide to the Daimona of consolation?"

"I require no service from you, Oneiros. I come not for myself, but for Y/N."

"Then I'm afraid you have traveled here in vain.”

Paregoros' eyes softened as they filled with her distinctive compassion. "Oh, Oneiros. I see it now. You truly do love my daughter."

"I have made my position on this matter quite clear," he retorted. "But what relevance does it hold now?"

"You did... and I could not believe you at the time. Oneiros, I do realize that I was wrong. Please accept my sincerest apology."

Morpheus gave a stoic nod. “Your apology is accepted. If you have nothing further to discuss, I must return to my duties.”

Paregoros chuckled, whispering to herself, "My daughter truly has the patience of a saint."

Clearing her throat, she adjusted the folds of her dress, straightening her posture. "If you would permit me to speak freely, Lord Morpheus, perhaps I could explain."

"Very well. Proceed," he intoned solemnly.

"I am aware of your situation with Y/N. You chose to leave, claiming it was to protect her from some perceived danger—or perhaps to shield her from yourself.”

His hands tightened into fists, yet he remained silent, allowing her to continue.

"I may have contributed to the problem. I planted those doubts in your mind, speaking against you and using your history with Calliope to persuade her to move on. Though I believed she deserved better than what you could offer, everything she told me about you gave me much to reflect upon."

Morpheus moved down a few more steps. "I can assure you, your words had no bearing on my decision."

"In any case, I urge you to reconsider. I realize this may sound contradictory, but... against all expectations, you two may really be destined for each other."

"We are not," he stated with cold finality. "My past actions have brought only pain and destruction. I need not remind you of the consequences of my affections."

"You don't. But the being I see before me now is not the same one who existed then."

"That is irrelevant."

"No, Oneiros. It is very relevant.”

“How?”

“Y/N saw you in a way that no one else could, not even me or your former wife. Your heartbreak now runs so deep that I can feel its weight from here.”

She paused, pressing her lips together as tears welled in her eyes, moved by what she could empathize with.

“If you believe you deserve this self-imposed suffering, let me assure you: you have nothing left to prove."

"I did not abandon her to prove anything," he stated, his gravelly voice resonating with a hint of barely contained fury. "I left to ensure she has a future. One untainted by the tragedies foretold in the Book of Paradoxes. As her mother, surely you must understand the necessity of my actions."

Paregoros blinked several times in rapid succession, absorbing his words, as disbelief spread across her face. "Wait… the Book of Paradoxes? You ended things with my daughter because of that?"

"You must know the significance that such a tome bears, and the gravity of its pages."

She exhaled deeply, pressing her fingertips against her nose bridge as comprehension dawned.

"Oneiros, the Book of Paradoxes is never as straightforward as it seems. It is far more complex than a vessel of catastrophic prophecies."

"Do you truly believe I would make such a momentous decision without thoroughly examining every possible interpretation? That I would cast aside my bond with your daughter based on a mere cursory reading?"

"You are Dream of the Endless, I would not expect you to take anything lightly."

Morpheus released a heavy breath, closing his eyes for a moment before meeting the Goddess' gaze once more. "I refuse to allow this fate to become a tangible possibility. I will not subject her to that suffering, even if the cost to me is immeasurable."

"I understand. And believe me when I say that I'm truly grateful for your demonstrated care. But that doesn't change the fact that whatever the book presented may actually hold a very different explanation beneath those lines. Especially—"

She abruptly stopped speaking, pressing her lower lip between her teeth as the weight of her unspoken sentence hung in the air.

"Especially... what?" he inquired. "If you possess knowledge pertinent to this matter, I insist you share it."

Her eyes darted back and forth as she brought her hand to her lips, carefully choosing her next response.

"What I can say is that she needs you, Oneiros. More than she ever has before."

"You are concealing something from me.”

"My apologies, Dream King. It must come from another source, not from me."

"First my subjects, and now you,” he said with exasperation. “Why is it that everyone seems to know the answers that perpetually elude me?"

She laughed softly, her melodious voice echoing through the throne room. "The real question is how you haven't noticed. I mean no insult, of course. But given how thoroughly you've isolated yourself, it's hardly surprising."

Intrigued by her implications, Morpheus descended the remaining steps, closing the distance between them to only three paces.

"Enlighten me, then. What is it that I have failed to perceive?"

"You have changed, Oneiros… but so has Y/N. She is no longer the same mortal you met over nine months ago. Her existence has deepened and transformed, and so has yours."

"I must insist you dispense with these allusions and speak with clarity."

Unfazed by his demand, Paregoros shook her head. "If you’re looking for answers, then speak to my daughter. Stop burying your head in the sand like a stubborn ostrich. Pun absolutely intended."

In his solitude, Morpheus grappled with a torment that pierced the very core of his immortal essence. Without you, he felt himself dying piece by piece, molecule by molecule, his heart fragmenting into ever-smaller shards.

"I find it curious that you, who once sought so fervently to shield your daughter from my influence, now advocate for our reunion."

"As I mentioned, circumstances have changed significantly. Oneiros, the Book of Paradoxes never appears by chance. It seeks out specific beings when they are meant to see it, at predetermined moments in time," she explained with gentle patience. "You might think it revealed itself to prevent a disaster on her, but from what I know, this is not an ending at all; if anything, it’s the beginning of something beautiful. If you would only open your eyes to see the truth."

Paregoros, Astra, Lucienne, and Matthew…

What vital message had they all been trying to convey? Something lurked beneath their words, a revelation that had escaped his understanding when it had been right before his eyes all along.

He had fought against his better instincts to preserve your light, to give you a chance at a prosperous future—even if it meant he wouldn't be a part of it. Now the fabric of the Dreaming continued to fall apart, and each attempt to mend one breach seemed to result in new fractures emerging elsewhere, beyond his immediate attention.

An unseen power stirred within his castle walls, drawing him toward you. If even the faintest possibility existed that he could stay with you without becoming the architect of your downfall, he would give up everything he was.

"Dare I contemplate the possibility of redemption? Of making choices that will not lead to the same regrets of the past?" He mused aloud, speaking more to himself than to the Goddess.

“For what it's worth, I believe your redemption lies in my daughter. Promise me, Oneiros. Promise me you won't leave things as they stand."

Finally yielding to a new glimmer of hope, Morpheus acquiesced. "I give you my word."

With evident relief, Paregoros offered a radiant smile and inclined her head in appreciation. She executed another bow, this one carrying deeper sincerity, before activating the sigil beneath her feet.

"This is all I came here for," she affirmed. "I owe you thanks, Oneiros. The life of my daughter, all that she is and will represent for our worlds, is in your hands."

The floor illuminated once more with silvery light, and as Paregoros dissolved into a shower of luminescent particles, Morpheus found himself invigorated with renewed determination.

Perhaps a path existed for reconciliation, one that would allow him to mend the emotional wounds he had inflicted to your heart, and upon himself.

While you both returned to your respective work, Hob graciously extended his stay. You welcomed his continued presence in your home, knowing that solitude would only worsen your contemplative state.

As night approached, a peaceful calm enveloped the apartment, punctuated only by Hob's gentle snoring from the living room and the soft cadence of your measured breathing. The apartment was dark except for city glow filtering through the windows, with occasional car headlights briefly illuminating the rooms. You reclined in a supine position, with one arm tucked beneath your pillow while the other rested gently at your side.

Deep in slumber, you didn’t notice the shift in the air as Morpheus took shape beside your bed. His gaze fell upon you with reverence, though guilt pierced his heart at the sight of a tear-stained tissue on your nightstand. 

He examined your sleeping form carefully, the delicate bedsheets draped to your waist, searching for any indication that might explain the allusive statements he had received. Everything appeared unchanged, your essence as captivating as when he last beheld you. 

Tentatively, driven by his irrepressible need to touch you, he extended his long fingers to your face, softly brushing a few strands away. Though you deserved far more than he could offer, you seemed unwilling to seek happiness elsewhere, and he loathed himself for wishing every mortal man would burn to ash should they dare come too close to you.

His chest constricted with emotion as you shifted slightly in your sleep, his hand staying in place. With calculated gentleness, he traced his fingers through your hair, observing how the strands flowed like silk between them.

That brief touch eased the pain of his yearning, temporarily mending the void within his soul.

But then, something unexpected occurred that made even the King of Dreams recoil in shock.

Suddenly, your skin began to emanate a celestial golden radiance, forming as luminous filaments that extended outward and immediately surrounded his form. He watched the spectacle with wonderment, sensing its gentle warmth against his cool exterior. As he rotated his hand, the responsive light followed his movements with fluid grace, embracing his form like a second skin. 

You lay still in deep sleep as he advanced to examine it. The ethereal illumination emanated from your chest cavity, creating a brilliant corona that radiated outward, its tendrils of light weaving an intricate display throughout the room. 

However, upon closer inspection, he noticed something else. The energy seemed to radiate not only from your heart but also distinctly from your abdominal region, creating two separate points of origin.

His brows knitted in concentration as he extended his senses, perceiving a subtle yet distinct sound. The faint rhythm, though barely perceptible, was unmistakably present.

As he detected a second heartbeat resonating from within your form, the realization finally struck him like a lightning bolt crashing into the earth, bringing clarity to all that had remained obscured for weeks.

"You have read the book, yes, but have you truly understood it? Where you see endings, there might be beginnings.”

"You believe you'll bring her ruin. Yet have you considered that your absence might do the same? That she may not survive without you?"

"It is because you made me Y/N's familiar that I understand what is eluding you. If you would only speak with her once, you would see it as well. But then again, I'm merely a dream. What could I possibly know?"

“Oneiros, the Book of Paradoxes never appears by chance. It seeks out specific beings when they are meant to see it, at predetermined moments in time. You might think it revealed itself to prevent a disaster on her, but from what I know, this is not an ending at all; if anything, it’s the beginning of something beautiful. If you would only open your eyes to see the truth."

“A Child of the Endless…” he whispered, eyes wide, slowly sinking to his knees. “My child."

The real question is how you haven't noticed.”

Indeed. How had he not noticed it? The signs had been there all along—when he summoned you in dreams to end your relationship, during your time in the Dreaming, and most definitely when he found you in the library.

Those whispers were not deceptive or arbitrary in nature. Rather, they served as beacons, guiding him toward what he had to see: the presence of new life inside you. He would have recognized it had he not isolated himself, distancing his mind from the truth that stood bare before him.

His beautiful, precious Y/N, the one true love of his eternal life, now carried his child.

His child.

You had come into his world like a glowing star. Now you were a bridge between your realms, bearing a child of hope, and it was so much more than he could ever claim.

He finally saw deep into your soul, your memories, and your heart. So untainted and pure, with no darkness lurking inside. No lies, and no deceit. He witnessed only light, brilliant and beautiful, filling every corner of your spirit and radiating in his direction. A luminous gleam surrounded your figure, as serene as a star in the night sky.

That day within the basement, he witnessed the same golden luminescence that now shaped physically before him. He had interpreted it as merely metaphorical—a representation of your soul's essence, something figurative. However, this radiance was a tangible force, an innate ability that had been dormant in you since birth.

He had unknowingly left you to navigate these circumstances alone, both the manifestation of an unprecedented ability and the responsibility of his child. If the Book of Paradoxes had intended to guide him toward this revelation, perhaps its contents required a deeper examination.

Assuming he could find the tome once more.

With a delicate touch, he traced his fingers across the fabric covering your abdomen, his vision blurring with emotion, right as the light gradually subsided. Before departing to the Dreaming in a swirl of sand, he made a solemn vow to both you and himself: he would resolve everything without wavering, regardless of any prophecy, for you and for this miraculous new life. 

Morpheus would do whatever was necessary to become the lover and father you both deserved.

You jolted awake, whispering Morpheus' name with a sense of his lingering presence, scanning the room methodically. As disappointment settled in, your bleary eyes caught glimpse of what appeared to be minute grains of sand suspended in the air. 

Though you wished to attribute them to something more significant, the fading golden filaments in your hands suggested they were merely remnants of your power, or perhaps just atmospheric dust floating in the room, creating an illusion of what you longed to see.

Disheartened, you collapsed back into the mattress, another devastating crack forming in your already wounded heart.

"So, looks like we're still in the same boat as before, huh? Just, y'know, stating the obvious here."

Lucienne removed her glasses to rub her eyes, addressing Matthew with an exhausted sigh. "I am well aware we're not making progress."

"I know you're bustin' your chops here, but come on... if that book was anywhere in this place, you'd have found it already, right?"

"That was my assessment as well. But, as it remains our sole avenue of investigation, and given Lord Morpheus' current... disposition..."

"Yeah, we're fresh outta leads here. I get it."

"I'm afraid that's quite correct."

"Well, I'll keep an eye out. You know, do my thing, flying around, being all observant and stuff. Just give me a shout if you need me!"

“Sure.”

As Matthew flew off, Lucienne resumed her methodical search, reviewing her records and setting aside volumes unrelated to her primary focus. While the storms had quieted down, Mervyn was perpetually on edge due to the constant floods inundating the gardens, making his management duties both tedious and futile.

She walked through the aisles, scanning for any shelf she might have overlooked, confirming that all volumes were accounted for in her register. Just as frustration began to set in during her repetitive search, Morpheus' voice suddenly thundered throughout the library.

“Lucienne.”

Surprised, the librarian emerged from between the shelves to find her lord standing at the main table, an increasingly uncommon occurrence as of late.

"My Lord?" she inquired, approaching him with her hands clasped before her.

His face was inscrutable, yet a new glint shimmered in his eyes.

"I trust you have something of great importance to discuss with me," he stated "Something that requires my immediate attention."

His piercing gaze left no room for misunderstanding—there was only one matter he could be referring to.

"You've discovered that she's with child, haven't you?"

"I have. Though I’m curious as to why my most trusted librarian decided to withhold this information from me."

"In truth, I was going to tell you, sir. But she specifically requested my discretion in this matter."

"Why would she choose to conceal this from me?" he asked, hurt and confused.

"She was afraid at first... she needed time to process everything herself. And the moment she desperately attempted to inform you, you… weren't exactly making yourself available."

Morpheus looked down, realizing the extent of his actions.

While she was reluctant to press the point, Lucienne felt compelled to voice her sentiments. "With all due respect, my lord, you've been absent for all of us."

"I have failed you all,” he admitted. “An apology is the very least I owe."

Lucienne offered a gentle smile, resting her weight against the table.

"After the Vortex incident, I thought I had learned from my mistakes. I told you I would listen, and yet... I proceeded to do precisely the opposite."

"My lord, I understand these decisions were not made lightly—"

"No, there can be no excuse for what I’ve done. You all attempted to warn me; you, Matthew, Astra... Y/N. I let the shadows of my past cloud my judgment. In my arrogance, I pushed away those who wished to help, foolishly believing I could face this darkness alone. And The Dreaming paid the price for my negligence. As you did."

"What do you intend to do about this situation now?"

His fingers traced absently along a tome's leather cover, following the embossed letters without purpose.

"I require the Book, Lucienne. And you alone possess the means to aid me in its recovery."

"I was under the impression you were in possession of it still, my lord?"

"I returned it several days ago," he spoke with gravity. "But now... I must read it once more."

Lucienne shook her head slowly. "Sir, I've actually searched the entire library multiple times. And if you have returned it, then I might deduce the Book of Paradoxes simply isn't here anymore. Not that I was able to locate it during its first appearance, either."

His lips curled into a knowing smile. "I am quite certain it is here," he stated with quiet conviction. "Hidden within these very walls."

"And how exactly do you know that, my lord?"

"Because I sense its presence... and I hear its whispers," he replied.

"A whispering book? Great. That's quite beyond even my extensive library experience."

"The book is a Paradox in itself. Its very nature shifts and changes, and it never remains in one fixed location. It uses the fabric of the Dreaming to conceal its true form."

Lucienne arched an eyebrow, her voice dripping with its characteristic dry wit. "How are we meant to find it? Perhaps we should simply wait for it to grace us with another cryptic conversation?"

"I... do not know.”

"My lord, if even you cannot locate this book within your own domain, perhaps we're dealing with something far beyond our comprehension."

“I need your help, Lucienne. Please. I owe it to her, to all of you. And... to my child yet unborn."

Upon hearing those heartfelt words brimming with love, Lucienne couldn't bring herself to refuse her lord's request. Given all they had endured due to the book's influence, and the weeks of hardship both he and you had faced, she was determined not to let this obstacle stand in the way of your collective quest.

With that, she adjusted her spectacles, rolled up her sleeves, and cleared space on the cluttered table. “Very well. Where should I begin?”

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 25 (coming soon) ->

[cha-melodius]

hi! ⭐️ for love is a losing game pretty please?

HELLO I didn't mean to leave this for an entire day lol, but I've barely had a moment to breathe today and I wanted to be able to sit and think about this one.

Ok, Love is a Losing Game! So as I mention in the fic notes, I decided to write this fic after @eavos posted something in the tmfu discord server about The Queen's Gambit and how it'd make a good setting for a napollya AU. At first I didn't really think that much of it, but then I WATCHED The Queen's Gambit and the idea took hold of me like woah. Before this fic I'd written one long-form AU, and I certainly didn't expect this to become my longest ever fic, nor how MUCH I'd end up putting into it.

I've never done more research for a fic than I did for this fic. I planned it out using actual chess tournaments in the 1960s (whereupon I quickly learned just how fictional The Queen's Gambit was lol), getting into the nitty gritty of how many players and from what countries actually played them. Most of the chess games in the fic are real—I read an absurd number of tournament recaps in old archived issues of Chess Life magazine. I also got some information about grandmasters' lives and careers from various articles in there, as well as other stories online.

Illya's career wasn't really patterned off of any one player, but Napoleon's is roughly based on that of Bobby Fischer (this is one of the big reasons why, every time I think about 'filing off the serial numbers' of this fic, I reject the idea—I fear it would be written off as 'what if Bobby Fischer was gay', even when there's nothing of Fischer's personality in this). And don't get me started on the research/planning I did for the World Chess Championship at the end; I had spreadsheets to figure out the points and how to make it work out like I wanted it to.

Since this was the early days of me planning fics, I didn't have a great sense of chapters, nor did I have a very detailed outline. I'll post it here, in fact (behind a cut for spoilers, just in case).

Before I drop the rest, if anyone who's not a TMFU fan ends up reading this far, here's my tiny plea: If you love my fics, give this one a chance. You don't need to know anything about the fandom, I promise; consider it an original novel lol. But I still think this is among my best works, and it deserves to be read more than it is.

Ok, the outline. This was it—the championship, the date, very brief note about what was happening, and who won the tournament (tournaments in parentheses happened offscreen). I do not now recall what the asterisks mean lmao.

(US National Championship & Zonal, New York 1965 – Napoleon)

Hastings International Chess Congress 1966 (Jan) – Meet for the first time (Illya, Ch)*

Mar del Plata, Argentina 1966 (March) – Begin off-book games (draw, Co)

(World Chess Championship, Moscow 1966 – Illya)

Piatigorsky Cup, Santa Monica 1966 (July) – Affair begins (1–1, Illya Ch)*

Chess Olympiad, Havana 1966 (Oct) – Discovery (Soviets)

Palma de Mallorca, Spain 1966 (Nov) – Napoleon absent (Illya loses)

US Championship, New York 1966 (Dec) – Illya shows up looking for Napoleon*

Monte Carlo Tournament, Monaco 1967 (March) – Napoleon returns (Napoleon, Co)

Canadian Centennial Grand Masters Chess Tournament, Winnipeg 1967 (Oct) – Illya misses (Napoleon)*

Sousse Interzonal, Tunisia 1967 (Nov) – Napoleon wins

(Hoogovens 1968; Monte Carlo 1968; Chess Olympiad, Lugano 1968; Palma 1968)

World Chess Championship, Reykjavík 1969 (June) – Illya v. Napoleon (Napoleon)*

San Juan International Tournament, Puerto Rico 1969 (Oct) – Defection

Some of the early ones really ballooned, like Mar del Plata and the Piatigorsky Cup, because I really needed to give their relationship space to develop. And I'm so glad I did, I love all those moments and conversations they have. Sometimes I feel like I'm rushing through fics more these days, and this one was one I just allowed to grow, which is part of what makes it so delightful.

Anyway if you ever have questions about this fic please feel free to ask, I will never not want to talk about it. I love it so so much. Thank you for asking!!

[evendale]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

I was tagged in this by the lovely @once-in-a-blue-moon-rising. Thank you! 😊 It's nice to revisit my fics, it's been a while.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

23

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

1,014,041 words. Yikes 😂

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Most of my works are in the La Casa de Papél fandom. Before that, I was in the Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries fandom. I also have a handful of ficlets in the fandom for the Stormlight Archive books by Brandon Sanderson.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

My top 5 fics by kudos are all in the LCDP fandom, and they're all +100k words.

Number one is 'The White Queen', a Regency romance AU. It's got almost double the amount of kudos than the second-highest fic.

'Personal Relationships', a canon-compliant AU.

'Back to Galicia', a movie star second chance AU.

'Safe House', a witness protection program AU.

'Tell Me What You Like', a collection of canon 'fill the gap' smutty scenes.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I used to 😅 I used to love spending a lot of time writing elaborate and personal responses to comments, and I in fact met several of my best fandom friends through comment conversations! However, over time I just simply didn't have the energy for it anymore. There are still a bunch of super lovely comments on the last chapter of my last fic that I really should have responded to, but I simply don't have the mental space. I do feel bad about that 🙈

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't write angsty endings. I love angst in the main fic, but I'm committed to HEAs :)

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably 'The White Queen', where I spent about 50k words describing just how happy they were 😂

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I've had a few nasty comments, but they're absolutely nothing compared to the vast sea of incredibly kind, lovely, and supportive comments I've gotten. I've been very lucky.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

My earlier work is almost entirely smut 😂 It's funny to see my later fics evolving into containing more and more plot, and less and less smut. I wonder how my readers felt about that 😂 The smut is explicit, but I've always tried to keep it tasteful.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I haven't written any crossovers yet. I'm usually obsessed with only one piece of media at a time :)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes -- I discovered a few years ago that one of my LCDP fics had been stolen and put on Amazon for money! It took ages to explain things to Amazon (because I didn't own the characters) and to get it taken down. It was a very icky feeling.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, I've had several requests from people who wanted to translate my fics into Russian :)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, and I don't think I could. I love to brainstorm about plot with a friend or beta reader, but I couldn't actually share the writing process. I'm too much of a control freak 😅

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

If we're only looking at the first 2 seasons of LCDP, then Serquel. However, the subsequent seasons partially ruined them for me, so maybe I'd better choose Phryne and Jack from Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

My only unfinished fic on AO3 is 'Tell Me What You Love' in the LCDP fandom, but that's more a series of vignettes that I kept open in case I wanted to add more. It wasn't really meant to have an ending. That said, I don't think I'll ever add to it anymore.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, I think. I also think in general I'm a clear writer who gets to the point without too many flourishes or detours.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

For a long time, I felt like I couldn't come up with any kind of original plot, but I think I got better at that over time. I'm still pretty bad at descriptions, though. I just want to get to the action and dialogue, and I forget that my readers are not in my head and can't see the characters or surroundings like I do :D

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I wouldn't include more than a few words of phrases sprinkled through the dialogue.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries. I was all of 26 when I first discovered fanfiction!

20. Favourite fic you've written?

That's such a tough choice 😅😅 If I absolutely have to choose, then I think 'The White Queen'. I was really just writing the exact fic that I wanted to read myself with that one. I had so much fun with it, I was so inspired that the chapters literally flowed out without any effort, and I got the most amazing response to it from the fandom. It will always be extra special to me 😊

I'm not tagging anyone in particular, but if you see this and want to do it, consider yourself tagged! :)

[tandytoaster]

Big long post about character developments and me having issues comprehending that things change and thats normal

I've talked about this a little before but sometimes I feel like I flanderize Alph, which I don't want to do- but also when I draw him in situations where he's doing things that seem out of character, he's also Not in the environment in which I created him. Like existing outside of space pirate stuff, like when i put him in my everything all together thing. He's doing a lot better there ( stakes are less high kinda and people are too afraid to bully him here mostly ) than he is in his original canon. Like he's still a jerk but he looks and dresses a little different- like he's Comfortable for the most part. Not always in a state of fear and stress.

I think my favourite art I've ever done of Alph is actually one of the very first ones which is This one

And like he looks the same but he looks different too. And thats just the natural progression of things and how one grows to draw their character, I was still trying shit out here

Idk if its just me but he looks SO tall here, and I like that. But its also unfamiliar because he's usually shorter than everyone around him. I supposed he'd look smaller if i had someone next to him. Sometimes i look at recent art I've done of him and I'm like "you look like off model steven universe who did this to you" HDKWJCKWHSMQHX

I don't even know what I'm trying to say here honestly. Actually I do. It's a perception thing. In the middle of this post i had a convo with becca about being perceived in ways that i don't like / don't want to be. And unrelated to that conversation, but related to this post, i want to display the proper depiction of Alph while still having fun with him. I want people to percieve him "correctly" ( impossible task once a character is set free into the world ) and i want people to perceive me playing with my character in a way that respects who he is. Like i dont want people to think idk what im doing. But im also just one person I'm not a writing team for a show fucking their characters over by doing out of character things. Also Alph is barely 2 real world years old. I rework things all the time. LIKE WHO GIVES A FUCCCKKKKK as if someone is fact checking his toyhouse page like a fan checking the fandom wiki right before telling someone to go back to the source material. Who is Alph's number one fan. Its me. I'm the one fact checking

AND LIKE OK maybe another aspect is i feel bad abandoning ideas but thats TOTALLY NORMAL!!!!!! Dude this post is everywhere im so sorry

[irregularcollapse]

before you say cut is my absolute comfort fic i've read it too many times to count

very happy to hear there's gonna be sandra in the sequel bc you write the mota women so so well <3

oh my goodness <3 thanks so much, anon! i really appreciate people coming out of the woodwork to say nice things about this fic! i'm still really pleased with how it turned out, and i feel like it hits the things i was trying to do with it (which is nicely confirmed when people like you say things like this weeeeeeeeee)

WOMEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!! thank you for loving my love of women <3 i just truly think that even if i'm writing primarily about men, there's no reason not to pay some respect to the canon women. i'm really excited to write more Sandra (Westie!!!!!!!) because i really enjoyed doing her in the little tennis b-side that i did. some actor Sandra lore is that she has a weird little will they/won't they UST game with Marge, however given that Marge is an agent (not Sandra's agent, but an agent nonetheless) it would very much be a professional conflict of interest for them to do anything about it. not particularly ethical!!

and this is also the reason why Marge and Gale have never gotten together in this universe, because while their relationship is primarily professional, Gale is still very attracted to her and also she's one of his favourite people. it is a thing he struggles with a little, regarding his own sense of self-worth: as he says in this b-side, it's a bit sad that his best friend is his agent.

anywayyyyy yay women! i also have a bit of Helen in an unfinished one shot that i'd really like to return to at some point but can make no promises about:

Kissing girls with lipstick on has always felt a bit extra dirty to Bucky, like he was taking something painted and perfect and poised, and leaving his mark. He liked the smooth slide of a lipstick mouth against his own; he liked the way it’d smear, over his lips and the girl’s, leaving her all messy and making her look wanted; he liked, when she was nice enough to get on her knees for him, the smudges he’d find on his cock when he washed up after.

“That’s your color,” Helen had said to him while the other girls were righting themselves and tidying up their little impromptu party, wiping the bar and figuring out where to toss the now-empty bottle.

“What’s that?” But Bucky had already known, and was wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand; something else gotten from the bottle, not just the liquor.

“The first one we’ll call a freebie,” she’d rolled on like he hadn’t said anything, conversational and conspiratorial, and Bucky would wager she had a few brothers. “But if you want an assortment, enough to share around, it’ll cost you.”

“Yeah? What’s the going rate on blank love notes these days?”

“One of your field Lucky Strike four-packs, and the same number of your pros.”

Bucky had whistled, eyebrow raising and grin straining against his attempts at being aloof. “Quite the hefty price tag. Now what would a nice young lady like you be wantin’ with that many helmets?”

“Loose lips sink ships, Major. If you’ve got them, leave them on the rear right wheel of the kiosk.”

also Tatty!! i have some background/past Tatty/Bucky sitting in yet another unfinished one shot lmfaoooo i just think! they would have had a fun little time together!

you didn't ask for any of this :)) i guess i'm feeling chatty and: WOMEN.

also the first time i tried to reply to this ask i got this error:

which feels a bit on the nose considering the erasure of women in fandom spaces lmfaoooooo

[freckliedan]

@gallifrant it's these! i think we had them ages ago and tumblr got rid of them but they've been back for a bit now.

and apologies in advance for how long this is about to get. but i love thinking from an... anthropological? sociological? perspective on the phadom. so.

when i talk post analytics like... this is the point where it's relevant to mention that i treated this blog as a very intentional project/experiment in whether i could create a blog with a successful following, originally?

not bc i wanted renown, necessarily, but because i saw how much fun bigger blogs were having and wanted in. i had a multifandom main blog before this one which was deeply average, and had never really been a Poster (tm) in any fandom in a way i could become known. i reblogged things. i talked in the tags and to my friends. i wanted it to be different on this, my new main acct for phannie bullshit.

so i was intentional when i first made this blog in 2018 about paying attention to what worked and what didn't? @freckliephil and i sent each other a lot of asks at first, despite having each other's phone numbers and messaging on multiple other apps, so people would see that a) we liked getting asks and would answer them and b) that other people thought we were worth sending asks to. i also sent a lot of conversational asks to people i wanted to befriend, and fatigue limits me on that now but like. it worked. people have Always talked to me a lot on this account. because i presented myself that way from the start.

something else i was attentive to from the beginning is which blogs gave my posts a huge boost in notes when they reblogged from me? like, that wasn't any kind of criteria for me making mutuals with someone. i was following and being followed by massive names in the fandom alongside absolute nobodies from before the point i hit 20 followers because i'm very good at fake it til i make it. this post isn't meant to be a brag btw it's like. analysis of how this all works. i'm trying to say that i won't just follow people bc they're a big blog.

follower count has nothing to do with whether i actually connect with someone; the best friendships i've made on here have absolutely had nothing to do with that and everything to do with who people are as individuals.

but it was helpful to like... identify which of my mutuals were colleagues. coworkers at the funny about dan and phil factory. it was a way of being informed?

i also, at that point in time, had figured out at which ratio of reblogs to likes bigger posts stopped having traction. iirc it's something like, 1 rb to every 4 likes is around when posts stop getting reblogs? between 25% and 30% of notes being rbs. i don't know if those numbers hold up today though but it was consistant seven years ago.

there's just like, soo many factors i was paying attention to. i made sure i had a desktop theme and a solid mobile theme; i talked in tags and used categorical tags; i do my bbest to compliment specific things about art when i have the energy; i tracked where discourse started and who fanned the flames and who didn't; i made sure then and make sure now to learn people's names and pronouns so it's easier to connect in the tags. it makes a difference! i put a lot of effort into connecting with community here and running my blog as a positive & 'professional' space.

discussing all of this feels likes it comes across as cynical and analytical but like. i'm never dishonest on here. i'm always earnest and can't pull off lying about who i am or what i like. there's just sometimes a lot going on in the background of why i make the choices i make on my blog. pretty much every single thing i do is very, very on purpose. but it comes from the heart, even if it goes through my brain.

oh note maps. yeah. WAY easier than just figuring it out independently.

i love that note maps are functional at this point bc that's the closest we'll ever get to helpfup analytics for tumblr

[antisociallilbrat]

Reddie Vs Byler

Okay I am once again here with a take that may not be that popular but I think it's worth a conversation. If you have a different opinion please feel free to comment on this post or inbox me.

So I've said this before but I'll say it again: I have been in the It fandom since the beginning of it, Sept 2017, and I crossed into the St fandom later that year but didn't start actively posting about it until about a year ago.

Point is I've seen some shit.

I've compared these two fandoms before and their behaviors but I want to specifically talk about Reddie and Byler, two ships that are the biggest in their respective fandoms. (I know Byler's spot for the number one ship may be rivaled by ships like St Steddie but they're still up there in popularity.)

Reddie in the It fandom has been big since the beginning, and only grew bigger (maybe 'exploded' is a better term) after the 2019 movie. You can see why it's popular, it features two of the most loved characters in the fandom, the dynamics are fun, and it inspires great fanart/fics. Look, I've never been the biggest Reddie shipper but I can recognize this as fact.

Let's talk about the shippers real quick. There are a lot of Reddie shippers that are great but the ship is not without people that cause discourse- especially in the early days of the It fandom. I think any big ship has these people, it comes with the territory of being a 'big' ship.

Back in the early days of the It fandom, when the fandom was more alive, there were Reddie shippers who didn't like Kaspbrough or Stozier and would make that known. Those ships are the two that would rival Reddie the most so it makes sense those ships weren't liked by some of them. Also Kaspbrough which features Bill and again, some, Reddie shippers did not like Bill but that's another conversation.

But here's the thing: even if Reddie had a few of those...problematic shippers, the overall ship space of it was relatively safe. There has never been shipping discourse in the It fandom like how it is in the St fandom. Here's a post I made on why that probably is a while back, but to some it up; it's just widely accepted that all the Losers love each other and every ship is valid and because of that there's never been a lot 'anti certain ship' rhetoric.

Now onto Byler. There is so much anti ship rhetoric and a lot shipping discourse but to say it's all the Byler shipper's fault would be frankly ridiculous. Shipping discourse and the Stranger Things fandom walk hand in hand at the this point, despite how much I wish that wasn't the case.

No matter what you ship in the St fandom, there are going to be people who hate you for it and focus all their energy on talking shit about the ship and trying to bully down shippers of it. I truly don't understand these people because why focus on being a dick and tearing people down for shipping a ship you don't like instead of focusing on the ship you do like? I don't get it, why be a jerk?

Yes there are Byler shippers like this but the same can said for every ship in St fandom. You can't really point a finger at a ship and call all it's shippers bad because it's a moot point. Also to look at couple bad seeds and then call the whole demographic 'bad' it's so...dumb and wrong.

But the point of this post is to compare Byler and Reddie. I can't really talk about the shipping discourse around just Byler because I would have to talk about it around every ship in the St fandom and how it all connects and intertwines...that's just another post in itself.

The only reason I brought it up in the first place was to highlight the shipping discourses with Byler vs how it is with Reddie. Moving on.

There is one huge difference with the Reddie and Byler and that's Reddie is canon. Keep in mind it's only firmly canon in the movie canon, but canon is canon.

Byler on the other hand has yet to become canon. It feels like the natural progression of Will and Mike's story arc depending on how they handle it but at the end of the day, we simply don't know what will happen with the 'canon' of this ship.

You could equate Reddie's 'boom' of shippers after the 2019 movie because it became canon. Who's to say the same won't happen with Byler after season 5? If it becomes canon?

Another thing- Reddie shippers for the most part didn't expect the ship to become canon, it just didn't seem like a thing that would happen honestly. That being said they also didn't care if it didn't become canon, that wouldn't take away from the enjoyment of the ship for them. There wasn't a ton of concrete 'canon' build up to it, just speculation and theories that paid off when Reddie surprisingly became canon. When you look at Byler, there is some 'canon' buildup for it so it's not unreasonable for people to think it can happen. Reddie happened didn't it?

But let's take 'canon' out the equation real quick because I want to get to the point that started the idea of this post in my head.

Unlike Byler, Reddie has never had a real ship it was pitted against. It didn't come from a fandom where ship vs ship was common unlike Byler. I mentioned Stozier and Kaspbrough and the few bad seeds of the Reddie shippers but even with that it still didn't really happen. Probably because *romantic* Stozier and Kaspbrough were only popular in fanon and not canon.

Byler shippers do have a heavy ship they're pitted against, which honestly is a fandom issue, and that's where so much of the discourse comes from. They have justifications for wanting their ship to be canon and sometimes they have to beg to be heard.

On the other hand, the 'bad seeds' of the Byler shippers are much more numerous than they ever where with Reddie shippers and they contribute a just as much as any other St ship's 'bad seeds' to the shipping discourse and the reason for that is simple. Byler has a bigger mainstream audience, it's a so much bigger than Reddie even when Reddie was in its hayday. Logically, the more people who ship a ship, the more bad seeds there's going to be.

Okay I'm done, I ended up rambling a lot and I'm sorry. Thank you if you actually read this.