#so i've had a number of these conversations before in fandom spaces but also like
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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 💦
#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#twisted wonderland#twst#twst anime#twisted wonderland anime#notes from the writing raven#Black Butler#Kuroshitsuji#advice#episode of savanclaw#episode of savanaclaw manga
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https://www.tumblr.com/pynkhues/763036611208527872/its-funny-that-you-talk-abt-the-interracial?source=share
Yeah what? You've been really clear that NEITHER is the wife, because they're both cis men. And I agree that people can get a little weirdly hung up on one of them being the woman, somehow, which feels different from exploring "feminine" qualities either or both might have.
Thank you, and yeah. It does feel like a pretty selective and bad faith reading of what I've written, and I kinda suspect from how they've written what they have that they might be an anon who's sent me a few asks now? Which leaves me a little bemused that anyone might follow this blog that specifically for haterism given I'm pretty under the radar in this fandom, haha.
#i have BEEN a bnf before i never want to be again and i am deliberately trying not to be in this fandom in any way that creates discourse#i'm just here in my little sandbox#barely using main tags outside of reblogs#and writing some fics haha#but look idk#the whiff of an accusation of racism gets so weaponised in fandom#and i think at least some of the time it relies on the idea that being called racist is enough to either 'expose' someone#or rely on white people to get so uncomfortable as to shut down a conversation (which we do!)#the fandom i was a bnf in - it was DEFINITELY a factor#so i've had a number of these conversations before in fandom spaces but also like#i live in melbourne which is one of the most multicultural and diverse cities in the world#and i work in the arts#i think conversations about race with my friends and co-workers and clients and writers i work with - many of whom aren't white#come up every day for me#i can of course never know their experiences and i know I have my own racial biases i am consciously addressing#but honestly i don't feel that uncomfortable talking about race anymore because i am literally having these convos all the time irl#so yeah i guess re: that anon i really am happy to both hear you and talk about it?#but at the same time asks like that...#look i try to take it in good faith instead of bad
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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.
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Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 22
Chapters: 22/? 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!
Your wonderful vacation in the Dreaming came to an end as Morpheus bestowed gifts and boundless love. Upon arriving at Cape Kennedy, you learned that Lyta's child had already been born. Subtle changes had occurred in everyone's lives, unexpected transformations altering their paths forever. You, on the other hand, faced a tumultuous return to work, grappling with severe physical fatigue back in London.
Author's note: Hello! I hope you guys have been well. Here's another lengthy update for you. I recently realized that in the previous chapter, the name the Reader gave to the deer—Astra—is the same as the little girl Johanna tried to save and lost. This was initially coincidental, as I couldn't recall her name at all. However, it sparked a nice idea that I'll explain towards the end of the story. I didn't want to leave anything to chance, and since the name felt fitting, changing it seemed inappropriate considering all the research I put into it. Instead, I've found a clever way to explain this "glitch" in the narrative. It's not something huge plot-wise, just something that will justify the repeated name.
Now, this chapter delves deeper into the lore of Cape Kennedy's side characters, all of which I've created myself. I wanted to explore a few specific aspects here, as things might become a bit chaotic/dramatic in the next update. I need to ensure I've covered everything thoroughly.
Also, I'm currently revising the first chapters, improving the wording and adding some enrichment. While the story itself will remain unchanged, I aim to make it sound consistent and cohesive from start to finish. After returning to writing in 2022, I've dedicated time to studying and practicing, which has influenced the story's progression. It's hard to believe this fic will be two years old in December!
(The upgraded chapters haven't been uploaded yet. I'll edit each one as soon as they're prepared and ready for posting.)
Gazing at the magnificent Dreaming scenery before you, you heaved a sigh of displeasure. You were fully prepared—though not emotionally ready—to return to Cape Kennedy and depart from the enchanting realm of dreams.
It was absurd, really. You could visit Morpheus's domain every night in your dreams, and he'd even invited you to return physically anytime in the future. There was no logical reason for such despondency; this wasn't a permanent goodbye, after all.
Yet, as you contemplated going back to your normal life, a nagging feeling deep in your consciousness reminded you of the Dreaming's importance to your soul. Leaving it behind felt like bidding farewell to the most beautiful vacation of your life, your heart already aching for it before you'd even left.
Morpheus's arrival heralded your imminent exit from his world. As you turned to greet him, your eyes were drawn to a wooden box nestled in the crook of his right arm. Its intricate design lent it a substantial appearance, adorned with golden decorations reminiscent of your chamber's style and Morpheus' preference.
Curiously, you asked, "What is that?"
He stepped forward, cradling the box in his hands as he examined it. "This is a gift I have prepared for you."
"Another gift? Morpheus, you're truly being too generous."
He smiled, drawing closer to you. "You need only ask, and it shall be yours. All that you long for."
Overcome by a fresh surge of affection for this extraordinary being whom you cherished above all else, you gently cradled his face in your hands and brought your lips to his. The kiss was tender, yet laced with unmistakable determination. "And here I thought nothing could top last night's surprise."
You leaned in for another kiss, finding yourself unable to stop, lost in the moment with the man from whom you could scarcely tear yourself away. Morpheus seemed equally content, returning your kisses with matching fervor until you were both satisfied.
"Do you not you want to see it?" he asked teasingly.
Clearing your throat, you reluctantly detached yourself, taking a deep breath. "Yes, of course."
Instead of opening the box himself, he offered it to you expectantly. You took it with extreme care, almost afraid it might slip from your grasp and shatter. As you held it, you were surprised by how light it felt compared to its sturdy exterior. When you unlatched the front lock, a warm pulse of power emanated from it, tingling your fingertips and running down your spine.
You lifted the lid, revealing the contents nestled on a black velvet cushion. Your eyes widened in astonishment at the sight before you: a luminous pearl-white moonflower that glowed like a living lantern, a palm-sized amethyst crystal of the deepest, most mesmerizing purple, a small glass vial filled with sand— its cap tightly sealed with a thin cord, and a golden bangle that looked tailor-made for your wrist, its surface embellished with tiny, star-shaped crystals that glimmered brilliantly in the light.
"This blossom shall retain its ethereal beauty, forever in bloom, defying the laws of mortality even as it graces the realm of the Waking," he explained. "The amethyst, a stone of grounding, shall grant immediate solace upon your touch."
"What about the sand?”
"This sand, harvested from the very essence of your Dreamland, bears the same properties as that which resides within my pouch. It is a fragment of your dreams made tangible."
Morpheus's sand, granted to you as a gift…?
"Can I really accept this? Your sand is such a vital source of your power."
"Though but a mere fragment, I am confident in your discretion to safeguard it from unworthy hands."
"That goes without saying. I'll guard it with my life."
He raised his hand, gently brushing the box and allowing his fingers to meet yours in the process. "I have placed tokens of my devotion to you in this vessel of memories, eternal artifacts that shall evoke recollections of your stay in this realm."
Morpheus continued to surpass your expectations effortlessly, offering gift after gift without expecting anything in return. His boundless generosity left you feeling humbled and almost insignificant in comparison.
The bangle needed no introduction. Its aesthetic perfectly complemented the starry theme of the Dreaming while matching the bracelet your mother had given you. As you admired it, you eagerly anticipated wearing them together.
"This is beautiful," you whispered, gently closing the box and caressing its ornate surface. "Thank you, Morpheus. This means the world to me."
“Should you wish for anything else, I will provide it for you.”
You chuckled, shaking your head. "There's only one thing I'd love to bring home with me, but that's not allowed."
As you took his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers with his cool ones, Morpheus immediately grasped your meaning and responded with a subtle smile. "I shall be with you always, my love."
“I know.”
"Are you ready, my love?" Morpheus asked gently.
“No.”
His shoulders slumped slightly as he gazed at you with affectionate amusement. "Y/N…"
"Sorry, I'm kidding. Well, sort of. Maybe. Not really. But yes, I am ready."
Clutching the strap of your bag, you awaited Morpheus's magic. He gathered you in his embrace, his forehead gently touching yours as he closed his eyes, yours following suit instinctively. A gust of wind tousled your hair, accompanied by the soft swoosh of rising sand. You sensed your surroundings change, the Dreaming gradually fading into the distance, yet remaining forever tethered to you by an invisible thread.
As you remained motionless with your eyes shut tight, Morpheus called your name in a low, velvety voice. "Y/N."
“Mh?”
"We have arrived in the Waking World."
The familiar scents of Florida's natural environment and the subtle shift in ambient light confirmed your return to Cape Kennedy. Still, you found it difficult to release your hold on him, struggling to accept that the most unforgettable week of your life had come to an end.
It was childish, you reasoned, considering how much work awaited you in your waking life. You weren't truly separating from Morpheus or the Dreaming, but a part of you wondered if you could ever truly balance your existence between these two worlds, or if you were inextricably tied to just your own.
You were a mortal connected to an Endless being, with time's relentless march ever-present. Could you truly hope to make the Dreaming your permanent abode?
His lips grazed your cheek, his hands gently resting on your shoulders. "Do you intend to stand here indefinitely?"
“If I do, will you take me back?”
He tenderly caressed your jawline, leaning in to whisper in your ear. "My love, my heart longs to keep you eternally in my embrace. If only I could yield to such selfishness.”
With a resigned sigh, you finally opened your eyes to meet his countenance. "You could. I wouldn't complain."
He shook his head gently. "Whatever shall I do with you?"
"Everything." One hand clutched the memory box, while the other trailed along his chest, settling on his covered collarbones. "But I understand you have vital duties, as do I with my own responsibilities."
"Thank you, Y/N, for allowing me to bring you into my realm. Your devotion for the Dreaming is immeasurable, I cherish it with all that I am."
"The Dreaming is you," you said with a smile. "How could I not adore it?"
Every word you spoke to him, so honest and filled with humanity's most precious light, never failed to make him—the Lord of Dreams, an ever-darker creature—happier than he ever thought he deserved to be.
"I must leave you now, my love. Take heart, for I will seek you in your dreams.”
You nodded, letting your hand fall to your side. "I love you, Morpheus. You know that, don't you?"
"I do. And my love for you, my dear, transcends the very fabric of existence, encompassing all realms, both dreamt and waking."
He pulled you close for one last, lingering kiss before reluctantly letting you go.
"Ever the poet," you remarked with a grin. "Just one of the countless things I like about you."
"Are you attempting to keep me here with you?"
“Is it working?”
He let out a soft chuckle. "I am afraid not. But wherever you go, I will follow."
"That's enough, I suppose."
For a moment longer, you looked deeply into each other's eyes as a wordless understanding passed between you. Then, Morpheus's sand reappeared, rising from the ground at his feet and gradually swirling around his form. You stepped back, giving his powers room to work, as a cloud of grains swallowed him completely. In an instant, the sand twirled and dissipated, leaving no trace of Morpheus as he vanished back to his realm.
You exhaled, feeling a complex blend of satisfaction and wistful melancholy.
Hal's B&B stood just a few feet away. As you retrieved your phone from your bag and powered it on, you were astonished to find that barely a few hours had passed since leaving the hotel in Georgia. Morpheus had mentioned that time flowed differently in the Dreaming, but it was still mind-boggling to realize you'd spent seven days in his company, only to essentially travel back in time.
With a final loving glance at the box, you carefully tucked it into your bag and set off. The house's door stood unlocked, and as you entered, Hal's voice greeted you warmly as soon as you crossed the threshold.
"Welcome back!" He exclaimed enthusiastically. "How was the Cereal Convention? I heard it was brimming with fascinating events."
If only he knew the mayhem you had witnessed there. "Fascinating? That doesn't even begin to describe it.".
You wondered if the news had reported anything about the man who had taken his own life in the car, or if they had even remotely mentioned the rest of the cult, now cursed by Morpheus to a lifetime of regrets.
"I bet," he said mischievously. "Rose told me you got quite a pleasant surprise."
You blinked in confusion. "Pardon?"
"Come now, no need to be coy, sweetheart. You know secrets don't stay hidden for long in this house."
You realized Rose must have concocted a story to account for your absence. Whatever tale she had spun, you found yourself at a loss for how to navigate this unexpected situation.
“Well…”
"Your boyfriend showed up unexpectedly to pick you up, didn’t he? Now that's what I call romantic!"
Oh.
You had to admit, that wasn't entirely inaccurate. "You've caught me red-handed."
He graciously helped you remove your jacket as you clutched your bag tightly, guarding it as if it contained your most precious possessions, which couldn't be nearer to the truth.
"No wonder you look radiant. I'd recognize that glow anywhere."
"What can I say? He has a flair for dramatic appearances."
As you entered the dining room, you found only Chantal and Zelda at the table, their brunch plates cleared. An unusual hush blanketed the house, a stark departure from its typical bustling energy.
“Hey girls.”
“Good morning, Y/N,” Chantal replied cordially. "Zelda says hello as well."
"Where's everyone else? Have they not risen yet?"
Hal joined them, gesturing invitingly towards an empty chair. "Ah, you've missed quite a bit. You won't believe what's happened."
Taking a seat beside him at the table, you narrowed your eyes. "Nothing bad, I hope?"
"No, no, quite the opposite. You see... it's about Lyta; she's given birth."
Your jaw dropped so suddenly that you half-expected it to clatter onto the floor. How could Lyta have delivered her baby so quickly? Could her time with her husband in the Dreaming have stretched longer, similar to your own experience with the King of Dreams?
“What…?”
"I know. Crazy, right? Did you even know she was pregnant? I don't think Rose ever noticed either."
"I didn't," you replied. "It's generally not something you easily miss... though, I've read about cryptic pregnancies before.”
"Yes, but can a belly grow that big overnight? It wouldn't be the strangest thing I've seen lately, but…"
You pursed your lips, wracking your brain for a plausible explanation for such an extraordinary occurrence. Yet, try as you might, no rational justification presented itself.
"Rose and Jed accompanied Barbie and Ken to the hospital," Chantal interjected.
"We're heading there in a couple of hours,” Hal said. “Are you free? You're welcome to come with us."
You agreed without hesitation. "Absolutely. I've got plenty of time before my next appointment with Andrew, so I'm in."
"Great! We're all eager to meet the little one."
Despite the maelstrom of thoughts in your mind, you chose to set aside your confusion. There was little point in fixating on inexplicable events, especially since you'd come to understand that the Dreaming's magic and uniqueness often transcended conventional reasoning.
Eager to keep your mind occupied, you insisted on helping Hal with the cleaning, brushing aside his protests. After your ample rest, staying active appealed to you more than idling about in the living room. As he washed the dishes, you meticulously dried the tableware and set everything neatly in its place. Hal hummed random songs intermittently, his voice filling the kitchen with cheerfulness and positivity.
"So, this boyfriend of yours. Does he travel often?" Hal inquired, passing you a freshly washed glass.
"Mm, you could say he's practically omnipresent," you replied with a knowing smile.
"He must have quite an important job," Hal observed, his tone a mix of curiosity and admiration.
"It's vital, indeed. His work shapes the very fabric of our existence."
Realizing you had inadvertently revealed more than intended, you bit your tongue. Fortunately, Hal didn't seem inclined to pry further.
"I admire people like that. Those who can truly change the world."
"You have that power too, in your own way."
"I'm not so sure about that," Hal replied modestly. "Though I must admit, I'm finally considering selling this place."
Your eyes widened in surprise. "Really? You're going to sell your grandmother's house?"
Hal chuckled. "I've been thinking; dreams can really change your perspective. No matter how bizarre they get."
You gave his upper arm a friendly squeeze. "Whatever path you choose, I'm confident it'll be the right one for you."
"I haven't made any final decisions yet, but I'm now open to giving my career a real shot. Who knows? Maybe next year you'll hear my name as the greatest Broadway performer of all time."
"I can absolutely see that happening. You shine on stage, Hal. I'm sure I've mentioned that before."
The conversation flowed naturally, weaving through various topics, from Hal's future aspirations to your creative pursuits and life in London. Amidst the discussion, he brought up the unusual dream experience that he and the others had collectively undergone, featuring Rose and the Vortex in action. Remarkably, they all vividly recalled the events leading up to Morpheus's attempt to halt Rose's power, but none of them could adequately describe or explain why—or how—this dream had manifested for all of them at once.
His willingness to openly discuss the event with you, regardless of your apparent status as an outsider and his unawareness of your actual involvement, left you astounded. Although he intentionally kept his descriptions vague, they unanimously agreed that Rose had been rather special since her arrival.
You refrained from confirming or denying it. While the truth was irrefutable, you were reluctant to raise further questions about a girl who had already endured so much on her own.
The dream had left an indelible mark on each of them, sparking a self-reflection and personal development. Apparently, cracks had begun to show in Barbie and Ken's relationship, and Hal was confident it was only a matter of time before it crumbled completely. This revelation didn't surprise you, as you'd harbored reservations about Ken from your very first encounter.
As the late morning wore on, you carved out a private moment in your room. Seated on the bed, you gazed at Morpheus's gifts, a broad smile illuminating your face and a bright sparkle dancing in your eyes. You picked up the golden bangle, turning it over in your hands to look at its minimalist design. Despite its simplicity, it was one of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry you'd ever seen, with its diamond-like stars twinkling brilliantly in the sunlight. As you slipped it onto your wrist, you marveled at its perfect fit, neither too loose nor too tight. It sat snugly against your skin, complementing your mother's leafy bracelet perfectly, as if it were crafted specifically for this pairing. Considering Morpheus's particular attention to detail regarding your appearance, you realized that this harmonious combination was no accident, but rather a deliberate choice on his part.
You missed him deeply, craving his presence with an intensity that eclipsed even your need for breath. It was natural, given that you had been virtually inseparable during your time together, except for the brief absences he was compelled to make.
Still, you found yourself contemplating your relationship from a new angle, considering the prospect of deepening your bond with him. Was it even possible for a mortal to unite in marriage with an Endless?
Theoretically, given the universal rule that barred Nada from being his lover, you might conclude the answer was no. Nevertheless, Morpheus had speculated that your Goddess DNA could have shielded you from the dreadful fate his ex had endured as punishment for her transgression.
Ruminating on the matter excessively would only result in mental fatigue.
Shortly thereafter, you journeyed to the hospital with Hal, Chantal, and Zelda, feeling strangely fidgety since leaving the house. You couldn't pinpoint the source of your sudden unease, yet you were convinced it wasn't tied to any specific ill omen. There was simply an odd, indecipherable voice in the recesses of your mind, somehow linked to Lyta and the newborn child. You sensed that the baby's unusual conception, coupled with the Dreaming's essence flowing through its small body, had heightened your innate sensitivity, likely stemming from your deep affinity with Morpheus's realm and the Dream King himself.
Upon arrival, you found Rose and Jed already visiting Lyta and her newborn son, while Barbie and Ken waited patiently in the lobby for their turn. Barbie's characteristic cheerfulness and signature smile masked an entirely different story lurking behind her eyes. Ken appeared oblivious to her distress, his nonchalant demeanor indicating either genuine ignorance or—more likely—a callous disregard for her feelings.
Men like him were utterly contemptible, nothing more than walking deceptions.
The door to Lyta's room creaked open, prompting Barbie to spring to her feet and stride forward, Ken trailing behind. Rose and Jed emerged from around the corner, looking refreshed; their nightmarish ordeals hadn't been enough to break their spirits.
“My turn!” Barbie chirped, her laughter bubbling up.
"Prepare yourself," Rose noted with a smile. "He's pretty cute."
Ken exchanged a playful, masculine handshake and fist bump with Jed. “Oh, we are ready.”
From your seated position, you caught a glimpse of Barbie vanishing around the corner. Her voice dropped drastically, taking on a serious and resentful tone. “Uh, it’s one at a time.”
Ken's face fell, and you couldn't suppress a flicker of satisfaction. Bravo, Barbie!
“Wha… Oh, come on. Babe! Baby, it was just a dream!”
Glancing at Hal, you noticed he was equally captivated by the unfolding drama. "See? I told you," he whispered.
"Do I really want to know what he's referring to?" You asked.
"Oh, that he was caught being literally blown by another woman in his car? No, I don't think you want to know."
Your jaw clenched instantly. "Well, I'll be damned."
Chantal and Zelda, as composed as ever, exuded the aura of gothic countesses in their distinctive black dresses and veils. You'd grown accustomed to their dark appearance, finding them both incredibly beautiful and sophisticated.
Rose and Jed joined you in the waiting room, the girl’s eyes meeting yours with a silent understanding.
“How are they doing?” Hal queried, adjusting his position in the chair.
“Great,” she answered. “The hospital’s releasing them tonight and then we’ll fly home tomorrow.”
“Oh, so soon?” Chantal exclaimed.
Indeed, it felt as if no time had passed since you first met Rose. You'd grown so attached to her that it seemed you'd known her for years, not mere days.
“To New Brunswick,” Hal concluded. “How far is that from New York?”
“Mm, less than an hour. Why?”
“I don’t know, I had this dream last night and now I’m thinking, what if I sell the house and move back?”
Evidently, Hal's indecision about his future plans had dissipated, and his mind was now set on a clear course of action.
Rose's eyes lit up with delight, while Zelda and Chantal exchanged a meaningful look. Words were superfluous between them; Zelda's face, though usually expressionless except for her shy smile, conveyed all her companion needed to know with subtle nuances that only Chantal could interpret.
“We’ll buy the house,” she declared.
A collective gasp of shock rippled through those present, with Hal himself rendered speechless by such an unexpected announcement. The initial bewilderment quickly gave way to joyful smiles as everyone recognized how perfectly all the pieces were falling into place.
Your heart swelled with joy as you beheld the radiant expressions adorning the faces around you, a sight that filled you with an overwhelming sense of fulfillment.
As time wore on, Hal, Chantal, and Zelda took turns visiting Lyta and her unnamed newborn. Barbie's despondency had resurfaced, even as she tried to hide it from the others. Ken persistently badgered her to accept that he meant no harm, but any self-respecting woman would banish a man who dreamed of another straight to Lucifer's hell.
As you approached the vending machine for a drink, Rose excused herself and followed, clearly seeking a private conversation out of earshot from the rest of the group.
“Hey.”
"Hey," you answered with a warm smile. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm okay. I'm still a bit shaken when I think about everything that happened, but... Jed's here with me. That's all that matters."
"He's adorable, by the way," you commented.
"You should've seen him when he was five."
You cracked open your favorite caffeinated beverage, offering Rose one as well. She declined with a shake of her head, her eyes fixed on her feet, revealing a nervousness about what she wanted to say.
When she remained silent, you broke the awkward moment. "Thank you for covering for me," you said gratefully. "You didn't have to do that."
"Well, I figured they'd ask where you went. I wasn't sure when you'd be back, so."
"I must say, you're quite talented when it comes to coming up with excuses on the spot."
Rose laughed softly. "It wasn't easy. I also had to tell them Gilbert returned to his country due to an "urgent family matter."”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.”
You leaned against the vending machine, sipping your drink as another silence settled between you. Rose crossed her arms, shifting restlessly with her foot—an anxious tic that only accentuated her growing discomfort.
You sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "Rose, it's okay. Whatever you want to ask me, go ahead."
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to pry."
You shook your head reassuringly. "It's fine, really. I imagine you have quite a few questions."
"I hope I'm not overstepping, but... is there something going on between you and Lord Morpheus?"
While the question didn't catch you off guard, you considered your options. You could have lied, keeping your relationship with the Endless private and shielding your love from potential judgment. Rose had likely witnessed only the darkness surrounding the Lord of Dreams, unaware of the heart of gold it concealed; a heart heavily scarred from suffering and betrayal.
Ultimately, you decided against it.
A faint smile played on your lips. "Yes, Rose. We are together."
"Oh. Wow, I... I had a feeling, but..."
"You didn't want to jump to conclusions."
“Yeah.”She paused, collecting her thoughts. “It’s just… there's so much I don't understand. When Dream said Jed and I are ‘Children of the Endless’, what did he even mean?"
How could you explain it to her, considering her great-grandfather was one of the cruelest entities in the entire universe, willing to callously manipulate their own sibling and any mortal they came across?
"Is it related to the golden-eyed man Unity saw in her dreams?"
"I'm afraid I can't provide a definitive answer to that," you confessed, feigning ignorance. "In a way, you and your brother are very special, Rose. That’s all I know.”
She mulled over your words, clearly unsatisfied with the explanation, yet accepting it as sufficient for her current needs.
"He's not… really that bad, is he? Morpheus."
“No. He’s not.”
"I know he didn't really want to kill me. I was damaging his world without even knowing what I was doing. It was all my fault to begin with."
You gently touched her elbow, your hand warm against her skin. "You didn't ask to become a Vortex, it was just an unexpected twist of fate you didn't deserve."
"Yes, but I still hurt my friends. Lyta, Hector... even Jed, Hal, everyone around me."
Your hand slid along her wrist as you took her hand in yours. "It was the Vortex. Not you."
"But I was the Vortex. When Dream took Hector, I hated him. I thought he was a monster. Lyta was suffering, and I blamed him for it."
“And now?”
She hesitated, contemplating her response. "Now… I don't, really. It was harsh, but I was the one who set all this in motion. He did what he had to, I guess."
Your smile widened. “Rose…”
"And Unity," she continued. "She gave her life just to save me."
The pain she endured defied consolation, and a persistent guilt would likely shadow her for the foreseeable future.
"She was happy, you know," you revealed. "And very proud of you."
“Unity…?”
"I won't pretend to understand what you're feeling right now. The trauma you've endured is not something that can be easily erased. But I can tell you this: your great-grandmother is at peace.She made her sacrifice for you without any regrets.”
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Having weathered numerous losses throughout her life, Rose had honed the ability to remain resilient in most situations, a strength she maintained not only for herself but also for those she held dear.
“Thank you for telling me.”
Her voice quivered, and you pulled her into a comforting hug. She gratefully melted into your embrace, finding solace in the warmth she could no longer receive from her mother's arms.
“You’re welcome, Rosie.”
Lyta's baby was a true delight, innocent and tiny, with cheeks so soft they resembled the most delicate confection. You could feel the Dreaming's traces on the infant, yet to anyone else, he appeared perfectly human. The moment you drew closer, his little hand instinctively grasped your finger, awakening an unexpected maternal, protective instinct in you. Lyta simply smiled, observing how you'd make a wonderful mother someday, a comment you met with a nervous laugh.
The strange gut discomfort you felt vanished as soon as you left the hospital. You had the impression that something about Lyta was not ordinary, but you couldn't quite discern what it meant. Perhaps it was a consequence of your travel between the Dreaming and the Waking World, causing unusual perceptions as you readjusted.
That evening, Lyta and her newborn son were discharged as expected. While Hal finalized the house sale with Chantal and Zelda, you joined the group for a pleasant conversation in the living room, idly toying with your new bracelet as you slid it up and down your wrist. You thoroughly enjoyed your time at the B&B, appreciating the company of wonderful people (with one notable exception) who helped brighten Lyta's mood. The loss of her husband had left an indelible mark, and you admired how everyone tactfully avoided the sensitive subject, refraining from asking questions about the baby's father.
Barbie looked somewhat distracted, her face less vibrant than usual, a subtle alteration that seemed to go unnoticed. She maintained a facade of joy and vivacity, barely interacting with Ken, who sat uncomfortably close to you on the couch. You felt urged to speak with her, but that would have to wait for a more appropriate time.
Despite the tragedies and misadventures he'd faced, Jed was an incredibly adaptable and optimistic kid. His face beamed with smiles, clearly overjoyed at being reunited with his beloved sister. At some point in the evening, you engaged in an enthusiastic discussion with him about popular superhero movies and comics. Rose playfully teased Jed about how, under Gault's influence, he had impersonated a Marvel-esque version of The Sandman. Her lighthearted comment drew genuine laughter from both of you, and Jed rolled his eyes, insisting he had been incredibly cool and powerful in that form.
As night fell, everyone retired to their rooms. Lyta excused herself first, cradling her precious newborn away from the adoring eyes. Rose followed shortly after, and Jed was offered the vacant attic room, formerly Fiddler's Green's quarters.
Sliding beneath the covers of a bed that wasn't the grand canopy in the Dreaming felt oddly unfamiliar to you. You longed for the soft caress of your enchanted nightgown, the mesmerizing sparkle of crystals, and the soothing ebb and flow of gradient waves on the walls. It seemed paradoxical to long for a place you visited nightly, yet a strange void persisted inside you, like an emptiness you couldn't quite articulate.
With heavy eyelids, you succumbed to slumber, hoping to find Morpheus awaiting your return in the realm of dreams.
You felt weightless, adrift in an ocean of billowing fabrics that obscured the path ahead. Wandering without direction, you pressed forward into the unknown. A distant cry pierced the air, beckoning you closer. As you continued, the fabrics parted, revealing a crib in the distance. The surroundings were hazy and barren, bathed in an ethereal, blue glow.
The more you walked, the farther the crib seemed to get. No matter how hard you tried to reach it, it was as if you were walking on an infinite treadmill. The child inside was whimpering, pleading for you to arrive.
You pressed on, yet the distance remained unchanged. Anxiety constricted your chest, making it hard to breathe, despite the absence of any visible threat.
Then the crib began to fade, enveloped by a soft, nebula-like cloud, vanishing into nothingness. You were left uncertain about what you had witnessed, wondering if the baby represented Lyta's son or simply acted as a subconscious symbol; perhaps indicating fresh starts and possibilities.
Unable to decipher its significance, you endeavored to interpret the dream's significance to no avail. As the vision continued, your consciousness gradually reasserted itself, and you immediately transitioned into an entirely new dreamscape.
You stood in an expansive, surreal forest where trees spiraled upward like great pillars, their trunks woven from shimmering threads of silver and dark purple. The sky above pulsed with colors you'd never seen before—streaks of emerald, amethyst, and soft coral flowing and colliding like auroras. A gentle mist blanketed the forest ground, and as you moved, flowers bloomed beneath your feet. With each step, you ventured deeper into the woods, where strange, beautiful creatures drifted past in the mist, unusual animals with translucent bodies and magical eyes. You felt at peace now, as if this place knew you, welcomed you.
Whatever the crib represented, it couldn't be anything sinister.
The fog lifted, and your heart skipped a beat as you noticed a figure nearby. From the shadows between the trees, Morpheus emerged, his presence both distinct and seamlessly integrated into the scenery. Clad in black that melded with the night's darkness, he seemed to carry the very stars in his eyes and attire. As he approached, the dream's colors intensified, responding to him like a lover's touch.
Your breath itched as he stopped before you, his gaze soft yet filled with an intensity that only Morpheus could hold. You reached out instinctively, your fingers brushing his cool hand. He took it gently, as though grazing something precious. The bracelet he gifted you gleamed golden alongside your mother's cuff.
"Your dreams grow more beautiful with each passing night, in ever more resplendent tapestries," he murmured, his voice resonating through the forest.
A smile lit your face, and he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you to bring you into his loving casing. You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The dreamscape reacted again, a gentle breeze sweeping through the trees, sending petals into a soft dance around you.
"Every time I'm with you, I feel complete," you whispered.
Morpheus tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing your cheek as his eyes softened with a tenderness that was becoming more frequent. "Then let this moment last for as long as you're asleep," he said, his lips meeting yours in a kiss as warm and infinite as the dream itself.
You cuddled against him, sinking into the tranquility and depth of your connection, as the environment continued to pulse with revitalizing energy.
As you parted, he held your face in his hands, his cerulean irises tracing your every feature as though etching this moment into his memory. "I am bound to you, in dreams and beyond," he uttered genty. "No place, nor time, can keep me from finding you."
"Never cease seeking me. Please."
"Never, my love. And you, forever call upon my name, through the realms of fantasy and waking.”
It was rather striking to reflect on how Rose and Lyta had arrived in Cape Kennedy as a pair and were now departing the B&B as a quartet, a poignant example of dreams' transformative power. Their journey exemplified how the seemingly impossible can indeed materialize into reality.
Hal assured he would join them once everything was properly settled and his belongings were packed, ready for the grand opening of a new live show; the next chapter of his life.
While you couldn't reveal to Rose the book she'd one day write, you encouraged her to pursue graduate school, confident in her potential for extraordinary accomplishments. Your time together had been brief, yet saying goodbye to her tugged at your heartstrings. What had begun as a simple work collaboration in Florida had flourished into something far more meaningful; you'd cultivated new friendships that you hoped would stand the test of time, enduring long after this unexpected adventure.
In the blink of an eye, the house suddenly felt much emptier.
Throughout the day, you noticed Barbie's conspicuous absence from the common areas, rarely catching a glimpse of her around the house. Ken mentioned that Barbie was feeling unwell and had decided to recuperate in their room. The situation raised suspicion, especially since Ken seemed more intent on hovering around you in the kitchen, attempting to engage you in unwelcome conversation. Oblivious to your signals, he disregarded your curt responses and clearly disinterested tone, persisting in his efforts at dialogue.
"You know, I was thinking, you haven't seen much of Cape Kennedy, have you? I could take you on a tour one of these days."
You froze with your cup of tea suspended midair, staring blankly at him as Hal cleared his throat.
"I appreciate the offer, but I have work commitments," you replied, your tone icy.
"Ah, yes, of course. But maybe I could, you know, offer you a ride after dinner one evening?"
You felt utterly disgusted, the tea suddenly losing its flavor in your mouth. Ken's partner was confined to their room, claiming to be ill. But here he was, attempting to flirt with you behind Barbie's back.
His behavior was reprehensible. You abandoned your drink, pouring it down the sink and hastily rinsing the mug.
"Oh! What about dining out? I know a lovely restaurant by the beach."
Ugh.
You considered answering with more excuses to make him desist, but you knew such tactics wouldn't deter a man like him. Ultimately, you decided that a razor-sharp response was your only way out.
"Look, I don't think my boyfriend would appreciate your persistence. And believe me, he's not the forgiving type."
Ken's grin faltered, though he still tried to maintain his charm. "I was just—"
"You're asking me out while your girl is sick upstairs. How considerate of you."
Hal, clearly intrigued by the unfolding scene, became more attentive, his eyes fixed on the two of you.
"You may be accustomed to women fawning over you, but let me be crystal clear: I wouldn't consider someone like you even if you were the last man on Earth."
Ken stood frozen, his smile fixed and hollow, utterly speechless. He seemed incapable of formulating any coherent sentence, caught off guard by your blunt rejection.
"Now, if you'll excuse me," you said, turning on your heel and striding away.
Without looking back, you left Ken to contemplate your rebuff as you climbed the stairs, the kitchen falling into a telling hush. There was only one pressing matter you wanted to address now: Barbie. If Ken was failing to provide the care and support she needed, perhaps a friendly visit could lift her spirits more effectively than her inconsiderate partner could.
You recognized that Ken's intentions weren't specifically malicious, but his casual fantasizing about other women and viewing dates outside his relationship as normal proved he was incapable of full commitment. How Barbie had managed to tolerate him for so long was incomprehensible, but you couldn't help admiring her patience.
You paused before her room, knocking softly a few times, and waited for a response that never came. Though you surmised she might be asleep, an intuition whispered otherwise.
"Barbie?" you called gently. "It's Y/N. Are you all right in there?"
Soft footsteps padded across the floor, followed by the click of the door's lock. As it swung open, Barbie showed up, looking visibly drained. Her face, devoid of its usual makeup, and her refined clothes replaced by simple pajamas, presented a notable difference from her typical polished appearance.
“Hey!”
Her forced glee hit you right in the chest, totally unconvincing, with puffy eyes revealing recent tears.
"Hey. Is everything okay?" You inquired again.
"Yeah! It's just a headache. Nothing serious!"
You exhaled softly, your brow furrowing with concern. "Would you like to talk about it?"
"It's nothing, really! I just need some rest," she insisted with another artificial grin, her voice wavering slightly.
"Barbie, I know I'm still relatively new to you, and you might not feel comfortable opening up to me. But if you need anything at all, even just a listening ear, I'm here for you."
She looked at you in silence, her veneer of cheerfulness intact but slowly crumbling. Her smile faded, lips curving downward as her head dropped in defeat. “Would you like to come in?”
Relieved, you nodded. "If I may."
“Sure.”
She stepped aside, inviting you in. As you entered, the door closed behind you, cocooning the two of you in privacy. Barbie walked to the rumpled bed and sat down, patting the spot in front of her with the familiarity of an old friend at a sleepover. On one of the nightstands, an empty mug stood sentinel beside a few untouched, stale cookies.
"I hope I didn't disturb you," you said, settling onto the mattress.
“No, I wasn’t sleeping at all.”
"What's wrong? I promise you, anything you say will remain confidential."
Barbie let out a chuckle that quickly morphed into a sniffle. "I feel like I can't confide in anyone. People would think I’m silly for even considering this."
You moved forward, tentatively placing your hand on hers. "It can't be foolish if it's keeping you locked into your room."
She shook her head slowly, her eyes welling up as tears began to trickle down her cheeks. "Have you ever felt like you've lost something important, something that doesn't even exist?"
“What do you mean?”
She released a desperate laugh, a hysterical sound that bore no resemblance to genuine mirth. "I... I used to have this beautiful dream. I had many incredible friends, talking animals that cared for and protected me. Can you imagine?”
You offered an encouraging smile, listening attentively.
"My closest companion was Martin Tenbones, a creature resembling a giant dog... or whatever he was meant to be. You probably think I'm crazy, don't you?"
"Not at all. I'm intrigued and would love to hear more about your dream world," you replied warmly.
"It's hard to put into words. It wasn't just a fantasy, it felt like another life. A place where I could be more than just 'Barbie', but finally myself."
"You're speaking about it in the past tense..."
Her tears flowed more freely. "I’m afraid I can’t dream about it anymore."
Oh…
"Last night, I had no dreams. I know it may not seem like a big deal, but I can tell that something has severed my connection to that world.”
Having witnessed your own dream beach reduced to an arid desert, you deeply empathized with Barbie's attachment to her personal subconscious place. Yet, you were fortunate to be with the Lord of Dreams, who could easily restore it to its original splendor, perhaps even enhance its beauty. Morpheus guided you through the Vortex's perils, extracting you from the Dreaming before your link to it could be irreparably damaged.
“I had a mission, something very important to do. And now I’m lost.”
“Barbie…”
"Ken wouldn't understand," she said with a hiccup. "He never does."
You squeezed her hand comfortingly, warmth spreading between your palms.
"I'm sorry. I told you this would sound stupid."
"Well, it's not," you replied with conviction. "As someone who understands the significance of dreams, I can tell you that your sadness is completely justified."
“Really…?”
"Yes. And please, forgive my frankness, but what do you see in a man like Ken?"
Her lower lip quivered as she wiped away her tears. "Honestly, I don't even know anymore. I thought we were perfect together, as ‘cliché as it can be, given our names."
You shrugged. "Names are just names. I doubt that's why you chose him."
"No. He made me feel special, loved… but I fear that was only a beautiful fairy tale. I knew he enjoyed flirting, but this? It’s just too much for me."
You hesitated to disclose Ken's invitation, fearing it would only exacerbate her distress. Considering her fragile emotional state, you couldn't bring yourself to be so insensitive.
"You deserve far better than what he's giving you. I can see that plain as day."
"I don't know. Maybe I set myself up for this. I should have seen the signs."
"We all make mistakes, we're only human. I've certainly had my share of faults in past relationships."
Barbie's lips quirked into a genuine smile, her first in a while. "Do you think I can find someone who'll treat me like a princess in the real world, too?"
"Not a princess. More like the magnificent queen you truly are."
Barbie chortled, and you joined in, feeling the atmosphere in the room finally lighten. "I mean it. You're beautiful, fun, sweet, and open to imaginative possibilities. You don't need a knight in shining armor, real princesses are perfectly capable of writing their own happy endings. Ken doesn't realize how lucky he is."
She swallowed hard, brushing away fresh tears with trembling hands.
"This is your life, Barbie, and I can't tell you what to do. I just hope you'll make the right choice for yourself. That guy's a perfect idiot, too immature to see how amazing you are."
As you stood from the bed, she sighed shakily, drawing her knees to her chest and curling into a ball. "Y/N… can I ask you something absurd?”
“Of course.”
“Do you think I'll ever be able to dream again?"
As you opened the door, you glanced back at Barbie's huddled form. Without Morpheus' insight, you couldn't fathom the fate of dreamers severed from the Dreaming by the Vortex. Lacking this crucial knowledge, you found yourself unable to offer a concrete answer to alleviate her sorrow.
Nevertheless, your heart told you there was only one logical, compassionate answer.
“I’m sure of it.”
The moment you left her to her own reflections, Barbie silently opened the bedside table's drawer, rummaging for an object she had discreetly tucked between books. As she retrieved it, she stared at the rose quartz pendant in her hand, now cold and lifeless, its power inexorably spent.
She clutched the pendant to her chest, inhaling deeply before exhaling, her resolve crystallizing.
As your first week in Florida concluded, your collaboration with Andrew grew more intensive with each meeting. More briefs poured in, shaping the project's trajectory for its official launch. When the first prototypes emerged from the workshop, it became clear that additional revisions were necessary. You had to conced that some of your ideas hadn't translated from concept to physical materials as seamlessly as you'd hoped. Undeterred, you offered to refine the sketches, either by incorporating crucial missing elements or starting anew with concepts that seemed to spring effortlessly from your imagination. This time, Andrew's approval wasn't required; his expression alone conveyed that the newly sewn sets embodied the perfection he had envisioned.
Meanwhile, Ken avoided approaching you in the house, hanging his head like a scolded puppy and barely mumbling greetings in the mornings. The atmosphere grew tense as Barbie silently declared her breakup with him by moving out of their shared room and into Rose's and Lyta's vacant chamber. Unsurprisingly, Ken's futile efforts to win Barbie back were nothing short of ridiculous, every excuse failing spectacularly, as if he were hurling himself against an invisible, elastic barrier.
To compound matters, Hal—Ken's sole confidant—had finally summoned the courage to permanently leave. With newfound confidence, he was determined to reunite with Rose and her family, bolstered by his belief that he could make it on Broadway.
You had to admit, upon seeing Hal fully prepared with his suitcase and giant bag, he would likely be the person you'd miss the most in Cape Kennedy. Although Gilbert had quickly become your favorite (for reasons that now made much more sense), Hal had treated you like a best friend from the instant you emerged from Andrew's vehicle, seeing past your 'celebrity' status and addressing the authentic you with complete naturalness.
Moved by an irrepressible need to repay his kindness, you offered to create the perfect costume for his Dolly persona in the future, a gesture that made Hal's eyes sparkle with pure excitement. The prospect of wearing your design on stage made him feel like a star, and you eagerly anticipated seeing him perform for audiences worldwide.
As the days passed, the house grew more solitary, transforming into an unrecognizable place. Even Barbie decided to depart for New York by the tenth day of your stay, unwilling to endure Ken's omnipresence and compelled to rediscover herself through a new beginning. One by one, they were all witnessing their lives completely turned upside down, for better or worse, by the hand of Destiny. A fate that was clearly set in motion by the Vortex's influence, affecting their Waking World just as much as their dreams.
"Thank you, Y/N. You're a sweetheart," Barbie uttered gently, embracing you on the threshold. Her hug was so tight it nearly squeezed the breath from your lungs. "Let's keep in touch. I'd love to see you again sometime.”
"Absolutely," you said, gently rubbing her back. "Take good care of yourself, Barbie."
“You too.”
As the taxi pulled up, Barbie strode out of the house without a backward glance. Inside, Ken slumped on the couch, his face a portrait of total defeat. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he had royally messed up, with no hope of mending the rift he had caused.
Barbie radiated a diva-like aura with her impeccably styled hair, flawless lipstick, and chic sunglasses that gave her the stunning look often adorning magazine covers. She waved at you, Chantal, and Zelda before entering the car, occupying the backseat with the grace of a regal swan. A large pink pendant hung from her neck, one she had never worn before, glistening and glowing under the sun.
In fact, it shimmered more brilliantly than any ordinary gemstone, causing your own necklace to suddenly warm against your skin. Before you could take a closer look, Barbie was gone, leaving her former home behind for an uncertain future.
You shook your head, dismissing that persistent feeling of déjà vu. Your attachment to the Dreaming was simply playing tricks on your mind, causing you to see things that weren't actually there.
Probably.
During your final days in Florida, you toiled relentlessly at Andrew's workshop, scarcely finding time to return to the B&B for rest. Chantal and Zelda seemed now solitary figures, quietly enjoying their drinks in the hushed house. Ken often disappeared into town, presumably in pursuit of a new conquest to seek solace in new companionship. Yet they looked unperturbed, their sweet smiles ever-present and nary a complaint voiced.
While they genuinely missed their friends, Chantal and Zelda were self-sufficient women who found complete contentment in each other's company.
On the eve of your return to London, you had another vivid dream. While the recurring image of a newborn crying in an empty, bluish space persisted, your nightly visits to the Dreaming were becoming increasingly lifelike.
Morpheus accompanied you on most of your explorations, walking beside you or standing amidst the evocative landscapes of his realm. He always welcomed you with the warmest expression the Lord of Dreams could muster, his subtle smiles illuminating his face at your arrival.
After much hesitation, you finally broached the subject with Morpheus about Barbie and how the Vortex had removed her from the Dreaming.
"Is there anything you can do to help her?"
Morpheus shook his head, giving you a thoughtful but firm response, rooted in his views on the purpose and temporality of dreams. “Each dream has its time, its arc, and its end. Her connection to The Land was severed as part of a larger design, one that is beyond any individual's desires, even mine."
Noticing your crestfallen countenance, he elaborated. “Dreams are both gifts and lessons, my love. They are there to guide mortals, but they must also be let go when their purpose is fulfilled. To restore it now would be to disrupt the path she must walk."
"So, she's unable to return to her dreams?"
"One day, perhaps. A dream is alive only when it meets the dreamer’s true need."
You averted your gaze, allowing his words to settle in your mind. After a moment, you turned back to him, your eyes glistening with emotion. "If I were severed from this world and from you, it would be unbearable. I can't imagine my life without the Dreaming, I would probably die."
Your words deeply moved him, though he tried to conceal it behind his characteristic gravitas. "You would not be disconnected from me, my love. Not truly. No matter the forces at play, I told you I would always find you, in dreams or beyond them."
He reached out to touch your face, offering comfort and promise, acknowledging your compassion and worries without dismissing them. "If ever such a fate were threatened, I would bend the realms themselves to keep you close."
Your smile returned as your fingers toyed with the lapels of his coat. "You would, wouldn't you?"
"Even the King of Dreams is not immune to the fear of loss," he admitted. "And you possess a unique quality that no other mortal will ever match."
"Are you implying that the Dreaming would suffer without me?"
"Not only the Dreaming. I am its ruler, yet above all, I am a being irrevocably bound to your heart."
That very heart raced with exhilaration, sending waves of warmth cascading through your body like a gentle fireworks display.
"You’re so sweet,” you expressed.
“Sweet?”
You tilted your head. "I know you're all powerful and mighty, and that 'sweet' isn't typically associated with you. But with me, you're so wonderful that I doubt any other being in existence could ever compare."
He grinned mischievously, his eyes twinkling with veiled intentions. “Perhaps I should remind you of my true nature, my love. As befits the King of Nightmares.”
You laughed, crossing your arms with a glint of curiosity on your face. "Oh? Is that a challenge? Because, Your Majesty, I'm not one to run away so easily."
For a moment, silence blanketed the space between you. The air grew still, charged with electric anticipation as Morpheus's posture shifted. An otherworldly darkness seeped into the scene, dimming the ambient illumination. Cold moonlight took its place, casting elongated shadows on the ground. The world around you transformed into a vast canvas, painted in shades of deep blue and ink-black, completely bereft of stars.
With a flick of his hand, Morpheus stepped back. The space stretched into an endless void, where whispered secrets echoed and your surroundings dissolved into an illusion of midnight sky. His form began to transform, subtly at first. His robes billowed like storm clouds, infused with silver strands that glinted like trapped starlight. His eyes glowed with pale fire, and his hair flowed freely, no longer tethered by gravity.
Despite the imposing figure before you, you felt no fear. In fact, the beauty of it—the raw, infinite greatness—thrilled you to no end and made you shiver in awe rather than terror. He embodied everything he claimed to be: powerful, enigmatic, and fearsome—yet he remained, undeniably, the man you loved.
He circled you slowly, his breath ghosting over your ear as he leaned in from behind. His voice boomed, almost demonic, though unmistakably his own. "So bold… and so fragile. Will you not bend and yield to your Lord?"
You recognized this as an enthralling performance, a thrilling roleplay that left you completely spellbound.
"You are magnificent," you breathed, your voice brimming with admiration and something else. "Truly, I don’t need to tell you how willingly I'd surrender to you. You already know."
His hands wrapped around your waist, strong and secure. "It seems," he said with a wry smile, "that even the King of Nightmares cannot dissuade you."
"Never," you replied, tracing delicate patterns on his hands. "Not when I know that you'd never harm me."
His dark and menacing guise melted away, replaced by a soft chuckle as he reverted to his normal form. The inky blackness dissipated, giving way to the previously vibrant colors of the dreamscape.
With a touch of reverence, he lifted your hand to his lips. "Perhaps," he murmured, "I shall remain 'sweet' for you alone."
You threw your head back, sinking against his chest as laughter bubbled from your lips. Your eyes sparkled with immense happiness and love. "Now I wish I never had to wake up."
For the remainder of the night, Morpheus granted your wish, keeping you blissfully ensconced in the realm of fantasies.
As you settled into your seat on the plane home, you went through a curious distortion of time. The fortnight in Cape Kennedy and week in the Dreaming had passed in a blink, yet paradoxically left you feeling as though you'd been away for eons.
You were exhausted, the jet lag evidently taking its toll on you. Readjusting to your regular routine proved unexpectedly daunting, as you had to deal with frequent migraines and an unsettling tendency to nod off at inopportune moments throughout the day.
You missed the friends you'd made, the cozy ambiance of the former B&B, and the tranquil Floridian nights that contrasted so starkly with London's bustling soundscape.
The newborn continued to make sporadic appearances in your dreams, but the crib remained just out of reach, its cryptic message undecipherable. Curiously, this recurring vision didn't unsettle you; upon waking, it often slipped from your mind entirely.
Upon returning home, you quickly established regular long-distance communication with Hal and Rose. They now shared a peaceful home as a family, along with Jed, Lyta, the baby, and an intriguing man—a friend of Rose's—who had seemingly won Hal's heart. Rose had finally submitted her college application and begun brainstorming ideas for her future book. Meanwhile, Hal was actively pursuing a career as a Broadway performer, eagerly anticipating news of a potential audition.
After carefully considering numerous options, Lyta finally settled on a name that perfectly suited her son: Daniel Hall.
Corbyn & Jones was busier than ever, inundating you with work the moment you stepped into the office. The company overflowed with orders and requests for new projects, which Ella presented as promising opportunities for the future. With the Fashion Show behind you and sales skyrocketing across online platforms, local stores, and social media, your friend decided to entrust you with an equally creative venture, one with the potential to become the company's crown jewel. Both figuratively and literally.
"Are you serious?" you asked, your eyes wide as you stared at her face in disbelief.
"I don't see why not. You've always had a passion for jewelry, and I distinctly remember you designing some back in high school."
"Those were just early experiments, hardly worth mentioning."
She grinned, casually tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You used to say the same about all of your sketches. Yet here you are."
You sighed, massaging your throbbing temples and stifling a yawn. "Fine, you've got a point. But I'm wondering, are we really prepared to take on more work? It's not exactly difficult for people to find quality accessories from other sources."
"We've received numerous requests for jewelry to complement our products. It's a bold move, but we can't afford to ignore our competitors."
You brought your finger to your lips, contemplating. "I guess you’re right."
"Look, I know you've just returned from Cape Kennedy and haven't had a chance to catch your breath, I can see how tired you are. Still, you're the only one I can trust with this," Ella explained. "Whenever I scroll through my social media feed, all I see are the same products being marketed as 'exclusive drop collections' by different brands or influencers, simply because they're trending. I don't want to slap our name on a generic necklace, bracelet or ring and claim we made it. I want something special, something that only you can create."
Ella had always been fiercely competitive. Seeing an opportunity to make a real impact, her eyes lit up with a reinvigorated enthusiasm.
"I'm not asking you to do anything complex, I swear. You have an excellent sense of style, and you're very distinctive. You emanate this constant aura that's simply goddess-like."
You couldn't help but chortle, amused by the unintended accuracy of her statement. Whatever she saw coming from you was no longer a coincidence, now that you were aware of your true origins.
"I'll cover the material costs, and Oliver has connections that could help with soldering services and gem sourcing. Perhaps you could do some research? Visit a few places, gather inspiration, and compile elements you find appealing?"
As Ella elaborated, you found yourself increasingly drawn to the idea. You couldn't shake the concern about managing deadlines with yet another project on your plate, but it was worth a try if it meant outperforming competitors and surpassing market projections.
"I've already got a couple of places in mind for you to check out."
Your gaze drifted to your wrist, where your mother's bracelet and Morpheus' bangle gleamed under the artificial light. With these treasures as inspiration, you realized you might already possess the guidance needed to excel in this new endeavor.
“Fine, let’s do it,” you declared.
"Really? You're on board?"
"I mean, you're still my boss. We might be friends, but that's no excuse for me to slack off or neglect my responsibilities. Besides, you might be onto something here, and I'm genuinely curious to give it a try."
Ella slammed her hand onto the desk with such force that you nearly jumped out of your seat.
"Ha! Those businesses better brace themselves. We've got a secret weapon right here!"
"Come on, Ella. I'm hardly a secret weapon."
"You're the best thing that's ever happened to us. And to me, because I've found my bestie again. I'm absolutely thrilled to be working with you!"
You nodded, a nostalgic smile playing on your lips. "Right. Remember how we used to daydream about this when we were teenagers?"
"How could I forget? I always wanted to run my own company with you as my creative genius. You'd tell me it was too good to be true, but I never stopped insisting it was possible. And now, look at us!"
"Indeed, I was wrong. I must admit, I was quite the pessimist back then."
Ella rose to her feet, placing her hands on her hips with an air of confidence and satisfaction. "Yeah, and I definitely prefer this version of you."
"I could take offense to that, but honestly, I feel the same way."
“Yaaaaas! Slay!!!”
The office door swung open, and Oliver strode in, clutching a handful of papers. His eyebrow arched quizzically at the scene before him. By now, you were certain he'd grown accustomed to his wife's antics, yet the expression on his face was absolutely priceless, especially as he caught sight of her, arms thrust triumphantly skyward.
"What's all this ruckus?"
"Oops, sorry, love. Was I too loud?"
"I'd wager they heard you clear across the street," Oliver quipped, his lips quirking into a sardonic smirk.
Ella waved off his comment, taking the papers he offered. "Is this the list you mentioned?"
"Yes. I assume you've already informed Y/N about our new quest?"
"Indeed, I have. We were just discussing it."
Oliver pushed his glasses up his nose, turning his attention to you. "Given Ella's reaction, I take it you've accepted our proposal."
Your friend’s bouncing movements reminded you of a cartoon character, the passage of years only enhancing her comedic charm.
You gracefully crossed your legs, settling into the swivel chair with your arms and back comfortably supported, ignoring the looming fatigue and headache. "When do I start?"
Once again, you found yourself wandering through an unknown landscape, a twilight meadow bathed in the deep, velvety indigo of night. The profound quiet was broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves as you stepped forward, drawn toward a soft radiance in the distance. Fireflies danced around you, their tiny lights twinkling like celestial guides along your path. The air carried a mysterious warmth, a gentle weight that felt both calming and comforting, as if something unseen were embracing you.
As you moved closer, the glow revealed itself to be a single flower blooming amidst the grass, its petals as bright and sparkly as moon dust. Intrigued, you knelt down, extending your fingers. The petals pulsed with a gentle rhythm, reminiscent of a soft heartbeat. Your hands hovered over it, sensing the energy of something alive, tender and delicate, yet infinitely strong. A deep connection stirred, an instinctive awareness that you were being entrusted with something precious.
When you touched the flower, warmth spread through your palms, wrists, and elbows, life itself flowing into your veins. You closed your eyes, breathing in the faint scent of lavender and sweetness. An overwhelming tenderness rose inside your heart: a love you couldn't describe, a caring that was simply boundless.
A delicate whisper drifted through the meadow, a soothing voice that seemed to come from both earth and sky. "This light now belongs to you," it echoed. "Soon, it will flourish. And so will you."
The flower dissolved, sinking into your chest like a subtle pulse settling inside your heart. You tried to speak, but your throat constricted, silencing any sound. A thin layer of bright blue fog descended, and then you heard it again, the familiar cry of a child, the now visible distant crib beckoning you.
You attempted to rise, but were anchored to the grass as if you were a deeply rooted tree. Strangely, you felt no desire to resist or struggle. A flicker of concern crossed your mind, yet an underlying calm reassured you that there was no cause for worry.
This time, your voice emerged, speaking a single name, the only one that occupied your thoughts.
“Daniel…?”
The baby neither reacted, cried, nor moved. Suddenly, silence blanketed the scene, and everything around you faded into nothingness.
You awoke, the residual warmness from your dream still occupying your chest—a mysterious sensation yet to be understood. However, as comforting as it felt, the moment you pushed yourself into a sitting position, reality struck. You were drenched in sweat, your nightgown clinging uncomfortably to your skin. A wave of nausea surged from the pit of your stomach, twisting your face into a grimace.
You dismissed it as insignificant, attributing it to the minor anxiety that had followed you from the realm of dreams into the Waking World. The recurring presence of that child in your subconscious remained an enigma, leaving you uncertain about its nature. As Morpheus had explained, Daniel Hall's conception during Lyta's dreams forged an unbreakable bond between him and the dream realm. Could the newborn be reaching out to you in Morpheus' domain for some unknown reason?
Despite wracking your brain for answers, you were simply left with even more questions.
You tried to lie down again, pushing aside the bedsheets as you took deep breaths. Unfortunately, the queasiness persisted. Instead of easing, it grew more intense, significantly so.
And then you felt it, that dreadful urge to expel whatever was churning in your stomach. You leapt out of bed with lightning speed, one hand clamped firmly over your mouth as you raced to the bathroom. You despised it and fought to contain it, but whatever it was, it refused to subside on its own.
Unable to hold it back any longer, you hunched over the toilet, your body convulsing as you violently ejected the remnants of your dinner. The ordeal continued relentlessly until you felt completely hollow, as if you'd purged every last morsel from your system—intestines and all.
When it was finally over, you relished the relief, washing your mouth and face to rid yourself of the sticky residue of sweat on your skin and the acrid taste persisting on your tongue. Your abdominal muscles contracted painfully, as if you'd just completed an intense set of sit-ups at the gym.
Good lord. You felt like a wrung-out dishrag.
Whether you had eaten something bad or were experiencing delayed symptoms of travel burnout, you desperately wished for this nausea to leave you alone. It had ebbed and flowed throughout the night, barely relenting even as you left the house.
It was unusual, you rarely had digestive issues. Considering the whirlwind of your recent trip, flying to Cape Kennedy, physically moving in and out of the Dreaming, and then back onto the plane home again, it probably made sense that your body was finally feeling the strain.
Fortunately, you made it through your workday without a repeat of your previous night's disaster, successfully keeping your lunch where it belonged. You convinced yourself it was just a random occurrence, a fleeting ailment that would pass as your body naturally recovered.
You pored over your sketches and scoured your Pinterest boards for further inspiration. With an array of gemstone pieces and chains spread across the table, you let your creativity flow, crafting designs that were both unique and original. Ella desired something innovative, jewelry that stood out from the current market offerings, and you were determined to exceed her expectations.
The process was unexpectedly enjoyable and fulfilling, surpassing your initial skepticism. Your research and material acquisitions produced impressive results, with several of your creations already sent to the workshop for soldering and welding. Weariness was a constant companion, testing your resilience and mental focus over the following days. Nevertheless, a few stifled yawns and tired eyes paled in comparison to the joy of seeing your efforts appreciated.
Just as you were ready to forget about your mysterious illness, the nausea suddenly resurfaced one day as you walked out of the shower. It lasted only a few minutes before subsiding, allowing you to sleep without feeling sick or making another dash to the toilet.
Over a week had elapsed since your return, and with your appetite slightly diminished, you began to question whether your random symptoms were truly related to the trip and the tumultuous circumstances you had encountered in Florida. Ella and your colleagues appeared unaffected after your recent restaurant outing, yet you couldn't shake the suspicion that something on your plate might have caused potential food poisoning.
On the other hand, you wondered if this physical disorder was merely a result of exhaustion. Your father had noticed your pallor and evident fatigue, expressing concern about how unsteady you seemed on your feet. With the new jewelry project underway you'd been bustling about, visiting stores and different studios to source new supplies. You hadn't exactly been cautious, willingly pushing yourself far beyond your limits.
During your walk home from a fruitful excursion, you had to stop multiple times due to unexpected breathlessness and lightheadedness. These strange manifestations left you feeling disconcerted, as your body behaved in ways you didn't recognize.
Ultimately, you dismissed your condition as a mere stomach bug or something equally benign. You saw no reason to fret over what you believed would be a short-lived malady.
Yet, was it truly so insignificant…?
You hadn't seen Hob Gadling since before your trip abroad, and your work subsequently left little room for socializing. In spite of his persistent invitations for drinks, you regrettably had to decline repeatedly. Hob, true to his nature, remained incredibly patient and understanding, encouraging your professional growth while reminding you to prioritize self-care.
Finally meeting him felt like reuniting after an eternity apart. His bright smile was better than any medicine, his company one of the most precious things in the world. To be honest, you felt so sleepy and generally under the weather that you were tempted to reschedule. However, you knew that finding a better opportunity in the near future was unlikely.
"Are you sure you just want tea? You're not ordering anything else? It's my treat, you know."
"I know," you replied. "It's just that I've been feeling a bit off lately."
"Oh, is that so? Sounds like you might be burning the candle at both ends again."
"My job keeps me busy, but it's nowhere near as hectic as when I worked in Wych Cross. I can sit for hours without being called away."
Hob bit into a piece of tart, humming in response as he chewed.
"How are things going at school?" you inquired.
"Some students can be quite a handful,” he said after swallowing. “But you know how it is."
"You've become a role model for so many young people. That's something to be proud of," you observed.
"Well, when you've lived as long as I have, you inevitably accumulate quite a trove of useful experiences."
"It's not just your extensive knowledge that makes you awesome, Hob. You're intelligent, kind, and always attentive to those who need support."
"If you'd known me back in 1600, you might think differently."
"But I know you now, and I truly appreciate the man sitting in front of me."
His grin widened as he reached for your wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Or maybe, I have the best influence right here."
"Oh, come on. You were already like this when we first met."
Immersed in the joyful atmosphere, you savored the shared laughter and companionship of a treasured friend. While you loved your creative job, having a day free from work finally gave you the chance to unwind and momentarily set aside thoughts of impending deadlines.
The afternoon progressed perfectly until an unexpected disruption occurred. As the waitress approached the adjacent table, a potent coffee aroma wafted through the room. The scent went straight to your head, compelling you to abandon the remaining of your tea as a sudden wave of sickness engulfed you all over again, reminiscent of a rising tide.
"Are you all right, Y/N?" Hob asked, his eyebrows knitting together.
"Yes, it's just... isn't this smell a little too strong?"
“What smell?”
“The coffee.”
Hob furrowed his brow in genuine confusion. He sniffed the air, taking a moment to analyze it. "I don't know," he said. "It smells like normal coffee to me. I don't find it particularly overpoweri—"
You abruptly sprang from your chair, weaving through customers and tables to reach the mercifully vacant bathroom. Stunned, Hob followed in your wake, gently rapping on the door and calling your name with apprehension. Curious onlookers paused their conversations to observe the scene, while the waitress craned her neck inquisitively.
You heard him, but couldn't respond. Doubled over and coughing, you felt your fluids rushing out uncontrollably. The malaise hit you with full force, dropping you to your knees as your body eliminated its contents a second time, leaving your throat raw and burning.
"Y/N, please say something. What's happening?"
Only when you were certain you had nothing left to expel did you open the door. A searing pain shot through your forehead, and the entire path from your trachea to your stomach felt inflamed, as if ready to burst from the inside out.
"I'm sorry about that," you mumbled, your voice hoarse. "I'm fine."
"That didn't seem like 'fine' to me. Would you like me to drive you home? I think some rest might do you good, Shortcake."
Completely drained, quite literally, you nodded silently and returned to your table. You gathered your belongings, leaving behind your dinks, unfinished and forgotten. Each step felt leaden and sluggish as you made your way to Hob's car, shrouded in a thick, uncomfortable silence. With a heavy sigh, you leaned back against the seat, shutting your eyes and clutching your bag's strap tightly.
"I'm so sorry," you apologized dejectedly. "I've ruined our outing."
"I'd rather see you feeling well than keep you out when you're sick to the bone. Why didn’t you tell me? We could have postponed it to another day."
You pouted. "I really wanted to see you today, though."
"And I want you to take care of yourself. I can't die, remember? I've got all the time in the world."
"I just don't get it,” you protested, your voice wavering. “I can feel fine for a few days in a row, and then suddenly I'm puking my guts."
"How long have you been experiencing these symptoms?"
"I've been feeling a bit strange since I landed last week, but nothing major, really. Just the occasional headache, fatigue, that sort of thing."
The car halted at a red light, its engine rumbling in the quiet street.
"You mentioned the coffee smell was particularly strong."
"Yes, I don't know why. I could not stand it."
“Mh.”
Noticing his unusual quietness and the contemplative look on his face as he mulled over your words, you narrowed your eyes. "Why?"
"Ah, it's nothing, Shortcake. I've heard there's some sort of stomach bug going around. You might have caught that."
The car resumed its journey, winding through the thoroughfares of London as you gazed out the window, your eyelids feeling impossibly leaden. “Yeah. Could be.”
Morpheus strolled through the library, his presence as ubiquitous as the tomes on the shelves and tables, as if they were fragments of his very essence. He returned the volumes borrowed from Lucienne: various dream records he'd examined to evaluate his realm's current state and its power's impact on the Waking World following the Vortex incident.
He scanned the spines of the books before him, striding along the rows of shelves with his customary regal bearing. A faint smile played on his lips, a testament to his renewed control, now bolstered by your unwavering support and endless affection.
His fingers glided along the leather bindings, caressing centuries—if not millennia—of transcribed stories. From across the library, Lucienne and Matthew's distant voices wafted through the atmosphere, lively and tranquil, signaling the full restoration of every fracture caused by the previous disturbances.
Morpheus experienced an unprecedented, profound sense of bliss and inner peace. After innumerable centuries of existence, he finally grasped the true meaning of being cherished, and his understanding of love had undergone a drastic metamorphosis. A human had taught him more in a brief span than eternity ever could, smoothing the sharpest edges of his being. You had believed in him when everyone else saw him as a monster, perceiving his past misdeeds as steps in his growth.
Little did he know that his newfound self-assurance was about to shatter in the face of an imminent revelation.
As Morpheus turned to depart for the throne room, a whisper from behind arrested his attention. A large, weathered tome jutted out from the long row of books, awaiting the Lord of Dreams to hold it. The Endless paused, pivoting slowly, and gazed at the book with surprise as he approached.
Its cover was pitch black, adorned with faintly scratched embroideries and devoid of any visible title. As Morpheus lifted it from the shelf, he was struck by its physical lightness, yet felt a spiritual weightiness emanating from it. Gingerly, he opened the volume, unsure of its contents. The title was emblazoned in large, inky letters on the first page:
Morpheus felt his blood run cold, his fingers turning even icier. He had heard of that name before, old tales circulating from one shaman to another, handed down to priests and storytellers until they remained nothing but a legend with no foundation. It was described as a book full of dire predictions, destiny itself written upon its pages, bringing forth catastrophic prophecies that were never proven.
Not once in his eternal lifetime had Morpheus encountered this book in the castle's library, or in any library, for that matter. He had long dismissed it as nothing more than a fanciful myth.
Its sudden appearance in the Dreaming could only mean one of two things: either it was a product of someone's vivid imagination, or it heralded an impending catastrophe. Morpheus dreaded the latter possibility, considering all that he and the Dreaming had endured over the past 106 years.
The second page lay blank, its rough, ancient parchment unyielding beneath his ethereal touch. He flipped it over, and the third one featured a Celtic-inspired illustration in black and gold ink, depicting a tarot-like tableau of a full moon reflecting on still waters, with a solitary female figure wading into the depths. In the center, a short paragraph had been inscribed.
Morpheus's entire form tensed as he continued leafing through the book, only to discover another image, a counterpart to the previous one. Instead of the moon, the sun now dominated the landscape. The same woman stood with her back turned, clad in a long gown, still traversing the vast ocean ahead. In the middle, another caption stood out.
Morpheus staggered, clutching the shelf before him for support. These images weren't unfamiliar; everything depicted on those pages represented only one thing—what he treasured most in the entire universe: you.
He pressed on, both terrified and desperate to uncover more. With each turn of the page, he saw more of you, and even himself, intricately woven into the written lines and painted details. The book revealed something he had never wished to know, yet somehow, deep in the core of his love for you, he had already foreseen it.
A once-distant fear, something he fervently hoped would never recur as it had in the past, now a tangible possibility.
As understanding dawned, Morpheus sank to the floor, his legs buckling beneath him. His chest tightened agonizingly, as if a hidden power sought to tear his heart from his body and destroy it. He was in agony, metaphorically shattered into countless fragments, as the mental image of you splintered like a fractured mirror, your radiant smile morphing into the deepest frown.
Sequestering himself in that spot, he read the enigmatic messages obsessively, only to conclude they portrayed the most unfavorable fate imaginable. One he was determined to protect you from, no matter the cost, even if it meant sacrificing everything you represented for him.
And for the Dreaming.
Mere moments ago, he was elated at the thought of having you by his side, bringing out the best in himself, shaped by your unconditional love for all that he was.
The next, his eyes closed, a solitary tear tracing a silent path down his pale skin at the devastating prospect of what he had to do for your sake.
I'm sharing this for reference, so you have a clear image to associate with it; the bangle Morpheus placed in the memory box is essentially like this one. I purchased it online recently, and it reminded me of The Sandman and my fanfiction, so I've decided to include it. ✨
What did Morpheus find in the library just now??? 😱 😶 🙊 😭
Also, if you're wondering what I suspect you're wondering, the answer is… it could be either yes or no. 😏
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 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 23 (coming soon) ->
#the sandman#dream of the endless#morpheus x reader#dream of the endless x reader#the sandman netflix#the sandman fanfic#lydbyd chapter 22
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Why didn't Ed always protect Stede?
I'm a bit late to the party and only really got into OFMD with S2, so I've started watching S1 really thoroughly only recently. And I've noticed that there's this narrative in the fandom that Ed and Stede are super protective of each other, particularly Ed--but as I've gone through S1 (number redacted) times, it's been driving me nuts how much Ed doesn't protect Stede.
Sure, there's the meme we all love when Ed stands in front of the firing squad--but for most of the scene before that, he's been standing and watching Stede beg for his life. He's upset, but he doesn't intervene until it's nearly do late. And before that, Ed doesn't say or do a thing about Calico Jack treating Stede like shit--sure it's believable that he just doesn't notice the passive aggression, but not even catching the "Steve" thing? That's something that isn't even intervening, Jack could be making an honest mistake. But the thing no-protection moment that's really driven me nuts is this moment
In the scene before this, Ed and Stede have just had an incredibly emotionally intimate conversation. Ed is clearly at least half in love with Stede at this point. This is a relationship that means something important to him, this is a person he cares for deeply. And…and Izzy almost murdered Stede in front of him, because of him, and he just looked away.
But at the same time, Ed does love Stede, he does intervene to protect him from the English--at great personal risk and cost. By the end of S2 Ed's much better about this kind of thing (though I'd argue he's never as super-protective as I've seen suggested).
So what was going on here? Ed's a total softie inside, especially with Stede, so why was he like this?
And I've got a theory! Here goes:
Mr. "greatest pirate who ever lived" is, in fact, an overachieving rule-follower (cough teacher's pet cough).
Ed doesn't intervene to help Stede because Ed conforms himself to the rules set by whoever has the strongest personality in a room, or whatever "code" is being pushed on him/is easiest to follow.
I think this is part of why Ed often struggles to identify what he wants, or hold onto a firm sense of his self-identity. And I think it's a lot of why he's so attracted to Stede, and why that relationship is so important to his development: Ed is much less likely to follow the rules when he's one-on-one with someone, and spending a lot of time alone with Stede gives him much more mental space to understand what he wants.
And just like Stede is most successful when he doesn't try to follow the traditional rules of pirating, Ed is most successful--in his relationship with Stede and outside it--when he doesn't obsess over bending to the rules, and instead picks and chooses which ones to follow and which ones to discard.
I have a partly-written super-long version of this where I go episode by episode looking at how the rules theme works with Ed's character mechanics, but I'm just going to focus on the topic question here (I might get around to posting the long version, but I also might be distracted by something shiny;) )
So let's start with The Art of Fuckery and the thing that was driving me crazy.
Ed's core conflict in this episode was whether he'd going to send Stede to "doggy heaven." Why would he follow Stede to doggy heaven? Because according to Izzy, Stede is categorized as a pet, and Ed has "a policy regarding pets aboard your vessel." It's a rule. Ed has to follow it.
And Ed fully intends to follow it, right up until the kraken turns up and the rules go out the window. And then he's in a safe space with Stede, drowning in memory of the good rules he broke (don't kill people you love). But Stede rejects the idea that Ed breaking that rule makes him a bad person. He appeals, instead, to friendship. And offers his own rule: that they could pretend the murder thing never happened.
Because that's the amazing thing about Stede: he lives at the intersection of aristocratic and pirate rules (which isn't supposed to exist, and which drew Ed to him), and he makes up his own rules.
When Ed's with Stede, he can follow different rules, unlike anything he'd imagined. Can even sometimes make up his own rules. Can actually pay attention to himself, think about what he wants, what he likes and fears.
But when Ed's in a crowd, or alone with someone trying to impose something on him, he conforms. So when Izzy invokes Pirate Rules and steamrolls Ed ("no you're not doing this,") Ed lets him.
It's a character flaw, and it's a serious one...but it's also one Ed works on when he stops complaining about the treasure hunt business. And when he and Stede discuss the idea of co-captains, and arrangement that would break the rule that "a ship has only one captain."
Which Ed is able to do because he's in a safe space. Calico Jack disrupts that, and introduces a succession of games with clearly defined rules, which Ed follows one after another. And Ed has so little self-awareness, is so easily swamped by Jack's personality, that he doesn't notice how Jack's treating Stede, let alone defend him, and he bows to every hint of pressure.
And all that culminates in Ed having to make a decision: follow pirate rules, where everyone's just at "various stages of screwing each other over," or do what he wants. Go help his friend, the guy he loves.
Which just ends up with him being absorbed right back into the pirate system of rules. He tries to use this at first, faking a confession on the grounds that he's a "life is cheap sort of guy." But Izzy's outsmarted him, and Izzy invokes pirate rules again: that Ed told him the rule for a first mate was "above all loyalty to your captain."
Ed doesn't call out for the Act of Grace until the last minute. He could have done it at the trial--he didn't. This is a hard thing for him to do, because he's surrounded by rule-following pressure, from Izzy and from Chauncy. The last time he was in a situation like this, Ed just looked away and let Stede die (he thought).
But the thing about Ed is that he's "half insane." For years, he used the combo of being considered "mad" and also having Izzy around to have his cake and eat it too with rules, to be the world's greatest pirate and also hang onto his own authentic self.
As a result, Ed got good at finding loopholes. Places where you can follow the rules and break them, at the same time. Getting run through, but in a place that missed "all the important bits." Being sentenced to death, but asking for an Act of Grace.
It's a big deal when Ed steps in front of Stede like that. He's acting against pirate rules, risking being absorbed by the rules set by the English.
He does it for Stede--and that starts to set him free. After that, Ed's never just following the rules again. He actually can't, even when he tries: his going kraken at the end of S1 and start of S2 is doomed from the start and full of contradictions, starting with the fact that he's on Stede's ship, the ship with hidden passages where rule-breaking can be hidden until it's needed.
Ed struggles a lot to figure out which rules to follow ("I will abide by the guidelines"), which rules to set aside ("Can we take it slow?"), when to make up his own rules ("So we're innkeepers now."). And Stede helps him, telling him things like "This can be whatever we want it to be," and "you're not a dick, life's a dick."
I don't really have a clever conclusion to this particular meta. It's a messy thing, and individual figuring out how to their life does and does not intersect with society. This theme doesn't resolve neatly, it just stops at the end of the season, like the tension between Ed/kraken/Blackbeard.
But there's a lot of hope here, I think. When Ed acts to protect Stede, and to fight alongside him, he's not just being a protective partner. It's a learned action, the physical manifestation of a decision Ed's made about who he wants to be in the world. Rules be damned.
#ofmd s2 spoilers#ofmd#ofmd s2#our flag means death#ofmd spoilers#ofmd meta#ed teach#stede bonnet#blackbonnet#izzy hands#gentlebeard#i swear there really is a much longer version of this this theme is hella iceberg#every single episode has references to rules guys this is A THEME running straight through EVERYTHING and i'm a moron for missing its size
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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
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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.
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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!!
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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.
#i just had too many thoughts#and I started to lose track of them I'm sorry whoops#pfffff#one day I'm going to write an essay on shipper's behavior in the St fandom#it's interesting how viscerally hateful the shippers can become#i just sit back and watch with my little ships#also the st fandom's relationship with “canon” is....it's certainly something#sam talks#reddie#byler#will byers#mike wheeler#richie tozier#eddie kaspbrack#it 2017#it 2019#stranger things#stranger things 4
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i've been talking with my husband on the topic of the hypervigilance of oppressed minorities and traumatized people in general.
when a group of people are under constant threat, the individuals in those groups have to face every situation with the understanding that it can be an attack on them, it can be a threat to their safety or their life, it can destroy their relationships and even interfere with their jobs or housing or children. i know this, firsthand, as i imagine many people on this site do... and i'm demonstrably not above overcompensating for that looming threat myself, but i often struggle to see it in others. and thinking of myself as a threat, or a potential one, has to be a mindful exercise because it does not come naturally and honestly i haven't ever really had a strong need to consider.
i dunno if we're all really being played against each other. it feels like it, a lot of the time. but we all have to see each other as potentially life ruining, because honestly any stranger could be with the wrong series of choices or too public an online persona or letting too many details of your life out where people can find them.
and being in this headspace of at least a little bit but usually quite a lot more than a little bit on edge all the time is exhausting, it's awful, it makes us respond to things from that position of "this conversation is dangerous to me". which sucks somewhere like tumblr where regardless of what the people in charge are doing, the majority of the users are here for love, support, to share fandoms or art or whatever to create a beautiful space. and, often, to band together in solidarity. this is the only site i see hundreds of posts sending love and support to palestinians without the weird mysterious ~glitches~ that leave people unable to comment on pro-palestine posts. it's the only site i see mutual aid and emergency crowdfunding numbers actually go up as they get reblogged and passed around to people who may not even have enough for their own bills but are farther from homelessness than the person asking and so they donate what they can anyway. it's a beautiful community full of people stuck on survival mode, trying their best.
so i engaged with a post tonight earnestly, seeing it only from my perspective. which... is something we all need to work on as a general rule, but also i pride myself on my ability to see things from different angles and even being good at that i still very much did not understand the other side. explaining why i was getting pushback for what i said to someone who has less context and understanding helped me to realize, well, why i was getting pushback. and unlike experiences i've had before, in places more cynical and less communal, the people upset with me were also being earnest and i handled that poorly.
i don't ever want a trans woman (or anyone) on this website to feel like i am a danger to them, their safety... or even their joy on this site. because honestly, wrecking someone's day by being hostile to them is more than just getting some justice or being heard like it feels like in the moment. it's also adding to the pile of tiny and huge awful things they're dealing with already. it's telling that survival mode that yeah, actually, this time you were right and you should get up at arms at this person because they are damaging. because it is damage. every random pulse of cortisol from every self-righteous message is adding to the unnecessary shitty stress levels. every increasingly tense back and forth argument is a genuinely dangerous conflict on a biological level. our brains don't know the difference. and yeah, nobody's going to have a heart attack because somebody was a jerk to them online (i hope). but we have seen what too many jerks over too long does to. and when there's waves of negativity, it doesn't matter how big or small a part each person plays, because they're still adding up together to that wave. and trans women, every single trans woman right now, is facing one hell of a fucking wave.
so... i'm sorry my misread of a situation meant that i added to that. i'm sure it will happen again, but also, i think this will serve as a reminder to me next time to shut up, at least until i've actually put in the effort to understand what's even really being discussed, under the surface or on it, in the first place.
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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! :)
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All We Do anon here, this first part is directed to both you and the da capo anon—I would highly, highly recommend taking a listen to "Sun" and "Taste" if you haven't already. Please. They're songs that, like All We Do, are very much celebrations of humanity (which is also what I associate with this blog).
Oh I love SAL's Enneagram songs too! My favorites are 1, 5, 8, and 9. That's literally almost half of the songs but who cares?! It's all so good.
I am very bad at music. I have learned how to play instruments before but I have very poor relative pitch and my rhythm is always slightly too fast. Also not a singer. All this to say that while I don't quite relate to your perspective on SAL's work when it comes to personal renditions of it I still find it really interesting! SAL is one of those artists I'm very very hesitant to share with other people because of how precious they are to me, so I don't really get to hear others' thoughts on them.
Also I can't believe I didn't make the connection to Neptune! Da capo anon thank you for picking up the slack on my end!
I have not had the chance to listen to the playlists yet because 1) I don't use Spotify and must familiarize myself with it and 2) combined they are over 8.5 hours long. I have looked through the songlists though and would like to say: The Oh Hellos!! The Crane Wives!! I love them both!!! They both have such wonderful songs (and you have such wonderful taste!)!!! Also:
I see you have "Hello My Old Heart" in one playlist. Have you heard the most recent version? If not, I'd highly recommend it. It has a very different feel to it but it is also amazing.
I've recently been rediscovering my love for the Crane Wives so I'm just going to list A Bunch Of Songs: Take Me to War, I Talk in My Sleep, Never Love an Anchor, Allies or Enemies, Tongues and Teeth, Metaphor, High Horse, Empty Page, The Garden, and so so much more. These are all very different songs, but they're all very very good.
Since it's tradition now (if twice can count as such), I'll recommend another artist! Hozier!!! He has a lot of good music too! I wouldn't say it shares the same vibes as SAL or All We Do (and that applies to a lot of the Crane Wives songs as well), but I would absolutely still deem them amazing. Some of my favorite Hozier songs are "Nina Cried Power," "In the Woods Somewhere," "Like Real People Do," "Shrike," "Almost," "From Eden," and "Movement."
I realize now that this is legitimately a ridiculous number of songs to recommend all at once but I do genuinely mean it when I say they are all wonderful (although since they differ quite greatly from SAL and "All We Do I" I can't exactly promise you'll love all of them).
This is getting a bit too long so I'm just going to add that I'm very very happy that you also shared the playlist for hold me softly!! It's another series of yours that I love greatly and I didn't expect to see it in your response so the fact that it was there made me very very happy!
May you also be very very happy!
omg omg omg you have NO IDEA how happy this ask is making me right now!!! I was literally gushing about you and da capo anon to my partner earlier when we were chatting about fic and writing and how nice it is to get feedback / enthusiasm from other people!!!!! no but truly, you and da capo anon have given me some energy back when it comes to writing, and specifically for the fics you both have given me feedback for and engagement with. This past year or two is the first time in my life I've actually had the mental time and space to really build good daily writing habits, and this fandom and these fics I've been working on have been the first time I've been able to tackle and accomplish big writing tasks and actually, you know . . . accomplish them. It's been a fun bit of growth to go through, and I mean that genuinely. Thank you for being a part of it.
(also the fact that you and da capo anon and I are having a full conversation through asks is making me cackle with joy because it's so fun)
I HAVE SEEN THE NEW VERSION OF "HELLO MY OLD HEART". I LITERALLY SPENT AN HOUR RAMBLING TO MY FRIEND ABOUT IT WHILE ON A DATE WITH HER, AND YELLING ABOUT THE FIRST VERSION AND THE DIFFERENCES AND MEANINGS, AND SHE WAS JUST GRINNING THE WHOLE TIME. IT WAS FANTASTIC.
I do a lot of singing while I work, and a lot of my repertoire is The Oh Hellos and The Crane Wives, among other traditional folk songs. Folk music my absolute beloved. Scribefindegil here on Tumblr has a great catalog of folk and filk (fiction folk music) and I highly recommend checking out all the stuff she and Nate (astriiformes) have done. Eregyrn also has lots of good recommendations for folk and filk on her blog, and also awesome art. There are lots of others who have lots of really great stuff - I've reblogged a decent amount of folk and filk music at some point or another, so if you search it on my blog it should be tagged. Lots of neat stuff and creative people!!!
More music to check out!! Bless you!
Hozier's music is great - I've listened to a lot of his stuff off-and-on, but I'll have to put your recommendations on my work playlists so I can listen to them again.
All We Do anon I am hugging you with all my might, the fact you hold me softly makes my heart light up with glee. It is and always will be my baby in terms of fics and fic series, because it was my first real foray back into fic writing after several big life changes. It's also the first big story I've ever composed that's actually made it onto paper and not just spent time as spoken or imagined tales. There's so much more still to come in that world and that story, and with some luck and hard work I will get to tell it. I hope you'll be patient with me until I can.
For now - in return for your benevolence, have a section from the next installment of hold me softly. Title and excerpt under the cut.
An excerpt from the fic "so build me a cottage of sunlight and stone" from the fic series "hold me softly (kill me softer)" by howtotrainyournana on Ao3.
Summary: On the residence of king Eret in the cottage of one Dream. Or: Dream earns the last name “Was Taken” by kidnapping a king. Dream is not amused. Eret, however, is having a great time.
. . .
Eret did not wake up this morning expecting to be kidnapped.
To be fair, it has been a very long time since someone has tried, so he doesn’t usually wake up expecting to be kidnapped. He thinks he’s a fairly good king, all things considered; he’s neutral in all conflicts, but not uninvolved. He seeks peace and fairness and justice, and he sees to his people and his lands and their needs. He holds a hands-off approach for most things, preferring to give people their freedom so long as they are good to each other. It’s been a good approach for staving off kidnappings and assassinations and other unpleasantness that generally comes with being a monarch, even one in name but not function.
So, the kidnapping is a surprise.
He’s blindfolded, which is inconvenient, but his ears aren’t muffled and he’s not gagged. He flexes his wrists and shuffles his legs and is pleasantly surprised to find that while his arms are bound, his legs are not. He doesn’t know if he was drugged or not, because while he remembers going to sleep he doesn’t remember being tied up or transported, and he’s quite sure he would have woken up at some point during all that. He’s not a heavy sleeper.
Eret takes a moment to try and suss out what he’s laying on – something soft, maybe a bed? There’s a pillow under his head and he thinks he’s laying on old quilts by the feel of them, so probably yes. It’s very comfortable. He listens closely to the sounds around him, but when all he hears is birdsong and a breeze through windows and the distant sound of running water, he figures it’s safe to reach up and undo his blindfold.
He blinks in the light and takes in the cottage around him.
It’s a small thing, one room, and stuffed full to the brim with just . . . everything. Every bit of space is meticulously utilized, and Eret’s rather impressed. The rafters are hung with baskets and herbs and meats, hooks and shelves fill every wall, and the windows open outward to give more space inside. The door is open too, which is a pleasant surprise.
Eret stands – on steady feet, so a drugging seems unlikely, which begs the question of how he got here – and wanders about the room. The most curious thing about the whole place is the costumes – and the masks. There’s a little dining table absolutely crammed with sewing supplies. There’s a little redstone-driven sewing machine of a design he’s never seen before.
He might try to figure out how to take it with him.
There’s spools of thread and stacks of neatly-folded fabric and a pincushion absolutely glittering with needles. Thimbles and buttons and hooks and clasps peek out from an overflowing sewing basket on the back of the table, and a half-empty bag of stuffing and scraps is stuffed haphazardly itself under the table next to the little stool. There are costumes in various states of completeness folded or hung up or laid out around the sewing corner, but what really draws Eret’s eyes are the masks.
There’s a delicate golden mask with curling ram’s horns. There’s a feathered half-mask, all black and silver and with a wicked beak. There’s a monkey mask, and a fish, and a horse, and a dog, and one with a strange geometric pattern that’s hard to look at. One is split neatly down the middle, half black, half white. One is a simple white porcelain circle with a smiley face on it; another is nearly its mirror image, but the mouth is open and laughing. Another yet is the smile turned sideways, another only a smile with no eyes at all. There is a beautiful blue mask of scales and fur, another of white bone and sharp teeth and six horns. There is a mask that is simply a smooth black dome, reflecting the beholder back at themselves. Eret gets lost in it for a moment, or maybe longer than a moment, because he startles back into awareness when something soft brushes past his legs. The light has shifted a bit, crept that much closer to midday.
There is a calico cat purring and rubbing against his legs.
“Oh, hello there little one, I didn’t see you there,” he says, bending down to pet her. She purrs louder. He pulls his hand away, and she meows in protest, so he gives a chuckle and sits on the rug, patting his leg. She walks over his lap and begins kneading bread on his legs, purring like a motor.
“Nice place you have here,” Eret remarks. “I don’t suppose you’re the one who kidnapped me, are you?”
“No, that would be me,” says a voice from the doorway, and Eret startles again. The cat leaps off his lap and runs over to the man at the door. He scoops her up in his arms and pets her, tilting a masked face and very obviously considering the king seated on his floor. The mask is a pale wood, Eret notes, with a smile similar to the porcelain ones. There are thin, branching antlers reaching out from the crown of the mask.
“Did you have a good rest, Your Majesty?” the man asks, and his voice is familiar.
“I did, thank you for asking,” Eret replies. It never hurts to be polite to your captors. “Who might you be?”
The man tilts his head the other direction, and Eret can tell that he’s smiling even though he can’t see a bit of his face.
“Myself,” the man says, like it’s an inside joke between the two of them. Eret feels like he should know him, but for the life of him he can’t place the voice.
“And who might she be,” Eret asks, gesturing at the cat purring in the man’s arms.
“That’s me,” the man says, laughter in his voice.
“So I guess that makes me I, does it?” Eret jokes back.
“No, that’s me,” the man says, pointing at the cat, “and you are I, not me.”
Eret breaks into a grin.
“I think I might like being kidnapped this time,” he says, and the man laughs.
“Careful, you’ll ruin the reputation I’m trying to build, talking like that.”
The man walks over to the fireplace, depositing the cat on a little climbing shelf on his way. She disappears up into the rafters. The man swings the kettle over the fire. Maybe they’re going to have tea? Eret wouldn’t be opposed to it.
“And what reputation would that be?”
The man keeps fiddling near the kettle. Two porcelain cups get unhooked from the wall; a jar of crushed herbs uncorked; and a gleaming jar of honey opened. Tea it is, then.
“The thief who stole a king,” the man replies.
Eret hums as he stands.
“That’s quite a bold reputation to be seeking. Tell me, what’s it for? Fame? Money? Status? A sense of power?”
The man turns back, steaming mugs of tea in hand. The mask is lifted, pushed upwards into curling dark gold hair. Eret sucks in a breath, because - his eyes. Eret knows those eyes, knows that face, knows that voice. But it's not the Creative God standing before him. Eret knows that, like he knows when the wind will turn and the seasons will shift, like he knows when the tide of battle is reaching a fever pitch, like he knows when his breath stills at last he will breathe anew somewhere different in a new body and an old life.
"Fun," the man says and yes, yes this will be, thinks Eret.
He accepts the tea graciously and grins at his unwitting host, demure and graceful and already plotting. The man grins back. Oh, to be a young fool again. Eret sips his tea again before he speaks. Let the games begin.
"So, what should I call you?"
. . .
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there's a lot of nonsense around radblr, but I've watched your takes for years and appreciated them so much. I'm in fandom spaces a lot and when I was big into gender ideology, I made a non-binary tim, and while I was apart of radblr I heard a lot of things about tims in general and had begun to think them all as tims. I appreciate you showing me they are not, and there are decent human beings out there with sex dysphoria. So, I changed said nonbinary tim to have his dysphoria relieved after surgery similar to how you were. You've given me so much to think about and I appreciate your blog every day 💜
these are my absolute favorite asks to receive!! I actually have a fair number like this I'm slowly working on replying to. I've said before that one of my biggest goals with this blog (in terms of gender ideology stuff specifically, not overall) is to hold space for those of us who have criticisms of the current mainstream trans movement, gender ideology, and whatnot... while bringing nuance to the conversation, highlighting the breadth of experiences of sex-dysphoric individuals, and showing those who feel they don't quite fit either "side"* that there's a Safe place for them.
*by this I mean a variety of things, but for example: "gender critical transsexuals" (for lack of better terminology), sex-dysphoric-but-not-gender-dysphoric radfems, those who have (in part or in full) medically transitioned without regret but don't buy into gender ideology or the idea that sex can change (such as myself), TIF's who call themselves such and have a complex experience struggling with the dissonance of a happy transition but also being gender/trans critical, and all those of similar circumstances. there are a lot more of us than anyone seems to realize!
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All of this reminded me of the time, in the old DinLuke server, I proposed a Hadestown AU with Luke as Orpheus (the idealist with magic powers who can restore balance to the force bring the world back into tune, with a wise mentor who seems to know the secrets of the universe), and Din as Eurydice (the pragmatist focused on finding regular food and shelter, who is willing to literally sell her soul to Hades to eat). To me, this casing seemed obvious. Gun to my head, I could not think of a musical theatre character more like Luke Skywalker than Orpheus.
But people bent over backwards to try and convince me Luke should be Eurydice. And for no real good reason, except, I can only assume, because she was the female character, and they could only imagine Luke in the female role.
I bring this up to emphasize that heteronormativity, heterosexism, and homophobia are rampant in this fandom and contribute both to gross mischaracterizations of the characters and (more importantly) the estrangement of actual queer fans. I'm not a gay man, but I am a queer woman in a same-gender relationship, so this kind of heteronormativity in depictions of same-gender relationships does affect me, and does grate on me.
I use this example specifically because it was not connected to Dark!DinLuke and was safe for work. These issues are not limited to Dark!DinLuke or even smut. I do think they can be most obvious in those space, but they are not exclusive to those spaces. This Hadestown example is one of dozens of experiences I've had like this in DinLuke - in sfw and nsfw spaces, in the old server (cannot speak to the new one, I am not in it), on tumblr, and on ao3. It's part of what makes browsing that ao3 tag such a pain in the ass. Because even once I block all the noncon tags, it still takes a lot of work to find a fic where Din and Luke feel like humans, not like Ken and Barbie.
I've brought this up in a number of posts today, but it got sidelined in favor of other (equally important) conversations, so I wanted to point it out specifically. I also want to emphasize that I'm not trying to distance myself from this issue or suggest I am innocent. I'm always open to critique, and I'm sure I've messed up before.
#dinluke#this is the last one#bc this is a major problem ive had since before darkdinluke even became a thing#but ive only really talked about it in dms with friends#and since its the thing i can actually speak to ffrom experience of being in a same gender relationship#it felt weird that i hadn't made a post specifically about it#this also happened with a mamma mia au which was more frustrating#because id made din donna because he had a kid and i specifically made him trans#but then everyone was like 'no luke'#like lets unpack thatone
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ok so this might come off as a bit rambly so please bear with me lol
i've noticed that the acotar fandom has this incessant need to be right when it comes to canon and it really sucks out the funness of fandom. shipping is supposed to be fun but when it comes to this fandom, it's almost like a competition to see who will be more right when the books come out. engaging with theories/predictions about characters and the plot is supposed to be exciting but when it comes to this fandom, some of the theories/predictions are problematic at worst and nonsensical at best. like how can you say with your full chest that you're so confident about where the series is heading in the future because of this or that theory when you're stuck in the past and refuse to see what all of the text is telling you in the present. it doesn't make sense. the selective reading is so strong that it has me looking sideways sometimes lol
i guess my question is why do you think the fandom is so divided when it comes to ships right now? i've seen people say this wasn't the case for feysand and nessian, so what's the difference here?
Oh boy Brielle, I have some thoughts on this. It's complex.
To be clear, I am not saying that this applies to literally every single person who ships a certain way. This is a commentary on the fandom as a whole, and there are always exceptions.
This got really, really long, so I'm putting it under the cut.
I think that one of the main draws of this series, and of sjm's writing in general, is her ships. I think that people get very, very attached to their ships.
I also think that sjm does NOT fully think through some of the choices that she makes when writing. See: the way that she takes from all these different cultures and mashes them together, which could be seen as disrespectful of their origin. She has retconned things, like Mor being queer and Lucien being Helion's son. I think that she thoroughly thinks about some of the aspects of her books, like Rhys's reaction to sleeping with Feyre for the first time, but then really half-asses other aspects of her books, like Mor coming out.
Then, we have your good old misogyny and homophobia - people in the fandom don't like Mor because she hurt the poor bat boy's feelings when she didn't sleep with him, and they don't have a mating bond, but she's never really told Azriel "no", and so every single moment of pain that Azriel has felt in 500 years is Morrigan's fault. And Mor's experience as a closeted queer woman who feels unsafe around the people she should trust the most is completely disregarded by the fandom.
Finally, I think that a combination of these factors has created the monster we know as e*riel, and that the fandom is perpetuating its own mythology.
What all of this comes down to, and the real reason I think that the fandom is behaving this way right now, is that e*riel is dead. It's never happened, it's not going to happen, but because we don't have the clear closure we got with moriel (where people would be accused of homophobia for continuing to ship it), people are still trying to figure out any possible way for e*riel to become canon, though every single sign points to it being a non-issue.
This weird thing where people have to be "right" all the time, and the way that "right" = "canon" is a relatively new development. It's as if everyone in this fandom forgot that they are in fact in a fandom, which inherently diverges from canon.
However, I think that the need to cling to canon is because the alternative would be to admit defeat and say "well, even if it doesn't happen I will still ship e*riel, it's fine, I will live with that." But they don't want to do that. In response, they look at canon so hard that they are reading the white space between the letters to create their theories, which as you noted as largely nonsensical and often fail to take into account who the characters are as individuals, how they are connected to other characters, and why it would or wouldn't be appropriate for them to be involved in various plots.
People could say, as eluciens having been saying since day one, "I really ship this thing but I can see that it might not become canon". But they don't say that. They literally refuse to see any other possibility than e*riel becoming canon.
You pointed out that people are stuck in the past - absolutely. The number of reimaginings I have seen of scenes where either Azriel or Elain has literally zero to do with the scene, but people try to shove one or both of them in there. And this from books ago. People are stuck on the Truthteller scene, and refuse to acknowledge that neither of them have acted on their feelings, whatever those might be, for years. And they ignore the fact that once Elain and Az do act, it goes horribly wrong.
Here are the facts as of right now:
ACOSF is the most recent book. In that book, sans extra chapter, those two had no interaction other than looking at one another.
If we include his POV, then he said it was wrong, we got confirmation that nothing has ever happened between them, she returned his necklace. Elain was aroused, but that does not mean she was ready to even have sex. "Yes" to a kiss is not "yes" to every single sexual act Az can think of. They parted on awkward, bad terms after a scene in which it seemed like they were about to start something. Yikes. Unlike Wings and Embers, they did not end that chapter still thinking of one another. After they part ways, the omniscient narrator does not mention Elain, or Az thinking about Elain, again.
His POV occurs months before the end of the book. They do not interact after that.
Elain has a mate she has not rejected, nor accepted.
So anyway, your question was why are people like this. lol. I think the fandom created a monster, and that monster is clinging to life. It can't accept the idea of morphing into a non-canon ship, though it never was canon in the first place. It had just convinced itself that it was.
There are other aspects to this, that have to do with gwynriel and elucien.
Gwynriel is a new ship, it's almost guaranteed to happen, people are super excited to ship it and give Gwyn all their love. I'm sure they would rather create content for that ship than argue about whether or not it's going to be canon, but they are in constant defense mode. Some people honestly didn't like e*riel before because they don't like Elain, or because they don't like Azriel, and those are valid reasons for not liking it. Why people ship gwynriel doesn't matter. The tone of the discussion is, unfortunately, being shaped elsewhere, which I will mention below.
Elucien is an old ship, older than e*riel. I can speak from this perspective - personally, I have been holding my tongue for 4.5 years. I have been letting people live, and just talking about the things I like. Then when acosf came out, it was like I could finally say all the things I had been thinking about Azriel, because I now had proof that the things I thought about his character (and because of that, about e*riel) now had solid canon foundation. This is 4.5 years of me holding in a lot of shit and finally being able to say it. Sometimes yes, I might take joy in having been right.
I think that a few people are clinging to canon, and that sets the tone for the discourse in the fandom. Someone says "according to page whatever, blah blah blah" and people feel the need to respond, and then it turns into and "I'm right" contest instead of... a fandom... A lot of us like debating. To me, it's fun. But when Person A starts a conversation that's about canon and it actually ignores canon, it's hard to let that conversation go by and just keep creating whatever we want to create. Instead, we respond, and so the tone of the conversation is shaped by what Person A decided to say.
I also think that there is a lack of distinction between theories (what will happen in the future) and meta (analysis of what we have now).
There is also a lack of "I" statements. Opinions are being stated as fact.
idk if there is a way to make it better, other than to just go back to ignoring one another. This whole situation makes me want to throw out every single canon ship I like and create exclusively non-canon content, just for spite. Except I really like doing meta, and so I don't want to. I guess for my point, I'll just keep doing meta, keep creating different content, and keep reminding people that they aren't here to continue perpetuating canon, but to play with it.
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WHAT BENNY DOESN'T KNOW | Chapter 7
A TRIPLE FRONTIER STORY
Summary: Post mission confessions and will Benny finally find out what he's been missing out on?
Warnings: Mature 18+ ONLY!! Language, Smut and General Feels.
Word Count: 4852
A/N: Final chapter and final author's note. You guys have been so amazing throughout this series, showing me love and care and just overall enjoying my writing. My lucky number is 7 so seems only fitting that this has ended at 7 parts. Like I said in my little post earlier today, I couldn't have asked for a better group of people or fandom to share my final fanfiction piece with and the fact that its a completed series just makes me so happy and proud and ready to move on to my next writing ventures. Thank you all for everything, I will love and cherish you all always.
PART SEVEN | MISSION COMPLETE
The water pressure for the shower in your tiny hotel room was shit but you couldn't care less. You let out a deep sigh as your body relaxed into the feeling of the water washing over your body, washing away the grime and adrenaline that had come with the action packed day.
The job had been a huge success. You'd retrieved all the money with minimal casualties and delivered it safely to Santiago's contact across the border, but not before pocketing a little bit of it each.
It had been 1am when you had all made it to the tiny hillside hotel that overlooked the jungle. It wasn't much but the staff were friendly and there was the promise of breakfast included in the morning. There weren't many rooms so the boys had all doubled up, leaving you with a room to yourself. You had wasted no time, immediately dumping your bags and switching on the shower, half desperate to get clean, the other half desperate to run the tap cold to cool off from the heat.
You'd managed to stomach the cold for about 5 minutes before you had to turn it up a little, making the water more lukewarm than freezing. You quickly washed your hair and body with the single bar of soap that was provided with the room and got out. As much as you would have happily stayed standing under the running water a bit longer, you were also tired and desperate to sleep.
You wrapped yourself in one of the towels, which was a lot smaller than your preferred bath towels at home, only just covering your bum, and used the other towel provided to dry your hair as you walked back out into the small room. You had just sat down on the edge of the bed when there was a light knock on your door. For a moment you panicked a little, worried about opening the door and showing off too much skin to whoever was there, but then you remembered three out of your four team mates had already seen a lot more than this.
You had to stand on your tip toes to see through the view finder in the door so you could check and see who it was. They had their head down, but you'd recognise that hat anywhere. He was about to knock again when you suddenly opened the door.
Frankie's eyes grew wide as he took in the sight of you in the doorway. “Sorry, I was just getting out the shower.” you said as you held up the towel in your hand and continued to dry your hair as you spoke to him.
Frankie gave his head a small shake as he tried to get himself to focus again. “I broke up with Laura.” he blurted out. It wasn't what he was intending on starting with when he had first left the room he was sharing with Santiago, but he had become nervous and it had only gotten worse when you opened the door looking like that.
Your brow furrowed at his words. “What?” your question was almost a whisper. He held up his hand, a silent gesture asking if he could come in so you weren't having this conversation on a hotel room doorstep. “Umm yeah.” you said stepping aside, your voice starting to feel more confident, the shock of his statement wearing off.
“I broke up with Laura.” he said again as you closed the door. You remained silent as you observed him from across the room, encouraging him to elaborate. “When we went on that last job with Pope and everything went to shit,” he started; he was fiddling with his hands, unable to look at you. “There was this moment.” he continued. “When we were on the side of the mountain and I lost this mule and for a moment I saw my life flash before my eyes. I could have so easily have gone down with it.” he said, sitting himself down on the end of the bed. He took his hat off and began fiddling with the strap on the back of it. You stepped closer, taking a seat beside him, listening carefully.
“In that moment my brain thought of two things.” he said, his leg bouncing now. “I thought of my little girl's smiling face... and then I thought of you.” he admitted going silent, letting the statement hang in the air. You continued to examine his side profile as you waited patiently for him to continue. “Then when Tom died...” he finally said, his voice shaking slightly. He suddenly looked up at you and you felt your heart stop as you saw the faint traces of tears filling his eyes. “It was you, I just wanted to get home to you.” He paused a moment, looking back down at his hat in his fingers again before he continued. “I went home and told her everything.”
You braced yourself for what would come next in his story but it never came. “The worst thing was that she was so great about it. She said she wasn't surprised, that she knew that I was in love with you the first time she met you.” There was a long pause before he looked up at you again, his hand reaching out for yours, resting in your lap. “I wanted to tell you all this at the diner but you left before I got a chance to say anything. I wanted to tell you I was sorry, for all of it.”
“I'm sorry too, I should have never taken that job-”
“You did the right thing. Don't be sorry. I treated you like shit, I broke every promise that I made to you. I wasn't in a good place and I let you down and you were right. I needed help and we both needed space. Don't ever say you're sorry for that.” he said lifting his hand to wipe away a tear you hadn't realised was falling down your cheek.
“Frankie-” your voice cracked as you said his name.
“I got mad today because I was scared. Scared I was gonna lose you before I got a chance to tell you everything I've wanted to say since the moment I first saw you.” He paused, turning towards you and taking both of your hands in his. “I never believed in love at first sight, that was until I saw you and I knew there was something different there, I just didn't know what it was yet. You are the most beautiful, adventurous and stubborn woman I have ever met and I am so completely in love with everything about you. I don't want to carry on living my life without you-”
“I love you.” your voice came out suddenly as a whisper making him stop. “I love you Francisco Morales.” you said more sure of yourself. “I will always love you. I should have said it before when you told me you loved me but I couldn't.”
“I know.” he said it with such love but also such sorrow in his eyes. You sat there for a moment in silence as he put his hat back on, both of you just happy to be in each others company.
“So what do we do now?” you tentatively asked.
“I don't know. What do you want to do now?” he asked. His words were gentle but held a message of 'I'm happy to do whatever you want to do, as long as I get to do it with you'.
You took a deep breath in as you mustered the courage needed to make the first move. You stood up and Frankie sat himself upright, not taking his eyes away from yours once. You lifted your leg slowly, placing your knee onto the bed beside his thigh, before lifting the other one and placing it on the other side. Frankie's hands moved comfortably to your hips, guiding you into your seat on his lap.
You wrapped your hands around the back of his neck, your eyes glancing down to his lips then back up to his eyes again. You slowly leant forward until your lips were touching his. It was tentative at first, but as soon as those fireworks went off in your mind and your lips tingled at his touch, you both wasted no time deepening the kiss. He wrapped both of his arms around your lower back, pulling you closer to him.
You nudged the brim of his hat with your head and he reached up to take it off, placing it on the corner of the bed. You leant forward against him and he lay himself back against the mattress, encouraging you with his lips to follow.
He brought a hand up to cup your jaw as he ran the tip of his tongue along your lower lip, gently asking for entry. You happily met his tongue in the middle with your own. You suddenly felt a tightening feeling in your chest and you broke the kiss sitting yourself upright, needing more room to breathe. “You okay?” he asked softly as he saw you bring a hand to your chest, rubbing at the spot inbetween your breasts where the pain was.
“Yeah, I just forgot to breath properly.” you half lied.
“Do you want to stop?” he asked, sensing your anxiety. He couldn't blame you for it, he knew he'd put you through a lot in the past and he didn't want to rush you.
“No, I'm just...” your sentence caught in your throat as you began to overthink the statement that was about to fall out of your mouth, your brain telling you you were being silly. You let your body slide off of him to the side but kept your legs lazily over the top of his. He gently stroked his fingertips across the bare skin with one hand, while he propped himself up on his opposite elbow to look at you. He waited patiently for you to continue, his brown eyes soft and encouraging. Safe.
“It's silly. I'm being silly.” you said, trying to laugh off the feeling within you. He continued to wait patiently. “I'm just nervous.” you finally said. “I want us to... I want to... I just... It's been a little while since I... and with you.” you mumbled out, trying to explain how you were feeling but feeling so silly for it. This obviously wasn't your first time sleeping together but it was so different from any other time the two of you had done it. You felt lost, all your confidence draining out of you. You wanted him to take charge, but not in the way that Santi had in Italy, more like how Will had. Soft and encouraging. Actions full of adoration and care. You wanted this to feel natural, yet still passionate and full of love. You just didn't know how to initiate that.
“Come here.” he said quietly, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. He gave you a chaste kiss to the top of your head as he held you loosely against his chest, allowing you time to breathe and relax.
When you felt the feeling in your chest subside, you looked up at him, silently telling him with your eyes you were ready to try again. He leant down, meeting his lips with yours once more. The tingling feeling in your lips came back, but as you inhaled through your nose, so did the feeling in your chest. Your breathing hitched and Frankie sensed your discomfort again. “Why don't you lie down.” he encouraged you, motioning to the pillows at the top of the bed with his head.
He used the opportunity, as you climbed up the bed, to kick his shoes off and take off his pants so he was sat comfortably at the end of the bed in his t-shirt and briefs. You pulled your lips into a tight happy smirk at the sight, as you settled into the pillows. He smiled back at you as he caught you admiring him, lowering himself sideways again, his elbow propping himself up. “I love you Frankie.” you said, a quiet giddiness to your voice.
“Yeah?” he questioned, his eyebrows playfully raising. “Good.” he said as he looked down at the bed bashfully before back up to your eyes. They then slowly trailed down to where your towel was wrapped tightly across the top of your breasts. You watched him slowly make his way up the bed towards you, his fingers tentatively reaching out for the fabric.
You held your breath in anticipation as he began to pull on the towel, the tight tuck coming free. He slowly pulled the towel apart and you became bashful at his gaze. He leaned forward to give you a brief kiss on your lips before they began to make their journey down your chin, then to your neck. They grazed across your breasts to your nipples and your breathing hitched as he placed a gentle kiss on either of them.
He then shuffled backwards on the bed, his hands gripping your thighs and pulling you into a more laid down position, making you giggle. He then went back to trailing kisses down your body. Every kiss as he made his way down to your thighs was gentle and appreciative. Your breathing hitched again when his lips started to make their way up from your knees, his scruff tickling the sensitive skin as he kissed up your thigh. He stopped just before he reached your centre, teasing you before he began kissing down the inside of the opposite thigh, down to your knee then back up again.
He stopped again, just before reaching your core, it tingled in anticipation. You tilted your head to see him smiling at you and you bashfully giggled before he leant forward, his tongue darting out to lap at your folds, his nose nudging your clit. You let out a breathy moan at the feel of his mouth re-exploring you after so long. The sounds of your pleasure encouraged his tongue to dive deeper into your folds, his arms hooking under your thighs, pulling you closer to him. His fingers stroked lazily and soothingly over your thighs and you felt yourself relax further into his touch, your previous anxieties becoming a distant memory.
You raised your legs and Frankie's hands pushed against the back of your thighs, opening you up wider, the tips of your toes brushing against his shoulders. He sat himself up for a moment and pulled off his t-shirt, throwing it across the room, before his head dived back down between your legs. He guided your swollen clit with his tongue, sucking it between his lips, the sensitivity and pleasure sending your head rolling back into the pillows. His name fell from your lips in a breathy whisper and Frankie felt his underwear grow tighter.
Your hips began to squirm, rolling your clit against his tongue in just the way you liked, as two of his fingers dove into your soaking cunt. You felt them stretch you out at first but then he curled them inside you, rubbing against that sweet spot that had you careening quickly towards your finish. Your fingers reached down, threading themselves into his loose curls, attempting to ground yourself as your release began to take over.
Your legs clamped around either side of his head and you felt him let out a small breathy chuckle through his nose. He buried his tongue deeper into your folds, lapping up everything you were giving him as your cries of pleasure rang out through the room.
Your legs finally released him and he quickly came up for air, a large grin plastered across his face. You brought your knees up tight to your chest, a large smile across your face and a giddy giggle falling from your lips. Frankie felt like he had gone to heaven as he leaned down to kiss your lips. He broke away, placing a kiss on your forehead as he got up from the bed to rid himself of his underwear, his hard cock springing free.
You rolled over onto your knees and crawled across the bed towards him. He took your face in his hands, bending down to reconnect your lips once more between smiles as you both shuffled backwards onto the bed. You encouraged him to lay down, his hands shuffling the pillow under his head to get comfortable.
You straddled his hips and he took his erection into his hand, lining it up with your entrance. As you lowered yourself down slowly onto his cock, letting it stretch you out, Frankie had this overwhelming feeling of coming home. When you had taken him inside you completely, he guided your head down to his so he could give you a deep passionate kiss. “I love you.” he mumbled the words against your lips and your eyes closed in bliss, your forehead resting against his as his hips began to roll up into you.
You began to moan in pleasure at the feeling of his hard cock thrusting slowly and deeply inside you, the prominent blood filled veins and the head if his member rubbing against the most sensitive parts of your walls. The feeling was overwhelming as you both rocked yourselves against one another, your breathing becoming laboured. You could feel your next orgasm building quickly as you reached a hand between your two bodies, your fingers beginning to circle your clit.
Your moans became more frequent and Frankie could tell you were close, “Come on baby.” he encouraged you. “Come on baby. Let me see that pretty face you make when you cum all over my cock.” His hands reached up to cup the sides of your face, guiding your head into the best angle for him to see you. Your eyes became unfocussed and you cried out as your pleasure took over you.
He continued to roll up into you with the same agonising pace, dragging your orgasm out as long as he could. “Frankie please.” you whined as the sensitivity became too much and he let go of his hold on your face allowing you to collapse against him, your head burying itself between his neck and the pillow. He listened closely to your ragged breaths as you attempted to come down from your high.
When you lifted your head, he could see small glistening tears in your eyes. He tilted his head to kiss your lips, his hand reaching up to smooth your hair. “You know I think that's one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.” you smiled bashfully at his words. “Can I do it again?” he asked. You nodded as small yes escaping your lips before you kissed him, his hips beginning to roll up into you again.
His hands gripped onto your hips, grinding you down against him as he thrust up into you. Your lips attacked one another with fervour, your tongues melting into one another, your laboured breathing becoming one. He snaked his arms around you and his thrusts paused a moment as he rolled the two of you over so he was now situated on top of you, your legs locking around his back, his forearms pressed to the bed either side of you, encapsulating you with his body.
His thrusts became stronger and a little more powerful as he began to push you both towards your final highs. You pushed your knees back closer to your chest, encouraging him deeper still. He began hitting the most perfect spot, “Yes right there, please don't stop, don't stop.” you said wrapping your arms around his neck as his thrusts became quicker.
He buried his head against the crook of your neck as he tried to focus on not finishing before he had made you cum one last time but your moans and gasps were sending him over the edge. He counted his lucky stars as he felt your walls clamp down around him, the pulsations of your orgasm bringing him to his own finish. He propped himself up as he stilled inside you, his lips attaching to yours, thanking you for the moment you just shared together.
He pulled his head back to admire the blissed out smile across your face and the adoration in your eyes as you looked at him. “You know you were always the best right?” you teased him and he hung his head as he let out a chuckle, a reminder of your comment earlier in the day.
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You both settled under the covers, curling into each others bodies, your limbs intertwined as one as you talked quietly in the dark. “Did he really have the safety on the whole time?” Frankie questioned you again, he still didn't believe your statement.
“Yeah.” you said propping yourself up so you could try to make out his face in the dark as the smile of complete and utter disbelief grew across his face. “I had to take it off to shoot him when I took the gun from him.” you said as you settled your chin back against his chest, feeling the rumble of his low laugh vibrate through it. “Is anyone ever going to tell Benny?” you pondered, turning your head to the side, your ear listening to his heartbeat and his relaxed breaths.
“I'm sure Ironhead will someday.” you both let out a snigger then as you thought of what Ben's reaction would be like the day he got to find out about all the things he'd been missing out on. “Did Pope really do that stuff he said he did to you in Italy?”
“You jealous Frankie?” your voice teased playfully. “You play your cards right maybe you can get the chance to do it one day... or I could do it to you.” You felt him go rigid underneath you, the idea of you tying him to the bed and teasing him all night playing out in his head. You propped yourself up, reaching to give him a kiss and break him away from his thoughts. He gave you a devious smirk that you could only just make out in the dark.
You settled back into his chest and his fingers began to draw lazy circles on your back, your eyes growing heavy under his comforting touch. “Hey Magpie?” his voice rung out in the silence.
“Yeah.” you mumbled lazily into his chest, your eyes remaining closed.
“What happens when we get home?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean us and Laura and the baby? I just... I want to do the right thing.” he said and you propped your head up again to look at him, knowing he needed to have your full attention for this conversation.
“What do you want to happen?” you asked him cautiously.
“I want to go home and be able to say you're my girlfriend, my partner.” he hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I want to have you by my side to raise my little girl with me. For you to share all your best qualities with her so she will grow up into an amazing woman. I always thought you'd make an amazing mom.” he said. You searched the dark for his eyes, they were soft and full of so much adoration for you. “I know it's a lot to put on you and I'm not asking you to step up and be her mom, that's what Laura's for, but I want you in her life. To be her friend and safe place like you are to me.”
You paused a moment, taking in his words before nodding and quietly saying, “Yeah okay.”
“Yeah?” he said hopefully as a large smile broke out onto his face.
“Yeah.” you said again, the nod of your head growing stronger and a smile spreading across your lips at the idea of you nurturing the little girl that was half of the man you loved. He leant forward crashing his lips into yours before reaching to place a grateful kiss on your forehead. He pulled you back down into his arms and smiled contently, his eyes closing and head relaxing deep into the pillow, happy to finally be able to sleep with you in his arms.
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“Where's Catfish?” Will asked as Santiago sat himself down at the table in the quiet breakfast room, a large plate piled high with food from the spread on a table at the far side of the room, held firmly in his hand.
“I'm guessing he's having a lie in.” Santi smirked across the table with a small raise of his eyebrows.
“Didn't you share a room with him last night?” Benny mumbled through a mouthful of food.
“I shared a room with his stuff.” Santiago teased and he and Will shared a coy smile. Benny looked between the two confused. His confusion didn't last long though as you and Frankie walked into the breakfast room together, smiling and making eyes at each other.
“Wait? Fish and Magpie?” Benny questioned, his brow furrowed. Santiago and Will just gave small sniggers as they focused their eyes on their plates.
“Morning.” you said with a cheerful smile as you settled yourself in the free chair next to Santiago.
“Well someone's in a good mood this morning.” Will teased you as you reached for the pot of coffee in the middle of the table, filling up a cup, as Frankie settled himself in the seat the other side of you. You shot the older Miller brother a warning look and he tried his best to fight off a laugh as Frankie relaxed back in his seat, He rested his arm on the back of your chair, as you filled his cup with coffee too. His hand rubbed gently over your back, letting you know he was grateful for the gesture.
“How did you guys sleep last night?” you asked in an attempt to distract Benny who was staring across the table at you and Frankie, trying to work out what was happening.
“I slept great.” Santiago said between mouthfuls. “Had a nice quiet night to myself.”
“Wait, are we not going to acknowledge what's going on here?” Benny said, his hands falling heavy on the table top as he looked between each of you.
“I don't know. What do you think's going on here Benny?” Frankie teased him.
“I- Uh. I don't know. You tell me.” Benny replied, his eyebrows raising at yourself and Frankie.
“He slept with her last night.” Santiago said, still enjoying his food. He said it so nonchalantly, like it was common knowledge and you had to fight the large grin that wanted to break out over your face. Benny's eyes grew wide as the realisation of your words the day before really hit him.
“Wait! What! Was this what I was missing!” Benny said a little too loudly, drawing the attention of the other guests in the room. Frankie raised his hand at them and gestured a silent sorry to the other tables as Benny tried to regain his composure.
“Come on, I'll fill you in outside.” Will said as he got up from his seat, encouraging Benny to go with him. Benny moaned as he left his still half full plate on the table. You and Frankie watched giddily as Benny skulked off behind his brother.
“So you guys finally sorted things out then.” Santiago said more as a statement as he took a sip of his coffee. You and Frankie just gave each other a reassuring smile in response and Santiago sat back in his chair to admire the two of you. “Guess this means I'll never get to fuck her again then.” he said to Frankie.
“I don't know man, if you play your cards right and she wants to?” Frankie left the statement open ended and you gave him a playful smile. Santiago let out a small snigger lifting his cup up to Frankie as a touché.
“Just promise me you'll treat her right.” Santiago said to his friend softly as he placed his now empty coffee cup back onto the table.
“I will man.” Frankie replied as he looked to you with adoration. Santiago smiled giving you a small nod, blessing your new relationship as he stood up from the table. He placed a caring hand on your shoulder as he bent down to kiss your cheek, his last parting gesture.
You turned yourself towards Frankie's embrace as Santiago left the breakfast room and he placed a kiss on top of your head. You both sat there content in each others silence as you picked at your breakfast on the table before you. You reached for the pot of coffee to top up both your cups when a loud giddy shout of “OOOHH SHIT!” carried through from the lobby area of the hotel. It was official, Benny finally knew everything.
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