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rainbowmoonstonestories · 26 days ago

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Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 23

Chapters: 23/? 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!

As your physical illness persisted, Morpheus's absence from both your dreams and waking life only intensified your distress. Your biggest fear transformed into reality, with even more revelations coming to the surface.

Author's note: I had hoped to finish this chapter before the holidays, but I found myself unable to due to multiple reasons.

I suggest having tissues ready, as this update is quite emotional. While everything will be explained and resolved soon enough, this particular event, though heartbreaking, is necessary. Please bear with me! You'll learn more about the Reader and her "situation" as new details unfold, too.

Also, like I previously mentioned, I'm currently rewriting the old chapters to improve their quality and align them with my current writing style. It may take me a while.

The Dreaming felt strangely eerie and lacked its usual brightness, with rain pouring down as heavily as it had when Morpheus was exiled, sealed away from his realm and unable to control it.

It was disturbing and unnatural. With Morpheus missing for days and a mysterious illness causing your emotions to fluctuate wildly, a growing sense of unease consumed your thoughts day after day.

Although your new creative work assignment provided a much-needed distraction, you couldn't shake the gnawing fear churning in your stomach for multiple reasons. While Ella bounced around the office, checking social media and celebrating each new product request and purchase notification with impromptu dance moves, you felt completely disconnected from the office's upbeat atmosphere.

Upon receiving an invitation to model for Corbyn&Jones' latest jewelry collection, her infectious enthusiasm compelled acceptance. Through professional makeup artistry and a proper smile, you were confident in your ability to present a polished appearance despite your fatigue.

While the campaign achieved significant market success and engagement, you found yourself experiencing an unexpected sense of detachment from the accomplishment. Despite recognizing the need to schedule a consultation with Doctor Mills, you continued to postpone the appointment, using professional commitments as justification for the delay.

In truth, you were simply afraid to confront your deepest worries becoming reality.

"I don't want to alarm you, but if you experience stomach problems that last longer than five days, you should let me know right away,” he had warned you during a visit. “With your family history, we can't be too careful."

While your symptoms weren't as severe as your father's had been, the combination of eating difficulties, persistent nausea, and constant exhaustion was deeply concerning. The Dreamstone adorning your neck was intended to provide protection, but you questioned whether its safeguarding properties extended only to external forces, leaving you vulnerable to whatever internal affliction might be manifesting.

You needed Morpheus as much as you needed air to breathe, yet for some reason, he had never felt so far away.

You tried to rationalize his absence, telling yourself it wasn't serious. After all, Dream of the Endless was a powerful being who bore the weight of everyone's wellbeing on his shoulders. Though you longed to have him by your side, you understood his duties took precedence over everything else—perhaps even over his love for you.

You did the best you could to maintain a positive outlook, yet an undeniable sense of foreboding permeated your consciousness. The sensation came both physically and psychologically, particularly evident in the unsettling echoes that resonated through the forested landscapes of your dreams.

The Dreaming lay in turmoil, its mysterious affliction baffling you.

One night, you stood in a vast, barren field beneath a sky that was neither day nor night, just a faint, muted gray. The air hung stifling and oppressive, carrying only a dark silence broken by distant echoes that sounded like a mournful lament. When you turned toward the sound, the horizon stretched endlessly before you, offering no hint of its source.

Around you, the Dreaming existed in fragments and disrepair. The once-vivid flora had withered to mere shadows, while familiar places—your favorite glade and the garden where you and Morpheus had walked—flickered like dying embers, fading in and out of existence. Though you heard the distant sound of hooves, as if Astra were trying to reach you, the creature stayed hidden from view.

A faint light pierced the gloom like a dying star. You felt drawn to it, a tiny spark of hope against the crushing darkness. With trembling fingers outstretched, you whispered into the void: "Morpheus, please come to me!"

But no answer came. The dream dissolved completely, leaving you to wake in your bed with stinging eyes and a hollowness gnawing inside, the echo of your voice calling his name still lingering in the air.

What in the world was going on?

The library was still, its vast expanse of bookshelves and rolling ladders bathed in soft, melancholic light. At her desk, Lucienne meticulously cataloged a newly arrived tome, her brow furrowed with concern as she reflected of the realm's troubled state.

Outside, a haunting symphony of rain and thunder filled the air. The Dreaming had grown restless, its usual vibrancy dulled and its stability wavering.

The silence shattered as Matthew swooped in, his wings beating frantically and his demeanor uncharacteristically tense. He perched on the edge of Lucienne's desk, shifting nervously before fixing her with concern.

“So, uuhh” he began, his voice low and insistent. “Do you know what’s going on with the boss? He’s been quite... off.”

Lucienne paused, her quill hovering mid-air. “Off?”

"Yeah, you know—gloomy, silent. More than usual," Matthew elaborated. "I mean, he's not exactly Mr. Sunshine on a good day, but this? This is different. Stuff's weird and unstable, like it's feeding off his bad mood.”

Lucienne sighed deeply, setting her quill down. "I've noticed. Lord Morpheus has been unusually withdrawn. He either sends me back to the library or deliberately changes the subject whenever I try to speak with him."

Matthew ruffled his feathers, hopping closer. “Yeah, well, that’s not helping anyone. The Dreaming’s a mess, again. There are storms brewing in places that were peaceful a week ago. Some areas are just... disappearing, like they don’t know whether they should exist or not. And that howling? Yeah, Not creepy at all..."

Lucienne’s eyes darkened, the lines of her face deepening. “The howling...” she murmured. “It’s grief. Pain. And it seems to be coming from him, though he would never admit it.”

Matthew tilted his head. “But why? For what? Did something happen?”

“I suspect it may have something to do with her,” she said, choosing her words carefully.

“Her? You mean Y/N?”

“He hasn’t mentioned her name, but I’ve seen the signs. His avoidance, the strain in his bearing… she hasn't been seen around here at all lately."

Matthew let out a low whistle. “Man, the boss sure knows how to complicate things. So, what do we do? Just let him stew in his misery? If they've had a fight, they'll likely kiss and make up later. I mean, couples go through rough patches all the time.”

Lucienne adjusted her glasses, her expression growing grave. "I don't know. I sense this has to do with something else, something far more troubling."

Matthew tilted his head thoughtfully. “Troubling how?”

"I've yet to determine the cause. Perhaps you could prove useful," Lucienne suggested.

"Wait, me?"

“You have a way of getting through to him,” she said with a faint smile. “You’re blunt, unorthodox. You can say what I cannot.”

Matthew flapped his wings, exhaling a resigned sigh. “Great. No pressure, huh? Alright, I’ll give it a shot. But if he turns me into a puff of smoke, it’s on you.”

Lucienne’s expression softened, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you, Matthew."

As the raven disappeared into the shadows, caught between determination and dread, Lucienne sank back in her chair with a weary sigh. She could only hope that whatever darkness had seized their lord wasn't beyond the comfort of those who cherished him.

Throughout her extensive tenure as Morpheus’ librarian, she had never observed him in such a deep state of distress. She had been witness to countless moments across the spectrum of his experiences, from triumph to tribulation. The good, the bad, and yes, the utterly dramatic.

However, this situation was unprecedented in its severity and implications. Neither they nor Morpheus himself could grasp just how complex it truly was.

Morpheus sat on his throne, rigid and unmoving, his eyes locked intently on the Book of Paradoxes in his lap. The black leather tome caught the faint light, its obsidian and gold letters writhing across the pages as if alive. His fingers rested motionless on its surface as his mind wandered through a maze of thoughts. He had been consulting the book incessantly, hoping for a new interpretation that never emerged. No matter how the words shifted and molded themselves, their significance remained unchanged.

Avoiding your presence in his realm at night and ignoring your calls was the most excruciating act Morpheus had ever undertaken. His actions were driven solely by a desire to ensure your safety, though he meticulously examined the book's cryptic passages in search of alternative solutions that might alter the predicted course of events.

As time progressed, the possibility of a positive outcome grew increasingly remote, challenging what little hope he had left.

Matthew silently flew in, landing on the throne's armrest. He shuffled his wings, watching nervously as the Dream Lord closed the book and tucked it away. Morpheus appeared silent, offering no acknowledgment of the raven's arrival.

“Uh, hey, boss,” Matthew began, his tone hushed. “You’ve been in here for a while. Just thought I’d check in, y’know? See how you’re holding up.”

Morpheus was as still as marble, his darkened eyes wandering on some distant point, as though the raven's words drifted past him like echoes in darkness.

Matthew cleared his throat and continued. “So... Lucienne’s been worried. And, uh, not to snitch or anything, but the Dreaming’s been acting kinda weird too. You don’t exactly look like you’re winning ‘Most Cheerful Dream Lord of the Year,’ either.”

Morpheus’ fingers idly traced the throne's armrests with a touch both reverent and laden with frustration.

Matthew tentatively shifted closer. “Alright, look. I know something’s eating at you. Is it... her? Did you two have a fight or something?”

At the mention of you, Morpheus' hands froze. His head turned slightly, eyes narrowing just enough to reveal he had been listening all along. “I have not quarreled with her,” he said finally, his voice low and clipped.

“You didn’t? Well, that’s good I suppose,” Matthew replied hastily. "You see, Lucienne's been wondering why Y/N hasn't visited the castle these days. We were thinking that maybe—"

“Matthew,” he interrupted. “You will refrain from speaking of her.”

Matthew flinched but held firm, maintaining his position beside the Dream Lord's arm. “Boss, I’m just trying to help here. I mean, this isn’t like you. Even for you. If nothing's wrong between you two, then what is happening here?"

Morpheus rose from his throne with fluid grace, his towering form casting a shadow over the raven. His movements were deliberate and restrained, as if containing a tempest within.

“You presume much,” he said, his deep voice edged with frost. “The matters of my heart are mine alone to bear. And the Dreaming is my responsibility, not yours.” He exhaled a slow, deep breath that resonated with his inner torment. “There are matters that cannot be ignored.”

Matthew cocked his head, his curiosity piqued. “Matters, huh? Are you talking about that book you were reading just now?”

Morpheus' jaw tightened at the question, but he didn’t answer.

“Look, I’m not trying to stick my beak where it doesn’t belong. But whatever’s going on, you’re not exactly handling it great. The Dreaming’s feeling it, and so are the ones who care about you.”

Morpheus's expression flickered, a glimpse of guilt crossing his features momentarily. "That is not your concern," he stated sternly.

“Not my concern?” Matthew repeated, flapping his wings in agitation. “Boss, come on! You think she’s not gonna notice something’s wrong? You think Lucienne and I aren’t gonna notice? You’re shutting everyone out, and it’s not working.”

The Endless’ eyes closed briefly, as if shielding himself from the raven's words. Once more, his tone sliced through the mounting disquiet like a blade of ice. “Leave it, Matthew.”

Torn between pressing further and respecting the Dream Lord's boundaries, the raven huffed, lowering his head with a defeated slump of his shoulders. “Alright, fine,” he muttered. “But for what it’s worth, boss, you’re not doing her—or yourself—any favors by staying in here and brooding. Just think about that, okay?”

Morpheus's gaze drifted into the distance as Matthew departed, the fluttering of his wings echoing softly through the vast emptiness of the throne room, leaving behind a weight of unspoken truths and unresolved pain.

Your throat burned as you hunched over the toilet, retching up what little dinner you'd managed to eat again. The nausea had grown more persistent, becoming so severe that you struggled to hide your condition even at work. With your shortened shifts and frequent naps during quiet moments at the studio, Ella assumed your body was breaking down from physical and mental exhaustion—a result of your Florida trip and the heavy workload you'd taken on without pause.

Out of guilt, she suggested taking a few days off to recover, but you promptly refused. Having too much downtime would only let your mind wander to uncomfortable thoughts, exacerbating symptoms and impeding your ability to cope effectively.

Multiple times you'd started to reach out to Doctor Mills, drafting emails you never sent and almost calling but finding yourself unable to follow through. Keeping busy with your demanding work schedule meant you could focus on surviving each day without falling into the cycle of anxiety and overthinking.

Making matters more difficult, Morpheus had vanished entirely from both your dreams and waking life. The abandonment stung as deeply as any mortal lover's silent withdrawal, and the Dreaming's deteriorating state only amplified your growing distress.

After the bout of vomiting subsided, you splashed cold water on your face and trudged back to bed. The nausea had barely let up, and an odd pressure weighed heavily in your stomach. Your abdomen had become noticeably distended recently, and it was clear that prolonging this for another week would be inadvisable. The situation warranted a proper medical evaluation, and you resolved to schedule an appointment with your healthcare provider sooner rather than later.

Perhaps it was nothing, just a food intolerance acting up, or a particularly nasty virus that had weakened your immune system. Or more likely it was simply your body's response to mounting stress, a combination of your grueling workdays and Morpheus' unexplained silence.

The symptoms fluctuated in intensity, ranging from mild discomfort to severe episodes that necessitated immediate trips to the bathroom. In those brief intervals of physical relief when eating and resting became manageable, your mind would invariably wander to other pressing concerns.

Morpheus had consistently demonstrated the depth and sincerity of his affection. His declarations of love were always accompanied by meaningful actions, from welcoming you into his realm to crafting extraordinary gifts that showcased his devotion. His sudden withdrawal seemed entirely incongruous with his character, and considering the negative conditions within the Dreaming, it wasn’t difficult to understand that a matter of significant importance demanded his attention.

Still, you wished he would communicate openly about his troubles, even if you couldn't directly assist with the situation. At minimum, you wanted to offer emotional support and help lighten his burden as you had during the Vortex crisis.

Perhaps this time, Morpheus was deliberately keeping you at a distance, all for your own protection. At the very least, even a short word would have been welcome.

"So," Matthew said, clicking his beak. "What's the plan?"

"I don't know," Lucienne said. "Whatever is troubling Lord Morpheus, it must be something deeply personal for him to maintain such silence."

"Yes, but how much longer will he shut himself away?"

"I cannot say. After all, this is Lord Morpheus we speak of."

The Dreaming's sky had taken on an unsettling shade of gray, neither the soft twilight of contentment nor the ominous darkness of unrest. The realm's usual rhythm was disrupted, driving even Mervyn the Pumpkinhead up the metaphorical wall.

With a huff, he stomped his way to the library, his boots thundering against the marble floor while his carved pumpkin face twisted into a permanent scowl. He shoved the library doors open with excessive force, sending echoes through the vast expanse of shelves.

Lucienne looked up from her desk, maintaining her calm professionalism as her eyebrows arched slightly at Mervyn's dramatic entrance. “Ah, Mervyn. What brings you here?”

“What brings me here?” he repeated, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "Lemme tell ya what brings me here. The Dreaming's gone completely bonkers for days now. DAYS! The sky's throwin' a temper tantrum, can't make up its mind whether to drizzle, shine, or go full tornado on us. And the ground? It's wobblier than a drunk gargoyle on rollerskates! But here's the real kicker; them trees have lost their marbles completely. One of the wise guys actually tried to snatch my rake this mornin'! Can you believe the nerve?"

Lucienne’s lips twitched in amusement. “The realm is reflective of the Dream Lord’s current emotional state.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Mervyn grumbled, crossing his arms. "Now we're all stuck in this screwy limbo situation here. Look, I ain't dense - he got troubles up to his eyeballs. But for cryin' out loud, the rest of us are tryin' to do our jobs in this mess! Can you go knock some sense into him or somethin'?"

Lucienne straightened in her chair, her expression thoughtful. “The Dream Lord has much to contemplate, Mervyn. Matters of great importance weigh heavily on his mind.”

"Heh, not that I haven't tried already," Matthew interjected.

Mervyn rolled his empty eyes. "Can't his lordship deal with it without makin' the whole joint go haywire? I swear, I'm this close to hangin' up my rake and startin' a nice, normal garden topside. Least there I won't have to deal with plants that think they're critics!"

Lucienne stifled a chuckle. “You must remember that the Dreaming and its ruler are intrinsically linked. His moods influence the realm just as the realm influences him.”

"Sheesh, ain't it obvious? What's got his royal nibs all twisted up like a pretzel, anyway? Another one of them Endless family squabbles? Or maybe some mortal mess he's got himself tangled in?"

"I am not certain," she replied.

"Whatever. This whole mess needs fixin', and pronto."

While reviewing the Dreaming record, Lucienne paused mid-nod as something significant caught her attention. Her eyes widened as she studied the page intently, adjusting her spectacles as she stood to examine the text more closely.

"Uh, Lucienne? Everything okay over there?"

Lucienne glanced between Matthew and Mervyn with a grave expression before returning her attention to the volume. “Oh dear.”

"Aw geez, what's got ya spooked now, Luce?"

“I wonder if this is part of the reason,” she murmured.

Matthew hopped closer. "Mind filling us in?"

"A new heartbeat has appeared in the Dreaming," she explained. "It has just been added to the records."

"A new what?"

"Eh? Some kinda fresh face round these parts?"

Lucienne's expression grew solemn as she carefully considered her response. "Not exactly."

"Now you really got me on the edge of my perch here," Matthew quipped.

Lucienne folded her hands on the desk as she sat again. "A new heartbeat signifies the creation of life, fresh energy stirring within the Dreaming."

"Okay. So who's the mystery guest showing up?"

"Not a guest," she clarified. "A newly formed being. One that, as it happens, is directly connected to Y/N."

Mervyn's eye sockets expanded dramatically, his carved expression showing comical astonishment.

Matthew, for his part, stared blankly, still oblivious to the revelation's significance. "You lost me here. What's this gotta do with Y/N?"

Lucienne exchanged a knowing glance with Mervyn before addressing Matthew's query with a soft smile.

The janitor shifted his weight, placing his gloved hands on his bony hips and turning his pumpkin head toward the raven with mild exasperation. "Hey, Luce. Do you want me to spell it out for birdie over here, or should you do the honors?"

The environment around you was bathed in varying shades of purple, from soft lilac to deep violet, creating an ethereal cosmic display. Countless stars and miniature galaxies performed an elegant celestial dance, while a gentle breeze caressed your hair as you ventured forward.

This sanctuary provided a stark contrast to the declining condition of the Dreaming you had grown accustomed to witnessing these recent nights. Though your perception remained slightly hazy, your consciousness sharpened upon detecting a recognizable silhouette in the distance.

Morpheus stood motionless in the purple mist, his commanding presence unmistakable as his dark hair swayed gently in the wind. A wave of relief flooded through you at the sight of him, and you quickened your pace, unable to suppress the smile that spread across your features.

"I've been so worried about you," you breathed, halting in front of him.

As you embraced him, gently kissing his cheek, you noticed an immediate change in his mannerisms. Morpheus remained unresponsive, his arms still at his sides, his entire form becoming rigid and distant.

Stepping back to examine his countenance, you observed the evident tension in his epression as your hands moved from his shoulders to rest against his chest. "Morpheus? What's wrong?"

His eyes flicked down to the starlit ground, shimmering faintly, before meeting yours again with unsettling gravitas.

“We must end this.”

His words seemed to fade into the horizon, becoming nearly imperceptible. Time appeared to pause as your mind struggled to process the weight of his statement.

"End what?" you whispered, your smile fading.

Morpheus swallowed heavily, his lips twitching. "Our... entanglement. It must cease."

You regarded the Lord of Dreams with an unwavering gaze, your expression becoming neutral. His words seemed to shatter the very foundations of your world, the impact reverberating through your being like breaking glass.

"What…?"

“Y/N… I am sorry.”

"I don't understand," you said, your voice turning to ice. "Are you actually ending our relationship?"

Your fingers slipped from his coat, falling limply like dead weight.

"You cannot be with me," he continued. "I will not make the same mistake again."

An incredulous chuckle escaped you, your head shaking as if to erase his declaration. "Wait, this makes no sense to me. We've been through this conversation before."

"It is not merely about fear. What I have discovered, what I now know... it is something I simply cannot allow to happen."

"And what is supposed to happen?" Your voice cut like a knife, yet beneath its sharpness trembled unmistakable pain.

"Y/N, if I remain by your side, your future will be destroyed."

"Says who?" you demanded.

“No matter.”

"Yes, Morpheus, it absolutely matters. I deserve an explanation."

He faltered, his eyes reddening as he blinked rapidly. "Such a fate has been foretold in the Book of Paradoxes, a tome as old as existence itself."

“Hold on, a book?”

You wrapped your arms around yourself protectively, shrinking inward. "So you're breaking up with me because of a book?"

"This is far more than mere words on paper. It is an ancient prophecy, a mystical artifact whose power and purpose transcends even my understanding."

You gave a sardonic nod, pressing your lips together in a bitter smile. "Ah, I see. So you're simply accepting this fate? You won't even let me make my own choice?"

"Not if it means every moment you spend in my presence brings you one step closer to your own destruction."

"Destruction? Morpheus, this is absurd. We've been together for months now, and all I've seen in my life is growth."

"I will not allow another tragedy like Nada to unfold. The burden of what I’ve done... it weighs heavily upon me still."

Your lower lip trembled, but you stood firm. "I am not Nada."

"No, but my duties as Dream of the Endless must come first. The price we would both pay is far too steep."

"In other words, I am a distraction you can't permit yourself to have."

"That is not what I mean. You must understand."

“Well, I don’t.”

Your respiration quickened as an acute sensation of emotional distress surfaced, perceptible even within the confines of the dreamscape.

"There must be something we can do. Instead of pushing me away, let me help you find a solution."

"This is not something within your power to alter. Despite your remarkable strength, your mortal nature remains an inescapable truth."

"Ah, of course. Let's resort to the 'you're just a mortal' excuse."

Morpheus bowed his head, his face pained, yet stood firm despite your earnest protestations.

"I am doing this to keep you safe, to give you a chance at the life you deserve. Even if you cannot accept it now."

"Oh, that's bullshit, Morpheus!"

Your voice reverberated through the space, bouncing off the floating cosmos.

"Why won't you give me any credit? Instead of acting rashly over something you admit you don't fully understand, you could trust in me—in us. We could do this together as partners, seek help. Stop shouldering everything alone."

"It is precisely because we do not understand its nature that I cannot risk having you near it."

You scoffed. "Oh, because that wretched book is going to devour me whole the moment I touch it, right?"

"This is not a matter of levity," he stated, his gravelly voice carrying unmistakable sternness.

"What am I supposed to say? That I should just quietly accept this without question? Being like 'Oh sure, I love you, but it's perfectly fine to pretend you never existed and go back to my normal life in the Waking World. See you never'?"

A solitary tear escaped, tracing a path down your cheek.

"Tell me, was it all a lie? Everything you did for me, everything you told me, your feelings for me... was any of it real?"

Morpheus stepped forward. "All of it was real. It remains so."

"Then reconsider," you pleaded. "Don't do this to us. Don't throw everything away over a prophecy."

"My love... know that I shall not stop my search for answers. But what lies ahead may prove far more dire than what we face now. This quest may take an indefinite amount of time. And that is not something I can ask you to sacrifice whilst you await my return."

More tears now flowed freely down your face as your composure crumbled, your breathing becoming increasingly ragged. "But this is my decision to make, Morpheus, not yours."

"I must forbid it. It is for your salvation. This is absolute."

You pressed your fingers to your temples, scanning the surroundings with increasing agitation as you ran your hand through your hair.

"This has to be a nightmare. It must be."

“Y/N—”

"No. None of this is happening, and you're not truly here."

“Y/N, listen to me.”

You shook your head vigorously, retreating as tremors wracked your frame. "I refuse. I need this to end."

With slow, measured motion, Morpheus extended his right hand, dissipating the cosmic panorama before you. The illusory galaxy dissolved to reveal the true scene beneath; a bleak forest stretching into the distance, its withered trees and parched grass crowned by an ominous, thunder-laden sky.

"Do you understand why the Dreaming appears this way?" He asked. "As it is an extension of my very being, every withered leaf, every raging tempest... it reflects the essence of what I am. What you see is but a reflection of the chaos that dwells within."

A shiver ran through you as lightning crashed overhead.

"I take no pleasure in this. But it must be done, nonetheless."

"That's according to you," you corrected bitterly. "It doesn't need to be this way."

"It goes beyond the boundaries of you and me. It surpasses my very identity," he declared with resonating finality. "If I must choose between our individual happiness, if sacrificing my love for you ensures your future remains intact, then I shall bear this burden."

A strangled cry escaped your lips. "How could you possibly think I would accept a future without you in it?!"

"I cannot ask you to keep your waking life on hold for my sake, Y/N. Not when I am uncertain if my return shall ever come to pass."

"So that's it? You're simply abandoning me?"

"I am protecting you," he asserted, his deep, resonant voice carrying both authority and melancholy.

Your exasperation mounted. “Protecting me from what??!?!”

"From any darkness my role as Dream King would inevitably cast upon your existence."

You released a choked, desperate laugh. "How could something as beautiful as you, as your realm, and as what you represent, possibly be destructive to my life??"

"That is something I do not wish to discover," he answered solemnly. "Y/N... you are truly extraordinary. Your radiant spirit illuminates the paths of those around you. Your creative mind shapes dreams with a brilliance that rivals my own. I cannot... I will not be the one to extinguish that flame."

You shook your head, again and again, in vehement denial. “Stop it.”

“Please—”

"No!" The words erupted from you in a piercing tone. "You made me a promise that you would never break my heart. You gave me your word."

Morpheus maintained an impassive expression, though beneath his carefully constructed facade, you sensed the anguish he sought to conceal.

"Yes, I did," he acknowledged with resignation. "I am truly sorry, Y/N,"

Raw emotions overwhelmed you—anger, disappointment, and a blinding sense of betrayal. Unable to contain your fury, you lurched forward and struck his chest repeatedly. Your fists pounded against him, yet he remained unmoved. He grasped your elbows with gentle restraint, softly speaking your name in an attempt to calm you.

“You promised!” You cried out. “You lied to me!”

Your strength gradually ebbed away, leaving you collapsed against him in uncontrollable sobs, your forehead resting against his collarbones. Your trembling fingers clutched the fabric of his coat as tears dampened his shirt.

“Please… don’t do this…” You sank to your knees before him, your hands still grasping desperately at his robes. “Don’t le…ave… m..e…”

"I cannot choose otherwise."

“Morpheus, pl..e..ase. Stay… with me….”

"The Dreaming will always be accessible to you. My castle doors shall remain open, that you may seek guidance with Lucienne among her tomes. Your journey of exploration, of learning, of dreaming... can continue unabated."

The material of his garment slipped from between your fingers as he withdrew, his black silhouette receding with each step.

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

A sharp inhalation escaped you as your head snapped upward, your eyes widening with despair. “Morpheus, wai—”

“This dream is over.”

You jolted awake, your breath lodged in your throat as your chest tightened agonizingly. Drenched in cold sweat, with your hair clinging to your skin and your stomach roiling violently, you stumbled out of bed and rushed to the bathroom.

The emotional toll of Morpheus's devastating abandonment had your body purging both the physical and psychological torment that ravaged you, retching and wailing as grief consumed every fiber of your being, mixing with your bile.

You hoped that he would appear to assure you it was nothing more than a cruel nightmare conjured by your subconscious mind. But all you could see was the toilet bowl as you clung to it helplessly, collapsing onto the floor while tears streamed down your face until the break of dawn.

Morpheus stared at the vacant space where your presence had been moments before. As your form dissipated into particles of light, his carefully maintained stoic mask finally shattered. Slowly, he descended to one knee, his hand instinctively clutching the fabric above his chest where an immortal heart bore mortal suffering. His tears fell hot and searing, corroding the soil around him like molten iron.

He was overcome by an unprecedented pain unlike anything he had ever known. Though his long existence had been marked by numerous losses that had rendered him reserved and guarded, your presence had transformed him, awakening emotions he thought forever dormant.

Never before had someone so earnestly beseeched him to stay and to love. Though he ached to hold you as you wept in front of him, Morpheus knew that even the slightest gesture toward you would have melted his resolve entirely.

Nevertheless, the heartbreak caused by his decision left an irreparable void within his eternal essence. And perhaps, the Dreaming itself would never be the same.

Daylight streamed through the window, illuminating your disheveled form on the bed, surrounded by disarrayed sheets. The dampness of your tear-soaked pillow pressed against your cheek as you lay paralyzed, eyes fixed vacantly on the curtains. In a state of dissociation, you found yourself incapable of stirring. The extended hours spent on the bathroom floor had left your body throbbing, while your eyes remained swollen and tearful.

Your phone vibrated on the nightstand, but you couldn’t summon the energy to check it. Time stretched endlessly as you lay there, until catching sight of the shell from your dreams triggered an uncontrollable urge to scream.

With a rapid spurt, you finally pushed yourself in a sitting position to retrieve it, its color and vividness turning bland. You shoved it into the drawer without thinking, slamming it shut to hide it from view.

Fresh tears rolled down your cheeks as you picked up your phone, unlocking the screen between shaky breaths. The display showed three missed calls and an unread text message, all from an anxious Ella. The clock indicated it was well past the start of the business day, meaning you were significantly late for work.

With a heavy exhale, you composed a brief response, informing her that your current state would prevent you from performing your professional duties for the foreseeable future. Since joining the Corbyn&Jones team, you had never taken a sick day unless absolutely necessary. You prided yourself on working diligently even when feeling unwell, always delivering exceptional results.

Now you were reduced to a complete wreck, barely able to stand long enough for unwanted trips to the bathroom. Perhaps some rest would help your body recover, but you doubted time could ever fully mend your emotional cracks.

Expressing relief, Ella responded with understanding. She granted you the necessary break to recuperate from your illness and exhaustion, apologizing profusely for the heavy workload. You committed to maintaining your responsibilities remotely when your condition permitted, though it made even basic mobility an impossible task to accomplish at the moment.

Despite believing you had no more tears to spill, new drops sprang to your eyes at the thought of Morpheus throughout the day. Although you understood his reasoning and concerns, you couldn't bring yourself to accept or forgive the choice he made. He had professed his devotion in countless ways, filling your dreams and waking days with magic. Could your relationship truly be as doomed as his with Nada? Were you fated to endure suffering and ruin, condemned to face divine retribution if your love had persisted?

The more you dwelt on the breakup, the more you wished to sink into an endless sleep, never to wake. From your current position, you began to resonate with Lyta's motives more than ever before, as if a part of your soul had been completely torn away.

The prospect of moving forward seemed insurmountable, given how deeply intertwined your life had become with his presence.

Later that evening, another incoming call notification displayed Hob's contact information. Your finger lingered over it to respond, but as a sudden burst of tears brought on uncontrollable hiccups, you let the call go unanswered.

He had already offered extensive assistance over the past couple of years. You felt reluctant to weigh him down with additional concerns or seek further help, as his long-standing friendship with Morpheus spanning several centuries could complicate matters even more.

And so, you resorted to ignoring his subsequent texts, compelling yourself to eat and shower until another night approached. The prospect of visiting the Dreaming filled you with dread, yet you couldn't completely abandon the possibility that Morpheus would reconsider his decision and propose a more viable resolution.

After all, hope dies last.

You traversed a solitary path through the darkness, each footstep emanating a soft luminescence that traced your journey across the desolate expanse. Barefoot, you moved silently through the gloom, the flowing white gown trailing gracefully across scattered leaves. You proceeded with purposeful steps through the unknown, drawn forward by an inexplicable force that beckoned your assistance.

Though conflicting emotions of confusion and despair bore upon your soul, each radiant step dispersed the encroaching shadows, suggesting an innate resilience to mend what had been fractured.

“ʸ/ₙ…”

A distorted yet familiar voice called out your name, though its origin was indistinct and elusive. You waited attentively, yet only silence permeated the air.

Then, once again, the voice returned, its presence growing clearer and more proximate.

"Y/N..."

"Who's there?" you called out, walking without pause, quickening your pace.

“Y/N!!”

Astra suddenly appeared from the blackness ahead, his posture unsteady and frail. His once shining fur was now dull and matted, his antlers brittle, his elegant frame emaciated as it revealed prominent bones beneath his skin. His eyes, once filled with starlight, had taken on an unsettling glassy, grey pallor that suggested possible blindness.

“What… Astra…?”

“Y/N… you’re here…”

His legs gave way, causing him to crumpled onto the ground."At last... I found you."

“Astra!”

Kneeling down, you cradled his face in your hands and gently lifted his heavy muzzle, resting his head in your lap. "What happened?!"

"It's Lord Morpheus," he whispered weakly. "The Dreaming is responding to what lies within him."

"How is this possible? Can't he simply stop it?"

"Ah, my dear... it is far more complicated than that."

Gently, your fingers traced along his cheek, beneath his eyes, and down the elegant line of his neck.

"His choice to leave you has left him wounded. The pain reverberates through the endless halls of dreams. Even through my essence."

"But why, Astra? I told him not to do this. I begged him."

"He wants your happiness and safety above all else. More than anything he has ever crafted, Perhaps even more than the realm itself."

You lifted him to your chest, cradling his upper body in your arms.

"In the end, you were the loveliest dream of all. To him, and to all who exist in the Dreaming."

You released a choked sob, swaying gently back and forth. "Why must he be so stubborn? My poor Astra... I'm so sorry."

A comforting warmth spread through your chest as you embraced your familiar, holding him protectively against you with unwavering care. "What will become of you…?"

"If this continues... everything I am, everything I ever was... could vanish forever."

"No!" you exclaimed in sheer terror. "Astra, please! You can’t leave me too!"

"I'm not going anywhere, Y/N. If anything, you're the one I wished would stay with me... just for a little while longer."

You instinctively held him more tightly, pressing your lips against the crown of his head in a protective gesture. Your warmth coursed through your limbs and down your spine, enveloping both of you in a bright sphere of golden light.

Unbeknownst to you, as your eyes remained closed, glowing threads flowed from your form, intricately weaving through the surrounding environment and seamlessly merging with Astra's being. The energy pulsated rhythmically, suffusing the familiar with restorative power that slowly reversed the deterioration. Astra's appearance transformed as vitality returned; his fur gaining an ethereal brilliance, his antlers casting majestic particles, and his eyes rekindling with crystalline stars.

The ambient light intensified in clarity, transmuting the surrounding darkness into an expansive, natural nocturnal splendor. Golden strands streamed outward from your body, interweaving with the fabric of the Dreaming itself, methodically restoring its deteriorated structure.

Astra gracefully rose from your embrace, regaining his posture before you. As you gazed upward, momentarily dazed by the spectacular display of light, you beheld his magnificent form fully rejuvenated, back to its former glory.

"Wait, what... I thought..."

"Y/N, I never knew you possessed such power. I am deeply grateful."

As he bowed, you blinked in dizziness. "Power? Astra, what do you mean?"

He tilted his head. "Wait, so you didn't do this intentionally?"

"No. I have no idea what just happened."

The familiar's muzzle curved into a gentle smile. "Take a look around."

Upon surveying the environment, you witnessed a remarkable mutation of the dreamscape. The once dreary path had evolved into an elegant thoroughfare, bordered by verdant grass and voluminous moonflowers. Delicate fireflies drifted gracefully near your face, their mystical whispers carrying on gentle currents of air, drawn to your presence like moths to a flame.

The celestial panorama above was breathtaking, an intricate tapestry of bright stars stretching across the infinite dark blue sky. Each constellation pulsed with lively vitality, their patterns seeming to dance and shift in the vast cosmic scenery.

Additionally, tendrils of luminous force circled your sitting form, reminiscent of shimmering ribbons. They coalesced into your hands, imbuing them with an intense glow.

Trembling, you turned your palms in front of you, examining them in incredulity. "Astra... what is happening to me...?"

"Do you truly not know?"

You frantically shook your hands as if trying to switch them off, but the light continued to pulse around them. "I bloody don’t! And frankly, I'm more than a little worried right now. How can I make this stop?"

"This is a dream, nothing is actually going to harm you."

"That still doesn't answer my question."

In time, the light generating from your skin diminished until it completely dissipated, leaving no visible trace of the phenomenon. Despite your racing thoughts and attempts to rationalize the experience, you were reminded that the nature of dreams often defies conventional explanation.

"Are you alright?" Astra asked softly, leaning forward to brush his nose against your chin.

"You're asking about me? Astra, you were practically dying in my arms moments ago."

"Well, technically I'm a dream, so I can't exactly die in the way mortals experience death."

"Still, you were just saying you would disappear."

Astra's head bobbed thoughtfully. "I wasn't expecting this either. But Y/N, whatever you did has restored both this part of the Dreaming and myself to our former state."

"I didn't do anything."

"Perhaps not consciously, but the power definitely came from you."

"Maybe it was the Dreamstone," you concluded. "After all, it contains Morpheus' energy."

"No, it wasn't the Dreamstone, I don’t think" he said resolutely. "It was coming from you—of that I am certain."

You rose to your feet and clasped your hands over your abdomen. "I'm truly relieved you're okay, but I have to admit... I've been feeling strange for a while now."

“Strange, you say?”

With calculated precision, Astra studied you intently, taking measured steps backward to analyze the atmosphere. His heightened senses became evident as his ears detected subtle changes, his penetrating gaze intensifying with each careful assessment. He proceeded to conduct a methodical examination, circling around you while his antlers created streams of light in his path.

Upon completing his examination, Astra halted in front of you, his dark, starry eyes fixating on your midsection. He emanated an aura of profound understanding, and when he spoke, his voice carried a distinct tone of reverence.

"Y/N, you... you are..."

"I am what...?"

"Oh... I see. He hasn't figured it out yet. And apparently, neither have you."

"Astra, what is this all about?" you inquired impatiently.

"You must leave now, to prevent any further... well, light shows. I will maintain vigilant oversight of his wellbeing in your absence."

"Astra, please! I don't understand any of this."

"You will, sooner than you think. Deep inside, I think you already know."

Before you could formulate a response, your voice dissipated into silence. The dream began to shift and distort, merging inexplicably with elements from your waking reality that seemed paradoxically out of place.

"Don't lose hope, Y/N. You are stronger than you realize. Through you, I am reborn."

“As——tra..”

He had already vanished into the distance, receding as he traversed the rolling hills and disappearing into the dense foliage. Your attempts to call after him resulted in nothing more than an inaudible faint breath, as your feet slowly sank into a sparkling pool of liquid gold.

In an instant, consciousness returned, and you found yourself in the familiar stillness of your bedroom.

As time wore on, your heartache deepened, and your physical condition oscillated between periods of relative wellness and severe misery.

Astra no longer visited your dreams, which had grown lifeless and barren. His words had awakened something in the recesses of your mind that you couldn't comprehend, but all you could focus on was Morpheus and your deep struggle without him in your life.

For most of the day, you curled up in a ball on your couch, letting your tears flow freely as you listlessly surfed through TV channels without really wanting to watch anything. Your cognitive clarity was significantly impaired, making focused work on your laptop particularly arduous. You found yourself experiencing frequent periods of mental fog, moving through the house in a daze, almost on autopilot.

You were barely holding on, eating and sleeping only the minimum necessary, finding even simple tasks like grocery shopping insurmountable without breaking down. The sight of happy couples on the street would leave you weeping unrestrained, with everything reminding you of Morpheus—the paths you'd walked together, the park where he'd shown you your mother's memory through your father's dream, and even your apartment, that still held his scent in every corner.

You strove to maintain regular communication with Ella and your father, but your interactions remained quite superficial as you carefully avoided discussing Morpheus. The prospect of verbalizing the separation seemed too daunting to bear, as though doing so would solidify the reality of the situation.

Outwardly, you laughed, joked, and put on a brave face to fake normalcy. But internally, you were screaming, fighting against invisible barriers, clutching at your hair in raw agony.

Meanwhile, contact with Hob was entirely equal to zero. You distanced yourself from his messages and calls, recognizing that his connection to Morpheus would made your conversations particularly difficult at this time. You knew it was unkind to someone you considered a close confidant, yet you required solitude to process this transition and come to terms with Morpheus' departure.

He had become completely absent, staying unreachable despite your attempts to get in touch with him. Your appeals to reestablish dialogue for the mutual benefit of both parties and the realm's wellbeing had gone unheeded by the Endless, leaving you feeling like you were talking to a wall.

Though hope still lived in your heart, you felt it slowly slipping away.

Inevitably, demonstrating steadfast persistence and recognizing the ineffectiveness of digital correspondence, Hob resorted to making an in-person visit to your residence. When he arrived at your door, frantically ringing and knocking, you knew you could no longer avoid the inevitable explanation.

The last thing you desired was to cause undue concern that might prompt him to contact law enforcement for a welfare check. Reluctantly, you opened the door to find Hob in visible agitation, breathing heavily and looking notably disheveled.

"Shit, I've been going mad with worry!"

You managed a weak smile, silently apologizing.

"What's goin' on here? Been trying to reach you for bloody ages!"

"I'm sorry Hob, I've been sick to the bone,” you said softly, stepping aside to let him in.

"You're looking rather peaky, Shortcake. Still got stomach troubles then?"

“Sort of,” you replied. As you closed the door and wrapped your arms around your chest, you fought to hold back fresh tears that threatened to fall.

"This has been dragging on for quite a stretch now, innit?"

You responded with an affirmative hum, watching as he took off his coat and hung it on the back of a dining chair.

"I was half convinced I'd find you lying dead somewhere. You can't just disappear on me like that."

“Sorry.”

"Have you seen a proper doctor about this yet?”

“Not yet.”

“When's the last time you had a decent meal? You're looking white as a ghost."

"I had lunch today.”

He settled onto the couch with a weary exhale, running his fingers through his hair while you remained stationary.

"I swear. I was about to storm your workplace and demand answers. Would it have killed you to send a quick message? Just a 'piss off Hob, I need space' would've done it if you weren't up for tal—"

His speech halted upon observing your condition—tears cascaded silently down your face, your form quivering with barely contained emotion.

In an instant, he leapt to his feet and rushed to your side, grasping your upper arms and rubbing them soothingly. "Hey! You're not crying because of me, are you? Have I said something wrong?"

Turning your head from side to side, you burst into even harder weeping.

"Then what is it? Come on, this can't all be about some stomach trouble."

You couldn't formulate a coherent sentence, your knees growing wobbly.

"Listen love, if I came across a bit too strong there, I apologize."

“It’s n…ot t..ha…t.”

"Just breathe now. Take your time."

You gasped for air, feeling it being cut off from your lungs. His proximity had you breaking down, erasing what little resistance you had left.

"He’s gone, Hob," you choked out, fingers clutching his shirt. "It's over between us."

“What…?”

"He left me."

Hob's eyes opened impossibly wide, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “He did what?”

His tone became more intense as he held your shoulders, studying your face with incredulity.

"What do you mean?! You two were mad for each other!"

"It wasn't enough. Not for him."

"What's gotten into that idiot?!"

Finally, your resolve evaporated like dust in the wind. You sank to the floor as every ounce of strength completely drained from your legs, with Hob kneeling beside you, holding you steady.

“Y/N!!”

You wept more intensely than ever before, venting out all your accumulated pain, anger, and utter devastation. Your heart was shrinking and decaying, as though there was a barbed wire built around it.

“I don’t know what to do,” you lamented through shuddering breaths. “I can’t live without him, Hob. I just can’t.”

Hob pulled you into a strong embrace, offering solace against his shoulder, and smoothing your hair with gentle strokes.

"I spend every moment crying. Everything I do reminds me of how much I miss him."

He acknowledged your pain, placing a reassuring kiss on your head.

"I feel like all my dreams have been destroyed. Everything has lost its meaning. I need him! I need him so much I can barely breathe!"

"Let it all out, Shortcake," he told you consolingly, "and when you're ready, tell me everything from the beginning."

You wailed, releasing the raw heartache you had inside, all that was left to give before becoming absolutely depleted.

"This is bullshit.”

"That's exactly what I told him," you commented, sipping the hot tea he had prepared in an attempt to settle your nerves.

"Listen, I've lived through the witch hunts and all that rubbish with prophecies and whatnot,” he stated. “And let me tell you, every single one of these so-called magic books turned out to be complete bollocks."

"I believe this one is different though."

"Different how?"

You gazed into your mug, your tired reflection rippling in the tea's surface. "You've known him for centuries. His powers are real, not fabricated by cultists."

"And how exactly does that prove this book is legit?"

"We both know he wouldn't mistake a fake object for a genuine dangerous artifact. He's not naïve."

Hob frowned pensively. "Right then, let's say this book is exactly what he claims, though you said yourself he doesn’t even know what it means."

“Yes.”

"Maybe we're not seeing the whole picture here. Could be he's got it all wrong, or hell, maybe there's a way to bypass this wretched prophecy."

With a bitter chuckle, you retorted, "It's not that simple, Hob. He said he needs time to understand it fully, and he wasn't willing to take the risk."

“You are worth every risk, Shortcake,” he clarified. "Look, I get it - we all want to protect the ones we love. But pushing you away like that? After I told him to look after you properly? That's really getting on my tits.”

“Wait, you did?”

"Back at the New Inn that day. And I'll tell you what, every time I tried to get a word in with him, his eyes were glued to you like a magnet."

The memory of that day was still vivid in your mind—how he joined you for a walk through Richmond Green before accompanying you home, where you shared an intimate afternoon together filled with tender kisses and ardent passion. You could still feel his touch, his lips on your skin, his playful teasing in your ear... his love.

Nothing more than bittersweet remnants that belonged to the past.

Your bottom lip quivered as grief welled up inside you. "I suppose none of that matters anymore."

"Don't you dare give up. Not yet."

You shrugged helplessly. "What can I do? He refuses to talk to me."

"If I get my hands on him, I swear to God—"

"Don't, please. It won't accomplish anything. And I don't want to be the reason your friendship falls apart."

Hob unleashed an angry growl. "Well, if he thinks I'm gonna sit down and have a drink with him in 100 years like nothing's happened, he can sod right off."

You gave him a faint smile, setting down your mug as another wave of nausea made the room spin through your blurred vision. "I don't have many options left. And I feel like I'm about to be sick."

"Shit, you've gone all pale again, love."

"I'm so sorry, Hob,” you said apologetically, gripping your stomach as you suppressed a surge of queasiness. “You should head home. I promise I'll respond to your texts and calls from now on."

With a determined look, he rose from the couch, strode over to his jacket, and quickly slipped it on. However, instead of saying goodbye and leaving, he dawdled there. With one hand on his hip and the other tapping his chin, he was seemingly formulating a plan of his own.

“Hob?”

"Right then, I'm going to get my things and bring 'em straight back here," he declared with conviction.

You stared blankly. "Eh?"

"I'm not about to bugger off and leave you on your own, not in this state. I'll stick around as long as you need, yeah? That's what friends are for."

"Hob, really, that's not nece—"

"Not budging on this one. End of discussion."

With a defeated sigh, you slumped back into the couch cushions. "What about your job? Your life? Are you seriously going to throw it all out for me?"

"Oh, come on! I'm not moving in permanently or anything. I've survived 700 years of work, think I can manage a short break."

"And your students? Didn't you mention having a new lesson ready for them? You spent so many sleepless nights preparing it. They need you, Hob."

"Right now you need me more than they do, and what I don't teach them tomorrow can wait for another day.”

“Hob, seriousl—”

“Just hang tight. I'll be back before you can say 'Wandering Jew’.”

With your protests dying on your lips, Hob dashed out the door with hurried footsteps, his sneakers echoing on the concrete outside, followed by the roar of his car engine springing to life.

Exhausted beyond measure, you sat motionless as the sound of his vehicle faded into the distance. His self-deprecating historical reference elicited an unexpected reaction, sparking a small grin that quickly erupted into surprising laughter. It was uncontrolled and erratic, exploding in loud, hysterical mirth.

Unfortunately, that fleeting enjoyment rapidly turned into another torrent of tears as your emotions swung wildly, forcing you to leap up and dash to the bathroom with your hand clasped against your mouth.

True to his word, Hob returned an hour later, carrying a backpack containing essential items including clothing and personal care products. Although having a houseguest was quite an adjustment, he assured you he would maintain appropriate boundaries and respect your need for personal and professional space.

During dinner, he provided welcome companionship and ensured proper nutrition by preparing a balanced, stomach-friendly meal for you. As your symptoms had temporarily abated, you were able to spend a peaceful evening watching classic films together, offering lighthearted commentary throughout the viewings. It proved therapeutic, helping you take your mind off things, at least temporarily.

For his overnight accommodation, Hob settled onto the living room couch, which was furnished with comfortable bedding including a plush pillow and warm blanket. The sofa's generous dimensions allowed him to rest comfortably, and as you passed by the living room on your way to bed, his peaceful slumber was evident from the gentle sound of his breathing.

Like a sudden tide, all your negative thoughts and feelings came rushing back in the stillness of the night, causing your heart to ache with a ravenous need for Morpheus's voice and the endless depths of his eyes. You turned to your side, holding back sobs once again as a bone-crushing burnout pulled your eyelids shut.

For a moment, you drifted into a void, your mind weaving together phantom voices and shapeless forms. You surrendered to the sensation, floating into an entirely different world as you crossed through a portal of light that solidified into physical form. You traversed a crystalline bridge, enveloped by clouds soft as cotton and stars that twinkled with life.

Thus commenced your descent into the realm of dreams, as tendrils of golden energy drew you into its embrace.

Towering rows of books and winding spiral staircases stretched before you, with precious artifacts meticulously displayed throughout the library's corners. You moved through the lengthy corridors with purpose, finding no volumes that captured your attention enough to warrant closer examination. You wandered without direction, guided only by the echoing sounds of turning pages and books being returned to their shelves.

Navigating through the passageways, you methodically traced your fingers across the book spines while proceeding deeper into the library. After what seemed an interminable journey, you detected a presence mere steps ahead.

Lucienne was organizing volumes in their designated locations with her characteristic precision and attention to detail, without her customary purple jacket, wearing only a long-sleeved white shirt and suspenders.

Upon seeing her, you were hit by that persistent sense of despondency you found impossible to overcome. Hastening your pace, you moved toward her with urgency, feeling the scent of old books in the air that stirred your tresses.

When she noticed your approach, her face brightened with a radiant smile. "Ah, I was wondering when you might visit. It's quite pleasant to see you here. May I be of any assistance—"

Without waiting for her to finish speaking, you rushed forward and wrapped your arms around her upper frame, causing the librarian to lose balance. The book she was holding fell from her grasp as she steadied herself, returning your gesture with measured restraint.

"My word" she remarked with surprise.

You swallowed, pressing your nose against her shoulder. "I missed you, Lucienne. I missed all of this."

Noting the tremor in your voice, she separated from you with concern. “Are you all right?”

"I wouldn't say that, no," you responded with a wan smile.

Lucienne regarded you with understanding, gently guiding you forward. "Come, let us have a seat."

Leading you with a soft touch on your back, she escorted you to her workspace, where numerous documents and open tomes were arranged across the desk. She gestured for you to take her armchair, its plush cushioning providing immediate alleviation, cradling you like silk.

"Shall I fetch you some tea?” She asked. “It would be my pleasure to serve you a cup."

"Thanks, Lucienne, but I don't feel like having anything right now. How are things holding up here?"

"I am managing to keep things orderly, though it has been rather demanding as of late."

"I expected as much," you said quietly, listening to the rain pattering against the library windows. "And... is there anything else?"

"I am uncertain what additional information you might be seeking. Perhaps you could elaborate?"

You moistened your lips, smoothing the fabric of your gown. "I mean... is he doing okay?"

"Oh... you are referring to Lord Morpheus, I presume?"

“Yes.”

"I am afraid His Lordship has been rather preoccupied these past few days," she replied with careful diplomacy. "Though I had rather hoped you might possess some insight that has eluded me?"

“Insight?”

"He appears to be in quite an... unusual mood, if I may be permitted to make such an observation."

Your gaze darted anxiously between her eyes. "Wait—you don't know?"

"Ah. I see there is something of significance that has not been brought to my attention."

You took a deep breath before speaking, as the words felt impossibly heavy to formulate. "Lucienne, we're not together anymore."

Even saying it aloud was despicable. The very thought was unfathomable, a reality your mind simply refused to accept as a solid fact.

Her composed, tight smile melted into an expression of disbelief. "I’m sorry, what?"

"We broke up last week. I thought you were informed."

"I’m rather confused," she expressed, carefully removing her spectacles. "Not to intrude upon personal matters, but… may I ask what circumstances brought about this decision?"

"If I'm being honest, I don't really know myself. He was the one who ended things.”

“Why would he do that?”

“All he mentioned was something called the 'Book of Paradoxes.'"

“The Book of Paradoxes…?”

You nodded. "Do you know anything about it?"

“I am quite familiar with the text in question, yes. I’ve never had the opportunity to examine it with my own eyes, but it is a most peculiar tome of considerable antiquity,” she began. “Its nature is unclear, perpetually changing its location throughout various planes of existence. The contents are said to reveal most unfortunate destinies to those who chance upon its pages, though its prophecies are invariably encoded in the most abstruse and enigmatic ways. They are written in riddles."

“I see.”

"So… has Lord Morpheus truly come to possess this particular volume?"

Your eyes moved to one of her documents, though you weren't truly reading it. "I suppose so. He said it revealed things about me... about the consequences that would unfold if our relationship continued. I thought he found it here, in the library."

"If such a book did manifest within these walls, I have no record nor recollection of its presence."

"And he never mentioned it to you?"

"Not at all. He has withdrawn entirely from his usual duties, and the Dreaming appears to be reflecting his troubled state. Your revelation does provide some clarity regarding these circumstances, at least."

Morpheus had become entirely reclusive, declining any form of interaction with those around him. The consequences of his sacrifice appeared increasingly severe, negatively impacting not only your wellbeing, but also his own stability and the integrity of the Dreaming itself.

"I had harbored suspicions regarding your involvement, but I was entirely unaware of these developments."

"Lucienne, I know you're busy, but... could you help me out with this?"

Her smile returned. "Rest assured, I shall investigate this matter thoroughly."

Her readiness to look into the book’s nature and prophetic warnings rekindled a glimmer of hope, offering potential understanding into its mysteries and the possibility of persuading Morpheus to reconsider his decision.

"Thank you, Lucienne. It means more than you know."

With a light fluttering of wings, Matthew landed on the table, oblivious to the preceding conversation. His legs nearly slipped on the pile of papers, but he regained his footing with casual grace. "Yo, Y/N! What's crackin'?"

"Matthew! I'm so happy to see you, buddy!"

He hopped closer, allowing you to gently stroke his feathered head with your fingernails. "Hey, looks like I gotta say congrats and all that jazz!"

You blinked in bewilderment. "Congratulations for what?"

Your unexpected query seemed to startle him, and his dark, glassy eyes widened as he quickly glanced at Lucienne. “"Uhhh... whoops?"

"Matthew," Lucienne's calm yet authoritative reproach cut through the air like the sharp edges of the papers on her desk.

"Look, I’m sorry. I thought she knew!"

“Knew what, exactly?”

"Oh, uh… nevermind! Forget I said anything. Just a bird bein' a birdbrain over here!"

When you turned to Lucienne, you took notice of her discomfort as she attempted—unsuccessfully—to redirect the conversation while avoiding eye contact. "Perhaps you would be interested in perusing some works of fantasy? We have recently acquired several rather intriguing tales."

"Lucienne?" you asked, arching an eyebrow. "What aren't you telling me?"

Exhaling in resignation and whispering "Thanks, Matthew" under her breath, she folded her hands together in front of her. "As you know, my duties include maintaining records concerning both the inhabitants of the Dreaming and any perceptible alterations within the realm."

"So?" you pressed, inching closer with anticipation.

She deliberated, selecting her response with care. "While you do not technically qualify as an inhabitant of the Dreaming in the traditional sense, your consistent presence here has resulted in a rather fascinating phenomenon; the gradual integration of your energetic signature into the fabric of the Dreaming itself."

Still not satisfied, you persisted, “Okay. And?”

"I… this is not the most appropriate way in which you should be discovering such delicate information."

"Please, Luce!" you cried out. "At this point, I could expect anything."

Positioning herself at the edge of the table adjacent to your seat, she gazed at you with uncertainty, weighing the gravity of what she was about to disclose. "Are you really sure you wish to receive this from me, rather than through more... appropriate channels?"

You gave a small laugh. "I have no idea what this is about, much less what these 'appropriate channels' might be."

"I mean, since we're spillin' the beans anyway, might as well tell her, right?"

Lucienne drew a deep breath, her expression contemplative. "I suppose there is little alternative." She faltered, composing herself with restraint before meeting your eyes. "The records have indicated the presence of a new heartbeat within the register. It appears there is... a new life, one that belongs to you."

The implications of her revelation eluded your comprehension as you processed her words, your dreaming haziness only serving to compound your mental fog. "A new heartbeat? A new life? What exactly does this have to do with… me…?"

Then, the realization hit you like a bolt of electricity, paralyzing your thoughts and stealing your voice away.

"Y/N, you... you are..."

"I am what...?"

"Oh... I see. He hasn't figured it out yet. And apparently, neither have you."

"Have you perhaps noticed any peculiar changes or symptoms?" She asked.

"I... I did, actually," you murmured, your voice barely audible. "But, Lucienne, that's impossible. This must be some mistake."

"I can assure you that my records are quite reliable."

An incredulous chuckle escaped you. "Okay, but... that's absurd. There's no way I could be pregnant.”

"Are you totally sure about that?" Matthew tilted his head. "Like... you know... one hundred percent absolutely positively sure?"

"I'm always careful," you declared firmly. "I've been on protection for years. I've never..."

You had followed a consistent regimen of contraceptive medication without interruption. The routine had become second nature, with the added benefit of regulating hormonal balance and menstrual malaise. It had been absolutely essential, with one of the highest effectiveness rates among comparable products.

You had never missed a dose or taken a break from it, not even a single time as prescribed.

..Except…

After reflection, there had been a significant lapse.

"I… I wasn't asleep. When Morpheus invited me here, I was awake—physically present. And I didn't have my medication with me. I couldn't take it."

"Well, damn..." Matthew stammered. "So this whole thing was an accident, huh? Talk about a plot twist!"

How could you have been so careless, never questioning the consequences of your actions? The temporal displacement had completely disrupted your biological rhythms, and between the Vortex incidents, the events at Cape Kennedy, and your work responsibilities, the thought hadn't even crossed your mind.

Everything suddenly clicked into place: the recurring dreams of a newborn, the persistent physical symptoms plaguing you, and even Astra's mysterious words all pointed to one undeniable conclusion.

"Astra, please! I don't understand any of this."

"You will, sooner than you think. Deep inside, I think you already know."

"I haven’t informed him yet" Lucienne stated. "But I’m afraid I won’t be able to maintain discretion about this indefinitely. It is only a matter of time before Lord Morpheus discovers the truth on his own."

“I… I understand…”

Shock paralyzed you in the armchair as your breathing grew labored. The space around you began to blur and alter, becoming increasingly surreal and hazy.

"...Y/N..."

A faraway voice called your name from somewhere beyond.

"Y/N... Wa...ke.....u..p...!"

"Uhm… looks like she’s about to go."

"Yes, I can see that."

As you began to fade, suspended between the two dimensions, you addressed Lucienne with a final, desperate request before consciousness pulled you back to the realm of the waking. "Please, find that book, Luce!" you shouted. "Don't leave him alone!"

With a graceful inclination of her head and a reassuring smile that conveyed both understanding and commitment, Lucienne silently affirmed her intentions as you vanished in a brilliant flash of light, leaving behind a sparkling trail of stardust.

"Aaand she's outta here,” Matthew squawked.

"Shit, Y/N! wake up already!"

Awareness gradually returned, your eyes stinging as you awakened to find Hob's face hovering above you. His features were illuminated by the luminescence permeating the room, highlighted by a soft gilt contour.

Strange, you thought. You clearly remembered turning off the nightstand lamp.

“Hob…? What are you doing here?”

As you fully readjusted, darkness reclaimed the room, with only ambient light from the outside world filtering through the curtains.

"Fuck, sweetheart. What in God's name was that?! You frightened me to death! I thought you were about to burst into flames!"

Rubbing your eyes, you sat up through momentary grogginess. "What are you talking about? Did you have a nightmare?"

“Are you joking? You mean to tell me you haven’t noticed?”

Stifling a yawn, you looked at him through drowsy eyes. "Noticed what?"

His expression betrayed a deep apprehension, staring at you intently, his breathing noticeably rapid and uneven. "Y/N... you were lit up like a bloody Christmas tree!"

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

#the sandman #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #the sandman fanfic #sandman #sandman fanfic #sandman x reader

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justjams2003 · 5 months ago

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The Desire to be Loved-7

Summary: Love is Desire's first creation. As Cupid she shoots her arrows of love and rips them from people's hearts too. Occasionally, shooting a soulmate arrow. What does she do when her first Soulmate arrow in 100 years is between Cupid and Dream?

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x OFC Love/Cupid/Venus (you know how these beings have millions of names) (Also technically it could be an x reader because love is sort of anthropomorphic but in this story a she)

Warnings: Manipulation, threats, crying, cliffhanger, unedited, kind of like enemies to lovers, soulmate au, cursing, gore, snake slander :(tell me if I miss any.

Word count: 2k+

Dividers by: @hyelita

Tags: @intothesoul @bridkesby @coffeebeforewater @i-voluntears @dreamingblueberries @idkamt @deniixlovezelda @lmg-stilinski24 @superbreadsoul @poemfreak306 @lexi-anastasia-astra-luna @fries11 @lost-inthe-v0idid

Masterlist

Part 6

The hall is somehow even quieter than when Morpheus was captured. Everyone is far too scared to interrupt the stare down between Dream and Love. Love doesn’t need to breathe and yet it feels like she is suffocating. This...might just be their first time seeing each other since Dream gifted her the realm. Each had been too busy with their duties.

But it’s not awkward or painful between them. For the first time in Lucine’s life, she sees her master reach out. His long slender arm escapes from under his starry robe. A stark white contrast against the darkness of the dreaming castle. A gentle big outreach for her to come closer.

There is a click as she steps forward, her body instinctively wanting to be closer to him. She know she should think more clearly about this, and yet, she doesn’t. Love’s smaller, tanner hand slides into his and with seconds Dream’s arms are around her. Cradling her close and an unknown sob shudders through her body.

Tiny hands grab onto the felt of his big black coat. The fabric absorbs the tears that gently roll down her cheeks. She shakes her head, her golden spun hair falling lose from her usual braid. “Don’t, don’t do that. Please, don’t do that again.” She begs, her body shaking and Dream places a kiss on the top of her head.

His large hand cradles her head and every time she begs for him to never mess with her mind again, he replies with a simple: “I won’t. I’m sorry.” Lucienne has never seen Dream be anything but stoic and angry. Discipline of his realm and his creation has only ever been the only thing he enacted.

But now...he’s cradling this little flower. The embodiment of love and joy and everything soft and cuddly. An emotional girl who feels everything and anything from the slightest blink and trip. Hushing her as she cries into his chest. Black against her pink. And the red thudding heart the two of them share.

When her cries slowly die down, she realises the position they’re in. And that the whole court is just sort of standing there...watching them as Dream comforts little Love. She steps back, looking up at him with these teary brown eyes that makes him want to burn the world down all of the sudden.

“I’m sorry, it’s just-” She realises how she must look. She wipes her tears off on the back of her hand. She flattens down the frizz of her hair. “-it was like with Desire. And-” Dream stops her with a gentle hand on her upper arm. Rubbing soft circles to remind her that her body is hers and she has control.

“I understand, Love. I acted before thinking of how it might affect you and I...I must earnestly apologize.” He speaks and again everyone is scared to breathe. That century must’ve really done him good, or perhaps it’s the ball of sunshine he now feels responsible for because he’s never apologized before...

Love lets her shoulders drop slightly, feeling the weight drop from her back. She sort of looks around from Dream to the librarian to the raven. She realises that she’d likely interrupted something. She swallows, “I’m sorry, um,” she gathers her thoughts, “you called me here...” She looks up at Dream, allowing him to finish the question on his own.

Dream seems to ignore the utter urgency that he was feeling before this. And he doesn’t allow for Love to slip from his arms either. He shows nonchalance to the rest of his people, but behind her back, he balls the fabric of her dress in his hands. Resting on her lower back, clenching the pink dress until his knuckles turn whiter that the pale he already is.

All from guilt, utter guilt. How could he not have thought this through? The seriousness of having to fix this great danger in the universe overcame all his mind and then hers. He hadn’t even realised he could climb in her mind like he can his other subjects. Dream can do that with the dreaming inhabitants because they are a part of him. That would mean that Love is a part of him...

It has to be true because their hearts beat in the same rhythm. Not yet one because she still carries the arrow with her. But they know, they know they’re meant to be. Their souls yearn for each other, no matter how their minds fight the reality of it all.

Lucienne forces herself to speak up. To step forward because it would seem her creator’s mind has faded to other matters. Much prettier matters than the horrifying gaping black hole that could possibly consume the dreaming, an ugly matter. “Cupid, why were you talking to Rose?” Big golden eyes, usually warm and caring now confused and frightened.

“I’m not there for her.” A sweet voice that makes Dream’s cold icy heart begin to defrost. “But you were with her?” Lucienne repeats. “Her friend, Lyta. She has a broken heart but refuses to let go... It can be quite the horrific site and if the arrow stays in her heart much longer, the effects could be drastic...” They all turn and look to each other, like they know something she doesn’t.

“What?” Lucienne sighs and Dream conjures up his sand, making up sights and sounds to explain the severity of the situation. “Rose Walker. Something called a dream vortex....”

She feels like a little girl who’s just been scolded. She can’t understand them, she can’t understand how they don’t see to even care about Rose, as a person. She’s just a girl looking for her brother. Why they’re so dead set on killing her, she can’t comprehend it. Rose has a whole life she’s meant to live. A pink or maybe red arrow waiting for her somewhere in the world. A heart tethered to hers, waiting to see her smile for the first time. And they just want to take that all away, no consideration for what Destiny has planned for her.

Cupid huffs, pouting like a little girl too. Her pouting lips resting against her knees that are pulled up against her chest. Her bare toes digging into the mud that oozes water, coming from the lake, when she does. She watches as the little fish go to take a nipple of her toes and then jump away when she wiggles them just a little. Then the ripples of water it creates across the pond. Bouncing from the walls of mud and reeds all the way under the little stone bridge allowing the teddies access over the pond.

They berated her too like a little girl. How dare she even consider that the life of one girl is as important as the whole dreaming and all its dreamers? She can’t even believe they’d ask such a thing. She loved all the mortals, with all her heart she loved them. Even when they curse and scream at her for the agony she has no choice in. Is she just a naive little girl? Should she keep her nose out of Dream’s important politics and stick to her fairies and teddies and hearts and arrows?

How can she not say anything? Accept it as is? Accept the death of a young woman, because, what? She might harm Dream? That girl won’t harm a fly, unless of course the flies that dare sit on her brother’s food. Can’t Morpheus understand that it isn’t hate that fuels her but love, love for her brother? Of course he can’t. He’s never loved anyone. If he did, she’d be the first one and maybe the only one to ever know. The fact that he seems so complacent and maybe even started this idea of killing the girl makes her utterly furious at him.

Furious...?

Has Love ever been angry before? She’d felt sad before, mourning the death of a love bond. Guilty, yes, when having to take the love from people. Scared when Desire taunted her so. Obedient when he’d command her. Empty when he’d take over her body. But not angry at him for it... Even when she had accidently taken that soul, she was not angry. She was scared, scared of herself, scared of what Desire might do, what might happen to her.

But angry, like this? No...

The hot sun’s rays are interrupted by a dark cloudy man who sits himself down right next to Love. Well...with a distance of course. A distance that makes both of their hearts tugg but neither of them would admit it. They can’t love each other, the arrow has not been planted. And they can’t like each other, they’re polar opposites. But they do, at least, Dream knew it was guilt that he felt when Cupid’s smile dropped learning about Rose. And a complete and utter sense of emergency to fix this.

At least, Dream thinks there shouldn’t be a universe where she isn’t smiling. Much less pouting and brooding in her garden, her flowery kingdom, like she does now. It’s a wrong doing for the universe for his little sunshine to be cloudy...His?...

“You look like a fairy. Like those the little girls dream of...” Cupid shrinks away from him and hides her wings when he makes the comment. “I’m not a fairy. That’s a fairy.” She looks at one of her creatures, tiny little fluttering wings and jumping from flower petal to dew drop. “Of course not.” He replies, hoping that agreeing with her might be at least a start to remedy the situation. But it isn’t and he realises that when she huffs and turns away, suddenly the moss growing on the tree is much more interesting than anything on the side he’s sitting.

His hand twitches as he stops himself from grabbing her face and forcing her to look at him. He has to be soft he keeps reminding himself. He can’t just take what he wants. But he himself isn’t ever sure what it is that he wants. Why suddenly seeing her in such distress make him... angry...? Who dares hurt such a sweet soft thing, love herself?

“Love-“ her head swivels for her eyes to snap at him and glare his soul straight out his body. “Leave.” She huffs, with this new sudden stubbornness he’s never heard before from her. “No.” He replies with the same zing. His stark eyes clash with hers. As if in a battle of wits to see who’s the most stubborn. Nothing but their breathing and the chirping life around them is to be heard. Besides, of course, the clashing swords of wills.

But she’s never been one to fight and even less so with someone who’s done so much for her. She stands up. No longer challenging his mirroring of her own stubbornness, she walks until she feels the wet, squishy mud of the lake in between her toes. “Dream...you have done much for me. Brought me peace and allowed me to bloom...” She walks until she can feel the warm lake water up to her fingertips.

“Showed me the power I did not know I held...” She walks until she can feel the slimy plants cling to her waist. “But know this-” She turns, her hair frizzy from the humidity of the lake. The sunlight hits her just right, making her look like a nymph that makes Morpheus’ heart beat just a bit faster than it had been. And her brown eyes look just about ready to devour him for the sin of even thinking about going against her will.

“-I will not put the well-being of the humans over a love that must still bloom.” And then she walks until the aqua swirls in her ears and stings her eyes. All only to make it seem that the tears rolling down her cheeks are only that- water. All only to convince her heart that their connection hasn’t pooled into a reservoir she saves for herself when the loneliness creeps up on her. That the flowers of love aren’t being watered. And that the branches of the heart hasn’t started to flourish for the first time since her creation.

Desire had to have loved her at some point, right? This can’t possible be the first time she’s felt all...warm inside. But she had been so angry...? The agony humans feel when they are in love she remembers to be quite similar...

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valiantstarlights · 2 years ago

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This spicy fic is brought to you by the meme post by @notallsandmen , my tags on that post, and feral post-midnight hyperfocus.

[At OP's request, I'm putting the two CWs before the cut as well. The 1st one is Hob suffering (in a good way) because of slutty!Dream, and the 2nd is piss kink. 😌]

"Dream."

Hob's boyfriend, the horny anthropomorphic bastard, just hums around him inquisitively and Hob has to clutch at the sheets. He literally just came a minute ago and he still feels a little overstimulated. "Darling, really, I need to go to class."

A shake of the head, with Dream stubbornly looking away from him. His tongue laps at the underside of Hob's cock. A really persuasive argument in Hob's opinion, but... "Look. I know you don't even need to breathe down there, but some of us still need to perform basic human bodily functions and--oh, fuck--"

Dream has started bobbing his head up and down again in protest, eyes now glaring balefully at Hob. The clutch of his mouth is so good and wet, his throat tight but greedy, and Hob is the one losing the battle here. Has been losing both the battle and the war, actually. (He doesn't really mind all that much.)

"Look, please, if you won't let me go to class, then at least let me go to the bathroom to pee." Even to his own ears, Hob sounds desperate. That's because he is, at this point. Dream had been on him since early last night, simply vanishing Hob's clothes when Hob protested that he literally just got home and has yet to put down his keys.

It was so hot, seeing Dream so desperate and hungry for his cock, but their play has also never lasted this long. It must be going close to ten hours by now, and Hob is going to get urinary tract infection if he persists on holding back his pee.

And yes, he's not exactly gonna die of it, but he'd really rather not experience the discomfort.

"No."

The answer came from the room itself in Dream's voice. Hob jumped a little. It felt like being in a movie theater, surrounded by the sound of the actors' voices, instead of the their voices coming from a single direction.

(Thank god he managed to hold his pee back from that jumpscare.)

"So you can speak when your mouth is full, but you're just choosing not to," Hob concludes, brushing his silly (sexy) boyfriend's hair away from his lovely face. Dream smiles smugly, or at least, as smugly as he could, with his spit shiny pink lips still wrapped around Hob's cock.

Hob sighs. "Tell me what to do then. You don't want me to go to class, fine. I'll call in sick. You want to warm my cock forever, wonderful." Dream purrs at Hob's approval of his current course of action, and the vibration travels down to the very center of Hob's body. Hob grits his teeth and tries to breathe through it. How many times has he come since last night? How many times has he come in his sleep?

Christ, it's all so ridiculous, but Hob is so stupidly in love with this impossible being between his legs that he finds even being used past the point when his balls are empty to be arousing.

"But, jesus fuck, stop deepthroating me for a second. I'm trying to have a...ah! A conversation with you here. What about my pesky biological needs? Any plans for that?"

Dream shrugs. "Let go." The sound came from the room again and not from Dream's lips.

"I beg your pardon?" Hob did not wheeze out. No, he has more dignity than that. And no, surely Dream does not mean what Hob thinks he means.

Dream huffs through his nose and sends a vision to him, an image of Dream on his front, in bed, mouth wrapped around Hob's cock, as the Hob in the vision bites his lips, a look of concentration on his face, hips and thighs twitching a little. The Dream in the vision starts sucking, and Hob saw a little trickle of watery liquid, definitely not cum, spill a little from Dream's lips.

Fuck. "You want me to..." Hob gulps. His cock twitches inside Dream's mouth. Never mind that for now. Does Dream really...Is he really asking Hob to..?

Dream rolls his eyes at him and surfaces from his deepthroat to lick at Hob's cockhead, the tip of his tongue tense and lapping at the slit on the tip of Hob's cock.

Hob curses. "Do you really want me to--fuck, Dream--calm down for a second--"

Dream ignores him and only holds on to his thighs harder, nails digging in, eyes alight with mischief and hunger both.

Hob feels like he's slowly going insane. He curses Dream a bit in his head, his depraved, diabolical, insatiable little sex kitten, and slowly lets go.

Dream, kinky bastard that he is, seals his mouth around Hob as soon as he feels Hob obeying his order and, eyes twinkling in amusement, starts drinking.

Fuck. It shouldn't be so hot watching his boyfriend drinking not only his cum but also his piss.

"Who would've known you'd be a little piss slut, huh?" Hob asks him breathlessly, fondly, still going, still feeling goddamn strange to be pissing while in bed after more than 600 years of doing it somewhere else, like a normal, civilized human, and thrusts his hips a little.

Dream moans and goes down on him deeper, one hand reaching down so he could jack himself off. You would think he was a man dying of thirst in the desert the way he's gulping Hob's piss down.

"And to think you're usually so prim and proper," Hob continues. He knows Dream loves it when Hob talks dirty, and frankly, Hob likes the pretty shade of red that spreads from Dream's face down to his lovely chest when he internalizes Hob's words. "Probably should bring you to school with me and use you whenever as my personal urinal."

Dream chokes on his moan at Hob's words and a little trickle of piss escapes from his mouth. He is quick to rectify his mistake by sealing his lips even tighter around Hob's cock and going even deeper.

"Fuck, of course you'd like that," Hob says, panting, shaking his head. He was beginning to trickle off, the worst of the pressure relieved, but he still has some left in him. "Tell me, Dream of the Endless, would you rather drink my piss just like you're doing now, or should I piss in your hole and plug you up so you could squirt everything out when we get home?"

Dream comes with a little muffled shout, a hint of teeth grazing against Hob's cock as his throat works on drinking down the last of Hob's piss.

Hob sighs and falls against the headboard, relieved that at least that's over with. He was about to pry Dream off him so he could get out of bed and cook them up some breakfast, but then Dream whines, mouth still around his cock. He still looks needy, so helplessly horny, squirming against the sheets and sucking on Hob's cock again.

Hob makes a noise that was a mix between a bark of laughter and a whine. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?" he asks the ceiling. "Am I, at some point in my immortal life, going to get my cock back?"

Dream's refusal to answer that has Hob groaning into his hands.

"Fine. Fine. One more hour. I'll call the department in the meantime, and if you want some pancakes, you're not gonna act like an enthusiastic slut when I'm on the line."

Dream hums happily around him.

Hob is very not looking forward to calling in sick. He looks at Dream suspiciously. Dream looks innocently back up at him.

Yeah, no. Hob is just gonna send an email both to the department and his students.

"Good, darling?"

It has been literal hours since this morning, and Hob had only gotten his cock back around lunchtime, when his stomach growled so loudly that Dream whined in distress, probably remembering a starving Hob back in the 1600s.

Good old 1600s Hob, saving present day Hob 333 years later.

"Yes," Dream says, a bit of honey still on his lips. He has a plate of pancakes in front of him piled high with berries and drizzled liberally with honey. He looks like the cat that got the cream, caught the canary, and terrorized an entire village. "The pancakes are excellent, and I am looking forward to coming with you when you go to work so I can serve as your personal urinal. Shall we start tomorrow?"

Hob groans and bonks his head against the dining table. Maybe he should just fake his death a little earlier than usual this time.

#CW: hob suffering (in a good way) because of slutty!dream #CW: piss kink #writing this has been An Experience #am I glad of it? I have yet to decide #the title of this in my notes is 'the cake meme' because I can't call it what it is #which is 'piss kink dream being thirsty'#I am so ashamed but proud of myself at the same time 🤦‍♀️#dreamling #the sandman #my writing #good job my thumbs

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the-true-shinetales · 1 year ago

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Unity.

A force that brings people together. Like a roaring campfire on a chilly night.

Fire.

A primal element. One that heals, destroys, protects. An element that can bring forth the best and worst in something.

Foxfire.

A sacred flame of azure blue, a symbol of unity across Sinnoh. My flame.

Who am I? My name is Michael Flooffire. But please, call me Shine. I promise I am not as formal as I look. It's a pleasure to meet you.

(More info under the cut)

The current ref-sheet of the fox you see. Capable of both feral and anthropomorphic forms. For the sake of this blog: Feral state will be the default in asks and such, but anthro can be shifted to upon request. It is not normal in reality for a Pokemon known to be quadrupedal to stand in a bipedal stance. The abnormal height of 4'0 in either form can be explained through Hisuian Alpha genetics.

You may be asking, who is this fox? What is a "Shinetales"?

The answer to that is simple. A "Shinetales" is an 'ascended' Ninetales, Kantonian or Alolan origin does not matter much. It is the species name Shine took for himself upon the ascension, given his shiny coloration. His typing is Fire/Psychic.

The details of his ascension are kept purposely murky, for there to not be an oversized pantheon of Mythicals and Legendaries. Shine's domain is that of Unity. Bringing people, Pokemon, and elsewise together, and standing against what may drive them apart.

Shine himself is a compassionate and caring individual, lending an ear or helping hand anytime he is capable of doing so. If you just need something soft to lay against while you vent your troubles, he will not mind in the slightest. Simply ask.

Do that let that completely fool you, however. He is a capable battler and fighter, and will staunchly stand up for his sense of right and wrong. Sometimes he is misguided, but his heart is always in the right place. He's just... not the best at tempering it.

(MUN)

Hi! I'm Michael, and despite what you may see here, Shine is /not/ my 'sona! Just one of my many OCs. And Shine is special, because as it turns out, I'm plural and he is my headmate. He wrote most of what you see above himself. We are the Stormsoul system. I am the main host and front. If there is either no icon or a lightning bolt emoji, it is me speaking in some capacity. Mostly applies OoC. If in character and there's no emoji, it defaults to Shine. If something is OoC and has a flame emoji, then that is Shine directly speaking. In either case, story-related plot will be marked with the tag #shineposting

Thank you for reading through my rambles. I hope we can all enjoy my forays into unreality.

Minor edit: Since I never mentioned it, any follows that come from @abs0ulut1on are from us!

#unreality #pokemon irl #rotomblr #pokeblogging #pokeblogging intro #shineposting

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biomorphic-beast · 10 months ago

Note

Hey!

I am currently doing research into mechanophilia in an attempt to understand and explain the phenomenon to other people. As someone who experiences forms of objectum and mechanophilia, I wanted to write an essay to further explain the topic.

I was wondering if you could answer a couple questions for me related to the topic? Just some things to do with your definitions of mechanophilia, the ways it manifests for you, etc.

Any answers given could be anonymous if requested.

I always find it hard to reach out without it sounding like I'm a bot, but I thought I'd give it a shot after looking through your page!

Thank you, and I hope to speak with you!

Hello,

I am sorry to dispoint but I am afraid I cannot be of help in your research .

You are actually the second person to contact me for an interview on the topic since I started doing polls so I think its for the best I make things clear.

I am not actually a mechanophile, nor am I objectum. My attraction is robots is purely in the realm of fiction and I have had very little experience of being sexually attracted to real life machines.

Though that isn't to say I have no experinces with object anthropomorphization; I certainly remember the days when young teenage me turned to technology like Cleverbot for comfort.

The Sexy Robot Tier list is really just one big inside joke between me and my friends. I admitted that I had developed feelings for the character X-5 from Atomic Betty when I was younger on the friend groups discord channel and that somehow spiralled into this whole mess.

As to why I used tags like #robophilia, #technophilia and #mechanophilia on my Sexy Robot Tier List post. Well like I said on my pinned comment:

"With the combined efforts of the robotfuckers and machine smoochers of tumblr, I hope to create the most accurate ranking of Sexy Fictional Robots via democratic vote"

I wanted to get the opinions of people who actually were a part of these communities as well as just wanting to do something fun for the month of April before going back of my usual reblogs.

I am sorry I couldn't be of much help.

All the best,

Bio-Beast

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multi-lefaiye · 2 years ago

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one wip, one song

ty so much for the tag @jezifster!!! :D so. i have a lot of wips. quite a lot. so i'm probably not going to cover all of them, but i'll include a song and brief summary with each one :D yahoo!

a modern ghost story - a group of amateur ghost hunters get more than they bargained for when they find definitive proof of the supernatural, but it's far from what any of them expected.

dead girls - penelope scott

god died with wooden bones - 20 years after their mother's disappearance, shiloh rose goes searching for answers, stumbling across a mystery greater than anything they ever could've imagined.

beekeeper - keaton henson

cudaas - angels and demons fall in love and unionize against the gods who created them and have them at odds with each other.

angel of small death and the codeine scene - hozier

bleeding over eden - four years after the death of his husband, ink nikodemos is shocked when said husband walks through the door of his workplace one day, demanding to speak with him.

tell me i'm a wreck - every avenue

for we are both fragile things - over the course of a little over ten years, noah phan and arthur huffman fall in love and ultimately fall apart, causing a ripple effect that will change their lives forever.

soulmate song - carson james argenna

the moon hides its breath - a group of near-strangers go on a roadtrip in the post-apocalypse to try and prevent a murderous cult from potentially causing another apocalypse.

can't go to hell - sin shake sin

in seeking paradise - a year after the death of his friend beatrice in a tragic accident, knives nguyen is determined to find proof that his friend was actually murdered.

irresistible - fall out boy

wild animals - in a world where anthropomorphic animals known as moreaus are commonplace, a feline moreau named pavel is caught up in a war between two organizations with violent, apocalyptic potential.

slow dance with a stranger - danger radio

twelve stories club - four strangers meet one day while attempting to end their lives, though they ultimately all choose not to go through with it and instead strike up a friendship that changes the courses of their lives for the better.

tangerine - nolune

[dead chess wip] - a murder victim is resurrected as a shapeshifting monster, and they decide to go on the warpath hunting down the person who killed them in the first place.

revenge, and a little bit more - unlike pluto

[unnamed second person adventure] - a creature awakens in a dying world with no name, no identity, and no memories, and they go on a journey to find who they truly are.

oh the places you'll go - i fight dragons

blackwell & lomidze - a private investigator goes to investigate the disappearances of several young men, only to be drawn into a supernatural adventure beyond his wildest dreams.

wonderland - sounds like harmony

tagging (with no pressure to any of y'all <3): @skitzo-kero @albatris @wherearetheplants @nicola-writes @funky-writer-man @midnight-and-his-melodiverse aaand anyone else who'd like to give this a shot :D

#multi makes text posts #tag game #writeblr tag game #don't worry about the amount of wips i have btw

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earthtocaptainsky · 3 months ago

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Earth to Captain Sky • he/they • very gay • adult • USA based • Multifandom artist, occasional streamer, and Space Cruiser Captain

Common Topics: Genshin Impact, Honkai Star Rail, Obey Me!, One Piece, Batman & Robins, Trigun, Bungou Stray Dogs, various Kpop groups, and a lot of other anime, manga, and books 🥰💜

🪐Accounts and Codes🪐

All accounts of mine are under EarthtoCaptainSky and are available through my linktree here

I reblog art here in my little art gallery blog CaptainSkysArtCollection

Game Codes

Genshin: 617281815 Honkai Star Rail: 601108053 Wuthering Waves: 500412003

🌠Current Projects🌠

Siege SMP as Lyra du Arcturus

Siege SMP is a modded Minecraft SMP. Many content creators are part of the project and we all play individual characters. I play Lyra du Arcturus, a mage recently appointed to the Magic Council as the fire mage. I appear on other's streams and occasionally on my own. I have also been working on a small comic following Lyra's story.

#Siege SMP #Lyra du Arcturus

One Piece-Genshin Redesigns

This is my current ongoing project. I’m redesigning One Piece characters to fit within Genshin Impact. I’ll be picking an element and weapon for each character I do as well as writing a little bit about how I’ve decided they fit into Teyvat. I'll be doing the Straw Hat crew and perhaps a few other characters.

#One Piece #Genshin Redesign

🌌OCs and Original Works🌌

Oh No! The Demon Lord Stole the Hero!

This is my own story, a Grecoroman-themed fantasy with a bit of the Ars Goetia thrown in. The overall idea is a romance in the middle of a war between humans and demons. Hyacinth is the Hero with conveniently light-related powers. The love interest is Azazel, the Demon Lord. It’s styled after the general anime Yuusha story with a hero and the Demon Lord final boss, but with my own twist and a few more Western fantasy elements than you’d normally find in a Yuusha story. Most of my posts have been on Patreon, but will likely end up here soon.

#Oh No! The Demon Lord Stole the Hero! #Hero x Demon Lord

🌟Other Tags🌟

#original art (not fandom related art) #the captain (art or posts related to my Captain character) #my ocs (art or posts related to my own characters) #my art (any art I have done) #sky answers (ask answers) #sky speaks (text posts, rambles, notices, etc.)

TWs: Triggers and warnings are tagged as #tw [trigger] ex: #tw blood

🚀Commissions🚀

I do commissions, but usually not requests. You are allowed to ask, but there is no guarantee I'll draw a request. I am happy to work on projects and budgets within reason. If you want a commission or to use my art for any type of project feel free to reach out! My Commission Form is available here or through my linktree. You can also go through my Ko-Fi for commissions if r donations here. My TOS agreement is part of the Commission Form.

Things I will draw: NSFW (no public post & must follow my TOS), OCs, existing characters, D&D, graphic assets, comics, pngtubers, real people (Must follow my TOS), among other things Things I will not draw: Furries (I don't do full-on anthropomorphic, stuff like cat ears are fine), certain NSFW topics, excessive gore Other: I also do Minecraft Skins #Art Commissions

🪐Patreon🪐

If you like my art consider checking out my Patreon! I offer coloring pages, wallpapers, behind the scenes content, early access, special commissions, and Patreon exclusive content. My upload schedule is a lot more consistent and I post usually 2 times a week on Patreon. You don’t have to make a paid pledge to see some artwork before I post it on other platforms or to get select wallpapers and coloring pages I offer!

#sky speaks

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fnaf-stories-and-posts · 3 months ago

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Halloween Night at Freddy’s (Pizzaplex) [Act Finale]

Prequel fic to Christmas With A Freddy by ShadowBelle23 (Me) on AO3.

Since Evan is now being called Dave. I know that some people think that Cassidy is the crying child and Afton’s son while Dave is the fifth victim of Afton. No, it’s vice versa because of Princess Quest.

Since there’s already a living child character in this fanfic called Dave, I’ll leave the name Evan alone. Also, I wrote this fanfic a year ago and I’m going through it now to polish it up compared to the original AO3 post.

Word Count: 5,796

Character Count: 32,679

Reading Time: 21 minutes 5 seconds

Speaking Time: 32 minutes 12 seconds

————————————————————-

*Earlier*

Max and Dave were indeed nervous. They stood by Freddy’s room as Gregory and Crystal held his hands. “I wish you luck down there,” Freddy tells them. “It’s not very safe, but I trust you can handle yourselves.”

“We got this!” Max says and summons Ro-bow via teleportation. His appearance made Gregory smile in awe.

“Don’t worry, Freddy. I’ll make sure Vanny won’t touch them,” Ro-bow tells him reassuringly. Gregory gives Max his novelty Fazwatch. “I don’t know if the walkie-talkies will reach you underground. But I know this will. If you get in trouble, you can summon Freddy to you with it.”

Max then takes the watch and puts it on. He and Dave get a good luck hug from Freddy before heading to the underground. Then Freddy goes back to his room with Gregory and Crystal.

Rachel, stood in Gator Golf alone like she was supposed to. “Look alive and helpless people. We have exactly until six AM to catch Vanny. And we mustn’t waste a single hour from the nine we have,” Rachel says. “If we don’t see or hear from her in two hours, we will hunt her if we have to. We must make this night count.”

“10-4,” Isabel says. Rachel knows it’s her usher habit kicking in from using a walkie-talkie. Then the others copy her statement. Now, they wait.

With Max again. He, Dave, and Ro-bow had started looking underground for Onesie. So far, they’ve found broken STAFF bots, a bunch of miscellaneous things too, and a bunch of boxes filled with who knows what. They did find Onesie’s “bed” during their search, but no trace of her in it.

“Where is she?” Max ponders worriedly.

“It’s okay, maybe she’s around somewhere,” Dave tells him. Then they stumble across an offline animatronic dog. Not anthropomorphic. It’s small and about the size of a beagle. With its color palette being grayish-brown. His head is large and triangular with a sloped forehead, having long snout with a big nose, a gaping wide mouth filled with sharp fangs, pointed ears, and yellow piercing eyes. He has his matted fur missing in places, revealing the tarnished metal underneath a couple of wires sticking from his ears, and one large hole in his belly opening his stomach cavity, which houses a primitive circuit board. He wears a blue collar with a dog tag, Dave looks at it and it reads "Fetch".

“Not Onesie, but I hope we’re close,” Dave says and gently pets the offline dog. “I hope she’s alright.”

“I’m sure she is. She’s just hidden in this underground labyrinth of hallways,” Ro-bow assures him. They kept looking but they just kept coming across a lot of dead ends. Both Max and Dave were starting to get worried.

“Where is she?” Max ponders. “I thought she would be down here.”

“Me too. Maybe she’s somewhere else,” Dave says. As he approached a wall to lean on, he fell through it like a ghost with a scream.

“Dave!” Max and Ro-bow exclaim.

“Are you okay?” Max asks worriedly.

“Yeah!” Dave says assuringly and walks through the wall to return to them. “It’s a hidden doorway cloaked with illusion magic of some sort. It’s empty inside.”

Max and Ro-bow enter with Dave. Indeed, it was space-wise. But many things filled it. Like one of the charging pods for the Glamrock animatronics. But it was painted on in purple, with words, warnings of ‘Do Not Open’ and such. It even had purple smoke spewing from the bottom.

“What… what is that?” Ro-bow then wondered. Dave sees a light switch and they see a light turn on above a wall. On it was a large graffiti painting of a man in purple wearing a yellow rabbit costume holding a knife covered in blood with six children's corpses surrounding him. Their faces are covered by a mask of a familiar animatronic, even the Marionette. Above and under the mural, words were written; YOU CAN’T ESCAPE US WILLIAM AFTON!!!

“Well hello boys,” a creepy voice was heard from behind them. They turned around to see Vanny enter the room. “Thank you for finding my master for me. Those old bucket heads have kept him well hidden down here for a very long time. And since you have done the dirty work to find him, I’ll have to repay you for your kindness…” then takes a knife out from behind her. “In death!”

She raises her arm holding the knife. Before Max and Ro-bow got the chance to retaliate, they heard something coming before tackling Vanny to the ground.

“Good boy, Fetch!” Dave exclaims happily, cheering for the animatronic. Dave and Max hear their phones go off and see a text message from… Fetch?

‘U OK?’ It reads.

“Yeah, thanks for saving us, Fetch,” Max says gratefully.

*Ding* ‘NP ;) So, should I kill her for you, my masters?’.

“No!” Dave tells the dog. “And please, don’t call us your masters. I’m Dave, the other boy is Max. And Robin Hood over there is Ro-bow.”

*Ding* ‘Nice to meet you’.

“Get off of me, you stupid mutt!” Vanny yells which earned her a mechanical growling from Fetch.

Then they heard footsteps, “guys?” Max asks and hopes it is their friends to aid them. Alas, it was not. Just an army of endoskeletons. “Fetch, defend Dave. Attack endoskeletons,” Max commands Fetch. He barks in response, gladly jumping onto an endoskeleton and attacking it. Its teeth tearing into the metal like beef jerky.

Ro-bow starts shooting arrows at them and Max activates his Portal Master abilities while protecting and shielding Dave. Dave finds a metal pipe to use as a weapon, sure, it’s ineffective against the endoskeleton’s bodies but not the face like the eyes. Quickly he wraps twine around it and ties it on to have a grip on the pipe.

He starts swinging the pipe at the animatronics’ faces and Fetch tackles them to rip them apart. “Thanks, Fetch,” Dave says. As they continued fighting, Max tried to contact Freddy, but the watch wasn’t working. “What’s wrong with this thing?” Max asks in frustration.

“What’s wrong kiddo?” Vanny asks with a little cackle. “Having problems calling SOS?”

“I’m detecting an EMP on her,” Ro-Bow announces. “We’re on our own.”

“What do we do?” Dave then asks. “If we stay, who knows how many more of those endoskeletons will be coming? We’ll tire out and she’ll get whatever’s in the capsule. If we leave, she still wins.”

“Sadly we have to leave,” Max says. “We have to warn the others.”

“Warn them all you want. They will die and animatronics will rise to slaughter humanity and take over,” Vanny cackles. “There’s no savior for humanity.”

Max scoffs. “Vanny, there’s a lot you don’t know about us. Believe me, your plan will fail,” he says. They trashed enough endoskeletons and made their leave through the open exit.

As they made their way out, they ended up bumping into their friends as they went up the steps. “What happened?” Rachel asks.

“Lots. It’s bad. In short; I think Vanny just unleashed a bad man from a prison to keep him in,” Dave says. The group moves away from the staircase to let them up.

“Okay. That’s simple, we clobber both and it’s done,” Rachel shrugs.

“They have an army of endoskeletons,” Max adds.

“I’ve dealt with Badniks bigger than that,” Isabel then shrugs. Then their walkie-talkies went off.

“Guys, something is wrong with the STAFF bots,” they heard Elliott’s voice cry worriedly over it. So they go to find him. And they witness seeing the STAFF bots pull themselves apart. On purpose. While Elliott is destroying the STAFF bots with a pink and white Freddy and a fox animatronic. A blue bunny puppet on the right hand of the Freddy. They destroy the STAFF bots like an infestation of roaches.

“Elliott, what’re you doing?!” Gin cries out.

“No time to explain! Start destroying as many of the bots as quickly as you can!” Elliott says.

“Why?” Gin then asks. The pink and white Freddy then points with his Bonnie hand to a group of STAFF bots assembling themselves into one being. Like “The Blob 2.0”.

“That’s why!” The Freddy says in stress. “And how I could tell what they’re doing is, to put it short, I experienced a “been there-done that” moment before exactly like that. But they’re infected with a virus that’s making them do this.”

The group looks at each other. Isabel then destroys the progress on the Blob STAFF bots using her Chaos abilities while destroying the rest. Now the bots were attacking them rather than disassembling and reassembling themselves into one.

“Guys,” the pink Freddy then says urgently. Probably communicating with someone. “Vanny has unleashed Afton. I repeat, Vanny has unleashed Afton. Code Purple.” Then he continues smashing STAFF bots with the group and the pink fox.

“So, which one of you troublemakers got Vanny to find Afton?” The pink fox then asks the group of humans.

“That would be me, my friend Dave, and Ro-Bow,” Max says in shame. “We went down there to find Onesie.” Then he looks at Pink Freddy. “Also, aren’t you The Blob?!”

“No!!!” The bear says offended, facing Max as his faceplate starts clicking from being open a little and coming back to close. “Just because the abomination has a duplicate of my handsome and charming face doesn’t mean I am that thing. I have no relation to it. Second, Onesie doesn’t need you two in her life. What you did was reckless and now look where it got us!”

“Well excuse me!” Max sounds offended with sarcasm, now confronting the bear. “I didn’t know there was a serial killer locked away in the Megaplex’s basement! Maybe you should have put a notice down there! Or have provided better security!”

“We didn’t need it because we thought no one but Vanny would go down there to find him! And if you weren’t looking for Onesie, none of this would have happened!” Freddy then argues, his faceplates now clicking more aggressively.

“I was just trying to be a good friend!” Max counters. “She seemed upset and I just wanted to help!”

“She doesn’t need help! She’s fine with us as it is! And since when did you humans care about us machines anyway?! Last I remember, humans would give me and my animatronic family controlled shocks daily without hesitation or concern!” Freddy then continues, his faceplates close to swinging fully open.

“FOR THE LOVE OF-!!!” Isabel rages, sounding very angry, then turns to Max and Freddy. “Funtime Freddy! Last I recall, I’m very capable of handling myself and if I need help or not! You don’t get to decide my choices for me of what I do and don’t want! Also, apologize to me and my friends immediately! How dare you insult us humans saying we only intend on hurting you when you tried to murder a teenager you hypocrite bear?!”

Thankfully they have trashed the STAFF bots that were in the area so everyone could react. So far, everyone but Isabel was shocked by what just happened. But Isabel was angry that her face turned a pretty shade of red.

“O-onesie?!” Funtime Freddy stammers in shock from discovering the truth and Isabel nods. Now his faceplates stay closed, like his emotions recoiling from Isabel’s outburst. “You’re a human?!” She then nods again.

“As much as we want to ask questions, we now have two evil rabbits running around doing who knows what,” the blue Bonnie then says, recovering from the sudden emotional shock from Isabel’s outburst. “So, can we get back to that and worry about this later?”

“Bon-Bon’s right, Freddy,” Isabel tells the pink and white bear. “So save whatever questions you have until this is all over. For now, this is what we do.” Then speaks through her walkie-talkie. “Freddy, Roxy, Chica, Monty, meet us at the front entrance. Sun, take Gregory to safety in our suite. We need our Crystal back.”

“10-4, Superstars,” Glamrock Freddy responds.

“10-4,” Sun then says.

“I’m staying with you guys,” Dave says and looks at his pipe for a weapon. “But I can’t do much with this.”

“Here, let me see,” Rachel says and Dave hands it to her. “Upgraded,” casting a Tech spell on the object. Then Jamie added his own. “Enchanted Durability.” The pipe changes from the transformation, making it more weapon-like than a piece of junk thrown together into one.

They then hear barking as more animatronics show up, coming running to them. “It’s okay, these guys are cool,” Funtime Freddy assures the humans. “They’re my friends.”

“There’s more of you guys?!” Gin asks in shock.

“Yeah, ancestors of Freddy’s. But we don’t have time to explain,” a brown Freddy with red rosies on its face tells them. Then the Glamrocks show up with Crystal.

“Gregory is safe with Sun,” Glamrock Freddy tells the group. Then the Glamrocks look at the predecessor animatronics in awe. “Are you guys…?”

“Yes, they are,” Max assures him. “We’ll get to introductions later. I get it, we did a bad thing, we’ll fix it and get Afton back into his “Pandora’s Box” and stop Vanny too.”

“Speaking of Afton,” the black and white puppet animatronics says. Then once they said that, everyone felt the ground shake in slight tremors.

“What… was that???” Jamie then asks. More of the ground shook until they saw a large fist punch a hole in the wall before multiple hands tore it apart. Coming through the wall is DJ Music Man, its eyes purple instead of black with Afton and Vanny riding on its head. Holding onto the headband to the headphones it wore.

“Here’s Afton!!!” a male voice singsonged menacingly. They assumed it was the amalgamation creature with Vanny on the DJ’s head. Afton is a combination of animatronic and human, very disgusting, rotting, and corpse-like. “Now here’s some familiar faces I know. All together in one place; the originals, the toys, as well as my dear Circus animatronics. Welcome home, my pets. Welcome home!”

None of them looked pleased to see him. “You seem to keep getting more uglier every time we meet, Mr. Afton. Or should I call you Burntrap now?” the puppet says in disgust to Afton. “Seriously though, has surviving two buildings on fire not been enough for you to get the hint you should just give up?! Or is what you call your brain too fried to care?!”

Afton, now Burntrap, laughs menacingly. “Oh dear sweet Charlie, you always had your daddy’s witted tongue. I have to admit, he is a clever man, he is. It’s a shame he died without knowing his plan failed, which makes him a fool as well!” Then an army of endoskeletons and STAFF bots show up and surround the group.

“He was your friend! He trusted you! He cared for you!” The puppet, AKA Charlie spits at him, the insult towards her deceased father riled her.

“That was his mistake!” Afton yells at the puppet. “Your father could have never seen the potential I saw! He only cared about making children happy including you, the precious daughter of his! Disgusting! Emotions of kindness and happiness are pathetic and make people soft! Fear and terror are strong! They can control and conquer anything!”

“You’re wrong, Afton!” Charlie says to him. “Murder and domination are not justified. Sure, you got what you wanted; immortality. But I still see the same monster that took many children’s lives in the past years ago, including mine. You can spread your fear and terror all you want, it may be strong to you, but it just comes to show how far of a person you have become. You’re nothing more than a shadow of yourself. You could have been a loving father, a caring friend, and a good husband. But you threw it all away while everyone you know is dead. Now, we’re here to clean up the mess you’ve created and to end your reign forever.”

“Big talk for a little girl,” Afton chuckles darkly. “I know you’re scared of me. Because if you weren’t, you would have done me in years ago rather than now.”

This time, Charlie laughs, but it is in amusement. “Oh, I’m not scared. I wasn’t then and I wasn’t now. I was just letting karma roll its punches before I stepped into the ring. Now it’s my turn, and I will make my daddy proud,” Charlie declared before her form started to change into her Nightmarionne form. “I will be your waking nightmare!” Then lunges at Afton, knocking him off DJ Music Man’s head. Thankfully the animatronic no longer suffered from the virus once Afton was off.

The battle then has begun. The Portal Masters activated their forms and changed outfits. Fighting the endoskeletons alongside the animatronics. The original Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, and Foxy changed into their nightmare forms too, which was a huge advantage in the battle.

As they fought, Rachel noticed Isabel targeting Vanny and her only. She couldn’t help but overhear their conversation, and it was kinda hard to with how loud Isabel can be.

“Vanny, you and I have done the same song and dance for many months now. And this time I’m very serious, why did you kidnap me and put Remnant in my head?!” Isabel demands. “Because of you, I can’t ever dream again when I sleep! I’m always awake whether as a human or animatronic! You took away my joy of sleeping!

“Well, if you want to know that badly… sure,” Vanny evilly chuckles as she nimbly avoids Isabel’s blade. “Before the puppet interrupted my plan. I was going to kill your human body while your conscious mind was in the animatronic. Then infect you with the Glitchtrap virus, and make you gain the other animatronics’ trust-“ but she got interrupted by Isabel putting a hand to Vanny’s neck.

“You were gonna use me as a Trojan horse?!” She exclaims angrily.

“Well, I’m glad you saved me the trouble anyway without the virus. You gained their trust just like I wanted you to, then we’ll infect them as well and kill your friends. Afton will win and humanity will fall,” Vanny cackles.

Isabel rolls her eyes from her annoying statement and Chaos Blasts Vanny against a wall. Thankfully Vanny’s costume suit was thick enough to take the brunt of the attack. But it did make her feel dazed. “Spider Rope,” Isabel casts, and Vanny’s body becomes tied up in thick magic rope-like webbing, constricting her movements for any chance to escape.

“Just to let you know, your ordinary knife won’t be able to cut yourself free,” Isabel says, seeing Vanny at least attempt to free herself. Then sees Funtime Freddy confront her after breaking an endoskeleton.

“You became Onesie against your will?” He asks curiously, which makes Isabel realize he overheard.

“Yes,” Isabel says gently as she slashes some endoskeletons in half with her sword while protecting Vanny from harm. “I understand if you’re mad at me, you have the right to be. I kept the secret from you and the others. But Charlie and Goldie wanted me to not tell you all to protect myself.”

“They knew as well?” Freddy then asks, destroying another endoskeleton.

“Yes, because they saved me from Vanny and took my Onesie body as I fled,” Isabel continues. “I never wanted to hurt you or your friends in any way. I understand you’re skeptical towards humans and I won’t deny you the right to be. But I continued being Onesie for you guys, your dad is a heartless jerk. No one should be his puppet, not even you. You guys deserve better, even freedom. Now let’s get this over with and we can continue talking later.”

Funtime Freddy nods as they break more endoskeletons together.

Currently with Burntrap and Charlie, the prior is getting himself beaten by Charlie’s advantage in her nightmare form. His body and face get whipped by the three long tendrils that make up half of Charlie’s arms to the elbow. And her skinny body while being ten feet tall makes it hard for Afton to hit her.

“What’s the matter, Burntrap? Scared of a little girl?!” Charlie says in a slightly sarcastic mocking tone. Amused that Burntrap is failing so hard.

“No! Why would I be?!” Burntrap huffs in frustration before getting slapped in the face by her tendrils.

“Ooh, someone is being a big liar,” Charlie chuckles in amusement as she can feel his fear. “You know, this form isn’t just for looks, I can sense the fear and dread coursing through you like vampires can sense people’s heartbeats. I’m not stupid to know that you’re terrified of me, Mr. Afton. You’re terrified that the sweet, innocent little girl you once took the life from, outside in the rain, has now become this. That your prey has turned tables and now has become your predator. Isn’t that right?”

Mr. Afton backs up from Charlie’s statement, bumping into Golden Freddy as the empty suit is now standing. Goldie grabs Afton harshly, keeping him from escaping.

“K-k-karma has done its w-w-work. Now it’s our turn to play with you!” Golden Freddy says it’s voice sputtering in glitches.

“No! NO!” Mr. Afton shouts, now they can hear the slight terror in his voice. “Look at you! Look at the nasty thing that you have become! Look how small you are! How worthless you are! You are wretched little beasts! I created you!”

Charlie and Goldie look at each other and shake their heads from that pathetic statement. Then they heard the sound of a gun being shot before Afton got electrocuted. Thankfully Goldie doesn’t have to worry since they’re immune to it and let Afton fall. They looked to see a man with rotting purplish skin wearing old tattered clothes. Its eyes are completely black except for the tiny white light in each of its eye sockets. Just like Goldie and Charlie. The man holds a taser gun while having an angry look on his face.

“I knew you would come back,” the man says. The battle stops as all STAFF bots and endoskeletons are destroyed. Monty then grabs Vanny from the floor but both humans and animatronics are shocked to see a living corpse of a human.

“What’s… happening?” Jamie asks curiously. Then sees Isabel smirking alongside Funtime Freddy and the Circus animatronics.

“Just watch,” Isabel assures Jamie.

They watch as Afton gets up, groaning in pain as the corpse continues holding the taser gun at him. Goldie and Charlie watch him to make sure he doesn’t try to run. “Hello Dad, didn’t expect to see me did you?” The corpse says to Afton.

“M-Mike, my boy, a little too old for temper tantrums now are we?” Afton stutters, now sounding hopeful. Reaching a hand towards his son Mike swats it harshly in retaliation.

“I’m not your boy anymore, Dad,” Mike says firmly. “And thanks to you, I’m now a walking skin suit. I went down there at the Rental to find Elizabeth like you asked and I did. In return, the Circus animatronics tricked me, gut my insides out like a pumpkin and they combined themselves to become Ennard so they could escape the underground facility inside my body. Now I’m here to make you pay for what you did.”

“Why don’t you make them pay instead?” Afton says, gesturing to the Circus animatronics which were now frowning at him.

“Because they remind me of the people I love most since you based them off of our family. Ballora is mom, Circus Baby is Elizabeth, Funtime Freddy is Evan, and I’m Funtime Foxy. They may be a bit twisted and crazy, but I love them as equally as I do my mother and siblings,” Mike says, his voice going soft as he doesn’t stop giving his father dirty looks. “Unlike you, my father died long ago before you met your demise in Spring Bonnie’s suit to become Springtrap. And now that they have you, I’ll let them decide on what to do with you.”

Then he steps back and away while still keeping his taser pointed at his dad. “We’re keeping him alive,” Charlie declares. “As much as it pains us spirits not going into the afterlife. It’s more worth it to see him suffer.”

“What he did to us, is not d-d-death. But it’s exactly what he deserves,” Goldie states. “Because death is what he wants and we won’t g-g-give him it.”

Isabel then steps forward. “Just keeping him alive isn’t enough as a punishment for what he put you through,” she gently says to them before casting a curse spell;

“Beware the Reaper's Curse, a grim spell I weave,

To haunt the living, no respite they'll receive.

Survivors of death, eternal torment they'll bear,

No solace in life, but death's release they'll share.”

Magic runes appear on Afton’s body and he begins to agonize in pain. Even being vocal about it.

“Yes, that’s good enough for us,” Goldie nods in approval. “I’ll take him back to his prison.” Then grabs Afton and teleports away. Mike puts away the taser and the Circus animatronics go to give him apology hugs.

“Now, another thing,” Isabel adds, seeing Vanny being held by Monty. She then waves Funtime Freddy over. He comes willingly and he opens a hatch in his arm. And Isabel grabs a blue star power ring from it including a tiny handheld device and a cord. She finds a USB port in Vanny’s costume head and attaches the handheld device to it using the cord. With the blue star power ring, she puts it into the device to power it.

“Let’s get rid of that nasty Glitchtrap virus,” Isabel continues. A “download” bar is on the screen, the percentage went high quickly until a beep was heard. Isabel unplugged the cord from the head and took off the costume head.

“There, you’re free now. You have no reason to do his bidding anymore,” Isabel says. Under the costume is a blonde-haired woman with bags under her eyes like she barely slept. “It’s Security Guard Vanessa!” Glamrock Freddy says in awe.

Everyone gives the woman space as Isabel helps her out of the suit. Thankfully Vanessa is wearing clothes underneath it. “So, what do you want me to explain?” Isabel asked.

“Anything,” Rachel admits. “Because my mind is trying to piece things together like someone explaining the plot to The Godfather rather than me watching it.”

“Alright, I’ll start with my situation as short as possible,” Isabel sighs. “Months ago during the summer, I was out with Bocoe and Decoe. We came across the store manager at this place, they saw Bocoe and Decoe and asked if they could do some maintenance work around here. I allowed it and the boys agreed. Fast forward, the boys are doing their work here and I had to use the bathroom. Vanny catches me off guard and chloroforms me. I wake up underground on a cot next to a humanoid animatronic body that’s Onesie.” Isabel takes a deep breath and continues.

“And I also wake up to a splitting head pain to find out my head was cut open. I didn’t know why until Marionette and Golden Freddy saved me. Then later I discovered that Vanny put Remnant in my head, and well, you get the gist.”

“Why didn’t you tell us? We could have helped you,” Elliott asked.

“I didn’t want to worry about you guys, besides, this was my problem,” Isabel says which her friends either facepalmed or took a deep breath in.

“Izzy, you’re our friend. If a problem happens to one of us, we deal with it together as friends,” Jamie tells her. “I still remember when you were stressed about the Chaos Emeralds, I wished you come to ask us for help.”

Isabel sighs as she looks at the floor. “Now I wish I did. I’m sorry for not asking for help then and now. This all could have been avoided tonight if I told you guys my problems rather than handle it myself.”

“But you become Onesie when you sleep?” Rachel asks.

“So, I don’t know why that’s a thing,” Isabel admits, then looks at Vanessa.

“I don’t know why either,” Vanessa admits. “It was my Vanny persona’s idea anyway. She preferred not to share anything with me. But I believe she was trying to experiment with Remnant’s effects on humans. I’m sorry for the pain I had inflicted upon you, Isabel. I tried to stop her but Vanny was too devoted to Afton to care about other people.”

“It’s okay if I hadn’t. I wouldn’t have helped you and the other animatronics anyway. I’m glad to be your friend, Vanessa,” Isabel admits to the blonde, and they hug.

“Then what’s their story then?” Rachel asks Isabel.

“That is… something that will have to wait another day. Their story is too long to cut short but to start. When William Afton was a human, long ago in the 1980’s. He murdered six children; Charlie, Gabriel, Jeremy, Susie, Fritz, and Cassidy. Everyone but Charlie got their bodies stuffed in an animatronic suit. And their spirits have possessed them since then. Circus Baby has Elizabeth Afton’s spirit possessing her and Golden Freddy is sharing Evan’s with Cassidy,” Isabel starts.

“I see, so you guys were trying to keep him from murdering any more kids,” Amelia says in understanding.

“We should start getting this place cleaned up,” Vanessa says. “You guys created quite a mess.”

“I’ll go get Sun and Gregory,” Elliott says and runs to their suite. Thankfully with the combination of teamwork and magic, it was like the battle with Afton never happened.

Also, Isabel surprised them with a menu bunch of pastries and treats that got delivered to their suite before the megaplex closed. Even allowing the animatronics to eat some, Vanessa and Gregory too.

“So, you’re a zombie?” Gin asks Mike.

“I guess you could say that. Or a lich,” Mike responds casually.

The Freddy’s got talking including the Bonnies, Chicas, and Foxys. Marionette/Charlie and Sun talked while playing with Crystal, Gregory, Ro-Bow, Max, and Dave.

“It’s interesting to see a wolf Foxy, love the hair,” Funtime Foxy compliments Roxy.

Roxy chuckles. “Thank you,” she says bashfully. “How come you and Toy Foxy look alike?” The two pink and white foxes look at each other and shrug unknowingly as to why. Mangle/Toy Foxy was no longer the rearranging amalgamation she once was, now standing on two feet like her counterparts.

“Darling, call me Mangle,” Toy Foxy tells Roxy kindly.

“Mangle, why?” Roxy asks curiously. And Mangle chuckles before explaining; “kids treated me like a toy. Pulled me apart and rearranged me. It got so bad, that the technicians gave up. I’m glad Charlie put me back together again.”

“Me too,” Roxy says, sounding grateful. “I’m just gonna say that you two look like siblings due to designing laziness.”

“I’m fine with that,” Funtime Foxy says, and Mangle nods.

Toy Bonnie then talks to Glamrock Freddy. “Where’s your Bonnie?” He asks curiously. Glamrock Freddy shrugs, “he’s been missing for a long time now.”

“Not anymore,” Charlie says as they overhear their conversation. “I found your Bonnie. I’m currently in the finishing stage of fixing him. You’ll have your Bonnie back.”

Glamrock Freddy hugs Charlie. “Thank you!” He says happily. Charlie returns the hug with Lefty joining in.

Midnight then strikes the clock and the ghosts of the dead children emerge from the animatronic bodies to play. Evan and Elizabeth float to their brother Mike and they hug happily as they’re reunited.

“They look so happy even in death,” Dave says and Max nods.

“I think they’re just happy knowing Afton can’t hurt anybody else,” Max adds.

“That, and Mr. Afton underestimated the value of friendship and kindness,” Ro-Bow adds too.

“I agree,” Cassidy says. “As long as there is light, there will always be people who will stand up against his darkness.”

Isabel is sitting down on a chair as Dr. Krankcase and Mags are summoned to do a check-up on her head. “I can feel the Remnant device under your skin,” Dr. Krankcase says. “We can have this removed tomorrow, but you’re gonna have to stay awake during the procedure.”

“As long as it’s out of my head, I’m okay with that,” Isabel smiles.

“And we also have to remove all your hair,” Mags adds with bad news and Isabel sighs sadly.

“Well, that’s fine too, hair can grow back,” she admits.

“And we’ll be there with you,” Rachel adds. She, Isabel, Jamie and Crystal hug.

“Thanks, guys,” Isabel smiles. “You know, I’ve been thinking. These animatronics need a forever home, they’ve had a history of misery for a long time and no one has given them anything. Since I have nine and three-quarters of treasure chests full, I think I should steal a page out of Eggman’s book and make an amusement park home for anyone who wants to live in Skylands. Sure, the Academy is quite large but I don’t want to overcrowd it.”

“Where are you thinking to build it?” Jamie asks.

“Probably at Dr. Krankcase’s old lab. We can tear it down and remake a new one when I decide where to put it,” Isabel says. “And you guys can help too since my problem is your problem now.”

“That’s a wonderful idea, I’m sure Master Eon would agree to that,” Rachel chuckles. “Happy Halloween guys.” Then the Portal Masters group hug together.

*Elsewhere in the depths of the megaplex*

A different creature stalks its caged area. Wanting a way out. “I-I’m Gregory,” a glitchy mechanical voice says. “I-I-I’m Greg-g-gory.” Then the being gave it one more shot. “I’m Gregory.” Now mimicking the boy perfectly.

————————————————————-

I want to thank those who have followed, liked, reblogged and commented on my works. I hope everyone has a Happy Halloween, be safe, have fun and be responsible.

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf fandom #fnaf au #fnaf fanfic #five nights at freddy’s #five nights at freddys #five nights at freddy #five nights at Freddy’s fanfiction

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smiegrin · 10 months ago

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I've been finding it tricky to reblog as much of the stuff as I want to on here, and I've determined that it's largely because the tagging system I'm holding myself to is far too cumbersome. I think I'm gonna start trying to trim what tags I put on a post.

Changes I plan to implement:

deprecate the "reblog" tag -- if someone wants to filter out EVERYTHING I'm reblogging, I don't really know why they'd be following this blog in the first place. You can just come back manually and check out my "smie speaks" tag once in a while if that's what you'd like

deprecate "photo post" "text post" "poll" "ask" etc. Tumblr's archive system can filter by these on their own if it really comes down to it

merge "furry" and "anthro" into just "furry". I kept the two tags in case I wanted to distinguish between anthro furry stuff and just animals just behaving anthropomorphically. Ultimately a lot of my furry posts just get anthro too, making it sort of redundant.

deprecate "meme" tag. It's enough of what I post/reblog that it's kind of useless as a filter tag (much like "reblog")

This is probably also a good time to switch to changing what tags I use for adult content. I still plan to use "suggestive" for anything that's just a sex joke or has cleavage in it or something, but I think I'm going to move fully to using "smie's smut stash" for anything that I've normally used the "nsfw" tag for. Feels weird to force the community label for mature content onto someone else's post, especially considering... I don't know. Wanna do my part to not be ashamed that adult stuff exists on my blog? Don't want to put a target on my back AND OP by putting the site-sanctioned "this is sexy" tag onto it? Everyone that follows me is at least 18 anyway.

Gonna give this a test drive by sorting through some of my... ogh, 363 drafts!

#smie speaks #See? already so much more concise. No text post tag! It will be way more potent on reblogs too.#you can still filter out my girlfriend kissing/petting/breast expansion spam with “repeat reblog” by the way. That's staying #and I'm not stopping anytime soon!

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tlcwrites · 4 years ago

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By A Nose

Submission for Writer Wednesday 5/12

Summary: If you're going to talk the talk, you better be able to walk the walk. Or, proof Poe Dameron is a terrible loser.

Word Count: 1528

Tags/Warnings: Poe Dameron x Reader, Modern AU. Implied smut but mostly in passing. Some bad words. Poorly edited because as usual I finished this at like 11 and my kids get up at 5 so I need to go to sleep.

Author’s Note: THREE FICS IN A WEEK WHO AM I?

Okay, so I cannot be the only one who saw the photo for this week's Writer Wednesday (thank you once more for hosting, @autumnleaves1991-blog!) and went the direction I did. If I am the only one, well, just further proof my brain is certifiable. Make sure you comment on when you figure out where this fic takes place.

There will also be an accompanying headcanon coming for this probably tomorrow, because there was SO much material I wanted to use but couldn't make fit. Thank you @paper-n-ashes for brainstorming with me and being the best hype-woman ever.

“AAAAHHHHH.”

“WE’RE GONNA DIE.”

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!”

“FINN!!” You smack him. “There are small children here!”

But he’s too busy screaming to pay attention.

On the other side of you, Kaydel looks decidedly green. She lets out a pained moan as your vehicle makes a particularly hard turn. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this…”

You pat her knee as you fly through a kitchy town. “Hang in there, honey. It’s almost over.”

The village elder’s well wishes still ringing in your ears, you pull up next to another idling transport. From the driver’s seat, your boyfriend winks at you.

“You’re going down, Dameron!” you holler at him.

He makes the universal ‘I’m watching you’ gesture. “Eat my dust, losers!”

Finn yells back something that has you smacking him again, shooting an apologetic glance to the second row of Poe’s transport, where Snap and Karé are sitting with their daughter Nora. Snap’s hands fly to cover Nora’s ears while Karé laughs heartily.

Next to Poe, Rey holds her thumb and forefinger up to her forehead in an ‘L’ shape. “Second place is the first to lose!”

Before any more trash talking can occur, you see a flash of red out of the corner of your eye and then both vehicles take off, bursting out of the dark into blinding sunlight.

You both fly over the rusty terrain, neck and neck as you navigate under rocky overpasses and around hairpin turns. From the second row of your car, you can hear Maz lobbing profanities at Chewie in the other ride. He’s yelling back in his native tongue (which you still only understand half of). Beside Maz, Leia and Han are both laughing like kids.

A shriek of joy erupts from you as you fly over a series of hills, the momentary weightlessness thrilling. Finn has both hands in the air, while Kaydel grips the safety handle with white knuckles.

Finally, you come out of a turn to see a sharp drop. You look to Poe, who grins back at you, his vehicle slightly ahead of yours. Damnit, you HATE losing to him. He’s the worst winner.

At the last moment, your ride leaps ahead, crossing under the checkered banner by a nose. The passengers of your car cheer and high-five in victory, while Poe’s passengers groan in good-natured defeat.

As you roll through the red-lit cavern, you laugh as you catch sight of Poe’s face. He’s a terrible winner, but he’s an even worse loser. Even if his loss comes at the hands of an algorithm.

Anthropomorphic cars wave you off as both vehicles enter the unloading zone. On the other side of the platform, Chewie is lifting Rey out of the front seat as she pretends to collapse in agonized failure, her laughter completely destroying the illusion. You accept Finn’s hand as he helps you up, both of you turning to support Kaydel as she crawls out of the car.

A ride attendant watches her warily. “Does she need assistance?” he asks Han.

Han waves him off, wrapping an arm around his wife’s shoulders as Maz and Chewie beeline for the ride photos. “She’ll be fine. No protein spills here.” At the cast member’s astonished look, the charming rogue gives his trademark grin. “Ain’t my first rodeo, kid.” As he and Leia stroll past you towards the exit, he catches your eye and winks. “That, and they haven’t changed the lingo since the 70’s.”

Laughing, you rub Kaydel’s back as Rey swaps places with Finn and helps bracket your green-tinged friend. “Let’s get you some water, yeah?”

Kaydel manages a slight nod, and the three of you make your way towards the exit.

Behind you, you can hear Poe and Finn bickering, as they’re wont to do.

“It’s a ride, dude,” Finn is saying, the exasperation clear in his tone.

“It’s physics, dude,” Poe shoots back. “There’s NO way the car on the outside of the turn would be able to finish first.”

Worst. Loser. Ever.

Your rag-tag alliance eventually makes it out of the exit tunnel. Ben’s waiting across the walkway, those ridiculously long arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the guard rail and steadily ignores whatever Armitage is ranting about.

On the bench next to them, Rose perks up, a smirk crossing her pretty face as she sees Poe’s expression. “Well, I don’t need to ask who won.”

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” the most-competitive-pilot-in-the-galaxy grumbles back, adjusting his backpack. You help Kaydel to a bench, where she quickly curls up.

Rey rolls her eyes as she forces her way into the circle of Ben’s arms. “It’s not like any of us could have actually controlled the outcome, you noodle.”

“Not without some kind of magic,” Ben intones dryly, resting his chin on his girlfriend’s head.

“How cool would that be, though?” Rey’s getting her Down-The-Wormhole-We-Go eyes. You and Rose exchange a Look™️ as she starts gesturing wildly with her hands. “Like, imagine if you could just look at something like rocks and, like, make them fly. Or make someone do whatever you wanted them to do. OH!” She looks up at Ben with a slightly manic expression. “Lightning bolts from your fingers!!”

Well-used to these kinds of rambles, Ben gently captures her hands and wraps her into a hug that doubles as a straight jacket. “No more SyFy channel before bed.”

Rose slides her arms around her husband as Finn joins her on the bench. “Did you behave?”

Nora, in all her 6-year-old innocence, giggles. “Mr Finn said a whole lot of swear-jar words.” She casts a critical eye on the young man. “You probably said enough you could buy an Elsa doll.” The ‘for me’ is unsaid, but implied.

Karé rapidly turns her laugh into a cough.

Finn glances down at his wife as Rose smacks him upside the head. “Hey! That tractor thing is terrifying. And Maz said WAY more than I did!”

“Age before beauty, Finnigan,” Maz says haughtily, waving off Finn’s ‘m'name’s not Finnigan, damn it’.

Giggling, you tune out the ridiculousness that is your found family and turn your attention to your still-sulking boy toy. “You know,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his waist, “you make that face for long enough and it’ll stick that way.”

He huffs. “This is just how my face looks.”

“Uh huh.” Considering yourself quite the expert in his face, having spent countless hours studying every crease and line until you could have drawn him blindfolded, you call bullshit, but say nothing further.

“It is,” he insists.

“Okay,” you agree.

The King of Sarcasm narrows his eyes. “You’re doing that thing.”

You widen your eyes innocently. “What thing?”

“That thing where it sounds like you’re agreeing with me but you’re really telling me I’m a dumbass.”

“What?!” You bring your hand to your chest. “Moi?! I would never.”

He huffs again, but you can see the hint of a smirk starting to break though.

“C’mon, First Runner Up,” you tease. “No sulking in Disneyland. Let me buy you a drink at Trader Sam’s, and then we can sneak off to the Haunted Mansion and make out like teenagers in our Doom Buggy.”

He tilts his head, considering it.

“Or-“ You brush an inky curl off his forehead and stand on your toes until your lips are just about caressing his ear and whisper, “-we could get back in line right now and go again.”

Even before you’ve finished speaking, Poe’s grabbing your hand and hauling you back towards the entrance, tossing a “See you jerks later!” as he pulls you under the Radiator Springs Racers sign. Their laughter echos behind you as he leads the way through the mostly empty line (thank goodness for parade lulls).

As you wait in the queue, only a few dozen people stand between Poe and his (re)shot at victory. You see that competitive gleam in his eyes start to come alive again.

“Hey.” You tug on his tee shirt until he looks at you. “If our car doesn’t win, tonight I’ll do That Thing you love.”

“Babe.” The look he gives you is one of pure torture. “You are killing me here.” He really loves to win. But he really, really loves That Thing. “What about when we come in first?”

You shrug demurely. “Then you wear Those Pants™️ tomorrow.”

Hm. Poe’s always been quick to calculate his odds, and this is quickly turning into a win/win situation. If you lose, he gets That Thing. But Those Pants™️ turn you about feral, and when you’re in that kind of mood- let’s just say Poe still has the scars on his shoulders to prove it.

“Are those terms acceptable, Flight Commander Dameron?” You smile sweetly up at him.

His licentious grin says it all. “Hell yeah.”

For the record, your car does lose a second time. And the next morning, Poe hardly has Those Pants over his ass when you’re ripping them back down his legs and shoving him backwards onto the bed.

Oh, yeah, he thinks to himself. This is better than any dumb kid’s ride.

…doesn’t mean he’s not going to ride it as many times as it takes to win.

A/N: I almost titled this “Tell me you have children without saying you have children”. I am so fucking sick of ‘Lining McQueen’. Yay 4-year-olds.

Thank you for reading; likes and reblogs feed my soul.

#writer wednesday #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fic #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron x gender neutral reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron #hot space droid dad #my writing #modern au #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #poe dameron fanfic

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hanzajesthanza · 6 months ago

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anyways wish regis was there when geralt screamed for the entire druidic forest to hear that he was his przyjaciel.

Sylwia of Warsaw: 'Przyjaźń is an intimate relationship even though platonic, so boasting of it to strangers is like boasting of sex.'

in context of how regis was like 'eheheh? 🥺 friend?? [shyly tucks hair behind ear]' when geralt even just called him druh in private, in the darkness... under the earth, amidst rock and stone where not another soul, where absolutely no one else could hear them.

- Możesz liczyć - odrzeka poważnie Geralt. - Nie zostawię cię w potrzebie. Druhu. Wampir uśmiechnął się, a ponieważ byli sami, pełnym garniturem kłów. - Druhu?

that geralt yelled aloud in the daylight not just that they are friends, but close friends, to the flaminika, actually to anyone within earshot...

- Jestem Geralt… Wiedźmin… Przyjaciel Emiela Regisa… - Powtórz, bo nie dosłyszałam. - Geraaaaalt! Przyjaciel wampiiiiira!

i mean, regis would intuit, he would know that geralt was only emphasizing their friendship (and kind of lying because they haven’t known each other long at all) to save their skins from the ent, but... at the same time. logic doesn't overwrite fact. and the fact was geralt screaming under torture that they are very close

#imagine regis and cahir following geralt horseback and they just got close enough #for regis (very good hearing) to be able to just make out geralt yelling that lol #regis clutching draakul's reins white-knuckled LOL and cahir asking him why he's blushing #i know im talking about friendships but so people can find it #geregis #the witcher books #c: geralt #c: regis #book: tower of the swallow #book: lady of the lake #excerpt #s: the anthropomorphism speaks through me #this very scene being the origin of that tag i use for them lol #i love the good ol' back and forth of a phrase being exchanged #and the very brief way the question about 'human identity' crops up between the elves regis and geralt... sounds like a bad joke #well avallac'h emiel regis and geralt of rivia walk into a bar...

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 7 months ago

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Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 18

Chapters: 18/? 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. If anyone else wants to be tagged in the next updates, let me know! I noticed that Tumblr sometimes won't let me tag everyone for some unknown reason, so if it comes to that I can at least send you a message to notify you.

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

While on one hand your work in Cape Kennedy was progressing without any hiccup, the situation with the Vortex was beginning to escalate and deteriorate at a very alarming rate. But there was only so much that you, as a mere mortal, could do to assist.

The Corinthian lounged in his chair, his unsettlingly perfect smile unwavering as he examined you through his disconcerting, mirrored sunglasses. You stayed as motionless as a still lake, frozen and unflinching, with your heart pounding intensely in your chest.

Even though fear engulfed you and the Nightmare instilled a chilling sense of dread, you were determined not to present yourself as vulnerable or an easy prey.

"Well, look who we have here," he remarked, settling comfortably and flashing his trademark grin. "Do you remember me?”

"Naturally," you replied, your tone distant and firm. "Thanks for the drink, but I must admit I'm not really into the Black Russian Cocktail.”

He let out a chuckle, seemingly entertained by your biting response. "Ah, such a shame. I thought it might be to your taste,” he said, his voice silky, laced with feigned charm. "But I assure you, I'm not just here to buy you a drink. In fact, I'm more interested in...conversation.”

A shiver coursed down your spine, but you held your stance, your hand reaching for the Moonstone necklace as a form of support. "What do you want, Corinthian?" you questioned, managing to keep your voice steady despite the terror simmering within you.

His grin broadened at the mention of his name. "Straight to the point. I like that.”

He leaned slightly forward, cautious not to breach the invisible protective barrier that the necklace symbolized. "I just happened to be in the area and saw a familiar face. It's always nice to catch up with old acquaintances.”

You narrowed your eyes, not letting his nonchalant demeanor fool you. "Acquaintances? Is that what we are now? Because the last time we met, I didn't even know your name.”

The Corinthian shrugged, pretending indifference. "Names are overrated. It's what lies beneath that's truly interesting. Speaking of which,” His gaze shifted to the pendant in your hand. "That's a beautiful Dreamstone you're wearing there.”

As an entity crafted by Morpheus himself, you speculated it would be easy for him to sense his master's essence residing in the stone. The crystal had not yet shone any light, but it likely wouldn't trigger as long as a secure distance was maintained.

Given his aim to stay under the radar, it was certainly unthinkable to do anything that might catch Morpheus' attention.

Despite this, you were not ready to lower your defenses. You gripped the pendant tighter, your knuckles whitening, until you were overpowered by a terrible uncertainty.

The pendant housed Morpheus' energy, the identical one he employed to craft his subjects. All of them, Dreams and Nightmares alike, including the Corinthian. Would it even function against that creature, or was it destined to stay inactive in the presence of its creator's power?

However, understanding Morpheus as you did, you figured that he wouldn't leave anything to chance.

"You stay away from me," you warned, your voice low but fervent.

He lifted his hands in a mocking gesture of surrender. "Easy there. I'm not looking for trouble. Just a friendly chat. After all, it's not every day you run into someone who's so... special."

His tone bordered on teasing, but underneath it lurked a layer of menace.

You shot him a stern look, your heart maintaining its rapid pace. "Why are you really here?”

The Corinthian's smile remained, but a spark of irritation flickered across his face. "Let's just say I'm here on business. But you, my dear, seem to have stumbled into something far bigger than you realize. I wonder...do you even know what you're protecting yourself from?”

You offered no response, your silence serving as a testament to your fear and resolve.

The Corinthian reclined again, his expression contemplative. "You know, the Dreaming is a fascinating place. Full of wonders and horrors alike. It's a shame, really, that some of us can't ever truly escape it.”

Your fingers traced the contours of the Moonstone, deriving fortitude from Morpheus' gift.

You looked intently at him, your jaw set rigidly. "You were meant to stay. The Waking World is not the place for you.”

The Corinthian chuckled with a predatory glint that seemed to emerge on the dark lenses. “Ah, but the Waking World is so much more entertaining. So many unsuspecting souls, so many dreams to twist and shatter. The Dreaming can be quite confining, don’t you think?”

"You're playing a dangerous game here. You know that sooner or later he's going to find you, right?”

He laughed once more, a sound lacking any semblance of mirth. "Oh, but I have plans, my dear. Grand plans. And they don't include being sent back to the Dreaming like a misbehaving pet.”

His presence was deeply disturbing, stirring an urge in you to eradicate him instantly. It would be so easy; you had the means to inform Morpheus, to signal him that his nightmare had reappeared before your eyes. Yet, despite your impulse to act, you were held back by the bustling public scene, brimming with humans immersed in their own lives.

“Dreams are fragile things. And even the most powerful can crumble under the right pressure.”

You swallowed hard. "Be that as it may, you can't hide from your master forever.”

"That won't be necessary.”

At that moment, the suspicion began to creep into your mind that he was not only aware of the forming Vortex, but also harbored intentions of exploiting Rose for his own gain. Perhaps that could provide an explanation for the persistent feeling in your gut.

Alternatively, it could be your paranoia casting a cloud over your perception, and his presence in Cape Kennedy might not be related to the girl at all. However, his hints towards a grandiose scheme were undeniable, and whatever he was plotting, it was improbable that it would result in anything remotely beneficial.

Your phone began to vibrate and ring on the table, breaking the tense silence yet escalating your alertness. Andrew's name lit up on the screen, and despite your strong desire to extricate yourself from that situation, your body didn’t budge.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?”

Your eyes blazed with defiance. "Just so we’re clear, I won't let you harm anyone. Especially not him.”

It was a daring move on your part. What could a mere mortal such as yourself, lacking any supernatural abilities and unaware of this Nightmare's true potential, realistically hope to achieve against such monster?

“We’ll see about that.”

The Corinthian maintained his malevolent smirk, as he rose from his chair and smoothed out his jacket. The ringing of your phone ceased, the screen going dark. "Well, it's been delightful catching up, but I must be going. Places to be, people to see, dreams to corrupt. You know how it is.”

He made a motion to leave, but then halted, casting a glance over his shoulder. "Oh, and one more thing. Give my regards to Dream. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again very soon.”

Your blood ran cold as he continued speaking, gradually advancing towards the door.

“Enjoy your stay in Cape Kennedy, sweetheart. And remember, nightmares can follow you anywhere.”

With that, the Corinthian vanished into the bustle of the street, leaving you in solitude at the bar, your thoughts spiraling out of control.

You exhaled a prolonged, trembling breath of relief as soon as you found yourself alone at the table, your fingers finally releasing their grip on the Dreamstone. The fact that he left you entirely untouched, without even attempting to lay a finger on you, could signify a multitude of possibilities. Was he planning to toy with you a bit longer before erasing your existence from this world? Did he have intentions of annihilating the entire human race, you included, all in one sweep?

When your phone rang again, you jumped in your seat. You allowed the call to continue for a few more seconds, swallowing down your anxiety and only answering it when you were certain you could muster up your voice.

"Andrew, hi.”

"Oh, Y/N, you answered! I'm nearly there.”

"Yeah, I inadvertently left my phone on silent," you feigned. "I'm on my way.”

"Oh hey, is everything alright? You sound strange...”

Apparently, you weren't very good at concealing it.

"I'm fine! Just a bit tired, it seems the jet lag is really taking a toll on me now.”

Fortunately, Andrew seemed to accept your excuse. "Ah yes, of course! Sorry for having you run around like this.”

You swiftly settled the bill for your drink, leaving the undesirable Black Russian Cocktail abandoned on the table. "No need to apologize, I came here specifically for this.”

"Yeah, but I'm not in any hurry at the moment. So if you need to take things slower, just let me know, okay?”

You smiled, exiting the bar and crossing the street, breathing in the refreshing salty air. "Of course, but don't worry!”

"Right. I've just arrived. Are you nearby?”

"Yes, literally five minutes away.”

"Great! I'll hang up now, see you in a moment!”

As you slipped your phone back into your bag, you were taken by a sudden wave of calm and contentment, simply from Andrew's display of kindness and concern. Given the extremely negative energy you had absorbed from the Corinthian, the positivity radiating from your newly-acquired friend served to completely dispel the Nightmare's impact on you.

Nevertheless, the situation was not to be underestimated. Even though Morpheus might have been unaware, the possibility of his own creation plotting to obliterate not just the Dreaming but also the Waking World was a grave matter. It was vital that he be apprised of the looming threats he was up against.

Unfortunately, given his perpetual sense of duty, there was a fear that this revelation might exacerbate his self-blame. The notion of you coming across the Corinthian in London had already caused him significant distress, to the extent that you were fearful of his reaction to finding out that the Nightmare had, in essence, posed an indirect threat to you.

No, it was preferable to keep this information to yourself for the time being. Having a line of communication with the King of Dreams, you had the capability to reach out and converse with him if the need arose. Thus, as you spotted Andrew awaiting you on the most picturesque beach of Cape Kennedy, you made a silent pledge to yourself to monitor Rose as closely as possible, ensuring that no harm would befall the girl and, by extension, all of you.

Andrew couldn't have come up with a better idea. He intended for you to experience the magnificence of Cape Kennedy up close, guiding you on one of the most serene strolls you'd ever taken in your life. The melody of the sea was enchanting, the sky was unblemished, and the ocean was astoundingly beautiful. Owing to the Beach Land that was a frequent destination in your dreams, you had cultivated a deep fondness for the ocean.

Once again, he transported you back to his quarters for a thorough work assessment and outline. Charlotte was even more ebullient than the previous day, welcoming you with a warm hug and presenting another tray of fresh beverages and snacks, which you gladly accepted. Andrew had already given his approval to your drafts and the requested modifications, so technically, a large part of your job was already completed. What Andrew sought from you now was counsel on the overall presentations, along with guidance regarding the advertising strategy.

You were so immersed in the task at hand, surrounded by stacks of papers as you both scribbled notes and laid out plans on your laptops, that time slipped away unnoticed. Dinner had come and gone in what felt like an instant, the sky transitioning from daylight to a dark canvas speckled with twinkling stars amidst your ongoing conversations.

As the day came to a close, Andrew drove you back to Hal's B&B, suggesting you get some rest before the next briefing. A tranquil night was upon you, underscored by the calming whispers of rustling leaves and cricket melodies.

Yet, you couldn't shake off the feeling that something could emerge from the shadows unexpectedly at any moment.

Your footsteps reverberated along the pathway leading to the front door. As you pushed it open, the sound of Hal's voice drifted from nearby.

“There’s not much to do in Cape Kennedy after dark. Or during the day for that matter.”

You stopped in your tracks. His voice resonated with an unmistakable undertone of exhaustion and defeat.

“That’s kinda what I like about it,” Rose retorted in response. “I was thinking, maybe I should move back.”

“Why? To do what?”

The tone of Hal's inquiry made his disapproval abundantly clear.

“I don’t know. Before my mom died, I was gonna go to grad school… and try to become a writer.”

Nonetheless, Rose appeared unperturbed and relaxed, exuding an air of tranquility.

“But maybe it’s like you and New York.”

“God. I hope not.”

“No, I mean, your life is here,” she corrected. “You have this house, people who love you. You’ve got Dolly.”

You generally refrained from eavesdropping, but you felt that interrupting at that juncture would be incredibly inappropriate. Thus, you remained standing outside, right before the slightly open door.

“Rose, do you think I wanna be here? Cleaning after Barbie and Ken? Don’t get me wrong, I love them, they’re great. But if Broadway called tomorrow, I would sell this fucking house.”

The palpable sorrow in his voice touched a nerve. You had experienced similar sentiments once, longing to discard everything you had in pursuit of the fulfilling life you aspired to lead.

“And I would never think about any of these people ever again.”

There was a pause, followed by Hal's voice resuming once again.

“Go to grad school, write a novel… about me, but do it now while I’m still cute enough to play myself in the movie.”

Rose's soft chuckle was barely audible, but the joy it conveyed was unmistakable. It mirrored the enjoyment you felt, prompting a quiet smile to spread across your face.

“’Cause this, was never my dream.”

Soon after, Rose withdrew to the room she shared with Lyta to turn in for the night. Hal continued to clean up the area, the sound of glasses clinking against each other echoing throughout the room. Truth be told, you were keen to have a one-on-one chat with the girl as you hadn't yet gotten a proper chance to explain your encounter. But in that moment, you felt an overwhelming urge to give Hal some words of support, a growing desire in your heart that you simply couldn't overlook.

At last, you walked inside, gently closing the door behind you and advancing towards Hal, who was gathering the last vestiges of the drinks the others had left behind. Catching sight of you, he performed a graceful twirl and greeted you with a smile as radiant as the sun.

"Hi! I haven’t seen you all day. Has your work with Andrew been keeping you on your toes?”

"Somewhat, but things are progressing quite well," you responded.

"Oh, I'm certain. With your talent and his qualities, I can only anticipate the best.”

Shadowing his movements, you nervously bit your lower lip. "Speaking of talent, I couldn't help but overhear your exchange with Rose.”

Hal halted, clutching the empty tray in his hands. "Well, it was just, you know, something I needed to get out of my chest.”

You nodded in understanding. "We need that sometimes. But allow me to remind you that you already have everything you need within your grasp.”

He let out a sigh. "If only, my dear.”

"No, I'm serious. Maybe I don't have the right to say this, given we just met yesterday. And I understand this might sound like empty encouragement from someone who doesn't fully get your struggle. But you are so much more than this life you're discontented with.”

He had already talked about his aspirations with you - his dream to take center stage in Broadway's grandest shows, to become a celebrated star whose name would be remembered by all. Observing how his present life was constricting him, you felt an irresistible need to emulate your mother and extend as much consolation as you could.

You were no deity, no monarch of dreams. But he was a reflection of your past self and everything that persona embodied. Though you understood you were not your mother, you were at least confident in knowing the right words to express.

Hal's shoulders sagged and the new smile he offered was imbued with sadness and resignation. "Y/N, you're so kind to say that. But do you really think anyone would consider a Drag like me?”

"Hal, I witnessed your performance last night. Your voice is spectacular, and your stage presence was so mesmerizing that I couldn’t even blink while watching you.”

"Thanks, darling, But that won't exactly open the doors to Broadway for me.”

You shook your head in disagreement. "You don’t know that.”

He persisted in his skepticism, his countenance marked by desolation, as he found it impossible to conceive a more promising future for himself. You couldn't simply stand by and accept his surrender to circumstances.

“I mean, look at me. I am a living testament to how a life that once felt riddled with misery can transform into everything you've ever dreamed of.”

"Yes, and I love having you here right now. But I'm not like you, Y/N. All I can do is wait and hope that this endless cycle will take a different direction. Rather sooner than later.”

His pessimism didn't surprise you. After all, there was a time when you too were unwilling to believe in the possibility of betterment, bracing for nothing but disaster despite your father's and Hob's efforts to help you see things from a different angle.

"Or, you could cultivate this talent of yours and follow your dreams. Don't let it go to waste, you truly deserve to shine,” you said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

At that moment, something unusual occurred. A warmth emanated from your heart, appearing to radiate along his sleeve. Hal's face transitioned into one filled with wonder and surprise, staring at you as if he'd just seen a miracle unfold right before his eyes.

"Hal, you have your own individuality that defines who you are now, and also who you can become if you don’t give up.”

This time, he seemed to contemplate it, diverting his gaze and pursing his lips. "You do have a unique flair for words, don't you?” he noted, breaking into another bright smile and letting out a profound sigh.

He wasn't the first to compliment your communication skills, which evidently played a significant role in your professional success.

Still, you couldn't help but feel that it wasn't merely a perk you had acquired, but more so a family trait that you had inherited from birth.

"I try, at least.”

"Keep doing that, and you'll go really far in life.”

You chuckled, releasing him and slipping off your jacket. Somehow, as soon as you moved away, it felt like the enchantment had shattered, returning the atmosphere to its prior, ordinary state.

“Just give it some thought,” you suggested.

"Oh, I will. Maybe a good dream will stir some inspiration tonight.”

As you approached the stairs, gradually ascending the first few steps, you flashed a playful yet sincere wink in his direction. "Dreams have the power to do just that.”

If only he, or anyone else for that matter, could comprehend the depth of that truth. If only they could marvel at the wonders that the King of Dreams could bestow upon each one of them, had they dared to ask.

How had the mortal realm managed to endure an entire century devoid of the Dreaming? How had you navigated through countless silent, barren, desolate nights?

However, the elements within the dream realm could be as breathtaking as they were daunting. There were beings as mighty as the Corinthian, who had transformed what was meant to merely mirror humanity's deepest fears into a tangible nightmare in the Waking World.

Upon finding the plush comfort of your bed, you attempted to expunge all traces of those convoluted emotions from your gut. As you drifted off to sleep, you could only wish to find yourself enveloped by the dream figures you held so dear, all except Morpheus who, much to your chagrin, was preoccupied with the quest to locate his Dream and Nightmares.

One of which was tremendously close to all of you in the mortal realm.

As you leisurely strolled along the beach, your father's hand in yours, your younger self dipped her toes into the moist sand along the shoreline. You felt incredibly small and unburdened, reminiscent of the times you used to visit the seaside many years ago. The beach was tranquil, with no one else in sight, just you and your father gathering exquisite seashells and breathing in the refreshing air.

"Be careful there," he teased. "Or else you'll run out of space in that bucket.”

"I can't help myself," you replied cheerfully. "There are so many seashells, I want to collect them all.”

"This really is the best place in the world, innit?”

You nodded emphatically. "Of course it is, we're in the Dreaming.”

It was fascinating how a part of you maintained awareness, while another part seemed to have been transported back to the innocence and simplicity of your childhood.

"Beautiful. Simply beautiful," he observed.

The day was idyllic, reflecting the splendor of the dreamworld. You watched your small fingers digging into the damp sand, extracting more seashells and stones, each one glittering under the sun like a precious jewel.

But it was not reality, it was merely an illusion, a façade on the verge of shattering before your eyes.

Suddenly, a distant rumbling echoed in the sky, a sound that wasn't a novel occurrence.

"What was that?”

Your father appeared completely unconcerned, disregarding the approaching roar entirely. "Mh? What are you referring to, darling?”

“That sound.”

"What sound? All I can hear is the ocean.”

You stopped, causing your father to pause his strides as well. With the bucket's handle clenched tightly in your small fist, you focused on discerning the subtle noises in your surroundings.

Indeed, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, leading you to conclude that what you had heard was merely conjured by your imagination.

Until a colossal fissure, which jolted the entire landscape, emerged in the sand, a hair's breadth away from your father's feet.

"Dad!" You cried out. "We need to get away from here, now!”

“Mh? Whatever do you mean?”

With a trembling index finger, you pointed towards the ominous crack. Despite your frantic warning, he continued to smile - a wide, almost terrifying grin that you had never seen before.

You released his hand, the bucket falling to the ground. "You're not real. None of this is. It's all just a dream,” you repeated to yourself.

"Is that so? Well, I suppose I can't let you leave now.”

What on earth?!

You started to retreat, but he made no move to follow. Your dream father stood there, statue-like, tilting his head and staring at you with an utterly blank expression. You could feel the chaos mounting in you, the urgency to flee and awaken. The crack continued its course, spreading around your father like tree roots.

Paralyzed, you could only watch the horrifying scene unfold in front of you. The sky turned ominously dark and the ocean receded, only to rise again and form a gigantic wave. It towered over you, threatening to crash down imminently.

And then, a hand clamped down onto your shoulder, compelling you to pivot around. Your face, no longer that of a child, was reflected in the Corinthian's round black lenses.

“Give my regards to Dream. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again v͔̠ͬ͝e͕̰̥̦̐ͥͪ̇̓͊ͭ͊ͧ̏̕͢r̵̡͕͕̮͉͙̯̅̇̄ͣ̊̑y̲̼͋͐̓ͅ s̱̭͔̪̩̳̜̹͕̹̩͙̙̪̗̤ͮ̊ͥ̏ͮ͋́͗ͧ̐̽͘͜͟͝͠ͅǫ̷̷̛̙̫̞̳̮͆̒͐̐ͯ͛͡ǫ̙ṇ̵̆ͬ̓͘_̛̬̣̻͙̐̅ͥ̓ͪ̃_̵̶̝̣̝̈̆ͣ̍̉.”

His voice echoed all around you, reverberating in your ears and becoming distorted. The tidal wave crashed, engulfing everything in its path and wiping it all away. You were caught in a maelstrom, spinning uncontrollably, gasping for breath in the underwater whirlwind.

Awakening with a jolt, you kicked off the covers and sat bolt upright, pressing your back against the pillow. Panting, anxious and disoriented, you looked around to anchor yourself and dispel the remnants of your dream hung in the air, creating hypnagogic illusions of shadowy figures and wavering walls. It took a moment of deep, calming breaths and a run of your fingers through your tousled hair to bring your racing heart back to its normal rhythm.

Morpheus was absent, and the idea of slipping back into slumber was out of the question for now. You sprang to your feet, slipped into your cozy slippers, and draped a long open cardigan over your pajamas. A hot cup of tea, you thought, might just be the remedy to calm your frazzled nerves and restore your sense of lucidity.

Making an effort to keep the noise low, you stepped out of your room and gingerly made your way down the dimly lit hallway. You arrived at the main staircase, cautiously descending, with one hand instinctively placed on your chest where the feeling of water filling your lungs persisted.

Distractedly, you moved forward, and the light turned on in the dining room immediatly piqued your curiosity. The table was decorated with a tray full of traditional British biscuits, and a hot teapot was perched on it. A hefty figure was seated in front of the nocturnal treat, humming contentedly while relishing it.

“Gilbert?”

“Oh, hello Miss Y/N! What are you doing up at this hour?”

You smiled, observing his apparent fondness for his cane, which he seemed to carry with him wherever he went.

"I can't fall asleep," you answered. "What about you?”

"I was reading, lost track of time again. I brewed a spot of Chamomile, fancy a cup yourself?”

Given the state your nightmare had put you in, the prospect of a calming cup of Chamomile tea indeed seemed heavenly.

“Yes, please," you agreed. "I would appreciate that.”

"But of course! Would you mind having a sit? I’ll be right back.”

His warm and courteous manners always uplifted your spirits. Even the way he carried himself was full of grace and poise.

The soft sound of him rummaging through the cupboard reached your ears as he pulled out a vacant mug from the kitchen. Upon his return, he presented you with some of his biscuits with a sincere smile, and you felt like a spoiled child in need of a sweet snack to alleviate the tension. Had he possibly discerned your distress?

“Do you often make tea in the middle of the night?” You asked.

The corners of his lips curled upward even more, his mustache following the movement. “Old habits, I suppose. There's something comforting about it, don't you think?”

“Yeah. It reminds me of home.”

Gilbert sat down beside you, spooning a generous amount of sugar into his cup, now promptly refilled. "Feeling a touch of homesickness, are you?”

"Oh, it's more about the folks I hold dear back there. You know, family, friends.”

Gilbert savored a new sip of his Chamomile, licking his dampened lips and appreciating the warm brew. "And a dashing young chap too, perhaps?”

You held back a chuckle, finding "young chap" to be a rather amusing term for someone of Morpheus' stature.

"Let's say there is, in some sense.”

"Splendid. I won’t pry then.”

You truly pondered where this man originated from with his old-world sophistication.

The warmth of the beverage slid down your throat, finally dispelling that dreadful feeling of suffocation. "I love reading, too. It's unfortunate that I no longer have enough time to dedicate to it, but I’m passionate about my job."

"Yes, I did catch a few snippets. You work in the fashion industry, don't you?”

"That's correct. I'm a Fashion Designer, so I handle all aspects of the creative process and general promotion.”

Gilbert cast his gaze downwards, seemingly deep in contemplation. "Creative, that's marvellous. You know, it reminds me of someone I used to know a while back.”

“Really? Someone special?”

"Ah, my dear. He was the very heart of the place I hail from.”

"He’s not anymore?”

Gilbert grew nostalgic. "Oh no, he is. He'd been away for a very long time, you see. Without him, my homeland lost its essence. I left because I wanted to... embark on new experiences, I would say.”

You had a multitude of questions, but given your limited familiarity with the man, you didn't want to overstep any boundaries. You hypothesized that he originated from a quaint English town, and the person he spoke so warmly about was possibly a revered clergyman or a commoner cherished by many.

"Do you plan on returning?" You asked.

"Eventually, yes. I never intended to leave my place, I simply... needed to explore… more of this world.”

His explanation was notably vague, giving you the sense that he was carefully choosing his words to sidestep other topics he seemed less eager to discuss.

But ultimately, that was just a part of his charm.

"I understand. Thank you for sharing, Gilbert.”

"A pleasure, Miss Y/N.”

As you both continued to enjoy the Chamomile and savor the tasty biscuits he had provided, a momentary silence fell between you. Oddly enough, it didn't feel awkward or uncomfortable; instead, it nurtured a feeling of closeness. His presence was soothing, organic, and serene. You could faintly detect an aroma of damp moss and lush greenery emanating from him, along with hints of apples, sea ozone, musk and sandalwood.

Even though you were indoors, your mind was conjuring up the image of a lush green oasis. Unknown to you, the dreadful thoughts of your nightmare had entirely faded from your consciousness.

That was, until he posed the subsequent question, interrupting your mental imagery.

"You said you can’t fall asleep. Is something troubling you, my dear?”

Setting your mug aside, you aligned your back more straight against your chair. "I woke up from a nightmare earlier. It was quite unsettling.”

"Oh dear," he expressed. “Are you all right?”

"To be honest, I’m a little worried about something. But I can’t tell if my feelings are warranted, or if I'm just making everything more complex than it needs to be.”

Gilbert lapsed into a thoughtful silence again, absentmindedly twirling the spoon in his tea.

"Dreams can reveal a fair bit about your-" he cleared his throat. "-our own selves. Our worries, longings, even our darkest truths. They can be quite revealing, in their own cryptic manner.”

For some reason, he seemed to possess knowledge far beyond what any typical human being should. But considering the significant time he spent engrossed in books, his extensive cultural understanding was not surprising to you.

"It's weird, isn't it? Dreams can manifest the most beautiful visions one could ever see, yet sometimes, they can be so frightful that they make you want to never fall asleep again.”

He guffawed. "I've seen my fair share of unusual dreams. Each one is a journey, wouldn't you agree?”

You, more than anyone else, could attest to the spectacular travels one could undertake through their dreams.

But those very dreams you loved deeply, those realms and magical constructs, if not the Dreaming as a whole, were seemingly endangered by a force equally formidable.

As unsettling as the nightmare had been, you couldn't let it deter you from delving into your subconscious mind.

“I do, actually. It’s a little tough, though.”

"Isn't it just? This world's a grand old place, my dear. Just as many marvels to be found as there are true horrors to behold.”

You bobbed your head in agreement, gazing at the remnants of your Chamomile. "You're so right Gilbert. I wish I could remove a thing or two from my memory.”

"I daresay. But isn't that also part of what makes you... well, human?”

His point held weight, considering the lessons you had acquired over the years. All those hardships, all the adversities you had to surmount. Even Morpheus confined to that cage, isolated, insulted, and forgotten. Had you not witnessed all that, you would have entirely overlooked his existence, and inevitably lost the opportunity to understand what it meant to love and be loved by him.

Every fear, all the concerns, all the wonderings and questions. They all contributed to your growth and shaped who you wanted to become.

"Thanks, Gilbert," you voiced softly, "I really like talking to you.”

"Absolute pleasure, Y/N. Whenever you fancy a chat, I'm here to lend an ear.”

Having finished the Chamomile and nibbled the last crumb of your biscuits, you gathered the empty mugs and plates onto the tray. Gilbert generously offered his help, which you politely declined, allowing him to retreat to his attic for some rest (or to indulge in more reading).

You let the water run at the bare minimum, washing the mugs and plates with utmost care. You returned everything to its proper place, gently closing the cupboard's door to preserve the quiet. Gilbert's footsteps were soft and deliberate, until the surroundings became so silent that you couldn't hear a fly.

It was still early, and you didn't know how long Morpheus would take to conduct his investigation. All you could wish for was that no hindrances had appeared in his way.

As you slid back under the covers and settled onto the mattress, you grabbed your phone and plugged in your earbuds. You swiped across the screen, rifling through your saved playlists until you found the specific track you were looking for.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒙𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝑴𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒄 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝑨𝒏𝒙𝒊𝒆𝒕𝒚 𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒇

You used to play these melodies when contending with your chronic insomnia, and even if they weren't particularly helpful at the time, you still cherished the calming sounds they produced. And so, you pressed the play button, adjusting the volume to a moderate level, getting yourself comfortable and closing your eyes.

The soft music echoed in your ears like liquid gold. You felt weightless and cleansed, as if the bed had vanished beneath you. When sleep claimed you once more, you felt comforted and at peace, journeying through a variety of pleasant dreams.

The fact that you had no pressing obligations the following day was a stroke of good luck, for when morning arrived, you were still blissfully asleep in your bed. The Dreaming appeared to be just as it always was, granting you unrestricted exploration. You took a serene stroll in the most beautiful meadow you had ever seen, crossed a forest bathed in hues of pinks and reds, and even engaged in conversation with a chatty deer you encountered along the way. At times, the things appearing around you looked odd and somewhat nonsensical, but it didn't particularly bother you.

And then, you were enveloped in a sea of stars, to the extent that you found yourself traversing an actual galaxy. Even though you were walking, you couldn't see any physical ground under your feet.

You weren't sure of your destination, but the energy pulsating through the paradisiacal landscape motivated you to continue, and you simply couldn't resist the call. The dress you wore, so lengthy that it trailed behind you like a royal gown, was imbued with the brilliance of stars and the swirling cosmos.

All that stunning beauty made your thoughts drift towards Morpheus, and you realized how much you longed to see him again.

Distant voices began to form and resonate from the far end of the nebula, where a powerful blue light flashed and expanded. You quickened your pace, walking briskly, until the light became almost blinding, compelling you to raise your hands in front of your face.

And it was fortunate that you did, because a few moments later, you collided with something hard and icy, as solid as marble.

The galactic spectacle had completely dissolved, replaced by a radiant blue fog that began to thin out and dissipate. The pillar in front of you obstructed your view, but it didn't take long for you to recognize the castle's throne room.

How were you able to locate that place again without Morpheus’ explicit invitation?

And then, you recalled his earlier words, assuring you that you were always welcome in his castle. Could it be that this had inherently given you unlimited access to it?

“Do you have any idea what his life is like in the Waking World?”

A woman was speaking, but you couldn't identify her.

“Humans cannot live in dreams.”

Morpheus.

“As long as he stayed there, the child had no life. Nor the chance for one.”

Sensing that you were amidst something significant, you moved your body slightly to the side to survey the unfolding scene. Morpheus, as handsome and majestic as ever, stood a few steps above Lucienne and another figure, a well-defined woman who was clearly far from human. Her skin was dark, akin to a desaturated purple, adorned with fuchsia streaks that pulsed like faint lightning. Her entire body seemed alive, displaying a kaleidoscopic effect that resembled liquid shadows.

“The boy is being abused,” the creature stated. “He’s suffering.”

“You abused that suffering,” Morpheus counteracted. “To build a Dreaming you could rule.”

And then it struck you, the realization that the non-human figure was one of the Dreams Morpheus had been trying to find. Or, to be more precise, one of his Nightmares.

“I had no wish to rule.”

She didn't seem terrifying to you. Even her appearance, while peculiar and potentially intimidating, was actually quite enchanting to look at.

Unlike the Corinthian, which was ironic considering that he bore more resemblance to a man than anything else.

“I merely wish to be a Dream and not a Nightmare. To inspire rather than to freighten.”

The nightmare was seething with anger, filled with pain and grudge against her master.

Lucienne was attentively listening, without uttering a word.

“The choice is not yours to make,” Morpheus responded, calm and unyielding. “We do not choose to be created. Nor do we choose how we are made.”

His statement stirred thoughts in your head. Did he ever contemplate why he came into this universe, the purpose of his birth, his initial creation? Did he ever consider being someone else, something else, instead of perpetually fulfilling his role as the King of the Dreaming?

“That is true,” affirmed the Nightmare with a smirk. “But we can change.”

“No. We are, each of us, born with responsibilities. Even I am not free to choose to be other than I am. Nor is anyone.”

If anything, this only provided an answer to your inner query. Ever since the day you met him, you hadn't considered that his duties and what he embodied could be as heavy as a boulder to him. You knew he had to make exceedingly difficult, if not impossible, decisions. But what if, deep down, he wished to cast aside his metaphorical crown and hand over his realm to another?

“If that were true, why did all the other Dreams and Nightmares choose to leave this place when you had gone away?”

“Not all of us chose to leave, and nearly all have returned,” Lucienne finally interjected.

The creature turned to look at the librarian. “Do you think they came back out of love?” Then, once again, she redirected her focus to her creator. “Or because they were afraid of what you would do to them if they did not?”

You were cognizant of Morpheus' capacity for aloofness and command, and he had even admitted his past errors to you. But as inflexible as he could be, was it truly so erroneous to aim for maintaining proper order within his realm, if it also meant safeguarding the Waking World and its denizens?

“Because I am not afraid.”

You could sense the change in the atmosphere, which had abruptly become chilly and foreboding. Morpheus pivoted completely, fixing the Nightmare with a defiant glare. “You should be.”

You leaned forward just a bit more, taking care to remain unnoticed by any of them. It's quite humorous how you continually landed yourself in undesirable circumstances, which obliged you to stay concealed and listen in on others.

“A Nightmare’s purpose is to reveal a dreamer’s fears, that they may face them.”

You might have been wrong, but even from where you were, you noticed a reddish tint in his eyes. He was in pain.

And also, he was enraged.

His shadow started to shift, advancing along the stairs and extending out, stretching right towards where the Nightmare was positioned.

“Perhaps a few thousand years in the darkness will reveal your fears.”

The shadow made contact with her feet, and the moment it did, she began to pulverize and disappear. Her legs slimmed down, disintegrating like ash, and the rest of her body followed the same fate.

She was scared, but at the same time, she held his stare with bravery and pride.

And you could see that she was teetering on the edge of tears, burdened by the spectrum of missed opportunities.

“Better that than to make others afraid,” she said at the very end. “Even a Nightmare can dream, my lord.”

With widened eyes and a dropped jaw, you watched in sheer disbelief as the creature dissolved right before your sight. Morpheus stood as an image of defeat, quietly enduring the loss of one of his own creations.

“Even a Nightmare can dream.”

In your trance-like state, the only thought that surfaced was, blimey.

Even Lucienne was clearly distraught. How had things managed to escalate to this extent? Why did events have to take that horrific twist, landing Morpheus in such a tough spot? Why all the anguish, the torment, the catastrophe?

Only one name came to mind; Roderick freaking Burgess. What would the scenario be if Morpheus was never captured? If the Dreaming was never deserted, and if his subjects never abandoned their duties?

“You feel her punishment was unjust?”

The way Morpheus immediately sought Lucienne's approval with an expression akin to witnessing his raven’s murder once again (oh, you didn't even want to remember that, much less think about anything happening to Matthew) left you instantly heartbroken.

Lucienne contemplated her reply, then she freed her hands from their entwined position behind her back. “I used to be something else. Before you made me your librarian. We all chance, sir. Even you, perhaps. One day.”

Oh no.

His response was unsurprising. Even though his voice echoed gentleness and respect, you could perceive the bitterness lacing each word he spoke following that.

“Lucienne, I realize that in my absence, you were compelled to make decisions in my stead, and I am grateful to you.”

You sensed that a 'but' was forthcoming.

“But I am back now.” There it was. “You may return to the library.”

Ouch.

That was a lot to take in all at once, and given your empathetic nature, you rapidly absorbed the torrent of emotions floating in the atmosphere. You observed the sorrow in Lucienne's eyes, the despair of feeling obsolete to her King. She retreated with measured steps, leaving Morpheus standing rigid on the staircase.

The regret was unmistakable. His frequent blinking, the strain in his jaw, his hands curling into tight fists.

You let out a sigh, bumping your forehead against the column. If only you could do something, anything, to magically erase all that pain from their hearts. If only-

"I am sorry," he said unexpectedly. "I did not wish for you to witness that.”

Oh. Oh. Of course he was talking to you. You were in the Dreaming, right in the center of his dwelling. It was only to be expected that he would be aware of your presence in his castle, considering you were practically a whisker's breadth away.

With caution, you stepped out of your hiding spot, your gown trailing behind as you moved towards the King of Dreams. The fabric maintained its shimmer, harmoniously matching the cosmic ceiling overhead and the inner lining of his coat.

"I'm the one who should apologize," you declared. "I just wanted to see you, I didn't expect to end up here.”

The instant his eyes met yours, a flicker of astonishment and surprise colored his face. He watched you as if spellbound, descending the staircase to meet you midway. When you halted, merely inches from his face, you gave him one of those smiles he cherished the most.

You were clueless about the depth of his love for you in that moment, of how you looked every bit a queen, his queen, gracefully moving in your natural surroundings.

Your dream dresses were a mirror of your inner self, each more beautiful than the last.

"Wrong place at the wrong time, as we humans like to say," you continued. "Did you know I was here all along?”

“You thought I did not?”

“Touché.”

He lowered his tear-brimmed gaze, the tips of his cool fingers tentatively grazing yours."Are you not scared of me?”

It was difficult to fathom that he was still unsure, questioning the genuineness of your feelings for him. But upon reflection, you couldn't truly fault him.

You shook your head. "My love, I could never be afraid of you. You should know that by now.”

His hands were always so tender, so delicate, and yet so sturdy. His hands rested around your waist, only to glide upwards and adhere to your skin, the dress granting him an ample view of your back. He held you close against his chest, and you melted in his embrace.

“Do you not think Lucienne is correct? About change, about me?”

"Morpheus, I wouldn't want to change a thing about you. I think this entire matter should be handled with care, from all perspectives.”

He displayed a pouting expression, gently rubbing his forehead against yours. “I have my duties.”

“I know.”

And these obligations were eating him up from the inside. Encaged in a glass cell for a century, he neglected his realm and failed to guard the very humanity that triggered the destructionn of the Dreaming to start with. However, upon witnessing the magnitude of his role, you began to doubt whether his sacrifice was worth it. Ruling over the dream domain and protecting the mortal world shouldn't provoke such deep anguish. It was consuming him, devouring his essence.

"Don't be too harsh on Lucienne, though," you advised. "She's the most dedicated being I have ever met, but I’m sure you are aware of that.”

"I am.”

It was quite a shame that she had no clue of the magnitude of his high regard for her.

"You see, when you were still confined to that cage, I had a dream. It was one of my first experiences in this realm, and somehow, I found myself here. In this very same room.”

He listened quietly, his hands softly gliding down to your lower back.

"I was lost. Everything was in ruins, devoid of life. But Lucienne was here, aimlessly roaming the castle, and she found me. The sight of a human standing in the midst of your throne room took her by surprise, after such a long time.”

The way she sustained and persevered for over a century remained a mystery. She deserved a dedicated monument.

"She was so alone, Morpheus. She was waiting for you to return.”

None of his words were intended to diminish her. Lucienne held significant value to Morpheus, not only as a trustworthy librarian but also as a competent collaborator within his domain. He only adopted a defensive stance when the topic of change surfaced, a concept he struggled to grasp given the nature of his own existence.

"And, about the Nightmare you punished...”

“Gault.”

The fact that he still wished for her name to be acknowledged despite his conduct, did not elude your notice.

"I don’t know what happened, and if she did wrong you, it's in your rights to restore the original state of things. But... she appeared honest about her feelings, about her wish to become a Dream. Is there truly nothing you can do about it?”

For an instant, you were apprehensive that he might reproach you merely for daring to discuss matters you didn't completely understand.

But his eyes held nothing but tenderness for you. "Y/N, she was made to be a Nightmare. In order to make her into a Dream, she would need to be undone and recreated.”

"But isn't that a part of any creative process? Altering things that already exist, but no longer fulfill their original purpose?”

“It is different.”

Your smile broadened as you caressed his cheek. "I know that I can't compare what you do with my work in the Waking World. Your subjects have a function that accompanies humans through their personal journeys. But, consider this: everything we make, whether it be clothes, art, music, movies, or novels, it all influences us in one way or another.”

He furrowed his brows, mulling over your words and attempting to decipher the implications of your statement.

"Sometimes, an artist might choose to redraw an old piece to make it better. A writer might opt to remake an entire chapter if it doesn't align with their envisioned perfection A composer could discard a fresh song and reconstruct it from scratch just for that note they didn’t get right. An entire dress can be taken apart, mended, and redesigned.”

Your focus moved to the location where Gault had once been. You could still observe traces of smoke and ash spiraling around the room.

"Gault wasn’t a mistake, Morpheus. She just wanted to be understood, regardless of how wrong that might be.”

He stayed silent, tracing your line of sight as he swallowed.

"Ah, but I'm only human. So, what could I possibly know, right?”

And then, he flashed a small grin. It was almost unnoticeable, barely distinguishable, but just clear enough for you to catch it.

“No, you are observant. Your words are truly valuable.”

You weren't expecting him to affirm your truth, nor to retract the punishment imposed on Gault and reinstate her to her rightful place. But that was acceptable. Because you realized that Morpheus was not simply disregarding your viewpoints.

“You are valuable, too.”

You ran your nails along the collar of his coat, savoring the clear contact, the softness of the material.

"I need you to understand that you're not alone in this. You have Lucienne, Matthew. Even Able and Cain, despite the latter's rough character. And naturally, you have me.”

For him, it was tough to believe that a genuine support system existed behind him. Given all the trials he had to withstand, the burdens he shouldered away from others, and the solitary grief he faced after the loss of his son.

Even now, distancing himself from Lucienne and dispatching his creation into the darkest void, were not measures he felt particularly prideful or content about.

He smiled. "Having you by my side is more than I could ever hope for or deserve, my love.”

You craved him as much as you needed the blood flowing in your veins. You longed for the sound of his voice, so low, smooth, and resonant, his words overflowing with love and adoration for you.

He kissed you, slowly yet assertively, before pulling away and letting you go. But now that he had a moment of tranquility with you, as the day on the other side had just commenced, he wanted you to savor every last minute in the Dreaming, before you ventured back to your world and he proceeded with his investigations.

The final moments in the Dreaming had been unforgettable, with Morpheus guiding you through parts of the castle you hadn't yet explored. But before you fully succumbed to the pre-awakening haze, you chose to contradict your prior decision and confessed that the Corinthian was, in fact, in Cape Kennedy.

The realization that his nightmare had encountered you for a second time, unbeknownst to him and with all the potential dangers it could entail, inevitably sent Morpheus’ mood spiraling downwards all over again. For a moment, you feared that he might harbor resentment towards you for not summoning him at that time. However, when you explained how cunning the Corinthian had been by choosing to meet you in a public place filled with mortals, the Endless pronounced that you had acted prudently.

Morpheus also confirmed that the Corinthian had evidently been drawn by the Vortex herself. That also signified that, should he locate her, things could potentially escalate to an irreversible point for all of you. Therefore, he tried to convince you to head back home, with the aim of keeping you shielded from both Rose's power and the Nightmare's grasp.

Regrettably, you had to reject his suggestion, as your work was far too important for you to merely abandon it. Morpheus attempted to argue, but eventually, he let the topic rest. He made a solemn promise to utilize all his resources and abilities to ensure your safety, insisting that you alert him immediately should anything unusual, or even remotely dangerous, occur in your presence.

Admittedly, having Morpheus concerned for you amidst all that he was grappling with did make you feel quite guilty. Nevertheless, there was no way you could leave Andrew in the middle of the project without a valid excuse. Morpheus understood the amount of effort you had invested in establishing your current career, and the last thing he wanted was for you to lose all that you had achieved.

By the time you woke up, everyone else was already bustling about town attending to their own affairs. The only exception was Lyta who, conversely, was strangely sick and confined to her room, not making an appearance even once.

You seized that day off as a chance to recuperate, with the lingering effects of jet lag still draining you, and the remnants of your tumultuous night further exhausting you. It was approximately lunch time when you noticed Rose crossing the threshold, her fatigued, baffled expression indicating that something was drastically amiss.

"Rose?”

"Oh, Y/N, hi," she said in a distracted manner. "Is Lyta still in her room?”

"I believe so, she was feeling under the weather earlier when I knocked. But, on that note, are you okay?”

Rose shook her head, offering a feeble smile. "I don’t even know, to be honest.”

You could only speculate that what kept her outdoors that morning was linked to her brother Jed. Clearly, things didn't pan out as she had hoped.

"Come on. let's talk," you encouraged her, softly draping your arm around her shoulders and ushering her upstairs.

"Oh, there's no need to, I mean-”

"Yes, Rose. There is," you corrected. "There's something I need to share with you.”

You were aware that Morpheus would have preferred to keep you as distant as possible from everything the girl embodied, but you couldn't just ignore her when she looked so afflicted.

And despite her apparent eagerness to retreat to her room, she consented, trailing behind you and stepping into your chamber without any protest.

You let her settle on your bed, which was still partly unkempt, and you took a seat next to her. "Firstly, tell me what happened."

You noticed her hesitation, stumbling over her words. "Well, I actually found Jed. I went there because I wanted to speak to his foster parents, to see him, and possibly bring him home with me.”

"Let me guess, they didn't permit you to.”

She sighed. "Even worse.”

“Worse?”

"Y/N, I... I went there and the police were swarming all around the house. I found out that the couple is dead, and Jed is nowhere to be found.”

Out of all the things you thought she might say, that was definitely not one of them.

“Wait, what?!”

"I know, it's insane!”

"But, do they know how they died? Was it an accident? Were they killed in their own home?”

How could she be so close to reuniting with her brother after so many years, only to have him slip even further away?

Right then and there, your intuition flared up more intensely than before. Something was undeniably wrong. What were the odds of that happening?

"I have no idea. The police didn't want to disclose any information. I wasn't even allowed near the house.”

You gently placed your hand on her back, moving it up and down in a comforting motion. "I'm so sorry Rose. The silver lining is that he wasn't there, so he's at least unharmed. Right?”

"But now, I don't even know where to start looking.”

What kind of comfort could you give her in a situation like that?

"Y/N, you said there was something you wanted to tell me. But... could you answer a question for me?”

“Of course.”

She pressed her lips together, staring at you with a hint of apprehension. “"Are you real? I mean, you're human, right? I'm not just imagining you.”

You laughed. "I am very much real, I assure you.”

"It's just... you were in my dream. I met you before actually seeing you in real life.”

You nodded. “You did.”

"So... how...?”

You clasped her hand, which felt somewhat cold and trembly. She appeared so fragile and delicate, how could she contain such a potent power capable of not only shattering the Dreaming, but also penetrating its walls and affecting the Waking World?

"Rose, I'm sure you know the answer to that.”

She blinked a few times, permitting you to gently squeeze her hand. “I think so. And you?”

She was testing the waters, probing to see what you might potentially know or be oblivious of.

You couldn't find any valid reason to not tell the truth about it.

“Yes, Rose. I know you are the Vortex.”

For a moment, she appeared flabbergasted, not really anticipating your forthrightness. She stood, pacing back and forth a few times, only to raise her voice in desperation.

"Who are you, really? What's going on?”

Her outburst was more than justifiable. She was separated from brother when she was a teenager, never having the chance to see him ever since. Then, her mother passed away just before she could uncover the true nature residing within her, which could endanger her life, due to the need to eliminate any direct threat against an Endless' realm.

It was unfair, you thought to yourself. She deserved better than what life had dealt her.

"I'm simply Y/N,” you replied. “A human being just like you. Nothing more and nothing less.”

“But how do you know I’m the Vortex?”

Was it even permissible for you to divulge your relationship with Morpheus? Could you be open about your association with his realm?

In the end, you carefully opted to omit the major details.

"I am acquainted with the King of Dreams."

"You know Lord Morpheus?”

“Yes. Very well in fact.”

She returned to the mattress, allowing her body to slump onto it like a sack of potatoes. Her eyes clamped shut, and she took a deep inhalation, only to exhale it out.

"Rose, I wish I could tell you more about why or how you became a Vortex, but not even Morpheus himself has an explanation. All I can say to you is that you need to be careful.”

"All I do is sleep, and all of a sudden I'm in everyone's dream.”

How dreadful it must feel, to intrude upon your friends' subconscious and probe their minds against their will.

"You haven't come across a man with blond hair and dark round sunglasses, have you?”

"No, not that I can recall," she specified. “Why?”

With Matthew keeping a watchful eye on her during the day, you knew that she at least had some form of protection from the Dream Lord. But was that truly sufficient to keep the Nightmare at a safe distance from her?

You couldn't afford to give her one more cause for alarm. She couldn't find out about that creature tailing her, aiming to use her Vortex abilities to annihilate the Dreaming and take complete control over humanity. It was such a hefty load for you alone, understanding how dark and warped the minds of mortals could be and how readily they could be remolded.

For the moment, you wanted her to concentrate solely on her brother, who seemed to be entirely missing, if not kidnapped by someone malevolent for all you knew.

"Let's just hope it never comes to that.”

You blinked a few times, clearing the haze from your brain, as you peered into the distance at what appeared to be a barren wasteland, gloomy and parched. It was dark and cold, reminiscent of a swamp.

What was that place, and why did it evoke a sense of déjà vu?

You glanced around, took a few steps forward, and inhaled the aroma of earth and decaying vegetation. Nothing was there apart from some patches of mud, scattered algae and rocks that either looked shattered or flipped over.

"Yep, I'm afraid so.”

A voice from behind caused you to startle, but when you spun on your feet, nobody was there except for a deer, watching you with a pair of large, glossy black eyes.

"What...?”

"Oh come on. Don't say you don't remember me.”

You were completely disoriented, unable to even recall your own name. But then, as time progressed and the gears in your mind kicked back into action, everything fell back into place.

You knelt down, gently patting the deer's head. "Of course I remember you. I'm sorry, it took me a moment to realize I was dreaming. I must have dozed off on the couch...”

The animal smiled. "Eh, it happens sometimes. No big deal. But I'm glad you're back. Things are really getting messy over here.”

“Messy? What do you mean?”

The deer's expression morphed into one of puzzlement. "Are you serious? Can't you see the state of this place?”

"I do see it," you responded. "Where exactly are we? I know this is the Dreaming, but...”

"Y/N," the deer advanced. "You know where you are.”

That proclamation sent a chill down your spine, and as soon as you looked up, attempting to detect any sign of what the deer was referring to, the surroundings trembled and shook violently. You heard the loud noise of something fracturing, splitting apart. And then you saw it, the same crack from your nightmare, widening and branching out. It continued to broaden, wildly seizing the landscape around you.

The deer was correct, you knew exactly where you were. Merely contemplating it caused your heart to plummet, and your stomach to coil into a painful knot, tugging from every direction.

Without a shadow of a doubt, you were in the Beach Land. Except now, it was just land, bereft of beach, water, and signs of life.

“No… please tell me this isn’t real. Tell me this is another nightmare.”

The deer sighed. "It is a nightmare, in a sense. But I'm afraid this is simply what the Dreaming is starting to look like. All of it.”

You slumped onto the ground, letting your arms hang limply at your sides. "The Vortex did this?”

“I assume so.”

Was your proximity to Rose that late morning in any way accountable for such a significant, vital part of your dream life, to be completely eradicated? Or had she caused such a disruption recently that your nightmare delivered the final blow?

You didn't have the time to figure out an answer, because another earthquake rattled everything again. It was fierce, horrifying, and certainly not something you wanted to see worsen any further.

"You need to leave," the deer told you. "Exit this place before it's too late.”

"But this is a dream, right? Nothing can physically harm me here.”

"That's not the main problem. If the Vortex strengthens, you could be disconnected from this land, if not the Dreaming itself.”

“What??”

Could it really be possible that Rose accidentally set off something so grave? You dismissed the thought; the idea of losing the Dreaming was unbearable. Morpheus. Lucienne. Abel and Cain. Goldie. How could you ever bear to be separated from them all, from the love of your life?

"Go, Y/N. Wake up now. Or else he'll never forgive me.”

He?

“Wait, did you-”

“ሠ𐌀ኡ𐌄 𐌵የ!”

Your eyes flew open, and all you could see was the ceiling of Hal's B&B main hall. No peculiar noises, no tremors of the earth. But you, on the other hand, were profoundly rattled, your heart pounding fiercely in your chest.

And that, wasn't even the full extent of what you were about to confront.

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 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 19 (coming soon) ->

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